Lying there, reeling from the loss, I could feel the blood of the vampire king Priam flowing through my veins and giving me power beyond measure. Through the crucible of Menelaus and Death itself, I had been reborn an immortal and saved, redeemed by my beloved Helen.
She had given me life and sacrificed her own. On the night of my death, I had gone to battle Menelaus, forsaking the safety of the Trojan wall and staking my life on battle. If I had prevailed, then I would have won peace in the war and the chance at a real life with Helen—two things I valued above all else.
The demon king and I had dueled at nightfall, our battle cries and ringing swords the only sounds in the dusty twilight. A host of vampire nobility watched at my back while the demon horde lined up behind Menelaus, a wall of reckoning. On and on we’d fought, striking and drawing blood, circling, weaving. It was a delicate dance of vicious war. Though I was only a mortal, I fought with all the heart I had. But the demon Menelaus won the battle, a sharp stroke through my chest sealing my doom.
Priam, his tears flowing freely, carried me inside the walls and laid me gently at Helen’s feet. Her face was drawn and pale, yet still beautiful, as she knelt beside me. Her dress was pure white, of the airiest silk that floated on the air and glowed in the silver rays of the moon. I thanked the gods that I was allowed to see her once more before I was taken by the ferryman.
As my vision dimmed and my soul untethered, she fed a liquid down my throat. My senses were failing, but the iron taste was strong on my tongue. Her gentle hands stroked me, soothed me even as I felt her tears and heard her sobs. I never wanted to cause her pain, but before I could even try to ease her suffering, all went dark.
I now knew it had been Priam’s blood she’d poured down my throat. Helen, it seemed, had a plan in place should I fall to Menelaus. She had sought to turn me into an immortal, crown prince of the vampire kingdom.
She had saved me.
I had failed her.
I never saw the Trojan Horse, the fall of my family, the death of my soulmate. I was still in my death sleep, Priam’s blood changing and remaking me into something new. When I awoke, I discovered Priam and all the others of my royal lineage had been snuffed out by the demon hordes at Menelaus’s command. I was the last survivor of the noble vampire house. The deaths of my loved ones haunted me, but it was the loss of her, the one for whom I lived and died, that had made it almost impossible to gather myself from the pool of her heart’s blood and strike out into the cold night. But I had done it. For her and for revenge on the one who took her from me.
And now she had returned to me. Safe in my arms as she was ever meant to be.
Daphne had been chatting excitedly about having a guest in the house, though I hadn’t heard a word as I relived my darkest day in my mind.
Unperturbed, Daphne continued, “We need some more girl time around here. Whenever he sees fit to visit, he’s always brooding around, flat-out moping, or staring at that thing.” She motioned to the white queen. “Come with me. I’ll get you all set up in the prettiest guest room with the prettiest view, unless you’re staying in with Paris?”
I watched Elena, her cheeks pinking at the suggestion. “I’m, um, I need my own room.”
I couldn’t help the smile that took hold of me. We’ll see about that.
Daphne and Elena ate together. The mischievous nymph prepared enough food to feed a small army. When I saw the feast, I raised a brow at the housekeeper.
She shrugged. “I had some ingredients lying around.”
After Elena had loaded her plate with Daphne’s bounty, I sat with them and drank blood from a glass. Elena had watched me with interest at first, but then quickly became bored. Perhaps she was expecting some grand show of “vampire of the night”?
Truth be told, I was far more interested in her, now wearing one of Daphne’s lacy dresses. It skirted the tops of her pale breasts, giving me a tantalizing look at what lay beneath. I’d tasted it and wanted more. Would never stop wanting more.
Not getting a blood-crazed show from me, Elena turned to Daphne, who was all too happy to have an audience. Elena quickly became enthralled with Daphne’s tales of the Underworld. Like her past self, Elena loved to learn. She ate up Daphne’s explanations about how the “Underworld” was actually a misnomer created by the mortals, for this realm was actually a world separate and apart from earth.