FicWad

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


“Tell me again where we’re going,” Tynan said two nights later as Stanfield maneuvered the sleek Black Rolls down a busy street.

Faelen shifted closer, stroked the back of her hand with his thumb as he clasped it. “It’s called Mephisto’s. They do dinner theater.”

She watched the people moving on the sidewalk beside them. Some were young and energetic, others more mature, content to stroll. As she looked at them, her mind prowled. The disturbing images from the apartment had begun to recede. And by now, she knew better than to think the police would show up to question them. In Faelen’s world, the laws she lived by didn’t apply.

After convincing her of his need to stay for a bit, he’d indulged her every whim. For the past few days, aside from the few hours when he left her to see some council, he barely left her side. They spent their mornings and afternoons sightseeing, shopping and finding quaint little places for her to lunch. In the evening, they went out for drives or long walks and had late suppers in restaurants as diverse and flavorful as the cuisine they served. He’d granted her every wish. Shown her all the landmarks and famous scenery.

But, he hadn’t made love to her.

Faelen had played attentive escort, granted her wishes almost before she recognized them, and lavished attention upon her. He’d shown her a more relaxed side of himself that made her heart turn somersaults behind her ribs. Kissed and petted her until she caught herself waiting, yearning for the next touch.

But, he had not made love to her.

Sometimes in the night, she woke aroused, thinking she felt his hands upon her. The bewitching touch of his mouth on her skin. She’d lie there, hot, restless, and recall every delicious thing he’d done to her.

“Would you rather somewhere else?”

Faelen’s question jerked her back to the present. Tynan turned from the street lamp-lit scenery. “No. Sounds great.”

Mephisto’s stood in an old part of town. Stone buildings crowded cheek-by-jowl along the narrow streets. Stanfield dropped them out front beneath a swinging sign that proclaimed the establishment’s name in bold black and white characters. An unexplained fission of tension sizzled down her spine as the doorman greeted them. Was he like Faelen?

“Mr.Cairo. Ma’am.” His hazel green eyes moved over her with just enough reserve for politeness.

Faelen nodded, swept her inside.

Tynan felt as if she’d entered the heart of a crimson rose. Candles and gaslights with cut crystal sconces lit the dark red walled and carpeted anteroom. Graceful settees in scarlet velvet flanked the door. The scent of tea rose and sandalwood wafted in the air, cementing the illusion in her mind.

A beautiful tall blonde dressed in a vivid, poppy silk Edwardian gown glided forward to greet them. “Mr.Cairo, so good to see you.” Her voice held a Spanish lilt, wheat-colored ringlets bounced, caught the light. “Will your friend take refreshments?”

“Yes, Kalinda.”

The monster Jealousy dug its claws into Tynan. Tall women possessed a universal, powerful allure. Especially those radiant as the honey-skinned, aqua-eyed hostess. Although the blonde conveyed a professional cool, Tynan was woman enough to sense she coveted Faelen.

Attuned to her as ever, Faelen pulled her closer to his side. As if he not only knew Tynan felt the other woman’s desire, but understood the female need for the gesture under the circumstances.

Kalinda walked to a set of louvered doors, opened them a bit and spoke to someone on the other side. “Prepare Mr.Cairo’s box. Have it stocked for dinner, as well.”

The hall leading to a discreet spiral staircase hosted many fine oil paintings. She stopped to admire them before ascending ahead of him. At the top she found another passage, this one with softer lighting and plusher carpet.

“Fourth one,” he directed, guided her by the waist.

Tynan found a wide wooden door standing open. The glow of several fat candles revealed its deep red walls, dark wood furniture, and a black, crimson, white and tan patterned Ambusson carpet.

She shed her coat with his assistance.

On the table mid room, stood a grey marble-topped table laden with platters of fruit, cheeses, an assortment of sliced meats, caviar, its accruements, and colorful canapés. A half dozen steam domes concealed further edibles. A stack of small plates, utensils and snowy cloth napkins folded like swans stood beside them. Three silver ice buckets held a selection of wines, while a crystal decanter stood close by, catching the flames in its amber contents.

