FicWad

CHAPTER TEN

Tynan approved of the suits. Both tanks, one in cobalt, the other deep raspberry, had modest cuts and simple designs. Part of her balked at accepting them. Still, she reasoned doing so did little harm. She’d chose just one to wear. Maybe he could return the other after she left.

A gorgeous, white gauze button up shirt and sarong accompanied them. After putting on the vivid blue tank, she dressed in the set and stepped into the Japanese sandarue provided. She coiled her hair up high, secured it with a strong white clip and left the suite.

As always, a cheerful fire blazed in the library hearth. The sound of her footsteps echoed as she crossed to the stairs. And, as she ascended them, the scent of roses and flowering trees wafted down. When she reached the top, she saw the sliding glass doors open to let in the warm fragrant air. The solarium waterfall created a kind of music, beckoning her.

Tynan descended the spiral steps. She skirted the pool to a stone bench, removed the bamboo weave sandals, shed her sarong and shirt. Laying them neatly across the seat, she walked barefoot over the cool stone walk to the tile edge.

The setting sun slanted its golden rays back into the solarium. It glittered upon the water’s crystalline surface. At her feet, wide, royal purple and aqua tiled steps led into the pool’s shallows.

For a moment, she soaked in the scene. Then, stepped down upon the first step. Not too cool, nor too warm, the water felt blissful as she descended. At the step’s base, she stood waist deep. Tiny ripples radiated across the surface. It struck her then, that no unpleasant odor of chlorine spoiled the experience. Trailing her hands along her sides through the water, she tried to decide if she could note any tactile difference.

She brought one hand up beneath her nose. Not a hint of any chemical.

“You’re right.” Faelen’s voice made her jump.

She glanced toward the waterfall at the opposite end. He stood just to the right of the cascade. He wore the sort of attire she’d come to expect. Dressed in dark brown boots under pants of the same shade, and a very light almond colored shirt, he looked at once casual and commanding. The feathery branches of a huge fern prevented her viewing minute details. Still, she could see he wore his hair loose.

“No chlorine,” he elaborated.

“How’d you know?” Her pulse sped in response to him.

Faelen stepped from behind the screen of flora. “I watched you. It stood to reason you’d noticed the lack.”

Collecting her thoughts, she asked, “Why? For that matter, how can it work?”

Circling the pool, he answered, “I don’t like chlorine.” He came closer. “So, I took an ancient Roman technique, gave my architect cart blanche, and you experience the result.” He stopped at the edge nearest her. “The water is circulated under the pool, through a series of pipes and filters. It’s heated and rid of impurities, then cycled up through the wall and spilled in by the cascade.”

“Amazing.” Tynan had put up her hair because she didn’t want it in the harmful chemicals. She wanted to take it down now. Except -- for some reason she felt almost shy about doing it in his presence. Wading deeper, she pushed off the bottom and swam across the surface to where the waterfall tumbled.

Tynan took a deep breath and ducked under. She released the clip and swam through the churning water. On the other side of the spill, she surfaced. The screen of falling water somewhat hid her, she decided. So, she took the opportunity to toss the clip onto the edge and adjust the leg of her suit.

She upended and dove down in toward the bottom. The sound of the cascade became a muted roar. Sunlight danced in mysterious aquatic patterns over the pale blue tile. She changed the angle of her body, and swam back toward the shallows. Midway down the pool, she came up for a breath then finished the lap. Conscious of Faelen’s gaze upon her, she rested on the steps, still submerged from the waist down.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

She smiled. “The truth? Or something polite?”

“Always the truth.”

Looking at him she replied, “I could feel your checking the fit of the suit. So to speak.”

That made him laugh--a low husky rumble that made her nape tingle and her belly flutter. “It fits uncommonly well.”

Tynan’s curiosity spiked. “You really have an unusual accent. And Shang, he does, too. Both of you have this whole, aristocratic outlaw thing happening.”

“The accent comes from living many different places.”

She considered the idea, and pushed away from the steps and glided over the surface. It gave her a strange awareness of herself knowing he watched her; a giddiness that sharpened her senses and somehow her pleasure.

“I like watching you.” Faelen’s quiet admission shot through her.

Trying to suppress the thrill, she stopped midway down the pool, turned toward him and treaded water. She seized upon an idea to change the subject. “Tell me about your guest.”

