“I’ll rethink,” she said, and brushed a kiss along his jaw. “Share the rest of it with me, Andre. Let me all the way in.”
She hoped she was strong enough to be the woman he needed. The moment he reached for the memory, sorrow pressed in; not a blanket of it, more like a weighty stone. Grief was so acute she felt she was drowning in it. She took a breath and let herself go, gave herself to Andre. He needed her more than anyone else ever could.
She inhaled and smelled blood. She didn’t know fear had an odor, but it did. Fear permeated the entire area between the house and the forest. She couldn’t see Ion, but she knew it was impossible to save him. Euard was pinned by the four stakes through his shoulders and ribs. The hideous vampire gripped Elena—sweet young Elena—forcing her face toward the blood flowing from her brother’s body. A few feet away lay Dorina, looking like a broken doll, her neck torn, her legs and arms twisted in macabre ways.
Andre rushed the vampire. Only a boy. No experience. His uncle was a big man, much like Andre fully grown. Clearly he had a lot of experience. Teagan wanted to close her eyes, just like she did if she inadvertently went into the room when her sisters were watching horror movies, but she couldn’t. The scene played out in her mind—in Andre’s mind—and she wasn’t going to pull away and leave him alone. Still, she knew.
Ciprian laughed as he dropped the child to the ground and caught Andre as the boy tried to slam his fist through the vampire’s chest.
“That is not the way, ghost,” Ciprian said. “Join me. You led me here, now join me in the feast.”
“Never,” Andre declared, struggling against the power and strength of the larger man.
Ciprian caught Andre in his bony hands, his terrible talons digging deep into Andre’s flesh. He bent his head and sank his teeth into Andre’s neck, gulping at the rich blood. He didn’t rend and tear as he’d done with the humans. He was more careful. Clearly he enjoyed watching Andre squirm. When he’d fed on Andre’s blood, he flung the boy to the ground, deliberately aiming for Dorina’s body.
“Even your blood is not strong yet,” Ciprian said with derision. “You are a child playing at being a warrior. Join me or you will die with them.” Contempt twisted his face, and he dismissed the boy, turning back to Elena, dragging her by her hair, off the ground where she’d crumpled at her brother’s feet.
Andre landed almost on top of Dorina, on his back, the wind knocked out of him so that he lay there, his lungs burning, his face turned toward the only woman who had ever really showed him kindness. She was dying. He could see that, but still, her eyes, when she looked at him, were soft with love and fear for him. He touched her hand. He might not be able to save her, but he was determined to save her daughter at least.
The boy gathered himself, and this time he used his limited abilities to weave together a weapon. His uncle, completely absorbed in terrorizing the two human children, didn’t bother to look at him a second time, certain Andre was no threat to him.
Andre moved fast, with blurring speed, and slammed the long spear through Ciprian’s body, using his combined speed and weight for the force necessary to drive the wood through his back toward the vampire’s heart. Ciprian screamed and flung Elena from him, whirling around as black blood splattered in a circle. He caught Andre by the throat with one hand.
“I am going to tear out your heart and eat it,” he declared. A crafty look came into his eyes. “But first, you can wait while I kill the others.” He waved his free hand and lifted Andre by his throat and drove him backward to the side of the house, right beside Euard.
Four stakes appeared anchored into the house, a good two inches around, the points razor-sharp. Ciprian slammed Andre’s body right against the house itself, so that the stakes went through his shoulders and ribs, pinning him just like Euard. The tips came out the front so that his entire weight was suspended there.
The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing like the agony Andre suffered as he watched helplessly while his uncle tortured and killed both Elena and Euard. He wanted to die. He welcomed death. Not because of the physical pain, that didn’t matter. In one long night he’d lost his birth parents. He had lost his uncle long ago, and now this human family—the one he loved—was dead. Ion. Dorina. Euard. Elena. All because of him. Because he’d sought them out and left a trail to them. He hadn’t been strong enough to save them.
After what seemed hours, but couldn’t have been, Ciprian turned toward Andre, smeared with the bright red blood of his victims and covered in his own black blood. The spear still protruded from his body as if he couldn’t be bothered with such a paltry inconvenience as removing the weapon while he feasted.
Wind hit the building hard. Dark clouds roiled overhead. Ciprian whirled around, and out of the forest came another man. He was tall. Powerful. His slashing eyes took in the scene immediately and he was on Ciprian before the vampire could move. With the spear already through his body, just below his heart, the undead had little maneuvering room.
“Roman,” Andre whispered, barely lifting his head. Blood streamed from around the stakes. He had struggled while Ciprian tortured and killed his friends, but now he didn’t move. He didn’t want to survive.
Roman Daratrazanoff slammed his fist deep into the undead with one hand while the other began a slow withdrawal of the spear. Teagan saw why the vampire hadn’t removed the weapon. Black blood poured out of his body. He screamed and shrieked hideously, his terrible talons swiping at Roman’s face and body. He couldn’t quite reach the Carpathian hunter because Roman controlled his movements using the spear. All the while he kept digging through Ciprian’s chest until he found the heart.