Along the right wall, a long white double chaise waited with a black throw draped along it. At the left, a marble topped occasional table and a pair of overstuffed chairs covered in a satiny brocade mirrored the wintry shade of the chaise.

She heard him close and lock the door behind them. Then he moved by her to tug at a thick shiny cord at one end of the black curtain opposite the box’s entrance. They parted, showing her the cavernous theater beyond. She walked forward and her breath caught.

Gaslight chandeliers hung above a ground floor. White draped tables hosted couples and small groups of well dressed patrons. Dishes and glasses in front of them sparkled in the romantic light. To the fore, an orchestra pit housed a string and woodwind group just taking their seats. The forward few feet of stage peeped from beneath an iridescent midnight blue curtain.

“I never dreamed a place like this existed,” she admitted, moved by the beauty and splendor.

“It’s an exclusive establishment,” he replied. “Reservations down there require identity screening and reservations months in advance.”

“And up here?”

Faelen moved close, caught her hand and brought it to his sensual mouth. He bit her first knuckle just so, kissed it in amends. “All ten are strictly retained by vampires and their lovers.”

Tynan’s belly fluttered. The heat in his gaze could melt polar ice caps. “So everyone will know?” The prospect should’ve embarrassed her. It didn’t.

She had no time to dissect her reasons. The musicians began to tune their instruments. A murmur of expectant conversation rose and fell below.

Faelen turned over her hand , kissed the palm. His tongue touched her skin in a light, stealthy caress. “Yes, Kalinda will know.”

He’d nailed that one. “Is she a vampire?” It surprised her how the thought had settled in without his ever arguing the point. His plan from the start, she didn’t doubt.

“A quarter by blood.” He released her hand, moved the big chairs closer to the balcony as if they weighed nothing. Next the little table that hugged the wall. “Sit,” he invited. “I’ll serve.”

Tynan spread the full skirt of her olive cashmere dress as she took a seat. She’d worn the mock turtleneck, calf-length garment only once before; to the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce banquet she’d attended with Lam. Its princess seaming flattered her, but the price she’d paid made her uncomfortable. Murphy’s Law dictated she’d ruin it.

Faelen handed her a plate of filled with little portions. She sampled a few, set the plate on the table, then tasted the goblet of chilly pinoit grigio he’d poured for her. Above the delicate rim of the glass, she watched him take a seat in the other chair.

It surprised her how quickly she’d adjusted to his habit of eating only a few bites a day. He seemed to take such pleasure in introducing her to new tastes, it made it easy to overlook.

Below, the lights dimmed. Conversation hushed. The orchestra began a languid, sensual melody.

Tynan sat forward, enrapt, as the shimmering stage curtain lifted.

It revealed a set designed to look like a lush country garden at twilight. Next to a tumbling fountain sat an exquisite young woman. Ivy twined the legs of the wrought iron bench where she reposed, contrasting the white of the circa 1812 gown she wore. Its square cut neckline and shallow bodice framed the fullness of breasts and accentuated the length of her creamy neck. Tynan had never seen hair just the shade of the woman’s; a rich chocolate color streaked with silvery blonde.

A sinister change in the music made Tynan set her wine aside. Spellbound, she watched a long shadow detach itself from an arbor and reveal the form of tall broad-shouldered man. He wore dark evening clothes of the same era. His dark gold hair drawn back into a queue at his nape. Every nuance of his appearance conveyed potency, virility.

The woman turned toward him at once, as if she sensed his presence. She stood and put the bench between them. With subtle changes of expression, the actress conveyed a previous knowledge of him, and an apprehension of finding herself alone with him now.

He closed the distance with stalking grace. And just as she appeared ready to flee, he halted. The music changed again, charged with the seductive power of violins. A piccolo’s fairy-like, piping voice above the strings added an eerie element, hinted at feminine distress. The heroine took a step around the bench, toward the harshly handsome man. She shook her head ‘no’ even as her lips parted and her breasts rose and fell from her rapid respiration.

