Untamed: A Beautiful Nightmare Story Read online

  True love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chalmette’s ceremony differed greatly from Victoria’s.

  My second eldest sister’s wedding was laced in lavish bouquets of pomp and pretty little details. The grandeur of her nuptials rivaled that of fairytales with the happiest of endings. Yet, when the last flower fell, it was my sister Victoria who withered like a plucked rose petal clinging to winter’s chill.

  Despite the stark simplicity of Chalmette and Claudius’ vows, I have every hope that her flower will yet remain in bloom. Like a petunia, the love she and Claudius share will abound in every season. I have every cause to believe he will care for her and shower her with every goodness she deserves, and she will do likewise.

  Now as I wave farewell to my sister as she and her new husband mount their carriage, taking leave to their honeymoon, the weight of agreeing to become vampire shrouds my being. Looking over my shoulder at DeLuca, he regards me warily and I wonder if he too senses my doubts.

  “Sister!” Chalmette calls to me, pushing the door open. Racing to the carriage, my heart pounds. Perhaps she has decided not to leave? Maybe she is afraid? Is this too soon? Panicking thoughts mince my mind and I fear both my sister and I are acting impetuous.

  Thrusting her hand outside the carriage, my eyes grow wide as I see my stringed pearls hanging from her hand. “These are yours!” She shouts with a sweet smile. “I only borrowed them for ceremony, but you keep them.”

  “No, sister it is fine. I want you to have them,” I reply, looping my fingers between the pearls and her petite palm.

  “I cannot,” she answers stiffly. “These were Calida’s. She was your sister. You are mine.” A tearful grin covers her face as she speaks and my heart melts.

  “Then what have I to give you?” I question, knowing I have nothing of worth to offer.

  “You.” Chalmette sweetly replies. “You are and have forever been my gift, sister. Promise not to keep yourself from me. Ever. Write me letters and visit often,” she chides, swiping my hand aside as she pulls back to wipe her tear-worn face.

  “And you, Chalmette, are mine. I do promise I will write to you,” I pledge, watching Claudius wrap her in his embrace. “Now, go sister. Enjoy your marriage. Love your husband but do not lose yourself to him,” I say barely above a whisper. Claudius nods in understanding as he pounds his hand on the outside of the carriage, departing the estate.

  “Are you okay?” DeLuca asks as his large and wide eyes search my face.

  “I am fine,” I mutter in response. It’s a lie. I am a mess inside. But I refuse to allow either him or Chalmette to witness my weakness.

  “Well then,” DeLuca begins, turning my head back to him as my eyes follow the carriage down the long dirt road. Looking back at him, I blink rapidly, hopeful to stop my impending tears their release. “It looks like someone is waiting for you.” Turning his head slowly, DeLuca takes our attention to the double doors of the mansion where Dalcour remains posted.

  Watching Dalcour as he stands guardedly away from the slither of sunlight, I marvel how that soon, such a fate will be my own. Looping my arm with DeLuca’s we make our way back inside and my heart pounds like a racing bull in my chest.

  Everything in me says I should run, but the truth is, I have nowhere to go.

  This is where I belong.

  “Did you bid your sister farewell?” The dark and husky tenor of Dalcour’s voice is unnerving as we make our way into the foyer. Now stationed mid-way of the staircase, Dalcour’s looming stance darkens the hall and his glowing deep red eyes lock onto mine in a haunting glare. Tightening his hold on me, I hear DeLuca gulp down the thick air in his throat as his eyes grow wary of Dalcour’s now more ominous form.

  “Yes, my lord,” my words quiver from between my teeth.

  “Then it is time we began.” The dissonance in Dalcour’s tone is disturbing as he runs his hands together showcasing the same fiery embers as he did that night in the saloon.

  “And what of DeLuca, my lord,” I reply, fearful of Dalcour’s intentions of my friend.

  “I will remain at your side, Red,” DeLuca quickly interjects, turning to me as panic fills his face.

  “I am afraid that will not be possible,” Dalcour answers, rushing his response. “The ceremony we shall perform is—um—intimate if you will. And where I am taking you, young one, is not permitted to bring mere mortals.”

