Smoke hopped up beside her, a low purr rumbling in his throat as he nudged her hand.
“Stupid beast,” she muttered, and then, with a sigh, she dropped her handbag on the floor and stroked the cat’s head. Smoke purred loudly, the noise soothing somehow. As she continued to pet the cat, her panic was swallowed up by a sense of well-being. She was safe here. There was nothing to be afraid of. If Drake had intended to kill her, he would likely have done so by now.
Suddenly weary, Elena stretched out on the sofa and Smoke curled up beside her. The cat’s purring, softer now, lulled her to sleep.
The sun was setting when Elena awoke. She bolted upright. He would be here soon. What should she do? What would he do? She was alone in the castle with a monster. Even the cat had abandoned her.
Springing to her feet, Elena ran to the front door. Maybe it would open this time. It had to open now, before it was too late.
Eternally too late.
But time had already run out.
She didn’t have to turn around to know that Drake was there. Though he made no sound, she could feel his presence looming behind her like a dark cloud. She swallowed hard, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. There was a moment out of time, as if someone had suddenly removed blinders from her eyes and her heart, and she knew him for what he was, almost as if she could see into his very soul. How had she not sensed his preternatural power before? She felt it now. It crawled over her skin, making the fine hairs on her arms stand at attention.
“Good evening, wife,” he said quietly.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form the words to ask the questions that pounded in her mind, demanding answers.
“Have you nothing to say?” he asked in that same quiet tone. “No questions to ask me?”
Her silence, combined with her continued refusal to look at him, aroused his anger. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her like a giant hand.
“Elena, look at me.” It wasn’t a request but a command.
Afraid to provoke him further, afraid of what she would see, she slowly turned to face him, her gaze not quite meeting his. She had expected to find the monster staring back at her, but it was just Drake.
“You have nothing to fear from me, wife.”
She licked her lips, but remained silent. Dozens of questions clamored in her mind: How long had he been a vampire ? When and how had it happened? Was he the only one? How many other men—and women—had he killed? How often did he have to . . .
She shut the door on that train of thought, and all the others. Asking questions, hearing his answers, would make it all too real.
“Elena.” He took a step toward her, but stopped when she recoiled. “Dammit, woman, I am not going to hurt you.”
“How can I believe you?” She shook her head, as if to dispel the memory of what had happened the night before. “I saw what you did. I saw your eyes . . . they were”—she wrapped her arms around her waist—“they were red, and you looked like . . .”
“Go on,” he said, his face and voice devoid of emotion. “How did I look?”
“Like death,” she whispered. “You looked like death.”
“I never wanted you to see me like that.”
“Please, I just want to go home.”
“You are my wife. This is your home now.”
“No! We never consummated our marriage. Please, just let me go back home. I won’t tell anyone what you are, I promise.” Who would believe her?
“Is that what you really want?” Drake asked, his anger surfacing. “To go back and marry that fat old man? To have his hands on you?”
She forced the word through clenched teeth. “Yes.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
“Now who is lying? You want me, Elena. You have wanted me from the first night, and we both know it.”
“No!” She shook her head again, more vigorously this time, as if that would make her denial true.
Drake took a deep breath, and changed tack. “Have I mistreated you? Hurt you in any way? Done anything to make you fear me?”
“You lied to me.” She blinked rapidly in an effort to hold back her tears. She didn’t want to go back to her uncle, but how could she stay here? With a vampire?
“I never lied to you.”
“You let me believe you were human,” she retorted. “I’d call that a lie, wouldn’t you?”
“A sin of omission, perhaps,” he allowed grudgingly. “But I had no choice. Telling mortals what we are is forbidden. I could not have told you the truth even had I wished it.”
She stared at him in astonishment. “There are more of you?”
He nodded.
“How many more?” The idea that there could be other vampires living here . . . She felt a burst of hysterical laughter bubble up in her throat. Where else would vampires live but Transylvania? The laughter died in her throat. There were more of them. How was that possible? How on earth was any of this possible?
“I am the only one here,” Drake said, “but there are others. Perhaps half a million of us worldwide.”
It wasn’t a vast number, given the world’s population of over six billion people. Still . . .
“If that’s true, why doesn’t anyone know? If there are vampires running around drinking blood . . .” She paced back and forth a moment, trying to clear her head. “Sooner or later, someone would find out. Wouldn’t they?” When he hesitated, she said, “The truth, Drake. I want the truth.”
“The knowledge of our existence is erased from the mind of anyone who discovers it.”
“Erased?”
“Wiped away. Obliterated.”
“How? How can you do that?” The bitter taste of bile rose in the back of her throat as her imagination conjured visions of Drake cutting away a part of her brain.
When she swayed on her feet, Drake took her by the hand. “You need to sit down,” he said. Guiding her to one of the sofas, he eased her down on the cushions, then went to the carafe on the table and filled a glass with water. “Here, drink this.”
She accepted the glass with a hand that shook visibly.
Drake watched her, his arms folded over his chest, wondering if she was going to faint.
She drained the glass, then looked up at him. “How?” she asked again.
“Nothing as bizarre as what you are thinking,” he assured her. “It is done by a form of hypnosis. Quite painless.”
“Are you going to do that to me?”