Promised in Blood (Broken Bloodlines Book 2)
Promised in Blood: Chapter 37

Every hair on my body stands on end as though I have been electrified. His presence has always had the same effect on me, but that sensation is magnified times one hundred today. I have no idea if that is a result of the changes in my own powers, or if it is because the stakes have never been this high before.

I close my eyes and suck in a deep, calming breath, but it does little to ease the raging swell of anger and anxiety that swirls within my chest. He is here. On campus. And I have too little time to warn her properly.

I concentrate on her alone, blocking out all other noise. Blocking out everything but her, and that simple act already does something to calm the storm inside me. I replace a peace in her that I have never experienced, and the irony of that—given the turmoil she has already caused and will surely bring in my future—is not lost on me.

Ophelia! My tone is sharp, too harsh for her, but we have no time for pleasantries.

Alexandros? She is surprised and more than a little annoyed, but her innate curiosity makes her answer me anyway.

You must go to Thucydides Library. Take all the boys with you, and do not leave until I tell you it is safe to do so.

What? Why? Are⁠—

They are all safe, I assure her, knowing she is thinking of the boys and her friends. You will all be safe. Just do as you are told. I do not have time to argue. Go. Now!

I think Axl and Malachi are sleeping. I’m in class with Xavier. I’ll … Her anxiety seems to swallow the rest of her words.

I change my tone, aware I need to soothe her, if only to prevent her powers from showing up in the middle of class. We are in no danger, little one. Just do as I say and all will be well. Go with Xavier immediately. Tell your professor you feel unwell.

My father’s energy grows closer. I feel him probing the edges of my consciousness, and a shudder travels down my spine.

I’m leaving right now.

Thank you. And Ophelia? This is of the utmost importance. You must stay out of my head. Do you understand me? I can block out my father, having done so for most of my life, but I have no idea how her powers affect mine or, more importantly, whether he will be able to detect her somehow. The sooner we learn the full extent of her power, the better off we will all be.

I understand.

Good girl. I wince at my choice of words when the current of desire ripples through her and into me. But there is no time to give it any more thought. He is here, standing outside the door to my office.

I block Ophelia out and shout for him to enter before he gets the chance to walk in uninvited, which he surely would have done. He steps inside, and his huge frame fills the doorway. I inherited his height, his build, and so much more from him. His dark-brown eyes that smolder almost black when he is angry. His cruelty and his impatience. I constantly fight to tamp the former down, and for a long time, I succeeded beyond what I imagined myself capable of. But those parts of me—of him—are always there, beating within my chest as vibrantly as my own heart.

He snarls. “Son.”

“Father.” I give him a cursory nod and indicate the chair opposite mine. “It is a surprise to see you.”

His response is another snarl, but he takes the proffered seat, crossing his legs and resting his ankle on his thigh. He glances around my office. “You were supposed to be the president of this institution, not a mere professor.”

“We built this place to ensure the continued survival of our house and of our kind. Whether I am the president or a janitor, the results would be the same. Do I not provide you with an ample supply of pledges to be turned every single year? Do Houses Chó̱ma, Elira, and Thalassa not get the same? Are they not forever in our debt and our servitude because of it?”

He avoids my glare, choosing instead to inspect his fingernails. After seeming to replace them to his satisfaction, he lifts his head, and his dark eyes burn into mine. “House Drakos built this institution to ensure the legacy of all magical beings, and you were supposed to be at its head.”

I bang my fist on the table, sending a stack of term papers to the floor. “I am. Jerome Ollenshaw is a mere figurehead. Everything of importance that is handled within these walls is overseen by me.”

He runs his fingertips through his thick black beard and brings them to a point beneath his chin, his nostrils flaring as he works to reign in his temper. The last time we fought, I tore out his throat. It was almost five hundred years ago, but I am sure that memory still stings as keenly as if it were yesterday. It was the first time I bested him and the last time he laid a hand on me.

“Your walls are stronger than ever, Alexandros. Have you labored on them all these years?”

I twist my head from side to side. “From the moment I learned how, I have always kept my walls strong where you are concerned, Father.”

He shakes his head. “This is different. You are …” He sucks on his top lip as though deep in thought. “Impenetrable.”

I lean forward and rest my hands on the desk. That he replaces my mind impenetrable is surely the best thing he could have said to me and reason enough for me to endure his visit without too much resistance. I can only hope it is as brief as all his others have been these past five centuries. “Why are you here? All the pledges for this year have already been turned.”

He dismisses me with a wave of his hand. “I have no interest in the pledges. Not until you replace me one with a little more backbone.”

“That most eighteen-year-old humans are not cruel enough for you to turn is of no surprise to me, Father.”

He shakes his head and snorts. “You have always thought me cruel, yet look at the man you have become. All of this”—he motions at the four walls surrounding us—“because of me.”

“Or in spite of you,” I retort. “And only a moment ago, you were berating me for not being enough.”