Tynan felt herself flush. She knew the reaction well. Certain the man would grab the actress and spirit her off to a more private venue, she held her breath.

To her surprise he did not. The man turned and departed the way he had come. Her pretty face displayed reprieve and confusion at once. The ethereal heroine stared in the direction he’d gone until the curtain lowered.





Faelen watched every subtle change in Tynan’s expression. Her gaze remained fastened on the stage for several seconds after the scene ended. He’d taken a chance bringing her here to watch Aiden and Rowena’s performance. If he could base judgment on her interest thus far, he’d done well.

Tynan picked up her wine from the little marble topped table standing against the wall. She drank a bit, returned it to its place of rest. Looking at him she asked, “Have you seen this before?”

“I’ve seen them perform.” He omitted he’d chosen this particular selection with the intent of helping her accept her own sexuality.

“Here?”

Faelen gauged the lift of her chin, the glint in her eyes. His mate wanted something more from him. “Yes.”

She returned her gaze to the stage. Then, slanted him a glance from under her long lashes. “Alone?”

On occasion, yes. On others, no. However, the encounters with short term lovers did not warrant an admission guaranteed to upset her. “Yes.” Faelen could at last sympathize with the special diplomacy demanded of his mated friends.

She dipped her head a degree, shot him another look. Less serious this time. “Ask a stupid question ...”

When the curtain began to lift, Faelen rose, snuffed the candles and returned to his seat. He’d seen this set before. Every time its simple effective design impressed him.

To the far right stood a wall with a door and a small landing outside of it with a rail. Steps and a gaslight street lamp represented the outside of a townhouse. Fog rolled. The rest remained dark. He knew all eyes had fastened upon Rowena. She stood at an angle upon the bottom step, the hood of her cape adjusted to just show her face below the nose. Silence reigned.

As she ascended toward the door, a single violin marked her progress. Faelen sensed Tynan’s tenseness.

Rowena paused, a gloved hand extended toward the door. A collective gasp passed through the audience as the door swung wide. When it did, a branch of candles flared to life upon a ‘foyer’ table, showing a black wrought iron staircase wreathed in twisting shadows. A second murmur of apprehension swept through the theater. The object of their sympathy pushed back her hood.

Faelen almost smiled. Tynan had grown so tense he could feel the energy radiate, beat upon his skin.

A consummate performer, Rowena appeared as frightened as her audience when the door slammed. Gasps punctuated the tension. A second violin joined the first. Next a cello and flute added their voices. She gazed up the steps, eyes wide in the muted light.

He knew what lie ahead. His mate seemed to have grasped the concept at once. Whether she wished to admit it or no. With great intensity, she watched Rowena began the slow, dramatic ascent. Her heartbeat accelerated with each step taken.

Just as Rowena reached the zenith, the candles in the ‘foyer’ extinguished. The theater went dark. Then, a moment later a second candelabrum lit on a little table upstairs, giving an explosion of light. It revealed Rowena at the top. A second door stood before her. She touched the knob, turned it. The portal swung wide at the same instant a second set of tapers lit themselves.

The audience gasped. So did Tynan.

Candlelight showed a man’s bedchamber dominated by a white and black canopied bed of kingly proportions. Aiden sat in a chair beside it. He wore black boots, trousers and a white shirt open halfway down his chest. An instant response of female sexual energy spiked in the theater.

Faelen gauged Tynan’s reaction. He could see straight through her. She cast him a furtive almost guilty glance. Not because she wanted Aiden. Because she wanted him, and feared he’d know it.

He leaned close and spoke close to her ear. “You’re afraid for her.”

“He’s like you, isn’t he?” Tynan sounded breathless.

He nodded, brushed his mouth over the sensitive skin behind her ear. “And, she’s like you.”

“Will he ...” She couldn’t seem to form the words. “He won’t. Not here, will he?”

In the on-stage boudoir, Rowena shed her gloves and cape. She stood just inside the door, looking young, innocent and afraid. Sensual tension that charged the audience became twice as strong in his mate.

