Chapter 27
Oliver had never felt so present, so alive.
The powerful orgasm he’d experienced with Clare had totally blown his mind. And yet, he was also calm, focused, full of boundless energy.
Striding along the corridor, he reached his meditation room. He put out a hand, and saw nothing on the handle.
What?!
Surely he could not be invisible already?
Had the intimacy he’d shared with Clare been so profound that his powers were already manifesting?
He took a deep, steadying breath, turned the handle and opened the door. He had a mission to undertake. And he was more than prepared for it, galvanized by Clare’s gift of love.
He strode over to the window, opened it wide, and pitched out into the night air, rejoicing in his capacity to fly, his heart overflowing.
Sure, he was embarking on a dangerous mission, but he had promised to return to her, and he would keep that promise.
High above the ground, his gaze took in the surroundings of the Dark Dimension. Tween was barely a shadow below. Meanwhile, the citadel on the steep hillside was illuminated so brightly it lit up the night sky.
Gliding on the slipstream, the cool wind behind him, he made swift progress.
The spires and turrets proclaimed their garish vampire design with lights strung all around them. Kominsky was written all over the gross, overstated nature of it all.
He had mapped out in his mind’s eye a path into the palatial inner sanctum, but he was aware he had to be shrewd and stealthy, even in darkness.
He flew to the east of the complex, landing once again in a thicket of large oaks.
Watching the armed grimaalds below the citadel walls, he could see they’d removed their weapons and were lounging around a large bonfire, holding beverages, hopefully alcoholic, that would dull their reactions down.
He guessed they weren’t expecting anyone to invade this space.
If he could climb up the blood rose bushes, he could fling himself over the edge of the wall and into the inner sanctum.
Distracting them was his best plan.
He got close, picked up a flint. With perfect precision, he threw the stone at one of the horse’s hooves.
It reared up, neighing with fright, and the other skittish animals followed suit—just as he had hoped.
Lumbering up, the grimaalds shouted and chased after one that had bolted, then busied themselves tethering the others.
Oliver climbed up the Blood Rose bush and vaulted over the wall, landing silently in the pruned shrubbery.
When he looked around, it was like another world.
Plush lawns and flower beds, fountains and statues and pathways wended through the gardens.
He could hear music playing, saw many illuminated French doors leading from the palace into the garden.
He crept closer and saw that the doors led into a ballroom, decorated in vampiric blood red with massive chandeliers.
All very Kominsky. The figures circulating, male and female, wore evening wear, gowns and tuxes.
They were holding up masks. Ah, the Kominskys loved their masked balls.
Suddenly, there was a fanfare, and a group appeared from a stage at the back of the ballroom. The sight made Oliver’s blood run cold.
Down the stairs came a group of humans, each led by five vampires.
The humans were all dressed in white flowing robes, the vampires all in black.
Their strange conical headdresses with a red cross on the side suggested a cult.
He could see the pallid, glazed faces of the humans, led as if in a trance, paraded like pretty pets.
He recognized Natalie, thinner and more pallid than in the photos he’d seen.
All these humans were malnourished—the vampires were clearly taking more blood than they could replace.
One human stumbled, and a vampire yanked her up by the red rope around her neck.
Oh yes, the white gowns were for when the blood spilled.
That sight was a huge turn-on for Kominsky vampires. Sick bastards.
There came another fanfare, and then, from behind a curtain—holy gods—Matteus emerged.
He stood preening, pulling up his gloves, flashing his signature smile.
His fangs were fully descended. Slow applause filled the room, ghoulish smiles breaking out across the vampires’ faces, their fangs flashing in the light from the chandeliers.
No denying it, there was going to be a feeding frenzy.
Goblets were passed around. The humans were led to seats on the dais.
Creatures Oliver didn’t recognize filled goblets from large bottles full of blood and passed them through the crowd.
He guessed from the color it was not human.
But he guessed they would all get a ration of Golden Blood too, just a few drops, after Matteus partook.
Oliver frowned. Next to Matteus there was another throne. Empty.
The curtains twitched at the back of the room. There was another fanfare, and everyone bowed low to the ground
A shadowy figure emerged, its huge shoulders wrapped in a black and red glittering cloak. All that was visible of its frame were huge claws on scaly grey green feet. The creature lumbered toward the empty throne as the fanfare reached a crescendo and the vampires all started chanting.
