FicWad

CHAPTER FOUR


Sleep, like sticky cobwebs, clung to Tynan’s consciousness. They weighed heavily, slowed her ascent into awareness. Memory fragments swirled behind her closed lids, disjointed and frightening. A feeling of dread filled her, and the sense of another’s gaze upon her.

“Tynan?”

The deep, velvet and leather male voice triggered an instant response. She sat straight up, eyes flashing wide. Finding herself in the same bedroom where she awakened earlier, her temper exploded. So did the name she put to her troubles.

“Faelen!”

Tynan glanced around. She found him seated in a huge, tan velvet covered chair only feet from her. Still dressed in brown boots, jeans, and a coffee colored button up shirt, he looked big and intimidating.

“You criminal. You ... Ted Bundy wannabe,” she threw out, as furious with herself for getting taken in by his hypnotism tricks, as with him for using them. She scrambled from the bed’s luxurious width, taking a perverse pleasure in dragging the expensive raw silk spread half off as she did. Tynan tossed any thought of civility to the wayside.

Faelen remained seated. Those gleaming, lion’s eyes of his trained upon her. “Easy, little one.”

“Easy?” Tynan found raising her voice so satisfying, she raised the volume another notch. “You can take ‘easy’, and shove it where it won’t be UV damaged!”

Faelen’s sculpted mouth curved. Just a bit. “You speak in plain terms.”

Tynan walked right up to him. “Kiss my a-”

“Touché,” he cut her off.

She saw the pleasure in his expression. “Touché?” Forget the lessons she learned her college self-defense class. She wanted to provoke her antagonist. Infuriated beyond belief, she kicked him in the shin. “How’s that for touché?”

Her abductor stood. The movement came in such a swift, smooth motion she felt as if she almost didn’t see it. She took an involuntary step back.

“Peace, ilshlava.” Towering over her, Faelen held out a big, wide hand, palm up. “I’ll explain.”

“Explain.” Tynan repeated the word in an attempt to decipher how it could possibly apply. She ignored his hand.

“Let me plead my case.”

His obvious strength made the request seem ludicrous. He possessed the brawn to force. And, after all, why begin asking at this late date. He’d already taken more liberties with her than she could believe.

“You’ve kidnapped me. Twice.”

Faelen’s ambiance of amusement vanished. His deep voice assumed a solemn tone. “I saved your life. Thrice.”

Tynan suffered the unreasonable suspicion she had misjudged the entire situation. Somehow, despite what she knew as facts, perhaps the truth of what was really going on remained unknown to her. She dismissed the notion.

“You intervened once for me in a bad situation. I thanked you. Then two times,” she stressed the number, gazing up at his handsome, earnest face, “you snatched me with that freaky mind thing.”

“Blade would have killed you. Likely worse. I could not let that happen.”

“I’m not to yours to protect,” Tynan countered. Turning, she headed for the stairs leading to the ground floor.

As before, the absence of a balcony or stair railing made her anxious. She stayed well back from the edge, and descended the steps with care. The shiny wood floor of the library echoed her footsteps as she hurried across it to the door. It didn’t surprise her to find the door locked.

Provoked, adrenaline zinging, she spun around. She flipped her tumbled hair from her face and saw Faelen standing within arm’s reach of her.

“Damn you!” She felt like kicking him again. This time, harder.

His amber eyes held hers with an almost palpable force. “Locked only for tonight. As insurance for your safety.”

“Don’t do this.” She battled to control her fighting instincts. “Let me go.”

The sincerity in his tone was remarkable. Especially, since he must have manufactured it. “No, little one.”

“Faelen,” she took slow deep breaths, attempted to regain her temper and control of the situation, “this is a felony. You can go to jail for this.” A trembling began in her stomach.

“If you’ll listen, I’ll explain.”

“I understand perfectly,” she replied. Fear started to trickle through her like ice water. “A stranger intends to try keeping me against my will. A stranger claiming to protect me from another stranger.”

The light from a few tasseled lamps and the blazing hearth backlit him, cast his face into shadow. Yet, those lion’s eyes of his seemed to gleam with some inner fire. The menacing affect gave her the fortitude to push past her fear.

