Harper Jones 2.

Prologue

I studied the night from the centuries-old balcony. It covered the world; my world. I listened to the near-perfect silence, delighting in such tranquillity.

My king, Drake is asking for you.

I turned around, annoyed that this contemplative moment should be disrupted.

Later, I waved him away.

My valet blushed awkwardly. It didn't take much to frighten idiotic Rupert. He had not become any braver with age.

But my king, he says it's urgent. It's about a cursed one... and Lysandre Bontemps.

That dirty rat's name got my back up like an insult to my pride.

I called for the aforementioned Drake, one of my many spies. You cannot control the world without being careful about who you surround yourself with and being seen to be systematic.

The huge brute entered my salon, still out of breath from running. He then told me everything. He told me about that traitor and all he had done to save the life of the last cursed female of Phileas’ line. Closed minds never lead to anything good. That girl’s ancestor had never been able to see the big picture. She would be the same. Fortunately, the spell cast all those years ago was still doing its job.

Is she dead?

Not yet.

Anger was growing within me like an uncontrollable fire.

But that’s not all, my King, she is the witch Isla Romero’s hidden child.

I froze.

Isla... the tearful widow.

That astoundingly powerful witch’s sad expression had in no way diminished her beauty.

I moved over to the crystal glass service and placed a hand on the decanter. My fist clenched tighter and tighter until the ridiculous play set exploded into a thousand pieces.

I need that child. If she survives, she will be mine.

Yes, my king.

Bontemps will never cease to amaze me. I thought he would have given up a long time ago. That wastrel infuriates me. What does he think will happen? That by saving one of the cursed ones he’ll prove he’s stronger than the king? Pathetic!

Drake didn’t answer, his expression unreadable. I sighed thoughtfully.

Lysandre Bontemps.

I loathed that man.

Fifty years in prison for treason had not been enough. With Phileas slain, he and his red-haired harlot had seen fit to attempt to rally some of my advisors to a second attempt at an uprising. The bitch had been burnt at the stake in front of everyone. Sometimes one example is not enough to re-establish order, so a second public execution had cooled people down.

I should have killed him, too. I had been clement, because of Faustin, whom I had trusted, who had guaranteed that living with the memory of his deceased partner and friend would, for that emotional being, be a much worse punishment than death. The sadism in his request had seduced me.

Since then, my loathing of him had not lessened any.

Why had I freed him? Once again, because of my advisor’s persuasive words. Torture was no longer working on him, he was becoming boring. So I had freed him to let his memories eat away at him for all eternity.

He would carry the weight of his abhorrent deeds with him for life.

My king, Drake interceded, pulling me out of my musings, there is more.

What is it?

Dorian has been untraceable since last night.

What do you mean, ‘untraceable’?

He and his group were heading towards Wesmont Hill. I had an appointment with him, but he did not turn up.

I groaned. That badly-weaned cursed one was becoming unmanageable. But I could not be rid of such a good opportunity.

It looks like my lure worked, in that case, I declared with satisfaction.

I thought about my scheming, which was still as clever as ever all these years after taking the throne.

Anything else?

No.

Then let me be.

After some bowing and scraping, I was back to the solitude that I was so fond of. I was no horrible monster. I just liked things to be orderly. I led things, end of story. And I would do anything to be sure of my subjects’ loyalty. Because there was no more glorious vision for our species than mine. I owed it to myself, to all of us, to guide them. With no exceptions.

1

Harper

I could no longer feel the cold. Or the warmth, to be honest. The fire behind my fever seemed to have gone out, forever lost in the meandering darkness that I had been floating in for... for how long, exactly? There was no more pain making my body tremble; that too seemed to have just disappeared, leaving me feeling nothing. Ever again.

Death? No, a little voice forbade it. I had not crossed that line. I had survived. At that moment, everything joined up in my mind, everything made sense. I did not like my conclusion, I hated it. However, it was the only alternative to death.

I froze, screaming silently, so loudly that it was enough to bring me out of my numbed state. I finally opened my eyes and could only see wood. A box. I felt like I was suffocating and wildly took in all the air I could. I could not sit up in this tiny prison. I placed my hands against a ceiling that was much too close to my eyes, and a powerful arm pulled me to the bottom.

Stay calm, whispered a voice that I took a couple of seconds to recognise.

My brain joined together the pieces of the puzzle.

I screamed out of anger, fear, a mix of everything that had been holding me down for hours, perhaps even days!

Calm down, Rose! the deep, hoarse, intense voice went on.

