Page 66 of The Curse of Eternity
Drake’s gentle pull on my arm indicated our direction, but this staircase didn’t spiral like the one we’d descended to the mirror room. Instead, it rose diagonally through the castle, cutting straight through the fortress.
Logically, if I had nothing better to do but exist forever, I’d also want direct access from the floor I lived on to the extensive library.A little light reading would be a great way to pass the time in between planning world-domination.Man, it was hard to believe I was related, however distantly, to the original inhabitants of this place.
My legs soon felt like jello, while Drake’s restitution was only improving. Without warning, I ran right into his back when we reached the final landing. He spun, catching my arms to keep me steady, and his firm touch pulled something from deep within. The fact that he could make me feel anything close to enamored, considering our circumstances, made me smirk. Through the pitch-black, I guessed he could see it because he huffed a note of disbelieving mirth.
“Thanks,” I whispered, joining him on the landing but finding that the small square before another wooden door kept us smooshed together.
“Always,” he replied. I closed my eyes at the brush of his fingers against my cheekbone when he tucked a stray curl behind my ear, and I focused on the sensation replaying across my skin. “The fortress will be on alert, I cannot guarantee what will come next. We are not far from the chambers now. Are you prepared?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. The time for talking was over. So I lifted up on my toes, placing my weaponless hand on the side of his neck to give me a clue about where his mouth was before I pressed my lips to his. Sweetness lingered beneath the scent and taste of salted iron, and that sour flavor I recognized as his own blood.
Our kiss was brief, but the gentle way he held me in return—keeping me close but with room to breathe—made my heart ache. Hell, Ireallyhoped we made it out of this. There was still so much I wanted to know, and things I needed him to understand about me. When his mouth released mine, our foreheads met, but only my breath fogged the air between us.
This was it, the final stretch. Taking a deep breath, I turned for the door. I didn’t bother to reach for the handle. My will seemed to be enough, confirming my suspicions and fears. Soundlessly, the door swung open. Compared to the darkness within the stairwell, the lightless hallway beyond was bright. Pops of color struck my vision from the deep violet of the rug stretching up and down the corridor.
It was a refreshing change from the bloody red, and rather than gruesome paintings, family tapestries depicting status and regal lineage lined the stone walls between more unused oil lamps. Drake entered first, flexing his left hand as the nerves reconnected, but I was fast on his heels. While the door closed of its own accord behind us, I glanced up and down the hall. The start and end was significantly smaller in length and width compared to the floor below.
Drake frowned, then cocked his head to give direction. We walked side by side, my machete low but at the ready. Heart-pounding excitement encouraged my quick steps. Our goals felt tangible, like static in the air, charged by my own hope.
We were almost at the end of the hall when a shiver quaked down my spine. Raising my blade, I spun on the spot. Drake’ssilhouette blurred on my left, both of us now facing down the opposite end of the corridor. Someone was coming. The odor of death intensified, punctuated by the smell of blood and sweat.
The taste of Drake’s blood I stole from his lips elevated my senses, and my eyes widened when the double doors down the hall were pushed open.
“You?” Rage burned my synapses when I stared into the icy blue eyes of the North American Cneaz. Four guards flanked him on either side, close enough to act as bodily shields if Drake or I moved in.Too chickenshit to face us on his own, huh?
Except Lucian’s advance came to a halt with plenty of space between us. A feral sort of smile glinted beneath his ruthless gaze.
“Bravo, Ignatius—bravo, indeed.” Unarmed, Lucian slowly clapped and took a single step closer. “Right as I was charged with the duty of locating your whereabouts, you return home to heel. Although, I must wonder, what manner of idiocy compelled your actions?” His gaze held mine, but all I could see in his pupils was my last memory of the human servant at the manor. Countless others owed their deaths to him. “Orwhose?”
My blood boiled, and I dared a glance at Drake. His jaw was set, eyes narrowed and refusing to look away from Lucian. Years of training kicked in as I assessed our surroundings.
“I have neither the time nor desire to explain myself to you, Lucian.” Drake took a subtle step in front of me, and my gaze dropped to the rectangular outline in his back pocket.
“You cannot protect herandcombat me, Ignatius,” Lucian retorted, unashamed glee coloring his thick accent. I moved to stand beside Drake, my left hand quickly plucking the matchbox from his pocket and palming it. The slight curl to the corner of Drake’s mouth was reassuring, but he turned the smirk into one of derision to continue his verbal distraction.
“I have often wondered if it is in the nature of our undeath to have such a cowardly yellow streak in the face of adversity.” Drake took a meandering step toward the wall, and Lucian’s pale brow creased. “It is my belief that, no, it is not a trait of our race, but mere complacency on your part. For when this false narrative of immortality is put to the test—” With one hand, I managed to thumb out a single match. “It turns out that you are much too afraid of death.”
“You will be forced to embrace the nothingness of a true death long before I.” Lucian raised his pointy chin. “None too soon, for my liking.”
“No,” Drake agreed, and I dropped my machete to fumble with striking the match against the box. “None too soon.”
My vampire became a blur of movement when he reached to grasp the wrought-iron backplate fastening the oil lamp to the stone wall. I struck the match, its shush of spasming atoms overpowered by the explosive crunch of metal being torn from stone. Like a brilliant sun in deep space, the bud of fire glowed golden against my fingers.
Glass crashed to the carpet. Slick liquid spilled across its threadwork, soaking in. Armor squeaked, the guards torn between protecting Lucian and intercepting us. They would have been too late.
Flame fell from my fingertips, and Drake’s cool, familiar arms wrapped around me to haul me backward. His grip spun me around, and I crouched low to snatch up my machete as heat erupted behind my retreat. A glance over my shoulder revealed the extent of the damage. The dry carpet caught like tinder, eating up the stagnant oxygen permeating the hall.
Lucian and his werewolf henchmen were forced back when the flames followed them. Shifting light ignited the anger in Lucian’s eyes, but I was spared from being consumed by my need for revenge when Drake’s hand settled on mine. Forced toface ahead or risk tripping, I sprinted in Drake’s wake while he pulled me along after him.
Smoke clouded our path, and my eyes watered. Coughing, I clutched to Drake’s hand when he suddenly stopped, and the crash of wood against stone followed. I squinted through stinging eyes as two double doors swung inward. Drake pushed me inside, and I stumbled to catch my footing as he hurried to throw the doors shut behind us.
Ash was bitter on my tongue, choking my attempts to inhale the decay-scented air. Somehow, I sensed Drake inches in front of me even before he spoke.
“Were you harmed?”
“I’ll—” Swallowing, I cleared my throat and blinked away the moisture obscuring my vision. “I’ll live.”
Dark-paneled walls surrounded us, lavishly draped in shades of purple fabric that ran from floor to ceiling like gauzy wallpaper. The hexagon-shaped antechamber was grand, but only one piece of furniture rested at the center—if a huge statue made of stone could be considered that.