Tynan turned and pounded the door. “Hey! Let me out! Help!” Her fists burned from the repeated impacts and her knuckles stung. Stubbornly she continued to bang and call out.

She felt his big body at her back a heartbeat before he captured her wrists in his hands. His long fingers curved around, absolute as manacles. He crossed her arms over her breasts. Strong iron muscled arms wrapped about her, he subdued her upper body. It set off innate survival impulses. She fought him with her legs, twisted and strained. Within seconds colorful spots danced in her vision. Her lungs ached and her muscles shook.

“I want to go home,” she whispered, physical rebellion finished for the moment.

Faelen said nothing, only held her with a curious, lover-like tenderness that penetrated her fog of fatigue and anxiety.

“Let me go.”

He might have interpreted her words as a plea for release from his house. But, he didn’t. “You must promise you’ll do nothing to hurt yourself.”

Tynan seized upon that. “I’ll do anything to get out of here.”

“You threaten me by threatening yourself?” Something in his voice changed, became dangerous as when he heard Blade intended to trade Ilsa for her.

An irrational portion of her felt compelled to apologize, as if doing it had been an unfair tactic. Shoving that aside, she summoned all her grit. “If I can find anything to use against you, I will.”

“Ilshlava.” The word seemed to sigh around her, through her, too soft and intimate for speech. Then his voice vibrated in her chest with its husky timbre. “What harm can come of your staying a few days with me? Ilsa will play chaperone tonight, if it pleases you. And tomorrow, I can invite a second woman to chaperone if you need further buffer from me.”

Beautiful, yes, but dense and of criminal mentality.

“You so miss the point, that alone scares me,” she tossed at him. “My point, is I don’t want to stay. I want to get the hell out of this madhouse.” Inspiration struck. “Listen. We’ve both had a wild night. You let me go, I’ll forego the satisfaction of seeing you arrested.”

Tynan didn’t realize her moment of blind panic had passed, until he seemed to. Faelen released her. “If you leave before I have dealt with Blade, you will die.”

She stepped around him, moving away from the door and putting more space between them. Faelen turned, keeping them face to face. Her fear had receded, leaving only temper. “My problem. Not yours.”

“Only you can settle your mind. By morning, you will have sorted the matter through. Eldon.”

Outrage at this cavalier treatment rocketed through her with renewed fire. “What? You’re going to leave me to ‘reflect’? Like a kid whose parents have grounded them? I don’t think so!”

Before Tynan could say more, Faelen disappeared through the door. It closed behind him with a snick of the sliding bolt.

Kidnapped. Prisoner.

The words raced round her brain, chasing each other. Tynan stood temporarily rooted to the spot. Then, she about-faced. The towering library, criss-crossed by narrow catwalks, rich wood and firelight surrounded her. Shelves of books stretched upward to dizzying heights. She saw the stairs leading up to the huge tan and black bedroom, the massive fireplace with its ornately carved mantle, marble pedestals hosting sculptures and other objects d’art.

“Talk about your basic gilded cage,” she huffed in a rush of impotent emotion.

For all of three heartbeats, Tynan stood acquiescent and defeated. Then, she proceeded to search the library and bedroom for any sign of window or means to escape. She had no idea how much time passed or how late it had grown, until a clock chimed the hour of three.

Without pausing, she ran her hand along the edge of a beautifully carved case. A miracle could happen. It could swing open on well oiled hinges to reveal a hidden tunnel or some such cinema-worthy convenience. No such luck with that one, or the next five she tried. As she inspected a sixth, she found her attention snared by a series of very rare French volumes. Before that instant, she’d given no thought to the presence of so many books.

Hard on the heels of her unwilling delight, came the knife slash of loss. Her books were gone. The collections, first editions, and fine old tomes, all lost to her. With them, her bonds, over half her stake for founding her shop.

Tynan felt suddenly weak in the knees. The terrible loss, the harsh pain that came in tandem, and the stressful events of the night hit her in one awesome blow. It cut through her, vicious and twisting.

An animal sound of misery echoed in the night time quiet. It surprised Tynan to realize she made it. She forced herself to hold in the grief. Given no outlet, it spread like a living thing, seething inside her.