  “But I am not a mere mortal!” DeLuca protests, releasing his arm from my hold as he steps a few inches away from me. “I am Altrinion,” he declares, his once dark brown eyes now encased in a ring of gold.

  Gasping, I am both impressed and taken aback to see such a revelation unfold before me.

  “DeLuca!” I whisper his name. Only peering over his shoulder at me in response, he keeps his sights on Dalcour.

  “Ha! Ha!” Dalcour’s haughty and haunting laugh reverberates through the foyer and his stance softens as he leans against the staircase railing. “Well, well,” he begins as he saunters down the steps. “That you are! That you are indeed!” He continues laughing, making his way to DeLuca’s side, placing his hand on his shoulder.

  DeLuca’s posture relaxes and his eyes return to their normal hue and I smile at him, still impressed to see him take such a stand for himself.

  My eyes trail to Dalcour’s hand on DeLuca’s shoulder and a shuddering chill pains through me as I watch long, pointy claws form and dig into DeLuca’s flesh. Moving his hand from DeLuca’s shoulder, he grips his neck and pushes him high against the wall.

  “But you are more than Altrinion, my foolish friend,” Dalcour snaps, lashing tongue forward against the nape of DeLuca’s neck, clawing his other palm against his chest and pinning him flat.

  “I am not!” DeLuca cries, struggling to breathe beneath Dalcour’s weight.

  “My lord, please don’t!” I yell, rushing to Dalcour’s backside, but Armando appears in a flash and pulls me away, keeping me locked in a sturdy hold.

  “Oh but you are!” Dalcour continues as his fangs protrude and his once pecan textured skin glows red.

  “No, I am not!” DeLuca protests.

  “Please Dalcour!” I scream, unable to get from under Armando’s strong grip.

  Dropping DeLuca to the floor, Dalcour turns back to face me, and I watch his fangs recede as he returns to his typical form. Armando releases me from his hold, and I dash across the foyer to DeLuca, wrapping him in my arms as he works to regain his breath.

  Panting, DeLuca pushes me aside and rises to his knees. “You’re mad!” DeLuca shouts at Dalcour’s back.

  Turning quickly on his heel, Dalcour’s lightning-like speed carries him back to DeLuca before I can blink, and he pulls DeLuca by his collar, lifting him to the tips of his toes. Once more, Dalcour’s crimson eyes shine through the darkened hall and a wicked grin covers his face. “No, I am not mad. But you are young and foolish. Do you know what I am boy? I sire the sulking shadows of night. I grant both death and life with the single point of my bicuspid. I evoke fear and pain for no other reason than for my enjoyment. Whatever your kin told you of my kind, multiply it by a thousand and lock it in the darkest corners of the most depraved mind and you’ll still not come close to the madness of what I am. Do you understand me?”

  At his words he tosses DeLuca back to the ground, shivering in fear.

  “Why, my lord? What has he done to offend you?” I cry, clinging to DeLuca.

  “He has done nothing,” Dalcour whispers back.

  “Then why?” I repeat.

  “He is mortal, Chartreuse.” Looking down at me, I see Dalcour’s expression has softened as a newly formed smile corners his face.

  “I—I don’t understand,” I stay, stammering my words and searching his face for understanding. “But you—you said he is Altrinion.”

  “Yes, he is. But only a small amount of the Altrinion force flows through his veins. He cannot go where I take you unless he is read
y to become your first meal.” There is no pretense in Dalcour’s tone. Staring in his eyes, I know his sentiment is sincere. My eyes fall at his words and I see the wisdom behind his threatening brutality. “If not your meal, then the meal of one of the others.”

  “I understand,” I quietly say, sharing a gloom-ridden glance with DeLuca. “But I thought you said he could stay with us, my lord?”

  “Only if he understands the risks,” Dalcour replies sharply.

  “I do understand,” DeLuca adds, rising to his feet. Stretching his hand toward me, a warm smile crosses his face and I place my palm in his as he helps me from the floor.

  “No, you don’t.” The resolution of Dalcour’s tone is haunting but true. “Our world is different from any other. I know not what the gypsies of Biloxi taught you, fiercely foolish one, but Chartreuse’s world is changing faster than you can comprehend.”

  “It is time, my lord,” Armando calls to Dalcour, breaking our forming stand-off.

