Giovanni didn’t mean to kiss her again, he just couldn’t help himself. All he wanted was to possess her. He needed to claim her as his, something he’d never felt before. Each time their skin connected, their lips collided, he lost control. Control was important to him. He needed it to be an effective leader, but he’d gladly give up all control to claim her.
It was a scream from Tiffany and Rafe throwing the door open that broke them apart. Once again busted by her father, she just couldn’t catch a break.
Chapter Seven
Giovanni didn’t want to leave Sophie’s side but he needed to get to the bottom of this situation, and according to the call he just received, Nicolai wasn’t having the best of luck with Christopher. He was even more concerned when Tiffany spoke of dream weavers. They were nasty little supernatural dream assassins. A dangerous race that created chaos wherever they went. He worried they were wrapped up in this situation somehow and hoped that wasn’t the case. Leaving Sophie with Jeremiah and Marissa made him feel better about the situation. Knowing they were there to keep an eye on her, and seeing how well she defended herself against the nephilim helped to put his mind at ease, at least a little bit. It was also disconcerting the way he couldn’t keep his hands off her when they were alone. He felt like a teenager driven by lust for a woman he barely knew, not like a prince who’d seen two centuries of life since his human teenage years. He was the prince because he’d proven over and over again that he was in control of his emotions, but not with Sophie. She pulled him in and captured his desire. What made matters worse was that she didn’t even have to try. Something about her was like a magnet to him, and the pull was impossible to break free from.
“We’re here, Gio.” Hector informed him as he opened the door to the town car. Hector had been his personal driver for years, and he could see something was bothering Giovanni. “Is everything alright?”
“Not really, Hector, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He patted his old friend’s shoulder as he got out of the vehicle. He only had a few hours at the most before dawn, and he intended to get to the bottom of the situation before those first rays of light hit the sky and forced him into shelter. A frown creased his lips and forehead. “Hector, why are we here? I asked to be driven to the headquarters.”
Instead, he found himself standing on fraternity row in front of the Alpha Zeta’s house. Each of the nine supernatural groups held a fraternity and sorority, or in the case of the Amazons, two sororities at the local college. Alpha Zeta was the vampire’s nest, and his father’s favorite stomping grounds. He cared less about the parties and the students, and more about the nostalgia. In his father’s old age, nostalgia was what he lived for.
“I’m sorry, Gio, your father requested an audience.” His old friend looked pained which had Giovanni guessing he’d been compelled to bring him here.
Though he wasn’t amused or happy with the new location, Giovanni couldn’t help but cover a chuckle with his hand, ‘it’s fine, Hector, I know how insistent the old man can get. Keep the car waiting for me and I’ll be right back.”
Hector offered a tight nod, and the way he was worrying his hands made Gio a little nervous as he crossed the threshold of the college house. Hector was not acting normal, compulsion can do that, but even in the state of deep compulsion Hector always managed to maintain his normalcy. Compulsion wasn’t an exact science and some were more immune to the pull than others – like Sophie. It was hard to ignore his driver’s unusual behavior. Once inside he knew, without a doubt that his instincts were right and something was wrong. The lights were out, windows shuttered, and there wasn’t a sound. Not one frat boy passed out in the party room. No girls sneaking out in the morning walk of shame, no remnants of last night’s partying anywhere. Everything looked pristine. Nothing was out of place, which in of itself was odd for this popular college hangout. As he used his enhanced senses to scope out the place, the unmistakable scent of blood and death hit him like a sledge hammer, arousing his inner demon to danger and the possibility of food. The house smelled like a vampire’s feast was underway. Apprehension snaked up his back. “Gregor?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his father would hear it, but so would other supernaturals if they were present in the house. His eyes became keenly focused on his surroundings.
With all the strange things that have happened this night he felt a touch of fear blended with apprehension as he went from room to room searching for his father. All was quiet, there wasn’t even a mouse scurrying behind the walls or a cricket chirping its musical entertainment. It was like anything living had been chased away by some terrifying event. He concentrated and listened for breathing, any sign there was a living being in the house which was eerily quiet compared to the usual hustle and bustle that earned this house an award for being the best frat on the block. The Alpha Zeta’s knew how to socialize, a skill most vampires had to possess in order to survive.
The main living quarters of the house were empty. Instead of checking out the bedrooms he decided to investigate the basement. The coppery smell of blood was heaviest there, and where there was blood there were usually vampires. His first step to the basement ritual room creaked and he froze. It was unnerving hearing any noise in the deafening silence of the house. “Gregor?” the scent of blood and something else, sadness maybe, assaulted his senses as he took a few more steps into the darkness. His teeth elongated at the smell of the delectable treat that awaited him. It was the one thing he hated about being a vampire, his thirst for blood was always present under the surface, teasing and tempting him. Marissa kept him well fed, and her Fae blood was far more delicious than human, but he hadn’t drank from her for hours. His mouth watered at the delightful smell as his eyes adjusted to the darker environment. Any fear he felt before was being overrun by the need to feed.
