- IX -

"I am ready." Amelia said. She pulled the collar of her gown low, exposing her throat despite the taste of ash in her mouth.

Marcus stared into the fire, hesitation written into the set of his shoulders and the expression on his face.

Viktor folded his arms, a thin smile tugging at his lips.

"Are you waiting for me to leave the room?" he asked, deliberately mocking Marcus's uncertainty. "I can assure you, I will not. Amelia has my oath that I will not abandon her while she is at your mercy."

Marcus chose not to answer, as he turned away from the fire and walked over to Amelia. His hands set upon her shoulders, restraining her as she looked into his eyes.

"Yes." The word was soft as she exhaled, unable to quite help the tremble in her voice.

"It may hurt a little," Marcus said.

Amelia felt a stray lock of his auburn hair brush against her cheek and throat before the cool caress of his mouth brushed across her neck for a second time. Because she willingly gave her blood this time, he had not bothered with whatever fell charm he had used earlier. A searing pain shot through her nerves as he bit down on the side of her throat, his teeth cutting through thin skin and into flesh. And yet, as she endured the pain as Marcus began drinking, it was not too unpleasant after the initial shock of his kiss. She closed her eyes, clutching at the front of his leather coat. She felt no illness or weakness yet, but deep within, she needed something - someone to hold onto.

Viktor watched them silently, prepared to intervene if Marcus attempted to drain her completely. His pride and protectiveness for Amelia, however, turned into envy when he saw her close her eyes. He felt the urge to push Marcus out of the way, to take the other man's place and consume Amelia's blood himself. Would she taste sweeter than the servant girl he had drunk from last night? Or would the murders she had committed leave a tarter flavor in her blood? Viktor's mouth became dry, and he swallowed, despite himself.

The more blood Marcus took, the more the vertigo she had felt earlier returned. When Amelia let out a small moan, Viktor narrowed his eyes.

"Marcus, that will do," he ordered. His voice was raspy for the first time since he had become immortal.

The Hungarian didn't react to his command. Amelia's blood tasted like a perfect mixture of sweetness and spice. Certainly better than any he had consumed in a long time and far better than Viktor's. While he had been old and contaminated with sickness, she was young and pure and exciting and...

"I said, that's enough!"

A strong hand grabbed Marcus's shoulder, yanking him abruptly away from her for the second time that night. He had just enough time to draw his fangs out of her flesh to prevent from tearing her artery. Marcus stumbled backwards, his pupils flickering in bewilderment.

Viktor stared at him with pure fury apparent in his eyes. When he turned around, looking at Amelia, his features softened again, but his aquamarine gaze hungrily traced a single drop of red which ran down from the bite marks on her throat and stained the fabric of her open collar.

Amelia felt exhaustion dragging at her. Shouldn't she have been changed by now? Or earned some measure of the strength Viktor had promised her? Instead, she felt weak, sick to her stomach. For a moment she doubted his word, certain that his oath meant nothing. They may have worked at cross purposes, but the fear that they had betrayed her, lingered in the back of her mind.

A chill ran down her spine and her heart-rate doubled, pounding in her chest as sweat appeared on her forehead. It spread like a fever and she choked, struggling to breathe as the pain of Marcus's kiss worsened, spreading through her body. Within mere moments, it had turned into an agony, disorientating her. Her thoughts were muddy, confused and disconnected from the last. Amelia clutched her chest and whimpered, praying to whatever god watched over her, that her death would be swift.

Viktor's furious expression changed into concern. When she eventually started shivering violently, he reached out for her and pulled her into an embrace.

"Don't fear, Amelia. This will end soon."

Her nails dug into his shoulders much harder than she had held onto Marcus's coat before, and the pained shriek which rose in her throat was muffled by the cloth of his shirt. The agony in her jaw caused her to bite down on her lip, and it started to bleed.

Viktor stroked her hair, attempting to soothe Amelia. The transformation seemed to be much harder for her than it had been for him. When her eyes drifted closed, he laid Amelia down on the sofa and sat beside her.

Slowly the trembling ceased and she inhaled, exposing sharpened canines as her eyes opened for a breath. For a moment, her emerald green eyes stared at him, beginning to glow, before they finally rolled back into her head and she passed out. He made sure that she was still breathing and her pulse was regular. He turned, wanting to congratulate Marcus on his newest creation, but the Hungarian was gone.

Marcus strode along the corridor, heading for the guest quarters, his hands balled into fists. He just had made that arrogant woman an immortal, against his own will. A woman he didn't even know, a woman who definitely didn't deserve to possess his powers. Only because she was Viktor's pet.

He let out an angry growl. How could Viktor demand that from him? How could he dare demand anything other than the precious gift of immortality in exchange for his help? The old bastard had even threatened not to fulfill his part of the bargain. And he again could not oppose him! Viktor had him in the palm of his hand, and he perfectly knew how to use his desperate need for help against him.

Already, Marcus regretted making the Moldavian tyrant a vampire, but what other choice had he had? He himself didn't have the skill and experience in warfare, and he didn't have enough men to even try fighting against William and his uncontrollable horde of werewolves. Impotent rage filled every fibre of his body. He was the original vampire, but still, he was so powerless. He stopped in his tracks and stared at a column before he slammed his fist into the solid stone, leaving a large crack.