  “Show Master DeLuca to his quarters,” Dalcour responds as Armando quickly makes his way to DeLuca’s side. “Young one,” he says, now turning his attention to me, “take my hand.”

  “Chartreuse!” DeLuca screams as I place my hand in Dalcour’s large palm. Dalcour offers a permitting nod and I look over my shoulder at DeLuca and smile. “No matter what happens poppet, I will be here when you return. No matter what.”

  A lone tear falls to my cheekbone, and I quickly brush it away as Dalcour leads us down a dark hallway adjacent to the parlor.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What is this place?” I question Dalcour trying to see through the smoky corridor. Surrounded by large cinderblock and brick walls I turnabout, peering through the darkness, fearful of the hissing and growling sounds echoing around me.

  “These are the taming wells,” Dalcour answers softly, tightly gripping my hand in his.

  “Taming wells?” I repeat, circling about and trying to get my bearings. The last thing I recall is being led down a dark staircase in the mansion and in a flash we were here. Odd.

  “Yes, this is where we bring the newly bred for taming—to see if they can normalize among humans. Here they are tested and tried. They go through a series of events, each meant to ascertain their ability to walk among others without causing undue harm.”

  “So you domesticate them? Like a pet?”

  Laughing as he looks down at me, Dalcour’s eyes are tender as he watches me. “Not quite, Chartreuse, but you are close. The newly bred are far from pets and are still very lethal creatures. However, here we teach them how to um—use discretion. We teach them how to blend in society.”

  “And if they don’t pass the tests?”

  “They are destroyed.” Dalcour’s swift tone is brusque. Staring at me, he searches my face and I know his hard tone was intentional.

  He wants to know if I’ll break.

  “I understand,” I quickly reply, looking away, attempting once more to see through the dissonance of darkness all around me. “How did we get here so fast?” I ask, looking back up at Dalcour.

  “There are taming cells beneath the mansion. As a matter of fact, I’m establishing cells like these throughout the America’s. It’s my way of trying to create some normalcy and civility among the supernatural community.”

  “The supernatural community? Aren’t these taming centers only for vampires? Who else would need them?”

  “That is a good question, dear friend.” A dark and sultry voice calls behind us.

  Straining my eyes to see through the murky corridor, the distinct scent of hyacinth petals past my nose, instantly calming my nerves.

  “Titan!” Dalcour merrily announces as a tall bronze hued, herculean man stalks toward us. Slowly the haze of the corridor recedes, and I watch in awe at the deified man standing before us. His marble-gray eyes and long and thickly knotted sandy brown hair hangs to the middle of his muscular form. Wearing nothing but a cattle-hide sheath over his waist, his chest and stomach is meticulously etched, revealing his strapping handsomeness.

  While Dalcour may be attractive, I have never thought of him as anything other than my protector. This man, on the other hand, evokes all manner of abandon within me. Had a man of his stature ever ventured to the saloon, I would have gladly shared all that I am with him and more.

  “Chartreuse!” Dalcour snaps, tugging my hand hard and breaking me from my impious musing. Choking down the thick air in my throat and pushing my irreverent thoughts aside, I look up at him and smile. “I’d like to introduce you to Lord Titan. He governs these taming wells,” Dalcour adds proudly as he and Titan share equally reverential glances.

  “It is very nice to meet you, Lord Titan,” I mutter in response.

  “As it is to make your acquaintance. You are every bit of decadence as Lord Marchand described,” Titan answers with a sly grin, looking me over. His eyes trail from my face down to the tips of my toes. As he regards me, it’s as though his gaze alone prickles my pores, causing goose bumps to erode through me. Glaring back up at me from the floor, his eyes slowly travel from my hips to my breasts. He lingers, gawking at my bunched cleavage, licking his lips, and narrowing his seductive gaze into my own.

  “Titan!” Dalcour barks, quickly averting Titan’s gaze back to him.

  “Yes, my lord—yes, well she is quite fetching. I can understand your intrigue. As will your brother.”

  His brother? I hadn’t given much thought to how Decaux might fit in. I can’t help but be curious as to why Titan thinks Decaux will care anything about me. I haven’t seen him since before Calida’s death and he’s made no attempt to see about my family after she died.

  “Is he here?” Dalcour questions, his tone still coarse.