Faelen walked down to stand even with her. “His name is Vincente Feniro. We met in Austria. I helped him out of some trouble. He repaid me in kind several years later. We’ve been friends since.”

Tynan increased her pace, making an effort to use the water’s resistance to get a workout. “Where is he now?”

“Resting, I’d say. He came in late from a long flight from Monaco.”

“And he’ll join us for dinner?” The muscles in her arms began to complain. Unlike the rigorous exercise her legs got walking all over the city, they received little hard work.

“Yes.”

“He sounds interesting. I’m sure I’ll enjoy his company.”

“You enjoy mine?”

His question made her falter. She regained her rhythm and tried to do the same with her composure. “I believe you just want to hear me say it.” She struck out for the deep end at a demanding pace. When she reached the fall, she changed direction and swam back to the shallow.

“We’ve had a difficult start.”

His choice of words made her wonder what he saw happening between them. She wasn’t interested in beginning an affair. Not at a time when she’d need to devote herself to getting her business up and running.

Tynan completed three more laps before she decided to just let it pass for the moment. She waded up the steps, twisting some of the water from her hair. “Oh great,” she murmured in sudden realization.

“What?”

“I forgot to bring a towel.”

“Allow me.” He circled the pool, took the spiral stairs three at a time and disappeared into his room. Hardly a minute later he descended with two thick, white folded towels.

“Fast service,” she observed, as he handed them to her. “Thank you.” She wrapped her hair up in one and made snappy work of drying herself with the other. Then, she dressed and slid her feet into the sandarue. “I’ll put these in the hamper in my bath. By the way, are we dressing for dinner? I hope not. I didn’t really pack anything too fancy.”

“Anything you wear will be perfect.”

“Well, a girl can’t ask for a better answer than that.” She glanced up at him. His eyes amber eyes held hers. A swift current of sensual awareness shot through her. She could feel his sexuality like an electric field, humming around him. Capturing her in its power.

Tynan’s gaze snapped to his mouth. The long dimples bracketing it had deepened with his intense mood. Against her better judgment, she found herself reaching out a shaky hand to touch his sculpted lips. Her fingertips brushed their warm skin. A flower of pure sexual heat bloomed low in her pelvis. She thought of his savagely carnal mouth on hers.

On her body.

Hard on the heels of arousal, came an elemental wariness. She suffered the unexplainable sensation of a predator’s presence: she sensed danger. Adrenaline began to pump through her, spiking blood that had already begun to heat.

“Ilshlava.”

Tynan jerked back her hand. “I’ll ... see you at supper.” She whirled and hurried up the stairs and through his room. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Twice she stumbled, too distracted and weak in the knees for grace. She didn’t draw an easy breath until she’d shut and locked the door to her suite behind her.

After several moments, she carried the towels into the bath and jumped in the shower. She slathered a handful of rich conditioner into her hair and soaped with peach scented bath gel. Washed, rinsed and dried, she wrapped in the fluffy emerald green robe provided for her. For a while, Tynan snuggled in a chair and watched the shadows lengthen on the immaculate landscape outside her window.

She’d touched him. Not brushed his arm in passing, or letting him hold her hand. She had reached out and put her fingers on his mouth. It seemed such a simple thing. But the experience had felt anything but simple. Tynan flushed just thinking of it.

A knock on the suite door made Tynan flinch and wonder if Faelen had decided to follow her. She approached the door slowly, as if it might attack. “Yes?”

“Miss Singleton? It’s Eldon. I’ve come to lay a fire in the hearth.”

The breath sighed out of her. She opened the door for him. “Thanks. A fire sounds wonderful.”

Tynan went into the bath to dry her hair a little while he worked. When she’d pulled most of the moisture from it, she plaited it into four braids and coiled it atop her head. By supper time, she would have wavy hair.

Eldon had finished his chore and left by the time she emerged from the bath. A comforting blaze crackled in the fireplace. She saw he had locked the door behind himself. It made her think she could definitely like him after all.

A glance at the clock told her she had almost three hours until the meal. Between now and then, she intended to pull herself together.



Tynan brushed ginger ale-colored shadow over her entire eye area to the brows, added a purple brown to the lid, then stroked on a coat of mascara. Turning her head side to side, she surveyed the effect. A bit more dramatic than usual, but pretty. She stepped back to gauge the entire package in the tall mirror.