One second she stood, alone and wretched. The next, enfolded in strong familiar arms, Faelen’s unique exotic male scent and a sense of reassurance. His body heat permeated straight to her bones, warming her from within.

“Fight me tomorrow,” he murmured, “when you can do a proper job of it.”

She let him hold her, mostly because she didn’t think she could stand on her own. “This isn’t normal,” she said into his shirtfront. The hardness of his chest under the softness of the fabric tempted her to rub her nose into it. She resisted. “Normal people just don’t behave this way, or have these things happen.”

“Normal is a relative term.” Faelen scooped her into his arms.

“No.” Tynan squirmed in his grasp.

He ignored her struggle and carried her across the ground floor of the library and up the stairs to the bedroom. Setting her on her feet, he brushed her hair from her face.

“You’ve had a terrible night. You should rest. I had things laid out for you in the room off the bath.”

Her first impulse bid her to remain dressed, fake sleep, then continue trying to escape. However, the deteriorating state of her mental condition made her doubt the wisdom of it. She left him there, and walked to the hall at the right end of the room. On the left stood a huge bath, an open door in it revealed the dressing room he’d mentioned.

Tynan felt like Alice down the rabbit hole, after she’d taken one pill too many. The kingly proportions of the bath, its elegant fixtures, gold veined white marble floor and soaring, glass domed ceiling dwarfed her. She glanced around, closing the door behind her as she did.

Within the dressing room, a brown chair of manly proportions, an assortment of mirrors, a fabulous imported Oriental screen and black lacquered chest of drawers waited. Each wall hosted many folding closet doors, and what looked like converted antique gaslight sconces. A trace of Faelen’s exotic male scent lingered.

Across the back of the chair draped a kimono set of longing pants and robe. She touched them, admiring the fine sage-colored silk. A matching tank, in silk knit lie with them, and a pair of white, ballet style slippers sat on the beige carpet.

The low light provided by the sconces shimmered upon the silk and reflected in the many mirrors. Tynan caught sight of herself in one of them. Her hair hung in a tumble and her eyes looked very large and glassy from fatigue and grief. Purple-grey shadows haunted the skin beneath them; ghosts of sadness present.

Turning from her image, she stripped to her underthings and dressed in the lovely set. The silk felt cool against her flushed skin, caressing her as she returned to the bathroom with her folded clothes.

She set them on the marble topped commode. Beside the pedestal sink, a Middle Eastern style sideboard held a new toothbrush and cellophane wrapped brush, a sealed glass jar of peach body butter, an expensive brand of ginger-apricot facial wash and corresponding moisturizer. The lavish comforts her captor furnished added yet another dimension of surrealism to the situation.

Tynan gave herself a mental shake, and went through her nighttime ritual. She took off her earrings, but left on her opal ring. When she found an elastic band provided, she braided her hair. Taking her clothes, she exited the bath.

It startled her to see Faelen. Her pulse leapt and her fingers tingled from surprise. In the back of her mind, she’d expected him to leave. He stood at the edge of the bedroom floor, long arms crossed over his wide chest. The toes of his boots actually protruded over the juncture of carpet and wooden bookcase. The slightest sway would send him toppling the thirty or so feet to the floor below. It bothered her to see him in such a dangerous position.

And that really bothered her.

“If you fall and break your neck, am I liberated by default?” she asked, placing her neat bundle of garments on the slate topped table just outside the hall.

He turned his head and looked at her. Against will and reason, her breath caught. The impact of those gleaming lion eyes, juxtaposed with the dark honey of his skin and liquid onyx hair, packed enough wallop to give a girl a terminal case of the flutters. But, it was the way he gazed at her that left Tynan breathless. No leering disrespectful dip of the eyes, despite the frank sensuality of the visual contact.

She felt a sudden vulnerability; a complete awareness of him as a powerful, virile male. Flustered, confused, and irritated with herself, she nonetheless held his potent stare.

“I will protect you at all costs,” he said, voice intimate as the touch of a lover’s skin. “Even from your fear of letting me.”