“They’re lovers. For real,” she said, and trembled as he let her feel his teeth on that vulnerable spot.

Aiden remained in the chair, and to the audible shock of the audience, Rowena approached him. As it had happened the other times he’d watched this performance, the female viewers reacted with fervor. One woman let out a frightened “No!”

A second called, “Yes!”

Tynan took in a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I like this.”

“You wish to go?” Faelen touched his tongue to the rim of her ear.

She shivered. Shook her head.

Aiden stood. He reached for Rowena, drew her close in a loose embrace. Faelen hoped Tynan would grasp the significance. Aiden would not ravish her. He wanted a lover, not a victim.

Tynan grew restless as she watched them kiss. Faelen noted the way her breath caught as Aiden stripped Rowena to her chemise and stays, took down her hair. The music echoed the growing intensity of the scene.

“See how fragile she looks in his hands?” Faelen dropped a kiss along her jaw. “He has more strength than a dozen mortals. But, she has the power. He wants to pleasure her, to hear her moan his name. To taste the life force of her.”

Tynan turned her face to his. Their lips almost touched. “Are we still talking about them?” she asked.

Faelen’s simmering libido roared to life. He inhaled the scent of her arousal, dragged it deep into his lungs. “No.”

She reached for him, hesitated, curved her small hand around his neck and kissed him. Desire struck like lightning. Made him feral and aggressive. Only will kept him true to his course. He clamped a lid on his instincts and his hands on the arms of his chair. Let her explore his mouth with her sweet silky tongue, comb her fingers through his loose hair.

Tynan nipped at his lower lip, the corner of his mouth, chin. She turned, swung her lower body across the arms of her chair and his, and put herself in his lap. Faelen gave in a bit. He smoothed a hand over the top of her foot within the low heeled shoe, up her slim calf. His libido-driven mental processes registered the cloth sheening her legs.

Faelen slipped off her shoes. As soon as she’d advanced this to his liking, he’d have the hose off her in a wink. And, tomorrow when they patronized Yvette’s, he’d insure she replaced them with stockings.

His mate broke the kiss, looked in his eyes. “We should go.”

Thin-skinned from waiting so long to have her again, he didn’t like the idea of waiting longer. “The door’s locked, and no one can see us.”

“I know. Still ...” Her words dissolved into a soft cry as he slid his hand higher. He watched her eyes half-close. With her seated sideways, he had little trouble catching the band of the annoying garment and peeling it from her.

“Faelen!” Her eyes flashed wide. She reached for his hand. Too late. The troublesome bit of hosiery floated to the carpet. “I can’t believe you did that,” she whispered, tone vacillating from disbelief to amusement.

“I slipped you out of something less comfortable.” He flipped the full skirt of her dress over her knees, trailed a finger at the back of them where he’d learned it tickled.

She jerked away in reflex. As anticipated, it sent her gown farther back. Faelen took in the appetizing vista of long creamy thighs, graceful calves and slender feet.

“I love it when you make that sound,” she told him.

He curved his hand over her inner thigh, pressed. “Open for me.”

She did a bit. “It’s a smooth growl and a rough purr.”

That brought his gaze to hers. “How does it make you feel?”

“Hot.” Tynan blushed. “Hungry for you.”

“I like those words on your lips,” he murmured. Cradling her with one arm, he unbuttoned his shirt halfway to his belly. Her eyes dipped. Their pupils dilated and he sensed the hunger she spoke of.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, her fingers tracing his collarbone. She brought her lips back to his. Kissed him with artless urgency. “Please, Faelen.”

He stood and placed her upon her feet. He tucked her hose and shoes into the deep pockets of his overcoat and shrugged into it. Then, he helped her into her coat, wrapped the throw from the chaise around her and lifted her into his arms.

Faelen carried her from Mephisto’s. Outside, a vampire valet flashed down the block to retrieve the car, complete with Stanfield.

During the ride home, Faelen did not keep his hands from her. He’d met his self-imposed obligations. No more rules. Courtesy of a modification in the car, a shield of smoked glass afforded all the privacy he needed. He played with her, adding her underwear to the collection of feminine things in his pockets.