What the hell was going on? What even was this creature?
Oliver crept closer, trying to get a better view of it. And then a beam of light shone around the gardens.
“Who goes there?” a voice growled.
Another shouted, “Something is in the flowerbeds.”
And he knew he had to flee. Oliver shot upward, his wings powering him, legs and arms straight as an arrow, G-forces flattening his skin to his skull from the speed of his ascent. And then he was winging his way back in the direction of Motham City like all the demons of hell were after him.
Which perhaps they were.
As Oliver walked into the bedroom Clare sighed with relief. Sure, he looked even more disheveled than last time, and shaken, but he was home, and he was safe. He’d been gone maybe ten minutes. Less, even.
“You’re back,” she said, holding out her arms.
He went over and sat on the bed, fingering a wave of hair away from her face.
“I managed to find out far more. I saw all five of the humans.”
“Natalie? And Edward?”
“Yes, I believe so. There were three young women, including Natalie, though she is much thinner than in her photo. And two young men. They were being led by a group of vampires, five to a human. And those poor young people were clearly in thrall.”
“How could you tell?”
“Clare, I know when a human is in thrall.”
“Ah, right.”
She listened intently to his story of the palace ballroom, the circulating Kominsky clan members, the humans being paraded all in white. There was going to be a feeding.
“And you think this happens nightly?”
“Maybe. They are very malnourished. Likely they are giving the clan members small amounts, and Matteus is drinking the most. The way he appeared, like a fucking rock star, disgusted me. I wanted to get closer, to see who else was about to claim the other throne, but I think some guards spotted me, and I had to get out fast.”
“None of them followed you, did they?”
He shook his head. “I checked behind me as I flew back. And fuck, Clare, when I say flew, I’ve never gone at such speed.
” He shook his head. “If I’d had just a moment more, I would have caught sight of that other beast next to Matteus.
Its energy was dark and heavy.” He took her in his arms. “And it had huge claws. That’s all I could see under the cloak. ”
“Was it a grimaald?”
“Maybe, but somehow it seemed worse, more powerful than any of them. Clare, it worries me to the pit of my stomach thinking about you getting abducted and taken there.”
“I’m not going to step away, Oliver, you know that. Not after all we’ve learned.”
He sighed. “Yes, I know.”
She lay silent for a moment. “If you had a supply of my blood stored, then you could access it in an emergency.”
He looked at her with sudden amazement. “That is an excellent idea.”
She cupped a hand to her ear. “Sorry, did I hear that? Did you just say I had an excellent idea?”
He chuckled, smoothing her hair and kissing the top of her head. “I will get onto Waldo tomorrow. Ask him to send one of his nurses around to take your blood.”
“At last, my boss agrees with me without a fight.” She snuggled into his embrace.
“Cheeky little witch.” He nuzzled her neck, kissed along her jawline, then stopped.
He drew back from her, frowning slightly.
“What’s the matter? Did I say something to upset you?” Clare asked.
“No, my beloved. No. But I just realized, when I kissed your neck just then, I had no burning desire to consume your blood. I— just—want—to—make love to you.”
“I don’t mind if you partake of my blood. In fact, I find it very… erotic.”
“I know, and so do I, more than I want to admit. But don’t you see? I don’t need to. I have a choice. And right now, I choose not to. Maybe my desire for your blood need not be such a problem for us, going forward.”
She smiled softly, stroking his cheek. “Oh, my dearest love, it’s not important if you lust after my blood, because you have all of me anyway—my heart, my blood, my soul. You always will.”
He gazed down at her. “Have you forgiven me for the way I behaved that night?”
She nodded. “Ages ago.”
“But I have not. And I have not apologized well enough.” He moved over her, his eyes darkening with desire.
“I need to make it up to you for the way I ghosted you that night, the way I laid the blame on you, and gaslighted you. And you are going to lie right here and take my apology. Like the good girl you are.”
Gently, he pressed her back against the mattress.
Smiling, she arched up to meet his touch as he peeled the straps off her lace nightdress.
His lips traced over her breasts, found her nipples, and she sighed as he circled each one with his tongue.