Tynan felt emotionally naked. Exhausted, angry at herself for responding to her kidnapper, she replied, “Don’t bank on Stockholm Syndrome. I’m going to make the most of the posh accommodations tonight. Tomorrow I am getting out of here.”

Faelen said nothing. For an intense moment he maintained eye contact. Then he hopped across the six feet of thin air separating that part of the bedroom’s edge from the stairs without visible effort. Tynan advanced to see his landing. Halfway down, he swiveled back to face her, and without missing a beat, said, “Until morning.” Then he pivoted, leapt down the remaining stairs, landed lightly upon his booted feet, and strode across the library to the door.

Before Tynan drew another breath, she saw the door open and he disappeared.

Like it or not, his seemingly casual feat of athleticism impressed her. Which made her more determined to break free. As she settled into the huge bed, she turned her nose into the myrrh scented pillow case and thought about seeing Faelen behind bars.



Tynan awoke in a snap. In one instant she went from slumber to wakefulness. Sitting straight up in the vast bed, she glanced around. She found herself alone. Memories attacked her from every direction. She felt at once victimized and royally pissed off.

Tynan decided she preferred ‘pissed off’. So she rolled out of bed, took her clothes from the slate topped table, and dressed. She visited the bath for intimate reasons, and to rebraid her hair. Then, she set about following through with her intentions.

She took one of the gorgeous Egyptian statues from the bath, and carried it to the door of the library. It weighed a ton, she thought. Perfect.

She set the black marble portrayal of Horus on the glossy wood floor, and tried the door. It swung open on silent hinges. Recalling the other doors still barring her exit, she hefted the statue and took it with her. At the double doors leading out to the elaborate front rooms and the way out, she repeated the procedure. Again, she found her progress undeterred.

Taking the statue with her toward the front exit, she leaned it against the door as she tested it. The knob refused to turn. A quick inspection revealed no visible mechanisms. It almost pleased her. She was just aching to use the Horus now she’d lugged him this far.

Toting the marble likeness into the music room, she set on the huge, lushly pattered Tibetan carpet.

“Miss?” she heard a feminine voice call, and the sound of footfalls, “Miss Singleton?”

Tynan yanked back the rich deep green velvet drapes. Autumn sunshine spilled in, striking her face with its reassuring warmth. Turning only to heft Horus, she gave him a hearty toss into the huge sheet of glass.

Much as it would have pleased her, she didn’t watch the effects of her handy work. She whirled and made way for the shattering. A dull crunch and then the crack and rattle of the marble statue striking the floor made her spin back around.

“Miss Singleton!” Closer now, and full of concern.

A wide circle of damaged glass marked the impact of the statue. However, the plate remained intact. Glaring at it, she said, “No way.”

A short, round, grey-haired woman dressed in a pin-neat maid’s uniform came rushing into the room. From her periphery, Tynan noted the details. Then, slowly faced her.

“Miss Singleton,” the woman’s sharp black eyes moved over the window and now fractured statue with efficient speed. “What on Earth? Are you all right?”

“Far from it,” Tynan retorted, and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Your boss has kidnapped me, twice. His good buddy, Blade, trashed my apartment, ruined my hopes for starting my own business, and,” here her anger peaked, “this freaking window won’t break!”

In a tone so matter-of-fact it set Tynan’s teeth on edge, the woman replied, “Well, a good breakfast will make you feel better.” Her accent echoed the New England coast, though a trace of somewhere, Ireland perhaps, scuttled beneath.

Charming accent or not, Tynan glared at her as she had the uncooperative window. “You don’t get it. I do not want to stay here. For that matter, I didn’t want to come.”

A proud expression transformed the woman’s pleasant features. Her eyes glinted with professional vanity as she said, “I’ve known Mr. Cairo long enough not to question him.”

“That attitude is so feudal, it makes my head hurt. Do you realize my constitutional rights have been violated? Like, five of them!”

“Call me Mrs. Pellman.” She turned away, with a dismissive ‘come along’ aura, as if she expected Tynan to follow.

A wave of rage roared through Tynan. She retrieved the damaged statue and repeated the effort. The area of damage widened, but it didn’t give. Again Horus clunked and rattled across the floor, this time parting company with his head.

