The Vampire And His Lady (Silver Hills #2)

Chapter 19

He awoke in his own bed, a place he hadn't been for too many years to count. His room looked the same as when he'd left it, not even a speck of dust coating the mahogany panels or red hangings. A fire roared in the hearth, as if it had been waiting for him all these years.

Remembrance flooded through him, sharp and bitter as a poison on his tongue. With an agonised groan, Lord Victor Thornwood buried his head into his pillows and decided that waking up at all had been a mistake.

"I wish they'd taken me," a quiet voice said from beside him. Genevieve. She sat, immovable as an ivory statue in a chair by his bedside. The girl looked younger than ever, dark hair dishevelled and green eyes petrified. A thick blanket was tucked up to her chin. Thornwood wouldn't have been surprised if she began to rock back and forth. He wouldn't have blamed her either.

She licked her lips and sighed. "It's not that I care much about any of them, but this waiting is driving me insane. At least they have the luxury of not knowing how incompetent we are to help them."

All Thornwood managed to growl out was, "Ezaryth."

Genevieve lifted an eyebrow. "He keeps on saying he's working on something, and that as soon as you're awake all our problems will be solved, but I think he's bluffing."

Which was a fair view to hold, he realised. In that moment he didn't particularly trust Ezaryth either. "How's Elisabeth?" He asked. Maybe Diana was out of reach, but he could try to endeavour to help her cousin at least.

The witch flinched slightly at that, a ripple of pain disrupting her stony disposition. "Still asleep. I think those bastards did something to her. Ezaryth says she'll have to be left behind."

"Do you consider her a friend?" Thornwood asked. "I can't seem to work out whether or not you like or even tolerate each other."

She tilted her head, dark hair rippling with the motion like spilt ink across the red wingback she slouched in. "Elisabeth is a constant," she said after a while of consideration. "She's always been there, my forever competition which also makes her the most reliable figure in my life."

Thornwood burrowed his head back into the pillows. He wanted, more than anything, to dissolve into nothing. To become the abyss. He'd felt that way the first time he'd lost her as well.

He recalled that day well. How it had felt to walk to his castle- the same castle he was in now- and to find not a blushing bride but a tangled mess of limbs and blood strewn throughout the white fabric and pearls. There was hardly anything left to bury, and he hadn't stuck around long enough to mourn anyway. The same day it had happened he ran to the coast and boarded a ship to America.

To the destiny that he knew awaited him in Silver Hills.

Thornwood had slept through the worst throes of his pain, he realised. Back then he had been buoyed by her promised return, and even when he was rudely awoken earlier by a pretender it had not irked him as much as it should've.

He could sense that she was close. And seeing her again felt like having the air put back in his chest.

Not even a year and he'd lost her to the worst fate he could imagine. The agony was a gentle trickle now, but he could sense the flood awaiting him. At least he could try to save her, even though he felt deep in his immortal veins that it would fruitless.

"I can't imagine what you must be feeling," Genevieve said awkwardly, shifting in her seat. Unfortunately for her, he was starved for blood, and each movement reminded him of the ample supply running through her veins.

The blood he really wanted on his teeth right now was his father's- he had a lot to pay for. And he'd make them all beg for what they'd put her through, what they'd put them all through, but a special torment was reserved for Rydaryth.