At the inn, he ferried her inside too fast for attendants and clerks to see. A sharp sense of other vampire brought him to a halt at the apex of the stairs.

Tynan tensed in his arms. “What?”

With his attained years and pure blood, he could screen their sending. Faelen opened himself, allowing the unfamiliar vampires to communicate if they wished.

Magnus they acknowledged in unison.

The dominant sent We come from the Council

Faelen advanced. He turned the corner and saw them. Dressed in grey suits, almost identical in physical appearance, they flanked the door to the suite.

His mate turned to look at them. Then him. “Faelen?”

You will stay with her he sent to them.

“Will they?” Tynan asked. She shook her head as though it buzzed. “Why were they sent?”

“I went before the council after the attack. Korvahnlith must wish to reply.” He watched the council agents take posts at the door as he Faelen carried her to their room, turned the antique key in the latch and admitted himself and his mate.

“Do you have to leave now?” she queried as he set her upon her feet.

Faelen nodded, traced the lush curve of her lower lip. He could smell her readiness. For him. The throbbing of his erection doubled. “Only this could take me from your side, ilshlava.”

Tynan stretched up and kissed his chest where the shirt hung open. A sharp shaft of pleasure shot through him. She lifted her apple-green eyes to his. “Put it off an hour?”

“We have government same as you.” Faelen sought a parallel. A task in his state of arousal. Which ached worse, groin or upper jaw, he knew not. “It’s like the Supreme court. I answer to them if I wish to maintain the integrity of my house.”

“You started this,” she replied. She stroked his chest. Smiled. “Get back here in a hurry to finish it.”

Faelen kissed her again. “I will.”

He left her. But, he held her in his thoughts as the limo prowled through the rainy night.


CHAPTER NINETEEN


Faelen entered Korvahnlith’s private chamber. The Elizabethan building where the High Council convened in London had not undergone any modernizations. It still looked just as it had when they purchased it.

A fire crackled and snapped in the stone hearth. Wall sconces and candelabras held many beeswax tapers. The sparse furniture dated from the same century as the structure. Only a cut-crystal incense brazier wafting damask rose smoke added a touch of luxury.

The door across the room opened and Korvahnlith entered. Faelen always experienced a surge of respect in her presence. As an almost thousand-year-old keeper of an ancient bloodline, she deserved it. Her six and a half foot tall frame dressed in a long iridescent caftan of indigo impressed. With her thick, ankle length white hair loose and her lavender eyes glittering with impatience, she looked truly formidable.

“Raynor Faelen, Keeper of the House of Cairo.” She shut the door without touching it. A log added itself to the fire. Her kinetic abilities came as natural as breathing it seemed. “You have caused me much trouble of late.”

Faelen gave a brief bow. “Trouble of another’s making, Wise One.”

She considered him from beneath long white lashes. Her pronounced cheekbones appeared more stark in the flickering light. “You needn’t tell me what’s happened.”

He accepted the reprove, added nothing for a long moment. Then said, “Those assassins came for myself and my mate. I see no other way to interpret that.”

“Until your sire mated, he brought me endless worry. You devil me after you take one.”

Faelen tamped his growing impatience. “You’ve heard my statements, seen the evidence. What more proof do I need to present before you grant my petition to challenge Blade?”

“His mistress is a child of the House of Nadirah,” she reminded, touched the tip of one long finger to the lifeless wick of a grey taper. It flared, caught, and created a flame. She lifted her finger. “Remus and Artemis Nadirah’s eldest, Remus the Second, opposes your petition.”

“Overrule it.”

“Do not presume to advise me,” Korvahnlith snapped.

“Do not expect me to leave the life of my mate to chance,” he replied.

Almost too fast for even for his eyes to detect, she came to stand toe to toe with him. Their gazes met of a level. Tiny flashes of violet sparked in the lavender depths of her irises.

“A human,” she hissed. “Your reckless self indulgent generation has no idea what mine suffered at their hands. They who are food.”