“Miss Singleton, please,” Mrs. Pellman entreated. “Come have breakfast. Then you and Mr.Cairo can sort this out.”

Tynan bit off her opinion of ‘Mr.Cairo’. “Fine.”

She followed the grey-haired woman back through the double doors to the flagstone hall, then past the second set of doors to a second hall. Shiny dark wood floor, a high ceiling, and the appetizing aromas of coffee and bacon greeted her. Her stomach, unconcerned with the politics of principle, growled like a an angry grizzly.

To the left, a tall archway acted as gateway to a huge, sunshine filled kitchen. A smiling woman dressed in a chef’s uniform, came toward Tynan with a mug of cinnamon scented coffee. “Good morning,” she said, offering the fragrant brew. “There’s flaxseed walnut muffins, maple-pear upside down cake, caramelized onion and Canandian bacon strata, seared pork chops, wild mushroom omelets with smoked Swiss, peppers and tomatoes, and a great fruit salad.”

“Alice through the looking glass,” Tynan murmured to herself. She’d slept in a bed fit for a king, seemed about to eat a breakfast that would please a queen. No comfort had been denied her. Still the one thing she wanted remained elusive ... The opportunity to escape her privileged, though forced stay.

Tynan accepted the coffee and resolved to pay back her captor for his efforts.

In spades.




CHAPTER FIVE


Faelen noted the handwriting which addressed the long, silver parchment envelope. Its delicate, sweeping strokes and elongated loops he knew well as the bold crest, of two rampant unicorns and fleur-de-lis, stamped into the grey wax sealing the missive. Opening it, he unfolded the fine old parchment and read.


Dear Faelen,
I am writing to again appeal for help. I can trust no other on the errand I ask of you, without my husband discovering the lows to which our child has sunk. He believes she has gone into seclusion and I regretfully sustain that untruth. Her brother and sister, I suspect, are aware of her activities. Given the recklessness of her many indiscretions, it is only a mater of time before everyone knows.
I beseech you, as Magnus, and last of your honorable line, return Gianneth to the House of Nadirah. Help me prevent the loss of face among our kind, and save my foolish child from herself.

-Artemis Nadirah


At the moment he couldn’t comply with Artemis’s request. Despite realizing Giann would not honor their shaky truce, he would honor it until she broke faith. He refolded the letter and returned it to the grey envelope just as he heard the expected knock on his study door.

“Yes.” He rose from his chair.

Mrs. Pellman opened the door, then withdrew. Tynan stepped past. She’d drawn her beautiful hair back into a braid. It hung over her shoulder, reaching almost to her narrow waist. Her pale green eyes sparkled with spirit. She stalked to his desk. Those long legs carried her with an almost boyish energy that completely charmed him. Faelen’s belly tightened in instant, libidinous response.

“I’ve already ruined one of those marble statues from your bath,” she shot at him, “and that’s just a start.”

Faelen caught her scent in a salacious rush. He schooled his response. “Let’s go out into the library to talk.”

“I’ve had enough of it to do me a lifetime.”

“It’s more comfortable,” he said and stepped around the desk. Her gaze tracked him, wary and sharp.

She about-faced with soldier-like precision, jerked open the door leading out, and exited. He allowed himself a brief glance at her bottom, before following her.

“I looked for that door,” Tynan admitted in a cross tone, “for hours last night. Somehow, I knew this place had to have one.”

He didn’t let himself smile. She was no mood for humor. Especially if he found it in her temper. “An architect from Vienna redid this house for me,” he told her, in hope of diffusing her anger. “He was very good. Indulgent, too.”

“Yes,” she replied, stopping before the blazing hearth. “I can see where you’d require that. So far, I know you need a fairy tale house full of priceless paintings, statues, imported carpets and a king’s ransom in books.” She faced him, voice dripping with fury. “Also, a small fleet of brainwashed servants. Too keep your library fire going, your kitchen productive and your abductees, abducted.”

Faelen weighed his choices. He wanted to tell her all. But, nothing in her short mortal life had prepared her for that. It fell to him to acquaint her by degrees to the life that would, in time, include them both.

