The Vampire's Bargain: a Vampire-Witch Fantasy Romance (Empire of Eternal Night Book 1) by Walt Jasmine

Author:Walt, Jasmine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dynamo Press
Published: 2024-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

16

Afew hours later, I stood outside the chapel of Tenebros, my hand hovering over the door handle. I’d never entered one of the death god’s temples before, and a shiver of apprehension crawled up my spine at the thought of doing so for the first time. But I’d been told that Maximillian was in here, and I needed to speak to him. I could still feel the tingle of his forehead pressed against mine every time I thought of him, still see the incandescent rage glowing in his eyes on my behalf. There was still so much unsaid between us, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Gathering my courage, I curled my hand around the raven-shaped handle and pulled. The heavy door creaked open, revealing the intimate sanctuary beyond, and I paused on the threshold, taking it in.

I’d expected the chapel to feel sinister and forbidding, but while it certainly was dark, there was a sacredness to the space that couldn’t be denied, its vaulted ceilings and intricate stonework lending it a sense of grandeur despite its small size. Dozens of candles flickered, lending an intimate glow to the space, and moonlight seeped through stained glass windows, casting muted patterns of deep purples, blues, and blacks onto the dark stone floor.

A simple black altar sat at the far end of the temple, an intricately carved obsidian statue of Tenebros towering behind it. The artist depicted him as a tall, imposing figure, with elongated limbs and chiseled features. His feathered wings were folded behind him, his broad-shouldered frame cloaked in a flowing robe, and he held the symbol of his sacred office in one clawed hand—a scepter crowned by a closed eye, with a raven perched atop it and a serpent snaking up the rod.

Maximillian knelt before the altar and statue, hands clasped before him in silent prayer. The weight of the world seemed to press in on him as he bowed his head, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. The moonlight rippled over his storm-cloud colored hair and down the back of his crisp white shirt, and I thought he resembled a glowing star, tucked away in some far corner of the celestial heavens his god had once ruled over.

I lingered by the temple entrance, feeling suddenly awkward. I could only imagine the thoughts going through Maximillian’s head—the rage he felt toward Vinicius, the sense of shame at failing to safeguard the humans snatched off the streets right under his nose, and the betrayal he felt at seeing his own citizens violate his principles in such a flagrant manner. It felt too personal, and I took a step back, prepared to slip out the door again.

“Stay.” The gentle rumble of his voice stopped me in my tracks, and I halted. He rose, the motion lacking some of his usual grace, as if that invisible weight dragged at his limbs. There was a troubled look in his eyes as he turned to face me, dressed simply in a white shirt and dark grey trousers with none of his usual finery present.

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