His night vision was one of his favorite enhancements, next to strength and speed. Those and many more gifts made up for the miserable addiction to blood. Being able to see in the dark gave him an element of surprise in case there were enemies in the midst.
When he reached the first level of the basement he heard sobs, heart wrenching sobs, but saw nothing out of place. The only sign something was terribly wrong was the smell, it had gotten far stronger than he expected, almost overpowering, and for a vampire that would mean there was a lot of blood. He rushed down the sub-basement steps and found Gregor, legs tucked under his chin, rocking back and forth as he cried. It was a sight he’d never imagined ever seeing. It wasn’t until he pulled back from the overpowering vision of his indestructible father overtaken by grief that he saw the dead bodies that surrounded him. There were at least ten broken, bloody bodies piled at his feet, maybe more.
“Father?” his voice was shaky and soft. Gregor was the only real father he’d known. He rescued Giovanni from a life of squalor and raised him to become the prince he was today. He was stern, immovable at times, and rarely broke the rules, but he was Gio’s only role model, and seeing him like this was earth shattering in more ways than he could ever imagine.
Gregor looked like the nineteen year old boy he was when he’d first been made, not the strong, confident father he’d known all his life. He stood up on shaky legs and held his bloody hands out, a look of sadness mixed with anger and something else crossed his face. That ‘something else’ looked like insanity, but he wouldn’t accept that. He needed his father to be determined and unshakable. He needed to know insanity didn’t come with immortality. It was his greatest fear come to life. Vampires were known to snap from time to time, the mere idea of immortality fed by life blood can push a man to the brink. Watching all you hold dear and love die, pushing away those that you could become close to in order to save yourself from the pain of losing them, living in forced seclusion to maintain sanity can also bring about insanity.
“Father, what happened?”
“They attacked me.” His voice sounded so far away. Soft, melodic, with a twinge of something he refused to recognize.
His mannerisms and speech forced Giovanni to consider that his father was going insane. He didn’t want to believe it, but the scene before him painted a terrifying picture. Gio never imagined this coming.
He’d been part of some terrible acts in his past, things that proved he could be a monster, but the Mancuso family had abided by a loose code that made their actions more justified than other vampires. They weren’t without fault, but they tried to be monsters with morals. This sight threw all of that out the window. Many of these poor souls were their friends, and the brutality of which they died was unthinkable.
“It’s okay, father. Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re going to be welcoming a large number of vampires into our family. They’re going to need to see you strong.” Gio held out a hand and waited for Gregor to move toward him. At least he hoped they were sired. His father had fail-safes in place and that most likely meant they’d be reborn.
“No, you’re going to kill me aren’t you?” Gregor stepped back and tripped over one of the bodies. His agility kept him from falling down to the stone floor but did little to help him maintain the illusion that he was strong. Giovanni feared he was never going to be able to look at his father the same way.
“I’d never hurt you, father. You know this, deep down, you know this. It’s why you called me to help you clean up the mess. Come, there isn’t much time before the sun comes up.” Giovanni suspected the fraternity members would be turned because father mixed his blood into the wine during the rituals – it kept them obedient and docile, and while Gio didn’t agree with it, he was thankful father had the foresight to do it now. The real problem would be explaining this to the council as well as explaining any death of people who weren’t members of the frat house. “Have the Reapers been here?”
Gregor shook his head as he walked over the dead bodies with remorse. “It was horrible, Gio. They went insane, attacking me with all sorts of weapons. Thankfully, there wasn’t a hunter in the mix because I wouldn’t have survived.” The light in his father’s eyes was gone, replaced with a blank, faraway stare like he was reliving the attack.
Gio didn’t bother looking for injuries, the smell told him these people died a while ago, and that meant his injuries would’ve healed by now. “Go take a shower while I get some cleaners here to help us with the mess.”
“No, you can’t tell anyone.” Gregor’s eyes were wild with…fear?
“I have to, father. The council will need explanations and hiding the cleanup from them would make you look guilty. You know this.” He spoke with a soft comforting voice in an attempt to soothe the terrified, unrecognizable man in front of him.
He nodded his head and lowered it in defeat. Seeing him like this, broken, shattered Gio’s heart. In two hundred years he’d never seen his father have a psychotic break. They were a careful family of vampires. He knew the fraternity house wouldn’t have attacked him. Gregor was careful to keep them under his control. At the first sign of trouble Gregor would’ve compelled them to stand down which made this massacre even more disheartening. He had the power to stop it, and he didn’t.
“Thank you, Giovanni. You’re a good son.” He left, and Gio opened his cell phone to call for help.