He sank into the hearthside chair. Stretching his legs out affront him, he said, “You won’t make allowances for my side of this, because you’re too tied up with your personal emotions.”

Tynan’s brows lifted. “Tell me how to take this objectively.”

He took some small satisfaction in having anticipated this scenario. He’d asked Eldon to place the newly arrived addition to his library on the pedestal. It rested atop it, inches from him.

Moving slow enough for her to take notice of his actions, Faelen reached for the brown paper wrapped volume. “I haven’t asked you to be objective. Only to consider my side of this.”

“You mean the criminal part?” Tynan seemed to dare him to deny it.

Faelen unwrapped the book with great care, making certain as he revealed it, she watched. Between each page, a specialized sheet of protective vellum had been inserted. For several long moments, only the snap and pop of the fire broke the silence. Assured he had her complete attention, he ran a finger down the cover of the original Chaucer.

“Do you really think so harshly of me?” Faelen sat forward in the chair, holding the book in one hand.

“Yes,” she replied. She looked very ill at ease, watching his casual handling of the rare tome.

Rather than argue, he relaxed his hold, nearly letting the Chaucer fall. As he anticipated, Tynan stepped close and took the book from his hand. With great reverence, she replaced it on the pedestal.

“What was that about?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“You were about to drop a very rare, wonderful book.”

Closing the trap, Faelen replied, “It’s mine to drop.”

“Are you kidding?” she rounded, at once sounding incredulous and indignant. “That book’s a piece of history. It’s-” She cut herself off mid-scolding and assessed him. He knew she’d caught on. “Very clever,” she said after a moment. “But you’re talking apples and oranges.”

“How is my saving your life despite your wishes, different from your saving my book, despite my mine?”

“It’s a matter of free will and personal rights.”

Faelen stood, gazed down at her. “I know who has another, and could replace that book in a matter of days. I cannot replace you.”

“Oh, I see,” Tynan shot back at him, “I’m an addition to your collection.”

A hot spur of anger dug into him. Then, he relaxed. Faelen didn’t let her provoke him. “Of course not. Is that why you’re so upset by this? You believe that.”

Tynan’s cheeks flushed. “You have a real talent for over simplifying.”

“You just want something to find me guilty of. You prefer naming me the villain, rather than Blade.”

“You have a prettier surface,” she returned. “Underneath, you’re the same as he.”

Faelen heard the blame in her voice. “He picked you out, Tynan. Before I entered the equation. You can’t argue that.”

“How did he find where I lived?”

“It’s not difficult to do.” Faelen believed Blade had picked it out of Tynan’s head. In humans, fear often evoked images of home. He couldn’t explain that to her, however. “You were less than five blocks from your apartment when he tried to attack you. He had all the next day to return to the neighborhood and ask questions.” True, if Blade could walk during daylight. As a vampire made, he could not.

“You have an answer for everything.” Her tone made the words an accusation.

Faelen gazed down at her upturned face. “I wish I did. I’d like to know how to make you want to stay with me.”

He felt the shift in her, the sudden, elemental feminine wariness. Gently he reached out, took her much smaller hand in his. His fingers brushed the soft skin of her wrist, before closing. The brief contact with her fluttering pulse made his canines tingle and his belly tighten.

A flicker of recognition passed over her face. On some deep, unacknowledged level, she seemed to sense his hunger for her. Perhaps, even his nature. Sometimes humans could.

“What can I do,” he asked, “to persuade you to trust me?”

“Now that you’ve abducted me a couple of times and hold me prisoner?” Her retort came quickly, though without sizzle.

“Yes.” Faelen tested the softness of her palm with his thumb. Within his grasp, the fragile elegance of her fingers brought to mind the difference in their bodies. He remembered the way she’d felt in his arms, her body pressed to his.

He felt his hold upon his desire slipping. It happened between one heartbeat and the next, and he could not find the will to stop it. Not with her, his mate. With the surrender to passion, he lost the ability to shut off his vampire senses. He heard the beat of her heart, saw the minute changes in her features revealing her response, caught the subtle changes in her scent that signaled arousal.

Tynan stepped back. She tugged free his hold. For the moment he let her.

