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Perhaps the drawn-out captivity was cruel. There seemed no end in sight, but he sensed an end coming for her, creeping closer and closer, like an unavoidable dawn that would change everything in its wake.
An omen.
Prophets whispered of great biblical ends. Since learning that immortals and vampires existed, a bleak hopelessness surrounded him.
Cybil was in danger, and he had no way of protecting her on his own. As long as she remained in this godforsaken cell under the predatory stare of those glowing red eyes, that danger grew. Every day, she looked more and more like a woman and every night those menacing eyes watched her change, as if waiting for some Ecclesiastical signal.
A time to live, a time to die. A time to plant, a time to reap. Those menacing eyes watched her the way the farmers watched the land, eager to harvest the moment ripened fruit naturally fell from the vine.
Every night he questioned the strength of the cell walls and the chains that held Isaiah. Dane knew if he ever broke free and went after her, he would risk his own life to protect his sister.
A low purr poured from the shadows and he closed his eyes. Cybil was growing into a young woman. She now had hair where there had been none. Curves where her flat body had once been smooth. He sensed Isaiah’s awareness of her and desperately wished there was a way to take her somewhere else, somewhere safe and far away from here.
The beast often watched the wall with predatory lust. Dane pictured killing him a thousand times over for the filthy way he stared, for retribution of that and other crimes Dane would never forgive, for the value of his mother’s life and all the other women he massacred in the woods.
But The Council had ordered that Isaiah remain alive, his survival following the decree that no harm come to Cybil. Dane hated that her trial had set a precedent that somehow protected the life of the animal that killed their mother.
A sharp growl enunciated the burst of energy that traveled through the cellar in a wave. The atomic shift lifted the hair on the back of his neck. Cybil’s eyes opened in an abrupt flash of awareness.
Her head dispassionately turned and blood-red orbs, much like Isaiah’s eyes, zeroed in on Dane. She hissed and sprang onto all fours, the tattered remains of her clothing hardly hiding her body as she growled at him.
He sighed. “Cybil, it’s me.” His presence was becoming less and less sought after everywhere he went.
His masculine voice was met by a vicious growl from the other cell. Isaiah hated when Dane talked to her, so he tried to say as much as possible whenever she was awake, but he didn’t believe his sister understood any of it.
With a snide smirk, he taunted Isaiah by calling her name. “Cybil…”
Chains rattled as a blood-thirsty growl ripped through the room. The wet snap of Isaiah’s fangs caused Dane to flinch, but he was safe. The reinforced steel bars and chains assured he couldn’t break free.
Even if Isaiah did escape, the heavily drugged diet of vegetation and rodent blood the elders fed him left him weak and feeble. However, as a half-mortal, Dane would never be a match for a starved full-bred immortal more than three centuries old. But he’d take his chances if it meant taunting the fucker.
“Did you sleep well, Cybil?”
She straightened and stared at him, hardly registering his voice amongst all the howling and rattling next door, no longer recognizing Dane as anything more than an intruder to her solitude.
A long stick leaned against the stone wall. He used it to nudge a pewter goblet of blood through the bars of her cell. In a flash, she snatched the offering off the ground and guzzled it down. Crimson trickles flooded her chin as she drank thirstily.
She threw the empty cup back at him, angered that there was no more. It hit the wall beside his head with a crash, sending a dusting of mortar flurrying over his shoulder.
While she was given better blood than Isaiah, the elders ordered that she only be fed the minimal requirement. Otherwise, she would grow too strong and need chains as well.
Isaiah had consumed decades of human blood. According to the elders, even after his two years in captivity, the effects would remain in his system for years to come.
Human blood was forbidden for consumption by The Order. The only exception being when an immortal drank from the vein of a called human mate or in extreme times of a life-or-death emergency. The law was not abided by immortals everywhere, but specific to The Order. The Amish preferred everything in moderation, except simplicity, of course.
According to the elders, the adrenaline in mortal blood was too potent for general consumption, especially when fear came into play. It caused bloodlust and addiction among their kind, which was how so many females had died at the hands of Isaiah—including his mother.
