Bloodspell (The Cruentus Curse, #1)(54)

Christian stepped away and turned toward the fireplace, his hands falling to his sides. Instinct alone alerted him to the movement behind him and he ducked just as the dagger whizzed past his head, spinning with inhuman speed to bring the heel of his hand into Lucian's exposed neck.

As Lucian buckled, Christian slammed him up against the splintered wall and spat, "Don't even try it, Lucian."

"Or what?" gasped Lucian.

"You will not like the outcome, that, I can assure you. I will deal with the Council and then I will go back home, Lucian. And you, you will respect the rules of the Council, do you understand?"

Christian released his brother and walked away without a backward glance. The room was in complete shambles. As he closed the door behind him, he heard the fifteen hundred dollar bottle of Louis VIII smash into the doorframe followed by a slew of violent curses. Christian walked out to the foyer, past the throngs of Lucian's followers watching him with wonder. They feared him, and rightly so. As he neared the ornate front door, Lena held his coat draped over her arm, her beautiful face expressionless.

"He won't forgive you so easily for that, you know," she said.

"I don't care," Christian said flatly.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't fully understand the relationship between Lucian and Lena, but he could hazard a guess at the nature of it.

Despite her history with Christian, Lucian seemed to trust Lena implicitly. And Lena seemed to have decided that second-best was better than nothing at all. The look in her eyes, if anything, still told him that, even after all these years. But there was a new hardness to her that Christian noticed. Years of committing atrocity after atrocity would eventually take its toll, even on an eternally perfect face. She placed a hand on his arm.

"Christian," she said. "It's good to see you." Again the unspoken invitation was apparent. Perhaps another time Christian would have taken her up on it, but not now.

"Lena, I can't." He saw the glimmer of hope die in her ice blue eyes. Understanding dawned, and the blue sparked with venom.

"It's because of her, isn't it? She is a dirty mortal witch, Christian, and not your equal! You degrade yourself by deigning to be seen with her. It is forbidden!"

"Actually, she deigns to be with me," he said, "but I wouldn't expect you to understand." Christian looked at her with some measure of pity despite her malicious words. "You don't understand love Lena, you never could."

"Love?" she spat. "I thought Lucian was out of his mind when he said that you had put a filthy mortal before your duty! But he was right wasn't he?" Lena's eyes flashed fury and disgust and jealousy. "You are not fit for the House of Devereux."

He looked at her coldly and she shrank from the intensity of his frigid glare. "You forget your place, Lena. I am a Devereux. I answer to no one. Don't you ever forget that!" Christian's voice shook with wrath. His next words were silky. "If you ever challenge me like this again, be prepared to face the consequences. I won't be so forgiving the next time." The door crashed into its frame as it slammed shut behind him.

The limousine pulled away from the curb and Christian leaned back into the seat. He had just succeeded in antagonizing two of the most powerful vampires in the House of Devereux and quite possibly in the whole of Europe, which probably had not been the wisest move. But if it kept his brother from realizing who Victoria was and kept the Council in balance, then it would be worth it.

Christian thought about Lena. She, on the other hand, was a different story—she was one of the deadliest and most lethal vampires he had ever met. He should know, after all, he had made her.

He stared out the window at the passing shops and restaurants, and thought back to the first time he had met Lena. An Austrian baroness, she had been stunning, mesmerizing, and both Christian and Lucian had been enraptured the minute they had seen her dueling in Vienna. It was in the last decade of the nineteenth century on a day neither of them would ever forget.

Her delicate feminine beauty had belied her strength and furious force of will, not to mention her skilled grace with a rapier. They'd watched her as she fought against three men, two twice her size, her weapon spinning at impossible speed. Her blond hair had whipped free of its covering, and people around them gasped. They'd thought her a boy.

"She's magnificent," Lucian had announced, staring at his brother in unspoken challenge. "I want her." Back then, competition had been a natural force between them—it had made the prize more exciting and much more satisfying when won.

"I want her, too," Christian had said.

And so it began.

They had pursued her relentlessly, fueled by the competition from each other, and fascinated by everything about her; her disregard for propriety, her flagrant disrespect for the rules, and her insatiable appetite to try anything—she did what she wanted when she wanted. She could speak nine languages, fight with all manner of weapons including her fists, having grown up with seven brothers, and she was fearless.

In the end, Christian had been first to petition the Council to allow her to become his companion, and they had granted the request. He'd told Lena the first time he'd taken her to his bed, and afterward, Christian offered Lena the gift of immortality.

"How could I want anything more than to be with you forever," she'd said.