“Don’t,” she said. He heard every slight waver and inflection in the solitary word, but most of all, the awakened sexuality.

Faelen kept his gaze locked with hers, watching the emotions there. “It’s hard for me not to touch you.” He closed the distance she’d created, but didn’t reach for her.

Tynan inhaled, exhaled. “I can’t trust these feelings,” she admitted, surprising him all over again with her candor. “They’re like fairy glamour, or worse, some twisted element in my psyche.”

“And you don’t want to trust me.” A log shifted in the hearth. Flames leapt up, casting her in rich yellow light.

“Preference doesn’t enter the picture.”

Breathing in her fragrance, he challenged, “Doesn’t it?”

Her lovely chin lifted a fraction, the set of her mouth firmed. “No.”

“You trusted me by touch when we met.” He knew she wouldn’t like the reminder.

Those slanted eyes of hers narrowed. He could almost taste her peppery mood. “I would’ve been glad for anyone at that moment.”

“You couldn’t trust anyone with the book you carried, but somehow you trusted me with your life.”

She seemed to weigh her words, then answered, “A stress-related lapse in judgment.”

“Your apartment is nearly back to its original order. Your books will be within twelve hours, and the bonds as well.” He watched her, gauging her reception.

Hope flared in her eyes, lit her face. Then, it faded. “Impossible.”

“I’ll take you tomorrow to see.”

“You’d take me out in public?” she queried, all skeptism and brassy attitude. “Isn’t that risky for you?”

“Isn’t it unwise for you to remind me?”

He felt certain Tynan intended the look she gave him to wither him on the spot. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she answered.

Faelen decided to let the matter rest. “It occurs to me,” he said, changing the subject, “you might prefer another room.”

“Yes. The bedroom at my apartment.”

“For a few days at least,” he began, “you’ll need to remain here. Would one of the suites across the hall please you?”

A small line appeared between her brows as they drew together. “Both are empty?”

“Ilsa left this morning.”

“So it’s okay for her to leave. But, not me?”

“With a fleet of bodyguards, yes.” Faelen searched for the words to make her understand. “He already tried trading her for you. His next attempt will be just for you.”

She gave her head a slight shake. “He can do that even if you’re with me.”

“I hope he will try,” Faelen told her. He left it at that. “I could show you the suites,” he offered.

“Something about picking my own cell is too much like consenting to captivity.”

“Tynan, I know you protest staying. Understand I have your safety in mind. And know that any request, any wish, you have only to make it known to have it fulfilled.”

The challenging glint in her eyes warned him of her intent to test him. “Fine. I want a long soak in a tub, a change into my own clothes, and a phone call to a friend to tell him I’m okay.”

“Done.” He held out his hand toward the door. “I anticipated your wanting out of my room. The gold suite is ready for you, and the suitcase Shang packed for you is there. You can call your friend from my study later.”

Faelen sensed her excitement as he walked her to her room. He felt certain she anticipated using her call as a means of alerting the police by way of her friend. The door to the gold suite stood open, and she proceeded him in.

“What if I’d chosen the other one?” she queried.

“I’d have made the adjustments myself.” Faelen took a quick visual inventory. Assured Mrs. Pellman had fulfilled his special requests, he said, “I have business to attend. When you’re ready, come make your call.”



Faelen punched the ‘end’ button on his cellular phone and gave it an irritated toss onto the shiny surface of his teak desk. The wonderful, seductive bit of modern technology did him no good tonight. Korvahnlith, eldest living vampire born, and head speaker of the Vampyre Council, had denied his verbal request for Right of Magnus.

Until the whole delegation could review his request, Faelen would have to wait. So long as Blade managed to skirt vampyre law without getting caught, and kept Giann as his mistress, he was protected by law. That meant Faelen needed either a concurrent reply, or for Blade himself to attack him or his mate.

In his reckless youth, he would have ignored Korvahnlith’s ruling, and done exactly as he pleased. Now, with his parents dead and no sibling to assume the responsibility for the House of Cairo, it fell to him. As head, and only vampire left of the line, he felt he must honor the position. If the Council outlawed him, the House of Cairo would fall.