She wore her white turtleneck tucked into the slim navy skirt she’d brought. Tights and her ankle boots in that same shade created a long, lean silhouette. The silver tone, tear shaped earrings and collarbone length necklace she wore added nicely to the image. Even with her hair still in the upswept braids, she looked good.

Knowing time grew short, she took down her hair and gave it a brisk, upside down brushing. She straightened and flipped it back. Her hair settled in a wavy cascade around her shoulders. Adjusting the part, she spritzed it with freeze spray.

Tynan could hardly believe the difference.

She looked more like a Cosmo cover girl than herself. It sent a charge of self-empowerment straight to her ego. Just for tonight, she’d play femme fatale.

For the second time that evening, a knock interrupted her. She gave herself a final inspection and went to answer. Faelen stood on the other side. He looked so good, for several seconds, she couldn’t have remembered her name.

He wore black boots under tailored, black lambskin pants threaded with a wide black belt, and a band collar, deep red shirt in what looked like raw silk. A tiny braid at each temple lie smooth along his drawn back hair. Better still, the sexy, spicy musk and incense smell she associated with him seemed stronger, more alluring.

“Good evening, Tynan.”

“Hello, Faelen.” She hoped it hit him as hard when she said his name, as it did when he said hers. After her slip that afternoon, she needed to recover face.

“Every time I see you,” he began offering his arm with that gentlemanly courtesy that charmed her, “you’ve grown more beautiful. I see an improvement of perfection.”

She curved her hand around his big, iron hard bicep. “I appreciate the compliment. Just the same, you have a way of knowing what to say that makes me leery.”

He shot her a look from beneath his long lashes. “I think you fear I mean every word.”

“Leave it to you to say something enigmatic like that.”

Just outside the solarium, Tynan felt a sudden stab of fear. She tried to ignore it, because it seemed unreasonable. What could she have to fear? However, the moment she crossed the threshold into the cavernous glass-enclosed garden, some internal alarm began to shrill. She faltered a step. Then froze as a tall, powerful man stepped from the deep shadows beyond the torch light.

His deep brown, wavy hair hung past his wide shoulders in a style similar to Faelen’s. It accented the harsh angles of his face, and the unnerving light grey eyes. He looked at her with the keenness of a predator.

She glanced at Faelen, perhaps for reassurance. The hawk-like intensity in his face made her pull from him and step away. It seemed as if she saw him more clearly in that instant. The awesome field of energy that surrounded him, and the almost feral intensity of his sexual appeal made her feel like a deer among wolves.

Hearing him say something in that foreign tongue he sometimes used, she shook her head. She hadn’t seen his lips move. And for some strange reason, she thought she couldn’t actually recall hearing his voice.

Doubting her senses, she asked, “What did you say?”

A brief expression of surprise moved over his face.

“She can hear?” That in heavily accented English from Faelen’s guest, Vincente Feniro, she assumed. He came toward them in long efficient strides.

Shooting him a quick look, she said, “Of course I can hear.”

“He did not mean as you think, ilshlava.”

Still a little spooked, and not happy about feeling that way, she responded in a more combative tone than she intended. “It was a simple question. It didn’t confuse me.”

Her words seemed to surprise the other man. “Ques-cee jout a remahn?” He directed his question to Faelen.

Who replied, “Kahtan et, ileen natai.”

They might be having a quick man-to-man in another language. But, Tynan suffered a disgusted certainty she got the gist of it. “I don’t change what I say to please anyone.”

Both men’s attention came to her in a snap. Faelen’s brows lowered and his mouth hardened, which she knew meant trouble. His friend gave a sudden masculine bark of laughter and slapped Faelen on the back.

“Feniro,” her host began, “I make known to you my ilshlava, Tynan Elise Singleton. Tynan, meet Argento Vincente Feniro.”

“Call me ‘Feniro’ or ‘Fen’.” He extended a large strongly boned hand. “Glad to meet you.”

Alice down the rabbit hole, she thought. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, shaking his hand. “I think.”

Despite Feniro’s rather astonishing metamorphosis from intimidating almost-chauvinist into a charming dinner companion, she found herself still off balance. The question of what she’d heard, when she hadn’t precisely heard anything, kept her brain busy. When she decided to let it rest, she found herself tuning out their conversation. She responded when directly addressed. Otherwise, she kept quiet and studied them.

