Page 21 of Cursed Lifeline

It's obvious I've worn her patience too thin.

"Duty called," I grin, taking my last few strides toward her throne and climbing the small flight of stairs toward her.

She sits regally like only a queen could. Her black silk dress is cut low. Layered in burgundy lace, its train billows around her feet. Her long raven hair shines like silk in the twinkling candlelight and frames her ageless features perfectly. She raises a sharp ebony eyebrow, questioning where I've been, and what took me so long to come to her.

"I take it your meeting went well in Paris?" she asks.

I try not to think of Esmerelda to protect her from the woman sitting before me who could easily read my thoughts without me knowing.

"That well, huh?" she taunts.

Coming to a stop at her feet, I lean downward. She anticipates my next move and turns her cheek. Kissing it gently, I say, "Every son has their secrets; it's only natural I keep some from you, mother."

The Queen of the damned rolls her eyes as she looks back my way. Worry fills her expression as she gently places her right palmagainst my cheek and says, "It's the secrets we keep that ruin us in the end, Felix if we're not careful."

"I'm always careful," I tease with a wink.

She studies me closely. Her left hand rises, and she places it against the opposite side of my face. Caging my cheeks tenderly between her timeless palms, her eyes search mine, and I hold still, letting her use her powers to see what I can not. Slight panic spreads across my skin as she peers through space and time, unraveling more than I'll ever know.

"One day, you'll have to make a choice," she finally states. Her words shake me more than they should, though I try to disguise it. "For the coven's sake, I hope you make the right one."

"You put too much faith in him," Viktor grunts at her side. Sitting to her left, on a smaller throne that matches my own on her right, my brother sighs, "He's destined to disappoint you, mother. When he inevitably does, where will the coven be then?"

Leaning back from my mother's embrace, I sit on her right and bite my tongue.

"Destiny is subject to change, Viktor," my mother says. "For now, Felix's future looks just as I had expected, while yours is still questionable at best."

Viktor begins to protest, when one of the regents enters the throne room and says, "Queen Drusilla, the council is ready for you."

"Show them in," she grins.

As the doors open and we wait for them to walk towards us, I look at my mother, the Queen of the Damned, and know, contrary to what some may have been told or believe, she wasn't born a vampire. She was made. By the original king of our kind, Draven Caldwell.A king who, beyond his control, fell in love with my mother, the slayer.

The Magister Council in charge of training, mentoring, and advising each slayer when they are called, thought they knew what they were doing by choosing my mother. She was born into the Divine Raven Coven. A long line of witches feared the world over.The council thought they had fate on their side when choosing my mother. They had ordained someone with the strength and ability of those who came before her but with the magical powers none of her kind ever possessed previously, so they felt confident she would finally be the one to defeat King Draven.

In a sense, I guess they were right. Fate just put a different spin on their story than they expected.

My mother never talks about her past. Young and naïve, legend says she fell for and trusted my father when she shouldn't. He promised her the world, all the virtuous splendor above and sinful desires below if only she would give him her heart. When she did, his craving for her grew. Consumed, he became feral with the need to claim her. She gave herself to him one night and conceived me while she was still mortal. It's said the only way she survived the pregnancy was because of her witching powers.

When I was born a mortal, my mother became nervous. Worried my father would try to change me, she denied him their bed. But vampires are a jealous breed. Possessive. He gave her space for a short while, while he plotted ways to secure their future. One night, he changed her against her will. Biting her without the intention to feed, he infected her with venom. But infecting her alone wouldn't change her. Not if she didn't feed on human blood.

I've been told he had the chance to stop her, to chain her, cage her, have her wait the maddening thirst out until sunrise, and she would have turned back human. Instead, he unleashed her on a group of innocents. Together, they feasted until dawn, and my father relished in the thought of the new life he had secured for them. A life he had secretly craved since they first met.

When my mother's frenzied state had subsided, she was furious and worried more for my mortal life than she ever had before. To show her he was sorry, he promised she could rule beside him as Queen and raise me any way she liked as long as she forgave him.

She eventually agreed, as long as he promised to keep me safe. Welcoming him back into her bed, she conceived Viktor. When he was born a vampire, despite my father's previous promises, he became angry. His oldest son was a mortal, and he wouldn't have a mortal rule his empire one day.

He wanted to change me. But my mother refused and wanted me to live a mortal life as long as I could. She knew there was a chance I could go through the change when I turned seventeen and become a vampire myself, but she at least wanted me to experience mortality and a life she was forced to give up against her will.

For seventeen years, I did, and those were the happiest years of my life. I drowned myself in art, music, and poetry. I dreamed of one day falling in love, and devoting myself to one woman honorably for the rest of my life.

But as my mortal years wore on, my father grew anxious. He wanted to secure the state of his empire. I’ve been told, even though my father loved my mother, with others he was a vicious, cruel, ruthless king. Sure this time he couldn't be stopped, confident he was going to change me against my will, one night, while he lay peacefully asleep, my mother decapitated him with his own sword. Dismembering his body, she sent it to opposite sides of the world where she had it burned by covens she trusted so there would be no way anyone could ever resurrect him.

No one of our kind has been born yet with the power of necromancy, the ability to manipulate life and death. If one ever is, that could change everything.

After his demise, my mother took my father's throne.

Eventually, my mortal life ended, I lost my soul, and I've never been the same since. I've never had the same thirst for life as I did before. Not until my dead gaze locked recently on baby blue eyes, a doll-like face, heart-shaped lips that took my breath away and once again gave me hope for a future I once desperately sought.

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