He had his mate to think of. His honor cloaked her, protected her. By his aristocratic name and Magnus status, he granted her title and prestige. Beyond that, if someday they chose to have children, and could, he wanted to pass all those things on to them.

However, Faelen refused an indefinite wait. He meant what he said to Shang in the car. If he had to go to the Council to force his case, he would.

He heard Tynan coming into the library and rose to greet her. As he opened the door to the study, she flinched and halted.

“Don’t do that. I’m edgy enough. Too many surprises could do permanent damage.”

Faelen laughed and felt the pleasure all over. He enjoyed her snappy way of speaking her mind and keen wit. The delight he found in them, compounded the desire still simmering from before. He wondered how long he could keep it from reaching her.

She entered his study. She’d changed clothes and coiled her hair into a knot at her nape. He left the door to the library open behind her, because he knew he had a long way to go in reclaiming her trust. Tynan faced him, every nuance of her body language telling him she still expected this call to change everything.

In a tone just a fraction too casual, she asked, “Do you plan to listen in, or did you mean what you said about granting wishes?”

He pulled out his desk chair for her. “This is most comfortable.”

Tynan rounded the desk and accepted his attendance. He pushed in the chair, and handed her his cell phone. He watched her study the small, folding model, thought he could almost hear her brain working.

Faelen said, “We have something to discuss.”

“I have no intention to dial SFPD, if that’s what you mean.”

She spoke with such ready assurance he smiled. “I never thought so.”

A moment’s silence. Then, “I have the feeling you’ve already thought of a way to control this.”

“Not control,” Faelen returned, sensing her spiking emotions, “diffuse.”

“Hairsplitting is a special talent of yours.”

Gazing down at her, admiring her long legs in the white jeans, he replied, “I propose you invite your friend for a casual supper tonight.” The oversized blue denim shirt she wore concealed the deep curve of her waist. “Extend the invitation, and I’ll tell my chef.”

For a second she seemed to consider his words. “You’re on.”

Faelen watched her punch in a number with a nearby prefix. She put the phone to her ear, holding it with one hand and tapping the short, squared nails of the other on the desk. After a moment, she tensed, flattened her hand on the teak. On the other end of the line he heard a male voice; recorded and accented with south Essex, England.

“Lam,” she greeted. Her voice conveyed anticipation as well as impatience. “I hate talking to this machine. Look, I know you have Eddy minding the store so you can play Saturday hooky. It’s,” she glanced at the eighteen eighty-five Swiss clock on the desk top near her hand, “almost three. Get out of bed and call me at...”

Faelen leaned down, bringing his mouth close to her small ear to give it.

Tynan repeated the number. She leaned away from him as she did. “Don’t dawdle, Lam. I want you here this evening.”

He pulled out the chair, then stepped around the desk to give her some room. “What does your friend like? Any specific nationality? I believe Karen can manage just about anything.”

“Judging by breakfast, and lunch delivered to the room, I believe it too.” Tynan rose. The leather chair creaked. She smiled at him with ‘cat-got-the-cream’ radiance. “Lam loves American junk food: hot dogs, hamburgers, potato chips, and Twinkies.”

Seizing the oppotunity to learn about her, he asked, “You?”

He saw the relenting in her eyes. She considered herself good as gone. It appeared to grant her a carefree mood. “Seafood. Especially when it’s done Italian or Chinese. And, I can’t get enough berries. Any kind. I adore them all.”

He looked forward to seeing her that free with him; when she didn’t want free of him. “Eldon will take your friend’s call. Will a nine o’clock supper suit?”

“Me?” She smiled again. “Perfect.”

“Until then, feel free to look around.” Faelen watched her walk around the desk and from his study. “You’re welcome to go through my collection of books. There even a few more obscure volumes you might help identify.”

“I’ll find something to pass the time,” she replied in a breezy tone.

He didn’t fool himself into thinking her pleasant mood would continue. When she saw her plans for the evening dissolve, she’d snap back into form. “I have a few things to finish before our guest arrives. If you’ll excuse me again?”

“Absolutely.” She was already walking toward a case of first edition Thoroughs and Frosts.

Faelen left her there, and went to speak to his staff about this evening. It promised to provide a great deal of drama.