Unleash (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series Book 6) Read online

  Antoine nodded and a flicker of concern lit his blue eyes. He opened his mouth and an almighty wail cut him off. It seemed the twins had voices and wanted to make themselves known.

  Callum appeared in the doorway, wearing a rumpled black t-shirt, creased black trousers and no shoes.

  Fatigue dulled Callum’s green eyes, the dark crescents beneath them making Antoine look as though he had been catching twelve hours sleep a day, and his short black hair was wild on top, as though he had shoved his fingers through it every second of the night. His lips compressed into a thin line and he struggled with the writhing babies. Both of them sported a head of dark hair and matching deep crimson romper suits that covered them from toe to wrist.

  Snow flinched when one of them hit a high note, screaming it at the top of their little lungs, driving the noise like a spear through his ears and into his brain.

  Delightful.

  He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the twin bundles of fury though, and the fact that Callum had to battle to keep them both in his arms. Little demons. They needed a pointed tail on those red suits and a pair of horns each.

  Callum made a beeline for the chair near Snow and sat on it swiftly, a degree of his tension leaving him the moment his backside hit the wood. Snow agreed with his move. The way the babes were wriggling, there was a likelihood that Callum would drop one at some point. A fall from chair height was better than a fall from over five foot. At their tender age, they were vulnerable and weak, and could break bones as easily as a mortal babe could.

  “They seem… rambunctious.” Snow grinned at Callum, feeling genuinely amused by the tiny terrors and their father’s dire efforts to contain and calm them, until Callum moved them so Snow could see them fully.

  His smile lost all feeling then. He couldn’t feel anything positive about what he was seeing before him.

  Life. Very small and vulnerable. New to this world. Untainted and pure.

  It made him feel the full weight of his sins, and for a glimmer of a moment, he felt his death would be acceptable now because there was new life in this world to replace him.

  Antoine’s gaze bore into him. “They will be trouble. Always getting into scrapes. I think they will need all of us here to keep an eye on them and keep them safe.”

  Snow smiled sadly at his brother’s coded words. Antoine wanted him to know that he was still needed in this world and not to think about leaving it. It was all Antoine had wanted and strived to make him see for centuries now, and Snow wished with every part of his blackened soul that he could grant Antoine’s request and find a reason to live amongst the many reasons to die.

  Lilah and Javier reappeared, the Spaniard leaning with his back against the doorframe and his mate wrapped in his arms with her back pressed against his front, both of them watching Callum as he struggled with the babies.

  Callum tried to pass one of the babies to Antoine, who grumbled about it and eventually reluctantly took the squalling bundle. Snow found a real smile again at the sight of his brother holding the baby away from him with both hands as though it was a bomb that would go off if he moved a single muscle.

  It triggered a strange warmth in the centre of Snow’s chest.

  Antoine had spent months complaining about the impending babies but Snow knew that his brother was softening towards them and the unlikely couple. He hadn’t cursed about Kristina being a werewolf for many weeks now.

  Snow thought it was Sera’s influence. She had changed Antoine for the better and it pleased him that his brother was no longer alone in the world, afraid to trust another with his heart and move forwards in life.

  “This one is Abby.” Callum held the little girl so Snow could see her face, clutching her under her arms. She stopped wailing, blinked big blue eyes at him, and then broke out into giggles and reached for him, her tiny fingers clutching the air in his direction. Callum and Antoine exchanged a surprised glance before Callum looked back at Snow.

  “What?” Snow had the feeling he had done something either very wrong or very right, and he hadn’t done anything at all. He had only looked at the baby.

  Abby continued to reach for him, shoving forwards in Callum’s arms, almost breaking free. Her delicate features crumpled in frustration when she failed. Snow knew that feeling well. It was a bitch when you found yourself unable to break free of something, whether physically or emotionally.

  Callum shook himself. “Nothing… she’s just never laughed before.”

  Snow wasn’t sure why the sight of him was a reason to laugh, but he wouldn’t hold it against the kid. If she wanted to laugh around him, he was game for that.