The first thing that struck her was their shared quality of silent strength. Not just the brawn so obvious in both. The eerie aura of some latent power she couldn’t name. Her mind played with that a few minutes. Until she noticed they didn’t really eat.

Both tasted the delicious food; the rare lamb and salmon tar-tar in particular. Feniro picked up his wine goblet often, and put it to his lips. Yet, the level of the liquid declined little. Faelen took a few sips of the spicy zenfindel when Eldon first poured it during the lamb course. After that, he never touched the glass again.

In retrospect, Tynan realized that when she spoke to Karen, and got the impression the chef had evaded her somehow, it pertained to Faelen’s eating habits. She’d explained to Tynan why the breakfast she’d prepared was much smaller than the day before. Karen only mentioned thinking Tynan wouldn’t need so much. Not the large, virile male who wrote her paychecks, whose appetite should have interested her the most.

Tynan caught them during a lapse in conversation. “You’re both big guys. Lots of muscle.”

Two pairs of sharp eyes, one hot gold, the other arctic silver fixed upon her. Tynan sipped her wine. She let them stew for a moment as she collected her thoughts. Faelen’s impatience reached out to her like a nudging hand. So, on principle, she took another sip of zenfindel.

Those amber eyes narrowed a challenging fraction. “You had a point to make, ilshlava?”

“Yes. For big men, you have small appetites.”

Feniro glanced at Faelen. “Vee-shee? Ahn nan siloo vae?”

“No.” Faelen held up one large dark hand. “We will not speak Vhuhmpeer in her presence until she understands.”

Tynan turned the stem of her glass between her fingertips, twisting it upon the ecru lace draped table. “Since I don’t even know what nationality’s language that is, I can’t see it happening.” She released the goblet. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat more than a dozen bites in the past five days. Now, you’re friend has the same habit. I find that strange.”

Faelen leaned back in his chair. “Theory?”

“No. That’s what bothers me.”

Having exorcised her present demon, Tynan ate her serving of fruit and cheese that followed the heavier courses. The ambrosial peach tart to finish distracted her so she almost, but not quite, forget the matter.

At the conclusion of the meal, Feniro took her hand and bent over it in an old fashion manner. “Honored to meet you, Tynan.” He kissed the back of it. “I look forward to knowing you better.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp, uncomfortable with touching him. It brought back the spine-skittering fear. “Nice meeting you, too.”

When he said his goodnights to Faelen and departed, she gave a mental sigh of relief. “I think I’ll say goodnight as well,” she told Faelen.

He walked her to her door. Tynan realized belatedly the way she’d taken his arm and let him lead her along. It bothered her. But she blamed it on her resumption of sifting through the evening’s events.

“Perhaps tomorrow you’d like to see my house in town,” he suggested.

“Maybe.” Tynan paused for a second. Something nagged her. Something she couldn’t quite put a finger on, hovered at the fringe of recall. “Thank you for another pleasant day and lovely evening.”

“What troubles you, ilshlava?”

Ignoring the earnest concern in his voice and expression, she replied, “Nothing. Good night.”

Later, lying in the huge bed, she stared into the darkness. Her mind raced, seeking that elusive antagonistic memory.

“Feniro, I make known to you my ilshlava, Tynan Elise Singleton.”

She jacknifed upright in bed. Such a simple thing. But taken with the other strange things she had begun to notice, it bothered her a great deal.

“I never told him my middle name.”

Allowing for the fact she might be behaving in a rash, maybe unreasonable manner, Tynan decided she wanted an answer for her question tonight.



CHAPTER ELEVEN


The night wind carried the sharp tang of the Pacific. It lifted Faelen’s hair, whipping it up and back from his face.

Glad you came with me tonight, mae Magnus Feniro sent from behind him.

Faelen inhaled the scents of death and life brought from the sea. It is good to be out with one of my kind. Tonight, the need rode him as a cruel, spurred jockey would a flagging mount. The ache in his upper jaw increased with each breath, so forcefully did his canines attempt to lower. Will alone kept them retracted.

It must grow difficult for you His friend stepped up beside him, not far from the edge of the cliff. Always having to monitor each action, every movement and word. Spending so much time among humans who do not know the truth is not good for you.

Perhaps

Feniro lifted his head, scented the wind. The Earth is very alive tonight. A good night for vampire.

