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THE SIRE
BY KRISTINE ALLEN
CHAPTER ONE
ROMA (ROME) 14 BC
Spellbound, I followed the woman in the diaphanous gown as she hurried through the shadowed corridors of the palace on Palatine Hill. Her long, inky-colored hair billowed behind her in a dark cloud. She was stunning in a way I’d not seen in my lifetime.
From the second she passed by me in the hall, something about her called to me and I wanted her.
Without speaking to her, without knowing her name, I lusted for her. My need was a deep burning ache in my gut. It had also been a long time since a woman had that effect on me and I was intrigued. Utterly bewitched, I’d followed her.
She took a turn down a side wing I knew well, and anger simmered in my chest. It didn’t matter that I had no reason to feel that way.
Like a wraith, I trailed behind her.
Though I now knew where she was heading, I didn’t stop. In fact, I was now more determined to find out exactly who she was.
At the second to last room, she knocked and was told to enter. The light from the room briefly flooded the hall before it was swallowed up by the darkness as it closed behind her. The fact that she entered that particular room infuriated me because it belonged to a general by the name of Albanus.
I hated the pompous asshole. He was a general in the Praetorian Guard.
Though I was a member, it wasn’t for some sense of nobility or honor. I’d chosen to be a participant out of utter personal amusement.
I also found it amusing that the Praetorian Guard’s colors include the winged goddess of victory—Victoria. Why? Because I’d fucked her.
The bloody civil war had ended, Augustus became the first emperor, and I was bored. The Praetorian Guard seemed like the perfect opportunity to get close to the men of power in Rome. It also gave rise to the idea of creating my own secret army of sorts—a society of demons. What better place to find it than with the elite unit gathered by Caesar Augustus?
These men knew palace intrigue like no other, were well-trained, and readily available. They were soldiers already accustomed to working in the shadows.
Moments later, I stormed in like I owned the fucking place. I didn’t knock and I sure as hell didn’t ask permission to enter.
“What took you so long?” I heard Albanus snarl at her.
Seeing her head snap back at the sweep of his hand ignited a fire that blazed through me unchecked. The way his meaty fist held the front of her bodice had my teeth grinding and my lips peeled back from my teeth. A snarl reverberated through the room.
“What the—” Albanus started to shout as he noticed me, but he didn’t get anything else out. In the blink of an eye, I was beside him and crushing the bones in his wrist until he released her.
She stumbled back, and I let go of him long enough to steady her. At the sight of her stricken gaze, I ignored his howls of pain and outrage. The ruby-red trickle at the corner of her mouth momentarily froze me in place. Using my fingertip, I caught it and lifted it to my lips.
The second my skin touched hers, a current of desire slammed into me. But the taste of her was what threw me—her essence exploded over my tongue, and I was momentarily speechless.
As if I was moving in slow motion, I rotated my head to stare at the general, still blubbering about his wrist. His hand was flopped off to the side as if his joint had been pulverized—which it probably had.
“I’ll have your head!” he screeched, spittle flying from his thick lips. “Do you know who I am?”
With a smirk, I tilted my head. “Do you know who I am?” I countered.
“You are a dead man! That’s who you are!” He held his injured limb close to his chest as he reached for his sword. The blade sang as it cleared the scabbard, and he lifted it and quickly swung it at me in a downward arch.
It sliced through my chest, and I dropped my attention to where the thick, inky-red blood oozed. In an indifferent tone, I murmured, “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
When he lifted it again, I moved with a speed that no mere mortal could've possibly anticipated. My fingers curled around his throat and I squeezed.
Though he swiped at me with the weapon, it was clumsy and desperate. I barely noticed the sting as he cut my flesh before it clattered to the floor. Something cracked in his neck and the corner of my mouth kicked up.
His face grew flushed and mottled as the fingernails of his good hand dug into my forearm. The useless one, he used to beat at me in an ineffectual attempt to get free. A garbled cry vibrated against my palm as I cocked my head slightly and stared at him. Satisfaction bloomed in my blackest of hearts as crimson droplets appeared in the corners of his eyes.