  “Kristina!” Callum shouted in the way only a hysterically pleased parent could and the brunette werewolf came rushing into the room with a wild look on her face, her clothes dishevelled as if she had thrown them on in a hurry, and her claws and fangs bared, ready to attack. Her hazel eyes darted from Snow to the babies, and then Callum, a calculating look in them. When it appeared no one was harmed or in danger, she relaxed and then slapped Callum hard on the shoulder.

  “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Dumb male.” She scowled at him for good measure and hastily buttoned her loose black jeans and tugged the hem of her dark grey t-shirt down over the waist. “What the hell are you screaming my name for?”

  “It’s wonderful. Look.” Callum grinned, ignoring her tirade and glares that spoke of staking the moment they were alone, and held a now-crying Abby out in Snow’s direction.

  “Are you sure that’s wise…” Kristina trailed off, her fear forgotten as Abby burst into giggles again and reached for Snow, hands pumping the air in a desperate attempt to reach him.

  Snow wriggled his fingers in a wave and the little girl kicked her legs, bouncing in her father’s hands.

  Kristina gave him that same awed look that Callum had. Snow shrugged, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

  “Try the other one.” Kristina grabbed the other baby from Antoine and held it out to Snow. It continued crying. Kristina turned it towards her and gave it a look that spoke of confusion and disappointment, and a vague sense that either the baby or Snow was broken. “How does he work on the werewolf and not the vampire?”

  Antoine had told Snow months ago that one of Kristina’s babies would be born fully vampire and the other fully werewolf. Snow had figured that the female, Abby, would be the vampire since she seemed to like him. The little tyke was a werewolf though, and still laughing as she stared at him with huge blue eyes.

  They grew fast at her age. A few weeks was more like a couple of months to a human child. Her aging would slow when she neared three months old, looking around one year old to human eyes. After that, she would age like all werewolves and vampires, taking years to physically age a single one.

  “It’s because he’s a boy,” Sera said from the doorway and Antoine moved out of Snow’s line of sight. She smiled at him, as bright as Lilah had been, her dark green eyes warm with tenderness. “Who here doesn’t know that women have a way with Snow when he’s suffering with his bloodlust? I think it works both ways. Snow’s a charmer.”

  Snow wouldn’t go that far. Lilah, Sera and Chica teased him mercilessly about his tendency to calm in the presence of a female whenever he was in the midst of his bloodlust. He would never live this down if they were right and Abby was the only one affected by him.

  “Try again with the boy.” Snow jerked his chin, hoping to convince Kristina to bring him closer and do as he asked. “I charmed the hell out of Antoine when he was a baby. I was the only one who could get him to sleep. Maybe I just charm babies?”

  Antoine didn’t look pleased that Snow had put that titbit about him out into the world but he didn’t care. He wanted to prove that it was babies in general he could soothe and not just the females. He couldn’t remember the last time he had charmed a female in any way. He didn’t want to remember because he would realise how long he had gone without what so many of his friends here at Vampirerotique had found.


  Love.

  Had he ever truly felt it for anyone?

  He didn’t think he had. He had experienced lust and infatuation, and thought there was a slim chance he might have loved one of the females he had romanced.

  Very slim.

  Maybe not a chance at all.

  He had never allowed anyone to get that close to him, not before he had realised he had a terrible affliction and certainly not afterwards. Once he had experienced his first uncontrollable rage and the dark hungers that hounded him whenever he lost all sense because of his bloodlust, he had cut all ties with females and kept his distance.

  It was safer that way.

  Kristina looked wary about placing her baby nearer to him and he couldn’t blame her. If he were in her place, he wouldn’t want to place his child close to a savage beast either.

  “What is his name?” Snow said, aiming to deflect the conversation away from his apparent charm if he couldn’t erase it by proving himself able to cause the boy to laugh as easily as the girl.