“I want to feed.” Faelen knew his words surprised his friend as much as his using speech to communicate them.

Even among vampires born, Faelen knew he was viewed as a marvel. His metabolism, rapacious and uncontrollable in his earliest youth, grew so efficient, that by the time he reached the equivalent of puberty, he required less sustenance than others three times his age. Society knew he had the luxury of taking vampiric communion almost completely for pleasure. Now that he’d recognized a mate, his behavior would seem far stranger.

“Your mate?” His friend replied in kind.

As a vampire made, despite his six hundred and forty-seven years, Feniro accepted his dominion. Faelen had never known his friend to question him.

“Do I respond as friend or patron Magnus?”

“Both.”

Faelen drank deep of the night air, as if it would assuage his preternatural hunger. “I would have only her. Yet, she isn’t ready for the truth.”

“Can you take from another?”

He considered the legends, the scrolls handed down from the ancients of their kind. “I know not.”

“If it is taboo, as some say,” Feniro took a strip of leather from his shirt pocket. “You could suffer.” He tied back his hair.

I suffer now. I hadn’t fed in a week before I met her and accepted the bond.

Feniro glanced back over his shoulder. Your house sleeps. Let us run free and find answers for your questions He reached out and put his hand on Faelen’s shoulder. Should the worst happen, and your system rebels, I’ll take care of you, as you once did me.

The knot of hunger tension in Faelen’s belly tightened another notch. He gritted his teeth. You repaid me for that

Not in kind. You saved me from death. I prevented your being carted off to prison.

Faelen sent the way he felt to his friend, sharing the burning within him. We hunt.

Faelen stripped off his shirt, dropped it. He welcomed the touch of the night on
his flesh. Taking a few steps back, he sprinted forward and leapt from the cliff’s lip. The sensation of falling added pungency to his wildness. His booted feet struck the pebbled sand. He felt his bones and ligaments labor, strain, recover. Without missing a beat, he charged up the beach.

Within seconds he sensed Fen’s approach. Faster!

Faelen obliged, pushing himself to the limit. He streaked up the coast, his tendons and muscles stretching to accommodate the blurring pace. Fen came abreast of him once, then fell behind. His friend remained close. Until much later, Faelen slowed. They’d past the city and entered a stretch of beach not far from where Ilsa’s elegant exclusive bordello perched in the rolling hills.

You’ll be popular Feniro sent, stopping next to Faelen. In the years before, when they’d traveled and hunted together, Ilsa’s house of pleasure had often hosted them. Back after a decade. Shirtless, no less.

Faelen hadn’t realized until then he’d intended this all along. I come only to feed He paid Ilsa enough to maintain his suite there. He should use it.

His friend grinned, showing lowered blood teeth. Buon appetito

The ground leading up to the huge, three-story mansion proved rugged and steep. They ascended at an efficient lope.

On approach, they entered the reach of the mansion’s discreet outside lights. An unusual Mediterranean-Antebellum mix of architectures, the house boasted towering white columns of Roman design, gracious verandahs that would please a Savannah native and a structure that provided an array of parlors, drawing rooms, private salons, suites, and over twenty bedrooms.

One of the vampire bodyguards Faelen sent with Ilsa greeted them at the tall double doors. “Good evening, sir.” He didn’t bat an eye at his employers bare torso.

Faelen demanded that sort of coolness in security men. “Good evening, Pax. This is Feniro, a good friend to me. Afford him every courtesy.”

The sounds of feminine laughter, Voltaire, and the smell of fine imported incense and myriad spirits spilled out into the night air. Faelen remembered the sensual tapestry well.

His foot had scarcely cleared the threshold when a breathless feminine voice called, “Cairo!”

From behind a screen of potted palms, Adrian rushed to greet him. A human living in a state of suspended aging, she’d not changed a bit since he last saw her.

“Beautiful Cairo.” She wound her slender, olive skinned arms round his neck. Tossing back her jet hair, she gazed up at him with sparkling black diamond eyes. “You stayed away just to make me hungrier for you.” Passionate, and a consummate artist at her specialized vocation, she studied his face. “Or yourself hungrier for me.”

The feel of her lush breasts pressed to his chest, and the siren song of her blood made his upper jaw and lower belly ache the more. Before he could answer, another familiar voice cried his name.

“Cairo, darling, you’ve returned to us!”