  “He is where he always is this time of night. In the feeding room.” The narrowed and evocative gaze of Titan locking eyes with me as he replies to Dalcour isn’t lost on me. He is trying to scare me.

  It will not work.

  Dalcour looks down at me and back at Titan, sharing a wary gaze. “I’ll only be a minute. Please stay here with Lord Titan. You’ll be safe,” Dalcour says with a hesitant smile.

  “Perhaps,” Titan adds with a lilting chuckle and his arms folded at his waist, looking me over once more. Dalcour gives him a rebuking glare, shaking his head in disapproval and squeezing my hand tight before he exits out of my view.

  Prickling pores erupt again all over my body as Titan remains leaned against the cinderblock wall with sight set on me. Unprovoked, he lets out a loud and nefarious laugh as he saunters across the room and pulls out a small wooden chair. “Please, sit,” he says with a broad smile, still laughing.

  “I suppose it would be better if I knew the cause for your amusement,” I say, curious.

  Covering his mouth with his left hand and raising his right palm toward me, he continues giggling, but shakes his head, trying to contain his merriment.

  “Lord Titan!” I snap, slightly annoyed.

  “I am sorry, my lady, but you must admit the situation is quite amusing,” he says, cupping his hands against his chin, restraining his laugh. As much as I want to take a moment to admire just how adorably handsome he looks when he laughs, I cannot. My concern is not understanding the cause of his glee.

  “And the situation?” I question, wishing I could read his mind.

  “Well,” he begins, pushing himself upright, attempting to regain his composure. “It’s surely not in jest that Lord Marchand wants to make you vampire. For any stiffer could see that a woman of such beauty would be highly revered arsenal in the community, but to try to offer you as such to Decaux, is well, absurd.”

  As Titan’s bout of laughter takes over once more, my mind rattles about. “What?” I mutter, as panic and DeLuca’s dreaded premonition lifts to the foreground of my memory.

  “It is absurd, don’t you agree?” Titan asks, extending his hand and awaiting my response.

  “Well, I—”

&
nbsp; “Of course it is! I mean sure, you are certainly a dead ringer for Calida, no pun intended; but you are not your sister. And despite Dalcour’s need to play the broker of peace to his brother’s newly found machinations, you shall never be a replacement. Further, Dalcour’s time would be better spent trying to meet the tasks and obligations his brother has laid before him instead of this ridiculous notion of filling the void of Decaux’s heart with you.”

  Silence sits between us as Titan glares at me awaiting a response. But I have none to give. I don’t know what to make of this information. Thoughts of racing from here and back to the saloon swarm my mind, but the gnarling and hissing sounds echoing about, rein in my impulse.

  Only one thought looms through my forlorn mind: DeLuca was right.

  Dalcour does have other reasons for wanting to make me vampire. And somehow Decaux is his reason.

  But his reasons are not my own.

  As my mind replays Titan’s words and thoughts of me being used and offered to yet another man torments me, a willful spirit of protest rises within me, erupting me from my seat to my feet. Titan’s eyes widen as I spring forward and he raises his palm once more in caution, but the time for caution is gone.

  I refuse to be bait or barter. Not even for Dalcour Marchand! And if my protest costs me my life, then so be it.

  “Firstly, I—” Before I can finish my objection, I am stunned into silence when both Dalcour and Decaux come into the corridor, standing not only a breath apart from me.

  “Brother,” Dalcour begins with a broad smile spreading his face from ear to ear. “This is the lovely Chartreuse. Isn’t she a beauty?” How it is even possible I do not know, but Dalcour’s smile lengthens and his eyes dance just as I’ve seen before. However, this time I now understand the meaning behind it.

  Decaux steps forward and his enticing yet bountifully aromatic scent nearly knocks me back into my seat as I stumble backward. And fallen I would have, if it weren’t for the gentle wrapping of his arm along my back, preventing my blunder.

  Unlike Dalcour, Decaux’s face is not adorned by the soft creasing of a kind smile. Instead, his darkly crimson eyes deepen in my own with an air of both intrigue and displeasure. Despite his stately and handsome presence, warmth and compassion does not exude from him as it does his younger brother. Instead an ominous and foreboding glare fills his eyes.