With a sigh, she put the book aside. She couldn’t concentrate on the words, couldn’t think of anything but Drake, locked up in a high tower room. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in pain, that he needed her. How long would Rodin keep his son locked up? She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp as a new thought pushed its way into her mind. There was a hole in the tower roof. Surely Rodin wouldn’t leave Drake up there during the day, helpless to avoid the sun’s light.

Worried for Drake’s welfare, she lost track of time.

She looked up when a woman entered the room. She wasn’t a vampire, but a female version of the men who had guarded the dining room. Elena watched nervously as the woman gazed around the room, then strode purposefully toward her.

“You,” the woman said sharply. “Come with me.”

When Elena didn’t comply immediately, the woman grasped her roughly by the arm and yanked her to her feet.

Elena followed the woman down the corridor and into a small room.

“Undress,” the woman ordered. Reaching into a cupboard, she withdrew a long gray dress. “Put that on.” She dropped a pair of black shoes on top of the dress. “Quickly now.”

When it became evident the woman wasn’t going to give her any privacy, Elena turned her back on her and quickly changed into the gray dress, and as she did so, she was overcome with the feeling that she had just lost her individuality.

Moments later, she was back in the recreation room, indistinguishable from the rest of the sheep.

Drake pressed back against the wall of his prison. It kept him out of the sun’s direct light, but he couldn’t escape the scorching heat. It enveloped him like an invisible shroud, burning through his clothing to the flesh beneath, adding to the pain of the heavy silver leg iron that shackled his ankle to the wall. But for the chains that bound him he could have dissolved into mist and escaped.

He groaned deep in his throat. He could feel his flesh blistering inside and out. Not wanting Elena to see him like this, or to suffer the heat of the day with him, he had called Liliana to take Elena away last night, after she had fallen asleep.

Elena. Where was she now? Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on her whereabouts, but the intense pain clouded his mind, making coherent thought impossible.

He spent several minutes uselessly cursing his sire, then lapsed into silence. He had known Rodin would be angry, but he had never expected anything like this.

The pain intensified his thirst. He felt his fangs run out in response. As the hours passed, pain turned into agony. He felt his body shrinking in on itself, felt his veins constricting. The weight of his clothing became agonizing against his tender flesh.

A hoarse cry tore at his throat as a ray of sun found him and he scuttled to the other side of the tower, his arms covering his head in an effort to escape the withering heat.

Cringing in pain, he summoned Elena’s image. Beautiful Elena, with hair like fine black silk and skin as soft as down. Elena, who cared for him in spite of what he was . . . or had her affection turned to hate now that she knew the truth about him, about his people?

“Elena.” He forced her name through cracked, dry lips.

If he begged, would Rodin let him see her one last time?

The day dragged on. Elena took up the book again, pretending to read. She was aware of the curious gazes of the other women, but they seemed to sense she wished to be left alone, or maybe they were simply leery of a stranger in their midst.

Just when she thought the day would never end, the door opened and Liliana stepped into the room. Without a word, all of the women rose and filed toward the doorway. Elena hung back so that she was the last in line. When she reached Liliana, she stopped.

“Where is Drake?” Elena asked anxiously. “I want to see him.”

“I am sorry. That is not possible just now. Please, go to last meal with the others.”

“I want to see my husband,” Elena said, stressing the last word.

A humorless smile played over the vampire’s lips. “You will see him at Rodin’s pleasure and not before.”

“Why not now? Please, I must see him.”

“If you wish to see Drake again, you will do as you are told.” Without waiting for an answer, the vampire left the room.

Fighting back tears, Elena went into the dining hall and took a seat. Several human girls served the meal. Tonight, a pair of male vampires patrolled the aisles dividing the men from the women.

Elena forced herself to eat, afraid that refusing would keep her from seeing Drake.

The meal was almost over when the door opened and a dozen or so vampires—both male and female—entered the room. Elena stared at them. They were all beautiful. Male or female, they moved from table to table with a languid grace no human could ever match. Most of the men wore black, but not the women. Clad in brightly colored clothing or lounging outfits, they looked like a flock of exotic birds.

One by one, the vampires called out a name, and the man or woman called left his or her seat and followed the vampire out the door.

“Elena Knightsbridge.”