Curving one arm around Adrian, he held out the other for Jade. Although her large heavily lashed eyes of that precise shade merited the name, her expertise and enjoyment of all things forbidden and fetishist had won her the title. Her mixed vampire-human heritage showed in her wild coloring: pale gold flesh, abundant shiny rose-platinum hair. She crushed herself against him, offering every lithe curve.

One word burned in his brain, demanding and unrelenting as his vampiric hunger.

Mated.

His libido, stimulated, yet unsatisfied by Tynan, roared to life. The two deliciously different creatures in his arms added to the fire. He remembered his last night with his two favorites. Like clips from an erotic film, the memories flashed through his mind.

“I predicted this, did I not?” Feniro drawled, taking a tall brunette up in his arms, and walking past.

Faelen brushed a kiss over each smooth, scented forehead, and set them from him. Tynan’s face filled his mind’s eye. “I have taken a mate,” he told them. The need continued to pound, clamor within him; a dark, howling beast yearning for release.

“No!” Adrian stepped back, her outrage blazing in her gypsy gaze.

“Not you!” Jade exclaimed. Her nostrils flared. “I smell no vampiress upon you.”

“I am mated.” Faelen stepped around them. He hailed Zreck, Ilsa’s majordomo. “I’m going to my private bath. Ask your mistress to attend me there.”

A suspended human servant, young and mild, entered his private bath and bedroom suite behind him. “Kayla,” Faelen greeted, “a long while since I last saw you.”

She watched him with wary eyes. “Y-yes, sir.”

He knew he must look quite wild. “Peace, eelaylin.” He hoped the vampire term for her station reassured her. “Don’t fear.” He stripped to his underwear, tossing his sand and sea water splashed garments to the floor near her feet. “Have those disposed of. I’ll wear something from my armoire.”

Faelen walked through his bedroom. His senses told him Ilsa and her staff had honored his request No one had entered for reasons other than maintenance. He fancied he could still almost smell the clove cigarettes Adrian had smoked that last night.

Mated.

The beveled glass doors of the bath swung open on silent hinges as he turned the handles and pushed. The wall to wall dark blue tile and purple-black ceiling still provided the same feeling of isolation. On the edge of the azure tiled Roman bath, the bar of Egyptian musk soap he’d used before leaving still rested in a alabaster dish. He smiled despite his hunger. The water in the bath steamed and bubbled. Ilsa kept all at ready for his return, despite the his absence.

Shedding his last garment, Faelen sank into the big tub. He ducked beneath the roaring water, surfaced and leaned his head back against the rim.

Damn her.

The thought came sharp and unbidden. Since recognizing their tie, he’d thought of little else save her and their future. Surrounded by carnal delights he could not taste, he found himself face to face with the cold reality of his situation.

His body starved for want of his mate. Her every minute feature held fascination. The sexual and vampiric desire for her multiplied by the heartbeat. However, the barrier of species separated them. He had no way of knowing how she would deal with a new reality where vampires existed. Traumatizing her could cause endless trouble.

Ruminating on the matter conjured forth a host of hostilities. For a brief moment he aimed them at her. He’d opened his soul to her, given her claim to his body. In a split second, he’d made himself vulnerable, responsible for her life and happiness.

lshlava!

Faelen’s heart twisted. He wanted her with a passion that defied description: he threw back his head and surrendered to it. As if from a distance, he heard his nails scar the tile. His body blazed. His canines lowered. They elongated against his will, and snapped into place with a grinding click.

“Faelen!” Ilsa’s voice reached him through a haze of hunger.

Through blurred eyes, he saw the flowing, orange garments. “Mae animee.”

“Yes, I am your friend.”

From a distance he heard her voice. Then, Feniro’s. “He’s far gone.”

Faelen slid deeper into vampiric withdrawal, descending along a razor-edged sword of wanting. He smelled blood, needed it.

Mae Magnus

Fen? Heat. Need. Hunger.

We’ll cheat the rules. Feniro sent, penetrating the fog.

A goblet appeared. Filled with red, it beckoned with the aroma of life.

Faelen seized it. He drained the contents, tasting Ilsa, another human, and male vampire blood. An instant thrill of satisfaction threaded through him. He felt his body processing the nutrition, millions of neurons began to fire, returning strength to his tissues.