His eyes narrow. “You are one of the most feared and respected creatures to walk this earth, Alexandros. Choosing to waste your time as a history professor locked behind these walls does not change who you are. It does not erase your past victories.” His voice is tinged with pride now, and of course it is.

“You speak of victories, but all I recall is vengeance and pain and a darkness that would have surely swallowed me whole had I let it.”

He bares his teeth again, and his fangs glisten in the dim light of the bulb hanging overhead. “You did what was necessary. What I expected of you. What your mother, your wife, and your daughters would have expected of you.”

Anguish threatens to steal my next breath. “Do not speak of them in my presence.”

“I will speak of who I want to. They were my blood too. She was your mother, but she was my everything!” His roar rattles the arched window behind me.

Fury surges through my veins like wildfire. “You think I do not know what it is like to lose everything?”

He shakes his head and licks his lips, visibly working to control his ire. “Your children were a great loss.”

I leap to my feet. “A great loss? Are you—” I lack the words necessary to convey my outrage, so I grind my teeth together.

He stands too and plants his fists on my desk. “Yes. A great loss. And Elena was your wife. Your bonded mate, but she was not …” The muscles in his throat convulse. “She was not what your mother was to me.”

I struggle to maintain my composure, astounded by his arrogance although I know all too well the man he is.

“Very few vampires have a fated mate, Alexandros. It is a curse I almost wish had never been inflicted upon me. I was never a good man. Born to rule in a time when cruelty and vengeance were the only way of life. And she was the only one who could unlock the tiny sliver of goodness that I had buried inside my black heart. That she could only bear me two children was not enough to dull my devotion to only her. But she took that goodness with her. I made peace with the monster I am a long time ago.”

I had no idea he and my mother were fated mates, and in the two thousand years I have known him, I have never understood my father more than I do in this singular moment. “Would you change it? If you could?”

“Your mother and I were carved into the fabric of the universe when it was merely a collection of particles. Our story is a fixed point in time. It cannot be changed. It is an inescapable truth.”

Frustration and realization take root inside my core. “But would you change it? If you could go back and not bond with her, would you?”

His eyes darken further, but it is not anger I see in them. “What if you were told that you were merely sleepwalking through your life, but that for a brief period of time, you could awaken and experience everything in its fullest splendor? Everything you tasted and touched and felt would be magnified one million times over, and you would finally know, deep in your soul and down to the tiniest atom of your being, the true reason for your existence. But what if I also told you that this awakening would not last forever? Once you returned to your dreaming state, everything would hurt all the more. But you would be forced to remain in that constant purgatory of a life without her because the netherworld would claim all your good memories, and then you would truly lose her forever. Would you still choose to be woken?”

I can do nothing but stare into his eyes and feel some of the deep-rooted pain he has laid bare before me. I know the answer to his question without having to consider the alternative.

“Well?” he prompts.

“I do not know.” I lie with ease but avert my eyes before he can see what I am hiding. Before he sees my feelings for her and recognizes them.

I drop back into my seat. “What are you doing here?”

He rocks his head from side to side, and his nostrils flare. “You are keeping something from me.”

My adrenaline spikes, but I keep my voice calm and steady as I hold his gaze once more. “I keep many things from you. I have kept myself guarded from you since I was a child.”

He nods, and there is an unmistakable look of pride on his face. He retakes his seat. “You have, but your brother …” He sneers. “Giorgios is not as skilled as you. He never has been.”

I actively work to breathe normally and maintain a steady pulse. While I can mask my emotions and block him from my thoughts, blood never lies. Staying in the moment and focusing on each measured inhale and exhale stops me from spiraling about what my brother may have inadvertently revealed about Ophelia. If my father thought for a second that an elementai was here, he would not be sitting in my office having a conversation. He would be tearing this campus apart to replace her.

“Giorgios is skilled in different ways,” I say, gratefully changing the subject and coming to my brother’s defense in the age-old argument.

He snorts. “Teleportation.”

I scowl. “It is a gift I wish that I possessed.”

“The Drakos power is in our minds, not in teleportation.” His tone drips with anger. “If I did not know for sure he was my son, I would have sworn he was a bastard child.”

The way I used to allow our father’s disdain to egg me on and would taunt Giorgios for his lack of abilities as a child is a source of great shame and is a big part of the reason I cannot help but defend him now. Nobody was as shocked as I when his teleportation power developed long after he became a man. Latent powers are unusual in vampires. “He has developed his gift of mind control too. I would have thought you would be proud to have a son with such diverse and unique gifts.”

His eyes narrow. “I was proud of my son who could talk to dragons. That is why you were chosen to marry into the most powerful elementai family that existed. The son who summoned two of the most powerful beings who ever roamed this earth to serve by his side when he was only a boy. That is the son who made me proud. Until you let them leave.”

