any gesture that might betray his shock. “Everyone out.”
Marion waited as though ‘everyone’ didn’t include her. After all these centuries did she finally think she was powerful enough to challenge him? Then she bowed and left. He dismissed her from his mind. She was irrelevant.
As soon as the room was empty, Lucas began asking questions. “How many people did you kill?”
“Just the one! But her daughter was there. Saw the whole thing. Don’t know if she’d taste that good.”
“What is the family name?”
Roberto looked up, a cunning expression on his ferret-like face. “Why? You want some, too? I would be happy to take you. Umm, the name. Happy, no that’s not it. Dee—oh wait. Dearborn. I think.” Then he laughed again.
Roberto was behaving like he’d drunk the blood of an empath. But they were extinct. It was impossible. When was the last time he’d drunk from an empath? Four, five hundred years ago?
Lucas remembered the man clearly. The bold, intense flavor of the blood as it had coursed down his throat. Like drinking wine instead of vinegar. Afterwards, he'd gone berserk, killing humans and vampires alike until the gamut of emotion had fled and left him yearning for death.
Only Marion had risked coming to find him, his murderous rage keeping the others away. She'd found him in Austria, next to the lake he'd grown up on, crying and waiting for the dawn to kill him. Marion had held his hand and spoken to him soothingly, her maternal instincts at the fore as she convinced him it was just the blood and the empath’s magic that made him so upset, he didn’t really want to die. Didn’t want to kill everyone he met.
When she'd tugged him up off the ground, the sky pink and yellow with the coming sun, he'd gone with her, feeling wrecked and defenseless. She'd led him to safety, finding them refuge in a cemetery. The same cemetery where he'd buried his wife and children centuries before.
Lucas had dreamed and felt, reduced to near humanity all because of that man’s blood. They’d been a vampire’s biggest weakness, both a curse and a balm. A drug that he'd thought long exterminated. But here was Roberto, high as a kite, reeking of magic and blood, the woman’s bright scent on his clothes and skin.
Dangerous. But his fangs ached from the sudden craving that swamped him. Even after the last time, the pain he'd felt, he still wanted it. At least it was emotion, something to feel when all he'd felt for hundreds of years was empty darkness.
It would be madness to indulge; a potential nightmare instead of Roberto's drunken happiness.
But the woman was dead, wasn't she?
No revenge, no psychic connection where she could control him and manipulate his feelings. Roberto said there was a daughter, but her blood might be normal, the power an aberration. This could be the last chance to experience an empath’s gifts.
Decision made, Lucas grabbed Roberto, biting into his neck before Roberto could defend himself. Blood coursed into him with a hot rush. The taste was bitter because it came from another vampire, but underneath that was a faint sweetness and spice that infected him.
Just a taste and then I’ll stop.
He knew that for a lie. He’d stop only when the blood finished riding him.
Lucas drank furiously, like he’d just emerged from the desert, some unknown amount of time passing before he became aware of himself and his surroundings. Gathering himself, he forced himself to slow his drinking, feeling a physical pain as he released fangs from flesh.
He threw Roberto from him and Roberto scrambled away, his hand at his neck, holding the torn flesh together.
Lucas paced away from Roberto, hand over his mouth. What am I doing? His hand was frozen, blood coating his lips and now his fingers. He wanted to lick his lips, suck his fingers clean, go back to Roberto and find more. What a mistake.
His hand trembled, in moments he'd be overwhelmed.
His whole body pulsed in time to his heart, the blood snaking through him, leaving each nerve, blood vessel and cell altered and waiting for the magic to strike.
He was a rod in a lightning storm.
Was there even time to dispose of Roberto before he succumbed to the blood? He had to kill him, couldn't risk anyone finding out about the daughter.
The daughter.
Swiftly, he went back to Roberto, circling behind the crying man, hiding death for a few moments longer. With one solid blow his fist punched through Roberto’s back