Then the backlash struck. His grip became weak. His numb fingers released the stem of the glass. Dimly he realized one of them must have caught it. He sensed the rebellion Feniro spoke of earlier, the rejection of essence not of his mate.

Fight it! Feniro gripped his hand, as the first muscle spasms began. You’re will is iron. You never fail. Fight!

Fixing the thought in his increasingly hazy mind, Faelen forced himself to regain control. He willed his body to cease its revolt, accept the nourishment. Pain seared through him. But, by degrees it eased. His digestive processes began, and the slow seductive intoxication of a blood high began to hum through his veins.

He opened his eyes. The effects of the altered state of consciousness and the thick, swirling steam made it more difficult to focus. Feniro knelt by his side, a long pink line on his arm attesting to a recent slash. Half-obscured by vapor, Ilsa stood just beyond, her hair and caftan damp from the wet heat.

“A clever idea,” Faelen managed to say. He looked at his vampire friend. “You took from Ilsa and a second human, then bled yourself to fill the glass.”

“Yes.” Feniro got to his feet. He swayed just a bit.

“Now you must feed.” Ilsa stepped forward, wrapped an arm around him. “Jillian waits for you. Kayla,” she called.

The shy servant opened the door to the boudoir. “Mistress?”

“See this gentleman to the Sapphire Suite. Jillian’s expecting him.”

The small woman approached Fen with caution, appearing to expect some aggression. The vampire held out his hand to her. “Just make sure I can find my way,” Feniro said. They departed, leaving the door open. *I’ll see you much later, mae Magnus.”

We are truly even, my friend. Faelen let his head rest back against the rim of the tub. Under his lashes, he watched Ilsa.

She immediately shed her flowing robe. Beneath she wore a light orange chemise that stopped above her knees. She stepped down into the sunken pool. “Lean forward, Faelen. Let me wash your hair.”

He did as she said, and shut his eyes to enjoy her familiar, comforting touch. She tended him like a mother would a favored child. Even drying him when she’d finished bathing him. It pleased him a friendship between them had survived when his passion for her faded.

The blood intoxication began to ebb as he walked from the sultry bath. In the bedroom, his favorite Egyptian incense sent up fragrant curls of smoke from a brazier shaped like Anubis. Many beeswax candles burned, casting the room in mellow light. From the concealed sound system, his favorite Mendelssohn, concerto in E minor, wafted.

Faelen absorbed the details. He noted the subtle touches that had made this a den of sensuality for him. “I won’t return here.”

Ilsa took the towel from his hips. Placing it in a discreet hamper, she replied, “I’ll keep these rooms for you. You’ve paid for them many times over.” She opened the cedar armoire. “I’ve freshened it all every ten days. In case you returned.” Handing him black silk under shorts without turning around, she added, “I think the boots you left had a shining not a month ago. They should look quite well.”

Faelen pulled on the abbreviated boxers. He stepped up beside her, selected a pair of slate blue trousers and a white shirt. From the bottom of the armoire, he lifted out the low rise black boots. He dressed.

“Take another lease for this suite,” Faelen told her. “You owe me nothing.”

“If not for your generosity,” she returned, “I wouldn’t have this house.” Ilsa reached into the armoire. “Don’t forget this.” She placed a thick silver chain over his head.

He had forgotten. He’d purchased it at least five years before he’d quit coming here. “Thank you.” Faelen stood before the full length mirror mounted on the wall. It might have been him twenty years ago. During that time in his life, he’d rarely gone without the chain. The blast from the recent past stirred his temper some. He decided he’d been too patient with his mate. A change of tactics seemed necessary.

Turning from his reflection, he asked, “Is the limo here?”

“Yes.” Her pale eyes studied him. “You’re better now, Faelen. But, for how long? Will you find yourself in the same state you arrived in? More like a wild creature than a man.”

“I appreciate your concern. As it happens, I am both. Still, I have no way of knowing what will happen. My circumstances are unique.” Without a backward glance he walked to the door, opened it. “I’ll send the limo back for Fen. Goodnight, Ilsa.”


Faelen brooded the entire way home. From the beginning he’d sought to ease Tynan into his world, give her time to adjust and trust him. Tonight’s events had shown him how limited a time frame he had to acclimate her. Within a week, less perhaps, the need would return. What then? He refused to repeat this night’s debacle. He would have his mate.