I noticed the huge body wedged under me, slightly to the side. We were both in the miserable box. I started to panic. It was bloody dark, but I could see clearly! This was all so unbelievable.

Get me out of here, I screamed at Lysandre, trying to struggle.

He tightened his hold on me.

You have to be patient, just one more hour, then you’ll be free. You have to stay in here for twenty-four hours, your body needs time to regenerate.

I cursed.

I was suffocating.

I’d kill him if he didn’t let me out of what I now suspected to be a damned coffin.

Shit, for fuck’s sake!

I used all my strength to try to escape from his arms and get out of there, but he was faster and more powerful.

No, he grunted.

I sighed, unable to control the tension and fear within me. I need air!

That’s just a feeling, you don’t need it any more. It’s an old habit that you’ll lose over time.

That I’ll lose over time. Oh, I knew only too well what was happening, but every reference to the new state I had entered into was unbearable. I had not become what I thought out of choice, desire, or a thirst for power. No way. But I was simply not ready to accept it was over so soon. I was a work of injustice and I meant to add this to my future revenge list

Lysandre’s tense body against mine put me into a state of alert. He was holding me tightly and seemed worried for me.

Why twenty-four hours? Why not twenty-five? I asked sharply.

He gently released his hold on me and I took advantage of this to twist around to face him.

He flashed me a brief smile before answering. Witches like even numbers. Looks like you’re different.

I’m not a witch.

Let’s say you half are. Sooner or later, it will become obvious.

We’re cramped in here, I remarked.

An observant witch, he had the cheek to say.

I shot daggers at him. I’m hungry.

He immediately stopped joking about and went back to being worryingly serious. His face tensed.

That’s normal. You haven’t been eating much lately, and the mutation has used up energy, meaning we have to follow protocol to the letter.

I don’t understand, this isn’t the usual transformation process, so why does that rule apply to me?

I could tell that my thirst to know was annoying him. But did he seriously expect me to keep quiet, under the circumstances?

Harper, you are the only woman to have survived this curse, so we’re not going to risk ruining everything on the pretext that you have close to zero patience.

I looked at him, then laughed. That’s a nice way of insinuating that I’m a pain in the arse.

Lysandre had a natural gift for stating the most disturbing truths with charm.

I managed to get a smile out of him regardless. That was rare.

We?

He bugged. Sorry?

"You said, ‘we’re not going to risk’, but, and stop me if I’m wrong, only my survival is at stake. Anyway, exactly why are you stuck in a coffin with me? I feel like I’ve missed an entire episode!

Or maybe even two.

My blood wasn’t enough to keep you alive, the transformation was progressing too quickly. We needed a more radical method: the ground or a coffin. The second option saved some time.

You’ve only answered one of my questions.

I said ‘we’ because I’m stuck in here with you. The reason is the same as for the twenty-four hours: during a ‘standard’ transformation, the creator has to be there with his ‘creation’.

You didn’t transform me.

No, but I thought that my presence would optimise our chances, and I doubted you would accept what had happened to you this easily when you awoke, especially without any explanation.

He had figured out a part of my multi-faceted personality.

It was silent again for several long minutes until a snapping noise surprised me. I automatically put my index finger to my mouth and touched them, the bony spikes, the canines, which had come out of my mouth without warning. My heart skipped a beat: it was still going? Everything was confused and my pseudo-knowledge, garnered over years of studying and hunting, felt like it was not nearly enough to allow me to accept what had happened and set my mind at ease.

Hunger, he whispered. Instinct.

I suddenly became very aware of how close together we were, a thought which up until then had been pushed aside by a thousand as-yet-unanswered questions. I looked at his fine features, his dark hair falling from his dishevelled bun, cascading over one shoulder, the deep blue-grey of his eyes focussing on me. Then my gaze moved to his slightly parted pink lips. I was hit by a series of images: that kiss, those kisses, on a bed, his bed. I, Harper Jones, had succumbed to the charms of one of my worst enemies, in a moment of weakness, I had almost given my body to that man. That vampire. It must have been the fever. Even though he was breathtakingly gorgeous, he was still a vampire. And I was now one too.

Argh!

They say that if you think too much, you wear yourself out faster, he teased in a little voice I’d never heard before.

I shivered under his mischievous gaze.

I’m starving, I admitted. I don’t think I’ve ever been so intensely hungry before.

Beastly, isn’t it?

I didn’t answer, but he was right.

You will feed as soon as we get out.

How?