  “Alistair.” Callum handed Abby over to Sera, and Abby immediately began pulling at the shoulder ties of her short blue dress, causing Sera to smile. Callum took the boy from his mother and approached Snow with him. It seemed Callum was willing to tread where angels daren’t.

  Angel. Prince. Snow. Winter skies. Frozen waterfall. Mountains. More of it came to him each time.

  A song of impossible love.

  Callum turned Alistair in his hands, causing the boy to squirm and kick, stretching the material of his dark red romper suit. Red was a good colour for baby vampires. Black was better. Practical.

  Snow noticed the fresh scars on Callum’s wrist as he held the boy out to him. Callum was probably feeding him from the vein several times a day. Abby was lucky. Werewolves didn’t have to feed on blood when young. They could ingest milk and soft foods.

  Snow’s father had fed Antoine for the first few months of his life, before he’d had to return to his business and running the family, and he hadn’t been around as much. Snow had taken over feeding him then whenever he had been at the chateau. If he had realised back then how tainted his blood was, he never would have agreed to it.

  Bloodlust was genetic, and Antoine had it regardless, but the thought of his blood flowing into his innocent young brother turned his stomach and ruined what was once a happy memory for him.

  Alistair quieted, drawing Snow back to him. He shoved his darker memories away and focused on the present and the young boy in front of him. Elite blood at best ran in his veins. He would never know the horror that Snow had experienced for the past several centuries, and Snow was glad of it. He would never wish his terrible affliction upon anyone.

  His eyes slid to Antoine where he stood near the foot of the bed, his arm around the slender shoulders of his mate, Sera, gazing at her with affection as she held Abby in her arms.

  Snow hated that Antoine might one day suffer as he had, losing himself to bloodlust, becoming a mindless animal that would have to be chained to his bed, rendered helpless and vulnerable in order to protect others. Antoine looked across at him, his smile fading and expression turning serious as he caught Snow’s gaze.

  “Perhaps we should allow Snow some rest,” Antoine said just as Alistair proved Snow’s theory and broke into a fit of giggles.

  “I would like that.” More than his brother could know. The calm he had felt upon waking was gradually fading and, little by little, he was losing the battle to keep his hunger subdued and his bloodlust in check. Too many memories were surfacing, dragged up by the presence of the babies and thoughts of Antoine at that tender age.

  Callum drew Alistair close to him, cradling him against his shoulder. “We are having a party this evening. Antoine thought you might be well enough to attend and we waited until you were recovering before deciding to celebrate the births. Do you think you will come down, even if it’s just for a few minutes?”

  Snow nodded. “I would like that too. I just need more sleep.”

  A few millennia more.

  Kristina took Abby from Sera and led the way. Callum filed out of the room behind her, followed by Javier and Lilah, and finally Sera. She paused at the door and looked back at Antoine.

  “Don’t keep him up too long.” She turned her forest green gaze on Snow. “Try to get some sleep.”

  “I will,” he said and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  The babies began crying again and he could hear Callum arguing with Kristina about him. Snow could understand Kristina’s reluctance to have him babysit their twins but he appreciated Callum’s faith in him, even if it was born of the desire to have a quiet night for the first time in weeks and Snow seemed to be the only one in the theatre able to calm their twins.

  “Here.” Antoine unlocked the cuff around Snow’s left ankle. He opened his mouth to protest and Antoine cut him off as he freed his other ankle. “Save it. You have been lucid for a day now and Sera says you need a shower.”

  Snow could well imagine that he did. Three weeks chained to his bed. He hadn’t tasted blood in most of that time but that was never a guarantee that his bodily functions weren’t in normal working order.

  And here he had considered pointing out that Antoine had wet the bed as a toddler.

  Antoine undid the cuffs holding his wrists and helped Snow into a sitting position. Thank whatever power watched over his dark soul. It appeared that this time he hadn’t given himself cause to feel embarrassed around everyone. The only thing soiling his black sheets was a disturbing amount of dried blood.

