“Lira,” Dania barked.
The girl in question instantly appeared. She was Dania’s most trusted servant and was on hand at every moment.
“Yes, madam?” the beautiful, young vampire questioned meekly.
“Assemble my warriors.”
“Yes, madam. What should I tell them?” She asked hesitantly.
“Do not question me. Do as I say,” Dania said in a lilting voice that was barely above a whisper, though it was no less threatening for the lack of volume.
“My apologies, madam,” Lira replied, bowing low to Dania before scurrying off to do her bidding.
Dania sat on the chaise in the corner of the room, looking about at the billowing curtains as the lightening continued to flash and the thunder shook the mansion. She was dressed in an elegant gown unbefitting the time period she currently found herself in. She had quite enjoyed the billowing gowns she had worn when she had lived in Greece and often wore the soft, sheer fabrics that the goddesses of the previous time were known to wear. Her feet were covered in satin slippers, which she had adopted during the late eighteen-hundreds. Her attire had adapted through the centuries to the styles that pleased her from each century. Her physical appearance, however, had changed little from the time of her birth, her raven black hair drifting to just below her hips, her grey eyes as temperamental as the raging storm, and her lips the cliché red of blood.
She had been born in Egypt many centuries ago in the year 214. She had once been a servant in Pharaoh’s palace, known for her beauty and innocence. She had been the target of many men, but none so infamous as Pharaoh himself. Pharaoh discovered her when she became the head servant of one of his wives and quickly set out to make her his pampered concubine. He stole her innocence and her heart with his pretty compliments and his decadent gifts. After months of seduction and whispered words of love, the Pharaoh had transformed her during a night of passion, never asking permission or allowing her to know of his secret. She had only been 18, and, oh, how she had hated him for that. She had wanted nothing less than his life for turning her against her will and had sworn her vengeance, but, alas, she would have no chance for revenge as he had been slain in battle less than a month later. She had never forgiven him for that either.
Dania snorted indelicately at the memories, wondering at how her mind had retained them after so many years. She wondered in a way how she had come to harbor such resentment for such a blessed gift. She had remained the beauty she had been at the age of 18: her hair as lustrous as then, her lips as full and red, her eyes shining with youth, and her body taut and alluring. She relished the creature of the night that she had come to be, and reveled in the terror and havoc she could wreak on the pathetic mortals she used for pleasure and sustenance and amusement.
Dania was drawn from her reverie as her warriors entered with their mates: Libez and Lilith, Rakesh and Rayne, Amdis and Amaya, Delano and Desdemona, and Kaleo and Karayan. Each couple had taken on corresponding names after their transformation, signifying to the vampire world the unity they exhibited even as warriors. They were teams, trained together to play to each others’ strengths, and they were some of the best in the world at what they did. Dania was well aware it would not take five teams of warriors to bring Carson to her, but it may take that many to track the little scoundrel down.
“Listen carefully,” Dania began, as she often did, in the same softly calculating, authoritative voice she had used with Lira.
YOU ARE READING
Take My HandRomance
How wise could it possibly be to help a stranger you find bleeding in an alleyway at two in the morning? This alone could have life altering consequences that may not be beneficial to your immediate health. But when that man informs you that he is n...