“You speak of my fated.” Faelen heard the challenge in his voice. Forcing himself to cool, he added, “Peace, Wise One. We know the world as two different places.”

Korvahnlith nodded. “I expected no less from Raynor Maximus’s son.” The tension in her stance ebbed. “Your sire questioned my judgment more times than I can count.” She took his hand in her own. “Come sit with me. Our kind should ever avoid fighting one another.”

Faelen recognized the gentle rebuke referring to his grievance against Blade. He walked hand-in-hand with his world’s equivalent of a sovereign and sat with her upon a stiff broadcloth covered bench before the hearth. When he looked over at her, he had to school his reaction. For the first time, she looked old.

I know time has caught me she sent.

His aggression toward her vanished. The more intimate form of communication pleased him. Protocol forbid him from initiating. Now he could make use of it. Forgive me He put his free hand over their clasped ones.

There is nothing to forgive. Yet

On a nearby table, the stopper of a heavily cut crystal decanter lifted. The vessel filled two gem set goblets with a red libation, replaced it’s top with the quiet efficiency of the best servant. Faelen intercepted the air born glasses, handed the first to Korvahnlith.

The scent of fresh blood, sweetly fragrant, like that of a young woman, laced the aroma of Chateaux Margot rising from the glass. Need raked over his senses. Faelen balked. At risk of insolence He set the glass aside. I must remind you I have a mate

Those keen eyes fixed upon him. You understand, I had to know

You tested my dedication? He realized in the weakness and submission, he’d seen what she wished him to, and his respect for her power grew.

I assured myself of the truth. Sought knowing if you possessed other motivation.

Faelen returned her direct stare. Why have you summoned me, Wise One?

To tell you, not I, nor the council will approve your Right of Magnus until we’ve heard the statement of Remus Nadirah the Second

Standing, Faelen offered her his arm out of courtesy if she wished to do the same. When she declined, he demanded, When will you hear him?

The night before the All Hallows masque at Paris House

Faelen bridled. But, he made no mention of Artemis having asked for his help with her wayward daughter. He gave a shallow bow. “With your leave, I shall return to protect my mate.”

Korvahnlith fixed him with her fiery eyes. “By all means, Faelen of Cairo. Return to your human.”



Tynan took a quick shower, slathered her skin with rich peach-apricot lotion, dressed in a worn blue cotton sleep shirt, and waited.

She paced, restless and aroused. How long ago had he left? Perhaps an hour. Although a table top clock chimed fifteen to one, she’d no way of knowing when they’d returned from the theater.

The mysterious workings of his world intrigued her. She wondered what business he conducted, as she gravitated to the window. Drawing back the heavy tapestry drapes, she gazed at the rain slick street below. In this exclusive area, limos, Bentleys, Astin Martins, Porches and Mercedes prowled like sharks. Languid and sleek.

A soft thump at the suite door made her walk from the bedroom into the sitting area. She hoped Faelen had returned.

Tynan grasped her head and sank to her knees as an unintelligible bit of sending went through her brain. It made her dizzy. She fought the weakness, stood and continued to the door. Full of wariness, she put her eye to the peephole. Only the shiny wood panel of the opposite wall met her eye. The two guards outside the door must have exchanged a mental word. For a few moments she heard nothing else to alarm her.

Picking up her brush from the table, Tynan pulled the tangles from her hair. She wandered back into the bedroom. Her mind turned the events of the past few days over as she attempted to understand when her feelings for Faelen had become so complicated.

A powerful wave of vertigo struck her. Colorful lights clouded her vision and she swayed. As if from a distance, she heard the crank of the window opening. Cold air blasted her face followed by the flap of fabric. She staggered back.

Something or someone moved by her, then she heard the bedroom door shut and lock. Afraid, but determined to defend herself, she turned toward the sound.

She shook her head. “Who are you?”

“Death,” replied a deep male voice. A strange accent colored the cultured speech.

Tynan’s fingertips and nape prickled. “You’re a vampire.”

