over then, racked by pain. "Stop," he begged. "Please stop." He had writhed in pain, all else forgotten, as Alexi's power washed over him.
And then Alexi was there. Darkness seemed to trail in his wake.
"So," Alexi said. "We are all together at last. Edward, it's time I made the woman mine. You will leave the room. Wait for me in the hallway."
The vampire had sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling as the smell of cold blood reached his nostrils. He jerked his chin toward the bowl. "Get rid of that." Cold blood. It was an abomination.
"Yes, master, "Edward had replied. Moving like a robot, he had picked up the bowl and moved toward the door.
"Edward, "Marisa cried. "Don't leave me! Please, help me!"
But he had been helpless. He had tried to turn to face her, his whole being longing to help her, to strike Alexi down, but the vampire's power was too strong to resist. He had told himself to stop, to turn, but his body refused to obey. One step after another, he had moved toward the door.
"Edward!"
He had heard the fear and anguish in her voice, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing. And then he had heard Chiavari's voice inside his head. "Ramsey, I've taken your blood, made you a part of me. Listen to my voice. Draw on my strength. You can fight him. Think! Combine your will with mine. Together we can defeat him."
"I can't." He had stared into the bowl, at the blood that was so dark it was almost black.
"You can!" Grigori's voice echoed in his mind. "Marisa needs help, help I can't give her. Damn you! Fight!"
Cradling the bowl in one hand, he had opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He heard Marisa's shriek of terror as he closed the door behind him. Standing outside the room, he heard Alexi laugh as Marisa struggled against him. He had looked at the blood again and then lifted the bowl to his lips.
Grigori's blood had filled him with power, lessened Alexi's hold on his mind. Bursting into the room, he had hurled himself at Alexi, the stake in his hand driving toward the vampire's heart. But the vampire was strong and fast, and the stake had missed his heart. Alexi had flung him against the wall and buried his fangs in his throat, not to drink, but to kill...
And he would have died, had it not been for Chiavari. Grigori had slain Alexi and then, at Marisa's urging, forced the Dark Gift upon Edward. He had a vague memory of Grigori holding his bleeding wrist to his lips, urging him to drink. The vampire's voice had been soft yet compelling, soothing as a mother's lullaby. "Drink, Edward," he had urged. "Drink your fill."
And he had suckled the vampire's wrist like a babe at its mother's breast...
He looked into Chiavari's eyes and knew the other man was also remembering.
"What brings you here, Ramsey?" Chiavari asked brusquely.
Ramsey clenched his hands into tight fists. It galled him to ask Chiavari for help, not only because he thoroughly disliked the man, but because Chiavari had won Marisa's heart.
Grigori lifted one dark brow. "Ramsey?"
"I'm hungry, damn you."
"Ah," Grigori murmured, and there was a wealth of understanding in that single word.
Ramsey glanced at Marisa, beautiful Marisa with her dark-brown hair and deep green eyes and warm, sweet smile. Marisa. He had asked her to marry him, but she had refused him in favor of Chiavari. Marisa. His gaze was drawn to her throat, to the pulse beating there. Her blood beckoned him. Hot and sweet, it called to him. She had willingly given her blood to Chiavari when he needed it. Ramsey licked his lips. Would she share it now, with him?
Ramsey took a step forward, oblivious to the other vampire, oblivious to everything but the woman's warmth, the rich red blood thrumming through her veins. Just a sip, he thought; just one sip to ease the horrible agony burning through him. And if she would not give it, then he would take it...
Marisa stared at Edward. He was as tall as Grigori, with the same trim build. She had never thought of Edward as a handsome man, but now, enhanced with the glamour of the Dark Gift, he looked far younger than his forty-two years. There was a dark sensuality about him that had been lacking before. His pale blond hair had turned a deeper, richer color that gleamed like burnished gold, his ice blue eyes