The limo halted at the front of his house. He climbed out before the chauffeur could cut the engine. “That’s all,” he told the hulking driver, and shut the door.

Shang opened the front door just as Faelen sensed his presence. As the result of a mating between a vampire born, and an ancient, powerful Mongol warrior, Shang possessed an unheard of ability to conceal himself from preternatural detection. Even when he did not intend it, his nearness sometimes escaped notice.

“Ma’am-san sleeps in the library,” he reported. “She went to wait not long after you left.”

Faelen swore violently. “Do you know why?”

“She spoke to no one. I found her when I carried papers to your study.”

“Perhaps she’ll not awaken.”

Shang closed the portal behind him. It made the barest sound in the quiet house. “Jenny-san took some tea. Her functions resumed and she rests.”

Faelen stopped in his tracks. “She’s not of Blade’s making. Only the creation of a vampire born could recuperate so fast.” Continuing on his way, he concluded, “Giann.”

Shang pitched his voice so low vampire ears alone might hear. “Simaton sends word three of Blade’s fledglings have died. The madness overtook them.”

Faelen digested the piece of reconnaissance. Simaton, a vampire made who hated Blade for killing his lover, had volunteered himself into Faelen’s service. He made an excellent spy.

He’ll make more. What a disgusting waste of life.

Though Shang could hear sending, he couldn’t return it. “There is no redemption for him. I look forward to seeing you snuff the twisted flame of his life.”

Faelen put a hand on the library door. I require a few hours rest. Will you sit with Jenny?

Shang bowed. “I return to her now.”

Faelen let himself into the library. The latch made a near silent snick behind him. By the light of a low, carefully banked fire, he saw her. She lie curled upon her side in the chaise, facing him. He hoped to gain his bed without waking her . However, given what she’d done earlier, he wondered if he could.

As his link to her strengthened, as did hers to him. Though she remained unaware of the tie, or her expanding senses, Tynan had intercepted the mental message he’d sent to communication.

The thought barely crossed his mind when her eyelashes stirred upon her cheeks. For a heartbeat, he considered putting her back under. He dashed aside the notion. He wouldn’t use his mind against hers again without strong motive. His desire to avoid a drawn out confrontation this night did not justify such action.

He went to stand beside her. She murmured something unintelligible, wrinkled the creamy skin of her forehead.

Mae ilshlava

Her lids lifted. Lime green eyes cleared, focused on him. “Faelen.” She sat up and brushed her tumbled tresses from her face.

The nagging ache in his lower belly increased. He found the temptation to touch her too much. Taking a seat beside her, he took her hand into his, and picked up one long gleaming strand of mahogany hair. For a few seconds he savored its silky texture, then tucked it over her shoulder.

She watched him with the same wariness she had during the meal. “I couldn’t sleep.” A slow infusion of pink colored her cheeks. She shook her head. “I mean, I couldn’t for the longest time.” Her composure settled around her like a cloak. “When you introduced me to your friend, you used my full name. I’ve never mentioned it.”

“After we discovered your apartment wrecked, I brought you back here.”

“Yes.”

“I directed Shang to locate a date book, planner, anything to give me an idea at what point and by who you’d be missed. You’d written your full name inside.”

“You went through my address book and planner?”

“Several times.”

Tynan gave a sound of disbelief. “What made you think you had the right?”

Weary from his brush with vampiric withdrawal, and of explaining himself to her, he replied, “By now you should know I consider it mine to take.”

Her expression of surprise changed quickly to one of coolness. “You nailed that one.” She stood. “The liberties you take shouldn’t shock me. Good night.” Before she could turn her back on him, Faelen rose, caught her wrist. She stared up at him, a mix of forced cool and anticipation.

“I’ve turned my world upside down for you,” he told her. “Do me the courtesy of never again giving me your back and walking away.”

Rebellion simmered in her gaze, seemed imminent in the set of her delicate chin. A glint of vulnerability appeared in those slanted eyes. He knew he’d hurt her. “As a courtesy to my host,” her tone remained civil despite her emphasis, “I’ll try.”

As an experiment, Faelen sent Do

Tynan shook her head. She pulled her hand from his. “Good night.”

Faelen watched her go, thinking that come the morning, his mate would hit him with a full broadside of feminine retaliation.

In the mean time, he’d have to set a few guards to insure she remained until then.