His big hand smothered her cry of surprise as she found herself pinned upon the floor beneath a hard body. Her vision dimmed, then grew sharp again.

Above hers, a face loomed, its angular, yet handsome lines framed by coppery brown hair. She’d stared into eyes the color of a clear sky. They glittered with cruelty and sadistic sexuality. Wide shoulders dwarfed her. The scents of anise and musk, almost too faint to detect, wafted from him.

His wide mouth curved into a smile. Long snowy fangs gleamed like pearl. With his weight crushing her, the floor boards bit through the patterned carpet, into her back. Her heart thundered and she had to fight the urge to thrash. Instead she forced herself to conserve her strength, wait for her moment.

Her assailant leaned closer. His nostrils flared. “He left you in a state,” he murmured. His narrow hips pressed between her thighs, flaunting his arousal. Then, tone brittle and harsh, he said, “I am your master’s enemy. All others are my weapons.”

Forget what you’ve seen and heard he sent.

A jagged bolt of pain split her skull. Then, as quick as he’d come, he disappeared. She lie upon the floor, recovering from the swift agony.



Faelen’s vampire senses screamed in sudden protective alarm. “Tynan!”

He leaned up from the seat of the council’s limo. They’d halted in traffic, and the driver sat tapping his fingers upon the wheel without any detectable initiative. Saying nothing to the chauffeur, he leapt from the car and sprinted up the street. He made no attempt to conceal his preternatural speed. In moments he reached the inn.

Faelen blew past the doorman and took the stairs rather than wait for the lift. He ascended four and five at a time, reaching the top in seconds. As he turned the corner, gazed down the hall, he saw the two Council guards flanking his suite entrance. They faced him, bowed.

Magnus

He shoved his key into the door and entered. “Tynan?”

“Faelen!”

Her call sent him to the bedroom. She sat upon the edge of the bed. Clothed in a blue night shirt with her hair loose and tumbled, she appeared very young and vulnerable. He noted the dazed look in her eyes, the confused expression. Hard on the heels of that, he smelled another male. A vampire. And not Blade.

Possessive fury erupted inside him. White hot and violent. He kept it from her, pulled her into his arms, pressed his mouth to the crown of her head. She clutched him, buried her face against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked. One of the big, old fashioned windows stood open. The drapes flapped and cold night air rushed into the room. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I must’ve fallen asleep. Delayed jet lag or something.” She rubbed her nose into his shirt. “I think I opened the window to get some air. Then fell back, maybe. I can’t remember.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself,” Faelen assured her. His evolved senses had already taken in every fiber of her physiology, assessed her condition. He felt her blank memory of the very recent past, her discomposure. The effect of the heavy mental manipulation had zapped her strength. She’d been menaced. Although, instinct told him he need not take revenge for rape. His enemy had come for one purpose; to announce himself.

Sweeping Tynan into his arms, he placed her in the turned down bed and covered her. “You rest. I’ll return soon.” She stroked his face, touched his lips, then closed her eyes. He knew she’d slipped into slumber

The aroma of anise lingered. A classic cover to confuse a vampire’s sense of smell. By Nature’s fickle decree, the licorice odor affected taste and smell at once, acting as a mask. For a second he attempted to dissect its scent from the rest, tested the male energy still swirling in the air. It tantalized him with an elusive, though familiar current. Not Blade, he thought, as he strode to the suite door. He flung it open, closed it behind.

Faelen caught the dominant agent by the shoulders and slammed him against the paneled wall. A rival male entered here tonight

I heard nothing

Faelen shook him, not caring as the structure behind the man rattled. He bared his teeth. Sent a harsh mental reprimand. I want answers. Not excuses

Peace, Magnus The agent cowered.

He released the man and turned on the less dominant agent. You. Anything to offer?

Mercy

Faelen released the second agent in disgust. Return to Korvahnlith. I have no use for you

After he’d checked the locks and braced chairs below the crank open windows, Faelen picked up the phone. Dialed the desk. “R.F. Cairo,” he announced to the woman on the other end of the line. “Give me an outside line.”

