The Tale Of The Vampire Bride (Vampire Bride #1)

The Tale Of The Vampire Bride (Vampire Bride #1) Page 64

Holding his body in my arms, I felt so close to him in every way: spirit and body. When I was with him I always felt so free, so loved, so incredibly alive. I did want to stay with him. I wanted to sleep in his arms.

“I will have to send notice to my household,” I said at last.

Perhaps it was the magic of Haven,the sweet smell of the incense, or the feel of Ignatius in my arms, but I wanted to take the risk and stay with him.

Movement caught my eye. I looked up to see a footman standing beside the bed with a silver tray. Upon it was a piece of paper, ink well and quill.

Ignatius grinned at my expression and moved to hide my naked torso from the footman with a silken throw. I reached out with quivering fingers to take the items on the tray, my eyes regarding the footman with suspicion. He seemed quite unremarkable and looked at me with a rather bored expression.

“This place always anticipates your needs,” Ignatius said to me, kissing my shoulder.

I quickly scribbled a note to Magda, then placed it on the silver tray. The footman bowed, then stepped behind the long, flowing draperies hanging from the ceiling and disappeared. I pushed back the purple silk and saw that the room was empty except for Ignatius and I.

“This place cannot possibly be real,” I gasped.

“Perhaps its not, but we are here together and that is real enough for me,” Ignatius answered.

I cradled his face in my hands and kissed him. I felt his arms slid around me as he pulled me to him. As we kissed, I sank back into the silken pillows on the bed as his body settled over mine.

“I am yours,” I whispered.

“And I am yours,” he answered.

My fingers lightly played with his beard and his silken hair caressed my cheek. “There is no place I would rather be than with you, Ignatius.”

His response was a kiss. That kiss deepened until our passion flared, and I was lost to all but our lovemaking.

Chapter 31

The Journal of Lady Glynis Wright-Continued

Buda , Hungary

I find myself struggling to write about all that happened after I awakened with Ignatius in the lair of Astir the Fallen. To awaken in the arms of the man I loved was truly magnificent, but what followed soon after still has me shaken.

After I awoke, Ignatius remained sleeping as I sat beside him admiring his long raven hair as it flowed over his pale skin. He seemed quite peaceful as he slept and it gave me some measure of comfort. Too many times the night before, I seen his face shadowed with pain when his past was remarked upon. That he was once a priest has given me pause a few times. It does bother me to think that he was a man of God and that he is now as trapped in darkness as I am. My struggle with my own vampiric nature is difficult enough, but how terrible is it for him?

Perhaps it was reckless of me to spend the day making love with Ignatius in Astir’s haven, but the temptation was too great. Though I wish not to admit it, I fear that Vlad will somehow disrupt my affair with Ignatius and that I will find myself cut off from the man I love so very much. These were my thoughts until they were interrupted unexpectedly by a voice.

“He looks quite tranquil when he sleeps.”

I turned to see Astir standing near the bed. Once more the creature was dressed in a white robe that draped over its tall slim form and trailed behind the Fallen. Tonight, Astir appeared more female than male with its hair drawn up high on its head and falling in long thick golden curls to its waist.

“And he should not?”

“It is rare among your kind,” Astir answered. “Often your faces seem tormented as you rest.”

I lay a hand gently on Ignatius' flat belly. “I suppose. But it is not very easy to be what we are.”

Astir shrugged. “It is complicated only if you make it so.”

“Do you drink the blood of mortals to survive?” I asked pointedly.

Astir grimaced. “Oh, dear God, no.” Waving a long fingered hand, it moved further into view.

Once more I took note of the terrible scars on its back.

Astir’s eyes, burning flames of white and gold fire, looked down at Ignatius. “I came to you while he slept to warn you.”

“To warn me?”

Astir lay a large, slender hand on Ignatius’ brow. “Vlad will return by sunrise. He has turned back out of fear.”

I looked sharply at the Fallen. “What do you mean?”

“He senses all is not well. His dreams disturb him and he fears.”

“For me?”

“Perhaps. But he returns.”

“Then I should return home,” I decided.

Astir continued to lean over Ignatius gazing down at him with those fiery eyes. “He loves you. He will do all he can to be with you and keep you at his side. But you weaken him and you are more dangerous than any weapon ever raised against him.”

“No,” I whispered. “No. I love him! I will not hurt him.”

Astir looked at me fully, those eyes burning even brighter. “Only one man truly knows you. Only one has seen all that you are capable of and truly knows your heart. He alone fully sees that you are formidable and clever. But he does not realize that you will destroy him.”

Astir’s words struck me forcibly and I shrank back from the Fallen. The creature leaned toward me, seeming taller, longer, and fiercer. Its eyes burned even more brilliantly than before and, to my amazement, wings made of fire erupted from its back.

“Your time for choice draws near. You must choose wisely or all will be lost. And even if you are victorious, you will taste bitterness and loss. And you will know in that moment that what you love you have destroyed.”

“No,” I whispered in a strangled voice.

I fled from the bed, terrified, and drew my dress hastily onto my body. “You know not what you speak of.”

The Fallen moved around the side of the bed to stand before me. It was majestic and terrible, and I fell to my knees.

“You do not fully understand what I speak of, child,” it hissed.

