Broken (The Captive #5.5)(13)

"I don't have any idea who you are; I've never met anyone like you." Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him. "I think I might scandalize the humans again."

She laughed but it faded away when he pulled her closer, clasped hold of the back of her head and kissed her like she was the last woman on earth. When he'd kissed her before it was because he'd been curious to know what she would feel like, but now he kissed her because he could not stop himself. He kissed her now because he had to taste her, to touch her, and feel her against him. He kissed her because he needed this woman in a way that he had never needed anyone else before.

Offended gasps sounded around them, but he completely ignored them as he tilted her head further to the side and kissed her until her knees buckled and his arm around her waist was the only thing holding her up.





CHAPTER 5


Atticus shrugged out of his heavy, wet cloak and handed it to a passing servant. The man bowed his head before hurrying away. An unsettling feeling rattled in the pit of his stomach as he looked around the massive entranceway of the manor. Sunlight filtered in through the holes cut into the walls up above, revealing the rushes covering the floor and the golden chair set up on the dais across the way. A large table with twenty chairs surrounding it was set up in the middle of the room. Perhaps, if this had been a human home, the table would have been used often; this one was rarely sat at though and was mostly for show. It wasn't something he'd ever thought about before but this empty table seemed like such a waste to him after having just left Genny behind.

His family's coat of arms, a dragon encircling a golden cross with a wolf at the bottom of the cross hung on the wall above his father's chair on the dais. The house of Valdhai, the house of vampires that he belonged to, was written in red across the bottom of the shield. For the first time he realized the amount of money that was in this one room alone, and this manor was the smallest of his father's numerous properties.

He strode across the room and up the set of stairs on the right hand side of the building. He was almost to the top when his father's voice halted him. "Where have you been?"

Stopping in the middle of the stairs, he looked up to where the formidable man stood in the hall above him. They got along well enough, but then they mostly just avoided each other until it became necessary that they did speak. He glanced down at his muddied boots and gestured at his wet clothing.

"Riding."

"We must talk."

"Can't it wait?" he inquired.

"No."

Atticus reluctantly finished climbing the stairs to join his father. He'd been an inch taller than the man since he was in his teens, but recently he'd also become broader and more developed through the shoulders and chest. Though he was taller and larger, his father's age meant that he was still more powerful than he was. Over time even that would change as the power of the pure vampire blood flowing through his veins developed further.

His father turned away when he stepped off the last stair and led the way down the hall. Atticus studied the back of his father's head as he followed him. His light brown hair curled at the edge of his shoulders and was longer than he normally wore it. A servant standing beside his father's private solar opened the door for him and then stepped aside. Atticus nodded to the man before entering the room and the servant closed the door behind him.

He wasn't surprised to see his Uncle Nyles and Merle already in the room. Merle's expression was one of boredom, he had his arm draped over the back of the chair and his legs sprawled out before him. Atticus tried to cling to the pleasant memory of the day he'd spent with Genny but he had a feeling not even the memory of that last kiss would get him through whatever it was that his father and uncle planned to discuss.

He slid into the chair next to the ornately carved one at the head of the table. His father was not a king but his marriage to Atticus's mother and the recent king's death, had made him one of the most powerful vampires in the world. His father's family was third in the bloodline, but at four hundred and ten he was now one of the oldest in existence. He liked to remind others of this fact by creating throne inspired chairs that were only slightly smaller than the king's actual throne would have been.

Atticus folded his hands on the table and leaned forward while his father settled into his chair. His sable brown eyes were intent as he focused briefly on Atticus before turning his attention to a serving woman in the corner. He waved her forward. She brought forth four goblets and a tankard of wine that she placed in front of his father. Atticus barely glanced at the bite marks on her wrist and neck while she poured the wine.

The marks in her flesh pricked his appetite but they also caused a strange sensation of aversion to twist through his stomach as the potent scents of sex and blood drifted off the woman's skin. Her scent was far different, and far less appealing, than the clean aroma of asters and rain still clinging to his skin from his time with Genny. He adjusted his position so that he was further away from her as she placed his wine before him.

The serving women that stayed with them, and supplied them with blood in exchange for a place to live and high wages, had never bothered him before. They were born into this role; their families had been attending vampires longer than any of the human servants had been alive. They were bred to keep their secrets and see to a vampire's needs, no matter what those needs might be.