I cannot believe the gall of this man. “You think that I could have persuaded the dragons to stay? When their numbers were decreasing so rapidly they were all but extinct?”

“You could have convinced them, Alexandros, and yet you chose not to.”

This is another age-old argument that neither of us will ever win. “Why are you here?” I repeat.

“I told you.”

I shake my head. “I am hiding nothing from you.”

He leans closer, regarding me with both curiosity and disdain. “As you said, you are always hiding something, but now Giorgios is too. I could always read him so clearly, and now …” He flicks his tongue over his fangs. “I cannot.”

“So go speak to Giorgios.” Fortunately, our father does not have the power of teleportation that he holds with such blatant disregard, so I will have plenty of time to warn and prepare my brother for a visit. And despite our father’s disdain for Giorgios’s skills, his ability to control his own mind and block his thoughts from others is considerable. Otherwise, I would not have trusted him with Ophelia’s safety.

My father runs his fingertips through his beard again, sizing me up. He will get nothing from me, and of that I am certain. “Be sure that I will. But he has been here four times these past few months alone.”

“He is my brother.”

He scoffs. “A brother you had not seen for almost two decades until recently.”

“I thought there may be a pledge that would suit him. That is all.”

He regards me with undisguised suspicion. “Perhaps I should extend my stay here for a little while in the event he visits again. It would make for a splendid family reunion, would it not?”

Even if I were hiding nothing from him, that would be a terrible idea, and he knows it. But if he does stay, I will be forced to take Ophelia and the boys and travel somewhere he can never replace us. Perhaps that is what I should do in any event. “Whatever you decide is best, Father. But your rampant killing sprees will not go as unnoticed across America as they do in the dark corners of the earth you usually frequent.”

As powerful as he is, even he would not be foolish enough to bring such unnecessary attention to our kind. Plus, he is too set in his ways to exist for extended periods of time in civilized society.

“I go where the Skotádi are. It is they whom I seek out and destroy. Should any humans or witches or any other kind of beings get in my way, then I cannot be held accountable. I do what I do for the greater good.”

His mention of our common enemy has my interest piqued. “And just how many Skotádi have you actually killed these past hundred years?”

A growl tumbles from his lips. “Too few. They were born to hide in the shadows. I know not how many remain, but I will not rest until I replace them all.”

His immense hatred for the Skotádi is the reason I cannot tell him about their recent activities. He would stick around, and his investigation would inevitably lead him to the two people who need to be protected from him more than anyone—Ophelia and Lucian. My desire to protect the latter takes me by surprise. As much as I tell myself it is because I want to deal with him in my own way, I know that is not entirely true. And like with anything to do with my son, I refuse to unpack it and instead push it behind the wall of granite I keep him behind.

“Then I have nothing further to offer you. I got all the vengeance I needed a long time ago.”

“That is not quite true, is it, Alexandros? You got all the vengeance you could stomach because, despite your strength, you are weak. And that is why you will never rule House Drakos.”

His contempt snaps something inside me. Rage bubbles beneath my skin like it is bursting to be let out. “I killed too many of our kind. Tore off their heads and watched them turn to ash. And the witches.” Their screams of terror are as piercing now as they were so long ago. “I killed hundreds. Tore out their hearts whilst they were still beating and fed them to the wolves before I slaughtered them too.”

I ball my hands into fists, my knuckles cracking with the effort. “I took enough.”

“It will never be enough.” He shoves his chair back. “They took our only chance of survival, Alexandros. There will never be enough blood spilled to make up for what we lost. No more vampire children will ever be born. Do you understand what that means?”

I lick my lip and taste her. A lingering trace of her arousal from when I had my face buried between her thighs a little over an hour ago. Fire ignites in my veins. I need to be more careful. Had that been a drop of her blood, he would have smelled her on me and known she was something different. I clear my throat and recompose myself. “Of course I know what that means, but all those lives I took brought me no peace. If it had, then I would surely go on killing until every trace of any bloodline that had anything to do with their deaths was erased from existence, but it did not.”

“If we cannot live in peace, then we should thrive in anarchy,” he says, recounting part of an ancient prophecy that I thought I had forgotten long ago. It was one we quoted often as children. Having little understanding of its true meaning, Giorgios and I used it to justify our reckless adolescent behavior.

I reply with the response my mother would give us every single time. “If we only feed chaos, then there is no hope of replaceing peace.”

He falters at her words, but only for a fraction of a second. “Hope.” He snorts. “Hope is for fools. Those who believe in prophecies and that all things must be in balance. There is no balance. The strongest and cruelest of us will always survive, and that is the simple truth. The destruction of the elementai was proof enough of that.”

Only a few months ago, I would have agreed with everything he just said. But now, I remain silent. Now I know better.

“I will replace out what you are hiding from me.” With that, he stalks out of my office, leaving me to stare at his retreating back as dread settles deep in the pit of my stomach.