I screamed at it in horror. I felt its power, brutal in its truth, and I was afraid.

With my dress barely on my body, I ran from it and through a door.

A fierce and sudden cold enveloped me, and I felt myself fall.

Landing upon my hands, I looked up to see Magda staring down at me.

“Mistress?”

I leaped to my feet and whirled about. I stood in my own room, clad in a long dressing gown, my hair falling past my waist.

“Magda,” I said. “How did I-“

“Did you just now arrive? I did not hear you enter. I received your notice that you were trapped by the sun at the hotel,” she said as she looked at me fearfully, kneeling down to pick up my dress and shoes from the night before.

Clutching my gown tightly about me, I felt myself shivering. “Yes, yes, I just arrived. I would like a bath. I am quite cold.”

Magda nodded, her dark eyes regarding me with fearful curiosity.

I moved to the window and sat down in a chair, embracing myself as I trembled. I could hear Astir’s words clearly in my mind and they terrified me. I was afraid of the Fallen and its power. I had wanted to speak with it of God and heaven, but was afraid it would reveal that I was truly damned and beyond absolution. Now, I am more afraid than before. I cannot bear it if I am the downfall of my beloved Ignatius.

As I now write this, fresh from my bath, I look back upon the events of last night and feel quite the fool. How could I not realize that the world I now inhabit is more dangerous than I could ever imagine? How could I not see that the joy I bring Ignatius is tinged with sadness? How did I believe I could love him and not cause us both pain?

I have been a fool and I am afraid.

Later -

After my last entry, I dressed in my favorite blue velvet dressing gown and sat writing a letter to my brother. I felt that this action would allow me to feel more like myself and at peace. I did not want to think of the terrifying Fallen and the words it had uttered as my beloved had slept.

I was nearly done with my letter when I heard a noise behind me. I turned in my chair and let out a gasp.

Ignatius sat on my bed clad in long trousers and a long black coat. His face was clean-shaven and his hair fell loosely to his waist.

“You left,” he said simply.

I lowered my eyes, for once utterly speechless.

Looking about my room, he sighed. “I woke to Astir being in the room. The Fallen said something to upset you, did he not?”

I felt tears in my eyes and dared not look up.

“He would not tell me what he had said to you, but told me that I should prepare myself for the worst. He would not tell me, of course, what that meant.”

“Does it speak the truth or lies?”

Ignatius regarded me warily. “The truth. Always. Though not as clearly as one would like.”

I wiped my tears away, dreadfully tormented at the thought that I could be the instrument that could destroy Ignatius. “I love you,” I said at last with a sob.

“And I you, but quite suddenly I feel as though you are lost to me.” His expression was quite pained, his jaw was tensely set. “And I do not understand why.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Never. I love you so much. I dream of being with you and only you,” I said in a rush of words.

“Yet, something has abruptly come between us. Something that Astir said to you has supplanted our happiness with this sense of dread.”

Covering my face with one hand, I sat in terrible silence. I was unsure of what to say, but I was overwhelmed with the thought that I could be Ignatius’ destruction.

I felt the cool touch of his hand on mine and looked up at him. He knelt slowly at my feet and gazed up at me. Touching his face lightly with my fingers, I tried to smile, but failed. Somberly, he lay his head on my lap as I rested my palm against his silken hair.

“I was a priest once. I loved God from a very young age. I found solace in my village’s church and went there every day when my chores were done. I would sit in the presence of God and pray. Never did I doubt that God was there. Never did I doubt that I would one day serve Him,” he said softly.

Combing my fingers through his hair, I listened, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I wanted to touch him, hear him, and know him.

“The priest spoke to my parents when I was still quite young. It was clear that I was called to the vocation and my parents released me into the care of the church. I studied diligently and toiled hard. I left behind all earthly desires and needs and worked hard for God and heaven.” He paused, his voice ripe with emotion, his hands resting on my lap. “I grew my hair long, as Samson did, as a reminder to myself that I should never love a woman. That I should not be weakened by the flesh. I took my vows of celibacy and poverty to the very core of my being. I pledged my love to God alone. In those days…” His voice grew soft. “In those days, I heard His voice and knew peace.”

I wept quietly over him, trying to soothe him, but knowing I could not.

“I was given my own little chapel in a small village. I loved the people and enjoyed the hard work. I sat with the elderly as they passed on from this world into the next and baptized the newborns as they entered into this world. I loved them all and it felt wonderful to walk through the village, sharing God’s love and encouraging them as they lived their hard lives.”

Silence revisited us as his words faded and he rested against me. At last, he took a breath and spoke again.

“One night, the village erupted into violence. A young woman was dragged through the streets by a horde of men that declared her a witch. She was quite slender and frail, with dark black hair and eyes the color of fresh grass. She was crying and terrified, her clothes tattered. They had found her sleeping in the home of one of the old women of the town. The old woman was dead and her neighbors were convinced the girl had stolen her soul. I could see the sheer fear on her face and ran to protect her. I ordered the townspeople back and took the girl into my little cottage outside the gates of the chapel. She clung to me, weeping silently. Once inside, she crawled into a corner and sat there shivering. I gave her soup and bread to eat, but she only whimpered and turned away.”