My whole body felt like it was claiming its dues, and one due in particular. My human convictions were no longer an issue, although my head was screaming to fight. Lysandre knew that. The beast within me was sleeping, but sooner or later it would awake to feed. I could feel it slowly engulfing me, taking hold of everything.

If you lose control before we can get out, bite me.

I was stunned.

Biting someone. I might have seen proof of what had happened, but I didn't think that was possible. I swallowed, gripped by unbridled panic.

I can’t, I whispered.

You will be able to, I guarantee it, when your hunger gets too much. You can’t learn how to control yourself in such a short time, it will take training and someone to show you how to do it.

Let me guess, you’ll be that person? I asked a little too abruptly.

He did not deem this worthy of an answer.

I’m not prepared to kill...

You won’t kill, I’ll make sure of that.

I don’t want to bite innocent people.

That’s all some want.

Despite my new condition, nausea was washing over me. It’s too much for me.

Maybe for now, but you’ll gradually give in; the temptation will be too big. That’s when I’ll have to be especially careful training you.

I looked at him, worried.

We can make do without humans at the start, I have reserves.

‘Reserves?’ I froze.

The morgue, he commented.

I retched and my fangs went back in.

He seemed surprised. You are certainly full of contradictions, Rose Harper Jones.

I didn't understand what he was getting at, and I didn’t care. The pangs of hunger were getting more and more unbearably violent. I caught myself eyeing up his jugular vein, so pale against his black shirt. He didn’t miss any of this and I saw his Adam’s apple slowly moving. When I raised my eyes to Lysandre’s, his had darkened. He was watching me. I only then realised what effect contact with him had on me. I was weakened, in an in-between state, a victim of unparalleled hunger and inner demons. I couldn’t fight. He could. He was playing with me.

The next moment, my fingers were all over his partly open shirt and my pelvis moved towards his until our hips met. His canines immediately came out. I should have fled, got out of that box, risking death rather than losing myself in that dangerous, enticing abyss, but I didn’t. His lips were calling out for mine and I melted into them, caressing the tip of my tongue over his sharp fangs, discovering them from a new angle, feeling like I had a ticket to disconcerting intimacy.

You can bite me, he said gently, against my mouth.

His voice was a husky breath. I was losing my depth in this fiery embrace. I didn’t want to think about going further just then, so I opted for a passionate kiss. Our bodies came completely together and my arms wound around his neck while I forgot all my values, beliefs, and with them, my pride.

I was being led only by instinct, I was a mere puppet in his manipulative, demonic hands. I could sense his strength in his every gesture, his perfectly controlled power, this while I was letting myself be taken over by desires I could no longer control. It was a rigged game of chess, and a part of me was rebelling. The rest of me, however, was much more alert and had decided to make me a slave to its desire.

I moaned against his lips and tore off his buttons to free him of his shirt, and my hands then moved lower, down to his jeans which were tight against my flesh.

And then there was daylight.

Well, if you’ve finished playing doctor, I have a couple of words for the lady-killer.

I stared open-mouthed at the woman staring at us. She had thrown the lid off our wooden nest and was looking us up and down with a half-smile that was much too unfriendly for my liking. Our visitor had ebony skin, short black hair that matched her doe eyes, and she looked like she knew Lysandre well. He sat up, his eyes lowered, while he laughed like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

OK. My pride came galloping back.

I looked at him questioningly, completely lost.

You’re overstepping, Jade. There was another half hour to go.

Your cursed one doesn’t follow the normal rules, she’ll get over it. Is that the best you could do to explain being in there with her? Your pick-up technique sucks.

Am I dreaming? I protested.

Lysandre laughed once again. Although he could have charmed me with his mischievous kid act under other circumstances, just then I got angry.

I don’t know, I just wanted to be careful!

That was too much. I went for him with my special right hook. Years of training could be useful.

He stopped my punch before my fist had even touched him.

A strategic error.

You cannot win beat another vampire who is several centuries older than you.

2

Harper

If I had not been so hungry, I would have put everything I had into one mission: killing Lysandre. But my sense of reason was also making its presence felt, reminding me that I did need his decades of knowledge just a little to be able to survive in my new condition, as I only understood the main aspects of it. Years spent learning everything about vampires and the like, only to now find myself completely lost. I also hadn’t seen it coming... Everything had happened so quickly...

I watched the scene from a corner of the dark cave, sulking with crossed arms.

The vampire supermodel was standing in the middle of the room - I mean the woman, as that could refer to either one of them. Shit, it had nothing to do with me being human, they were really