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Chapter Two
Drenched suddenly in cold sweat, Severin stared. He knew this man like he was his own twin. As dark as Severin was blond, as pure as Severin was defiled.
Nikolaus.
“Severin?” Istvan steadied him by the arm as Severin swayed in shock. He looked down at the marble floor running crimson with blood as waiters hurried to clean it up, and the blood lust hit him without warning. His fangs snapped out, eyes turning red, and it was all he could do to stop himself darting across the room, throwing himself at the man who still held his dead heart and tearing into his throat the way he’d always longed to do.
Istvan’s fingers tightened on him. He had been in Budapest when Severin met Nikolaus in Vienna ten years previously and later picked up the pieces from the fallout of Severin’s affair. Hardly an affair in retrospect. He had barely touched Nikolaus at all. But knowing him over that short period of a few weeks, it was enough for him to lose his head and his heart in a way he never had in his life before.
Severin allowed Istvan to lead him out of the ballroom, through the French doors and onto the balcony that commanded views of the rugged Bavarian countryside for miles. He slumped against the stone railing, clutching with feverish hands.
“Emil’s pet?” Istvan questioned, tense by his side.
Severin nodded. “Nikolaus.” The name tore from his chest, leaving a jagged wound. Snow fell from the black sky, blanketing the hills and forests. Severin put his head back, opened his mouth, and tasted soft flakes on his tongue. “Oh God,” he said. “We must leave.” Even as he said the words, he knew he couldn’t go without speaking to Nikolaus just once, no matter what it cost him.
Istvan’s voice was gentle. “You know we can’t. It would be the ultimate insult. He’d kill us.”
“He wouldn’t killyou, you’re his favourite.” Severin bit his tongue against the bitterness he heard on it. Who was he to judge whatever strange relationship Emil and Istvan had? When hadheever succeeded in being close to anyone in the last five hundred years?
Istvan was silent.
“I’m sorry.”
Istvan gazed at the snowy landscape. “I’m not immune from his wrath, you know that.”
That was true. During lover’s tiffs in the past, Emil had almost killed Istvan. Severin rubbed his hands over his face roughly and gave a loud sigh. “I never thought to set eyes on him again.”
“I know. We must go back to the party. You must greet Emil as though nothing has happened. Once he’s seen you he’ll be happy. Maybe we can slip away early tomorrow.”
Severin swallowed. How exactly did he greet Emil with Nikolaus chained by his side without wanting to rip the vampire’s throat out for daring to touch what Severin had never had? Wanton, erotic images filled his mind of Emil entwined with Nikolaus, naked limbs writhing, the vampire’s teeth in the human’s throat, drinking, tasting that sweet nectar that Severin had always denied himself because of some misguided view of his love for Nikolaus. At this distance, he asked himself why. Why hadn’t he taken what he wanted? Made Nikolaus into his mate for all time. He didn’t know. It seemed obvious now, but Severin hadn’t been sure Nikolaus had wanted it. Maybe he had never felt the same intensity of feelings. Severin’s head hurt to keep raking over the memories. All he knew was that leaving Nikolaus had ripped him apart from the inside out and left him a shell.
Istvan touched his shoulder. “Come on.”
Severin turned and followed Istvan back inside, to the instrument of his doom.
Chapter Three
Vienna, Austria, 1885
The room was hot that night. A dance in progress at the Vienna townhouse of some socialite Severin didn’t care for. But he used these events to bring himself close to humans for a while. To remember what it was like to walk among them as the same, not different. He denied that it was in order to court victims of the highest class but he wasn’t sure he believed it. There had to be something more to it than that. After all, the social elite could be just as likely to be found with opium and alcohol in their blood as the lower order. Often more so. These toxins affected Severin. They made him weak, intoxicated, out of control. Sometimes he’d woken up in a dirty alleyway with a hangover after sipping from a tramp on the way home. No fun, unless he was particularly looking to forget everything.
Scandalously, he was alone that night. He didn’t have a lady companion who he could take to social events. He sipped carefully at a glass of white wine, taking minimal drinks, using it mainly for cover while he watched the humans on the dance floor. He would be a liar if he said he wasn’t attracted to both sexes. The everlasting link Emil had left him between blood and sex guaranteed he would take men as well as women. And that first man—Emil himself—still resonated within Severin. He still shivered and stiffened when he thought of the rough tussles he and Emil had engaged in from time to time since Severin’s death. But he had never bitten Emil or any other vampire. He didn’t know what vampire blood tasted like and he had never dared to ask Istvan. He was happy enough with the all-consuming fire that was human blood and he wanted it tonight. He wanted it badly.
A lean man of average height was dancing with a woman in white who was as tall as him. They made an attractive pair. He was dark, she was red. They were both pale and sun-starved like Severin himself. He stepped closer, following the curve of the dance floor to catch a glimpse of the man’s face and stopped short when he saw it. God in heaven, he was beautiful. Raven-haired and so fine of countenance, his porcelain skin almost translucent over bluish veins. He twirled his partner around by the hand, smiling as she laughed breathlessly. The pulse in his throat hammered hard. Severin breathed in deeply, scenting the man. His cock thickened in his breeches. This was the one he had to drink from tonight.
Severin bided his time. He was loitering at the edge of the floor when the man and his partner came off and he caught his prospective victim’s eye. The man glanced at him, looked away, then glanced back over his shoulder as he led the woman away, blushing. Severin smiled. He took his glass outside into the cool spring air and sat a while in the gardens. He watched couples walking and eavesdropped on their private conversations with his superior hearing. One woman was with her lover, telling him she was pregnant and wanted to leave her husband. Another man was telling his partner what he wanted to do to her when they got home. Neither waited; they disappeared into the foliage quickly. Severin smiled and debated following. Once upon a time he might have joined in and killed both of them. Severin had once killed indiscriminately. A stern talking to from Istvan had stopped that. Severin saw sense in not attracting attention. He could hardly live in his beloved Vienna for much longer if he was to leave a trail of corpses in his wake. Now he survived on moderate amounts from a number of victims. He tried not to drain anyone dry but he slipped from time to time when he was at his most needy sexually.
He sat back on his uncomfortable metal chair and looked up at the stars in the black velvet sky. The beautiful man inside had seemed happy with his woman. Perhaps Severin should leave him be and go home now. But he didn’t want to go home hungry. What harm would it do to take a nip and leave the young man with little more than a headache? He didn’t have to kill him, did he?
He straightened up as he saw a pair of slender legs appear at the top of the terrace steps. The rest of the man’s body came into view—black suit, white linen. The moonlight shone on luminescent skin and for just a moment, Severin thought he felt his dead heart jump in his chest. He frowned, unsettled by the feeling. Victim, he reminded himself. A meal. Nothing else.
The man came down the steps and saw Severin sitting at the bottom instantly. He paused a moment, clearly torn, but perhaps good manners made him acknowledge Severin.
“It’s hot in there.” He spoke in a local accent. He was Austrian through and through.
Severin inclined his head. “And cool out here.”
The man made steady eye contact. His eyes were an astonishing violet colour, a sharp contrast with his black hair. He bit his lip a moment and Severin saw it blanch white, then fill with blood again and he wanted to taste more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life before.