It took her a moment to realize her name had been called. There had to be a mistake, she thought frantically. She wasn’t one of the sheep! She was Drake’s wife.

“Elena Knightsbridge, come to me.”

To her horror, she found herself rising as if she had no mind of her own, moving toward the vampire who had summoned her. He resembled Drake in that he was tall and had long black hair and blue eyes. But that was where the resemblance ended. There was a cruel twist to this man’s mouth, a coldness in his pale blue eyes.

“Poor thing,” one of the women murmured as Elena passed by. “To get Vardin her first time.”

Elena shivered when he looked at her. There was nothing of warmth when he smiled at her, no gentleness in his grip when his hand closed over her arm. This was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain, she had no doubt of it.

She couldn’t stop shaking as he led her down three flights of stairs, then shoved her into a room that looked as though it had been decorated for a king—from the overly large bed draped with cloth-of-gold to the striped silk that covered the walls. An overstuffed chair covered in red velvet, a desk, and a large, beautifully carved wardrobe were spaced around the room. Aubusson carpets covered the floor; hanging candelabras provided illumination.

“Please,” he said with exaggerated politeness. “Sit down.” It was a demand, not an invitation.

She perched on the edge of the chair, her hands clenched in her lap. A sense of doom settled over her when the door closed, seemingly of its own accord.

The vampire came toward her like a hungry cat stalking its prey. He stood over her, his eyes going red, his fangs gleaming as he lowered his head to her neck.

Panic swept over her as his hand closed over her shoulder. She wanted to fight him, wanted to scream for him to leave her alone, but sheer terror at what he might do if she opposed him held her frozen in place.

“No.” The word escaped her lips. “Please. There’s been a mistake. I’m not one of. . . of the sheep.”

But he didn’t listen.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t care.

There was no pleasure in his bite as he bent her back over his arm, only an excruciating pain that sizzled down the length of her neck like the sharp bite of a serpent, and then burned its way through every nerve and cell in her body.

She screamed with the pain of it as her body began to tremble uncontrollably. When he bit her again, the world spun out of focus. She was falling, slipping helplessly into a black abyss that felt like death. Sobbing, she whispered a single word.

“Drake.”

He came awake with a start, the echo of Elena’s terrified cry ringing in his ears. Ignoring the pain that burned through him with every breath, he pulled against the chain that shackled him to the wall. He struggled to free himself even though he knew it was useless. His preternatural strength had been leeched away by the silver that bound him, by the relentless sunlight that had scorched his flesh.

His whole body throbbed in agony. Blood oozed from where the silver had rubbed his skin raw. Sweat stung his eyes. His tortured body screamed for nourishment to relieve the pain and the thirst.

“Elena.” Her name whispered past dry, cracked lips. “Elena, forgive me.”

Chapter 15

Elena couldn’t sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the vampire’s hellish gaze, felt his fangs savaging her throat again and again. She huddled under the covers, shoulders shaking, eyes burning with tears. Where was Drake? Why wouldn’t they let her see him? She needed him, needed him desperately. She was lost and alone in a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Gradually, exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a restless sleep, only to wake some time later, a scream on her lips.

“Hush, now, you’ll be all right.”

Elena opened her eyes. In the dim light, she saw one of the women kneeling beside her bed. “S-sorry,” Elena said, sniffing back her tears.

“No need to apologize. We all have nightmares now and then. I am Northa.”

“Elena.”

“What are you doing here? You are not one of us.”

Elena hesitated a moment, wondering if she should tell the truth, and then shrugged. “Drake is my husband.”

Northa’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “You married Rodin’s eldest son?”

At this announcement, someone lit a nearby candle and several other women clustered around Elena’s cot, their expressions filled with curiosity.

Elena nodded.

“It is said that of all Rodin’s sons, Drake is his favorite.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Elena said, remembering how angry Rodin had been.

“We only know what little we hear,” Marta said. “It is rumored among us that Drake left the Fortress over three hundred years ago and in all that time, he has never come back.”

A girl with straight brown hair and gray eyes nodded. “Cullin told me that his brother has never been one of them, that he never approved of his father keeping us here against our will.” She made a vague gesture with one hand. “I don’t understand what he means, against our will. If we didn’t stay here, where would we go?”