  He rubbed his wrists, the muscles in his arms aching. His legs shook when he tried to move them. Antoine darted forwards to help him.

  “I can take care of myself, Antoine.” Snow really didn’t want his brother around to witness what three weeks with only insane thrashing to keep his muscles active did to his ability to walk. It would only cause him to worry, and he had already given him reasons enough to do that over the past three weeks.

  Or the past several centuries.

  Antoine sat beside him on the bed.

  The babies continued wailing down the hall. He could hear Callum trying to shush them, and Kristina singing a lullaby. Javier and Lilah were laughing about something across the hall from them. Sera was fidgeting in her apartment nearer to him.

  Below him, the performers moved around their rooms, talking and passing time. Even farther below, he could sense the succubus and Andreu. Payne was there too, and the young incubus boy that the witch had brought with her.

  Snow cringed. “I did try to kill the witch, didn’t I?”

  Antoine nodded. “And Payne too… he was going to leave with her.”

  “You stopped him?” Snow managed to shuffle to the edge of the bed, draped his bare legs over it, and looked across at Antoine. His brother nodded again. “I am glad. I would like to apologise to them, and meet the female and the young one.”

  “Later. They will be at the party.” Antoine wrapped his arm around Snow’s shoulders and fell silent.

  It was peaceful. Snow felt it right to his marrow as he sat beside his brother in his black apartment, listening to the activity in the theatre, the laughter and happiness that filled it now, but it didn’t ease the restlessness in his heart.

  “Take a shower and get some sleep.” Antoine stood and Snow looked up at him. He leaned over, settled his hands on Snow’s bare shoulders, and pressed his forehead against his. “Keep fighting because there are people in this world who love you and who need you here with them.”

  Snow closed his eyes. His brother wasn’t talking just about himself. He was telling him that he was a part of everyone’s lives regardless of what he thought or wanted to believe, and a sliver of his heart couldn’t deny it because they were a part of his life too. He wanted to keep fighting but he was exhausted and the bloodlust was riding him harder than ever, never giving him a moment’s peace.

  Snow lifted his hands, cupped Antoine’s cheeks, and press
ed their foreheads harder together. There was so much that he wanted to say but he couldn’t find a voice for it. He settled for saying the only thing he could and, for once, it wasn’t a lie.

  “I will.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Snow ducked his head under the hot spray of water and closed his eyes as it soaked through his hair, washing away the shampoo.

  He braced his hands against the black tiles in front of him in the double-width shower stall and hung his head forwards, letting the water hit his nape and cascade over his back. The heat soothed the last remnants of tightness from his muscles.

  He had worked out in his apartment after Antoine had gone, putting his body through its paces to try to bring himself back to full strength, and had needed this shower. It completed the therapeutic and almost ritualistic process of putting the past three weeks out of his mind by erasing the evidence stamped on his body—the weakness, the bloodstains, and the fatigue. He always felt better afterwards. Almost normal.

  Snow opened his pale blue eyes and stared at his feet. Rivulets streamed from the tips of his white hair and his chin and nose, catching the light and sparkling as they fell to the tray far below.

  His lips parted and he sighed. Working out had felt good but a shower was always the best medicine after an extended period of captivity. It revitalised him, leaving him feeling alive and awake, and at peace.

  He had already scrubbed himself from head to toe twice over, paying close attention to his wrists and ankles.

  Snow straightened, the water beating on his broad bare chest, and removed one hand from the wall. He turned his palm upwards and stared down at his scarred wrist.

  The marks would fade in time, his preternatural healing taking care of them and leaving smooth skin behind. They were always chafed though, permanent evidence that he had to spend his days wearing leather-lined steel cuffs attached to inch-thick chains that were secured to the industrial grade steel posts at the corners of his bed.

  When they had first moved to the theatre, he had forced Antoine to purchase the strongest, thickest metal posts he could find and make a bed out of them for him. Antoine had protested but had done as he had asked in the end, arranging for the restraints at the same time.