Chapter Eight
Sophie was grateful when Delia, an Amazon doctor who worked closely with her mother brought an IV full of morphine for Tiffany to help with her suffering, and hooked her up to a respirator to aid in the breathing. Tiffany woke up briefly, long enough to send a bone chilling scream into the night and speak two words before she collapsed into a coma. Dream weavers. What did that mean? Whatever it meant sent Giovanni running out of the house on a mission. But before he left, she felt his anxiety. The healer in her wanted to ease it for him, but she didn’t get the chance. The desire he shared with her moments before Tiffany’s outburst was gone, replaced with a need to find the truth from Christopher. One minute she was in his electrifying embrace and the next minute she turned around, and all she got was a promise he’d be back tomorrow night. He left his ‘sister’ and bodyguard to protect her, not that she needed protection. At least she got a decent glance of his backside as he sauntered out of the room- a respectable consolation prize that gained her approval. She wasn’t the kind of girl who put a lot of stake in the male physique. She preferred personality and humor over looks, but Giovanni’s good looks and sex appeal might be changing her perspective on the matter. It helped that his personality was amazing, too.
Delia was called to come in and help after that which gave Sophie some time to catch a little rest before continuing her vigil by the girl’s bedside. Unfortunately, Delia’s diagnosis left little hope that the girl would survive. And Sophie insisted that the Amazon doctor leave her home when Delia said it would be better to let the human die. Her mother had always taught Sophie that half the battle to getting better was mental. Sophie didn’t need a naysayer around the comatose girl influencing her will to fight for life.
Delia respected her wishes and left once Tiffany was stable, but not before she warned Sophie about the dangers of getting too attached to her patients. Sophie didn’t care. She was tired of hearing that. She wasn’t going to let another person die on her watch.
She’d connected to the girl, and felt her pain. It was hard to disconnect from that. Now the pain was gone. Well, not gone necessarily. The morphine made the brain think her body wasn’t in pain, but her body felt it, and so did Sophie. She also felt Tiffany was beginning to give up. Her life force was getting weaker. That only motivated her more, she wouldn’t let the girl fade away. Another person was not going to die in her house if she had anything to do with it.
Sophie closed her eyes and focused inward. Searching Tiffany’s mind for something to give the girl hope, something to bring center stage to make the girl want to fight for her life. A memory of happy times, a dream left unfulfilled, someone that made life worth living. There were so many reasons to want to fight, but Sophie couldn’t find anything tangible to offer in the recesses of Tiffany’s mind.
The girl lived a miserable existence taking care of, and cleaning up after her brother. Sophie saw Christopher through his sister’s loving eyes, and was appalled at how disappointed and heartbroken he made her feel. She was tired. She’d tried for so long to help her brother turn things around. She’d given up love, given up her own future, and still nothing seemed to pull him back from the dark side. Sophie’s heart wept for the girl.
The details were only glimpses of her life, she hadn’t always felt such helplessness where her brother was concerned. Tiffany raised Christopher after being orphaned. They were in and out of the system most of their teen lives until one day they were forced to run away from a family that had taken good care of them. Tiffany had no idea why, but Christopher told her it was his fault. His sister wanted desperately to help him see that his birthright was a blessing, not the curse he believed. That he could use his abilities to help people.
In Tiffany’s eyes nothing she did made Christopher feel good about himself or find hope. She was tired of trying to make him see he was better than he believed. Tired of telling him he could find forgiveness and strength in God. Worn down from protecting him, and attempting to keep him safe, she was ready to move on.
‘What are you doing here?’ an image of Tiffany, alive and well in her mind asked, ‘I said what are you doing here?’ The apparition of her patient stood in front of Sophie; a mental image in her mind, arms crossed defensively over her chest. It was a jarring sight, and the shock of the girl’s all too real image in her head forced Sophie out of the girl’s mind and into reality.
Did that really happen? Sophie sat, staring in disbelief at Tiffany’s still body. The click of the respirator pumping oxygen into her body was the only sound that echoed in the room-bringing back painful memories of her mother’s last days. She pushed those thoughts down and refocused on her patient. The startling realization that she could talk to Tiffany in her mind gave her more hope than she’d felt since the girl was first
brought in. The ability was an obvious progression of her powers which excited her. She had another tool she could use to help her Christopher’s sister.
She decided it was time to go back in. Now that the shock wore off she was positive she’d be able to stay longer than a few seconds. Two hours later, frustration and disgust in her own abilities was all she felt. Every attempt she’d made to reconnect to Tiffany’s physical representation in her mind failed. It was like a brick wall had been erected only she wasn’t sure if the block was from her or Tiffany.
It was late afternoon and she needed a break. She was exhausted and worn down. She went down to the kitchen; the house was empty except for her father and Chelsea who drinking mugs of caffeinated beverages and talking in hushed tones. Sophie tried to focus her hearing, but only got a few words so she moved in closer. Slowly inching her way against the wall, her nose mere centimeters away from being seen in the doorway.
“She needs to know.” Chelsea hissed.
“No, she’s not ready.” Her father argued with a tinge of sadness in his voice.