Chapter Two: The Taste of a Lie
Elena stumbled back, her breath hitching in her throat.
Fangs.
She had seen them clearly—gleaming white against the dim light, sharp enough to tear through flesh.
"You're insane," she whispered. "This is some kind of trick."
Lucien remained kneeling, his eyes calm, patient. "You already knew what I was before you stepped through that gate. You just didn't want it to be true."
She shook her head, more in protest than denial. "If you hurt my brother—"
"I didn't." Lucien stood slowly, his voice as smooth as silk but with an edge that cut deep. "But I didn't save him, either."
Elena's voice cracked. "Then where is he?"
Lucien turned, walking toward the parlor without answering. The heavy doors opened with a creak, revealing a chamber frozen in time—dusty portraits of long-dead nobles, candle sconces, and a fireplace that still smoldered faintly, as if someone had only just left.
Elena followed, fists clenched, fear replaced now with fury.
"I don't have time for riddles, vampire."
Lucien turned slowly, and there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—pain. "You are brave to say that word aloud in this house."
"Is it not what you are?" she snapped.
He smiled faintly. "I am what remains. But your brother…he chose to become more."
Her heart dropped. "No."
"He was dying," Lucien said. "Poisoned by something not of this world. A wound that would not heal. He came seeking death, but I offered him something else."
She stared at him in horror. "You turned him."
"No," Lucien said quietly. "I begged him not to drink. But he took the chalice himself. Drank my blood while I slept. When I woke, it was already done."
Elena stumbled backward, hitting the edge of a velvet chaise. "So he's… like you now?"
Lucien's voice was heavy with regret. "Not yet. The change is slow in one so young. He fights it—but the hunger is strong. I've locked him away, for now. For his safety…and yours."
She felt like the walls were closing in. "Take me to him."
"I can't."
"I said—"
"Elena." Lucien's voice sharpened, silencing her. "If he sees you in his current state, he will not recognize you. He will see warmth, blood, scent. He will kill you before he remembers your name."
She stared at him, throat tight. "Then help him."
"I'm trying," Lucien murmured, stepping closer. "That's why I need you to leave. The hunger is growing in him, and he will not be the only one to feel it."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
Lucien hesitated, then turned toward the tall window. Rain lashed against the glass. "They know. Others like me. Older. Stronger. They sensed the turning. They are coming."
"For Thomas?"
"For you."
Lightning flashed.
Elena's heart raced. "Why me?"
"Because you carry the blood of the Virelli line," Lucien whispered. "And none of us ever forget the taste of a Virelli."