“Yes, sir.” Seconds ticked past. “Here you are, sir.”

Faelen dialed Ilsa’s number. After a moment a little snap proceeded a ring. On the third, Zreck, her majordomo answered. “How may I help you?”

“This is Cairo, in London. Send the call up to your mistress’s suite.”

“One moment, sir.”

He waited, patience much tried until she picked up.

“Faelen,” she asked, worry stark in her voice, “are you all right?”

“I need to you to take care of someone while Shang comes to London.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Ilsa. If you need me, call my penthouse. Leave word with Stanfield.”

“Certainly.”

Faelen said, “Goodbye, then.” He ended the call with a quick press of his finger and dialed his house on the beach. Mrs. Pullman answered.

“Good evening, Cairo residence.”

“Mrs. Pullman,” he replied, “tell Shang to move Jenny to Ms. Belmont’s and take a flight to London tonight. Have him join me at the King Richard’s Rest Inn.”

“I will, Mr. Cairo,” she assured in her characteristic efficient manner.

“That’s all,” he returned. “Thank you.”

Faelen dropped the phone back into its cradle and went to the bedside. He stood there, gazing down at Tynan as she slept. He lost track of time as he watched her. It surprised him when the clock chimed two. She looked very small and fragile. His protective instincts spiked with as much force as those of possession.

Mine.

He wanted his world of the Vampire to know it.

He wanted her to acknowledge it.



Pleasure beckoned. Like the scent of honeysuckle carried on a warm night wind, it invited her to come closer. She reached for the surface of wakefulness, seeking more of the delicious sensations coursing through her.

Hovering just at that languid stage before the first opening of her eyes, Tynan stretched and found some tender muscles. She felt Faelen in the bed with her. His skin against hers, warm and vital. This lovers’ idyll couldn’t last. She meant to enjoy herself while it did.

“Look at me, ilshlava.”

Tynan lifted her lazy lids. Faelen lay on his right side facing her, backlit every few seconds by lightning. He’d drawn back the drapes, she realized. And the low black clouds that’d hung low over London most of the day, had made good on their threat.

“My head’s still a little fuzzy,” she said, then sighed as his big hand splayed over her stomach.

“Tell me what you can remember.”

She reached into her memory. A vague recollection of walking into the bedroom, brushing her hair perhaps, returned. “I was waiting for you,” she answered. “I came in here, walked around the bed ....” Unsettling, jumbled images flitted just beyond retrieval. “I think I felt dizzy.” More cluttered data, like static interference on a radio. “I must have tried to open the window, because I believe the drapes flew up and hit my face.”

His thumb dipped into her naval, causing her belly muscles to contract. “Someone came here tonight,” he told her. “A vampire male.”

“In this room?” Tynan suffered a horrible sense of vulnerability. “Are you sure?”

“Easy,” he murmured, bent to kiss her. “You’re safe. And I won’t leave you again.”

Pleasure sent the negative emotions back to the remote corners of her mind. All the steamy excitement from earlier returned in a rush. For now, in the lightning spiked darkness, with Faelen’s hard body promising further sensual delight, she found it easy to let the fear fade.

Tynan clung to him. She dug her fingers into his back and shoulders, circled one leg around his narrow hips, and did her level best to swallow him whole. He answered her greedy impatience. In moments she lie as naked as he, breathless with passion.

His mouth abandoned hers, settled hotly below her jaw. Then he moved away enough to turn her over and lift her onto her knees. “I’ve gone half mad these past few days,” he admitted, nudging her legs wider with his own.

On fire, shameless, she asked, “Why didn’t you do this sooner?”

“I wanted you to accept responsibility for what happens between us.” Faelen’s big hand gathered her hair and tilted back her head. It bowed her back and sent a salacious thrill skidding down her spine. It became a throbbing between her thighs.

“I have.” She didn’t admit her continued dilemma in accepting her own fierce appetite for him.

His other hand smoothed the curve of her waist, around to the center of her sexuality. Libidinous response hit her like a velvet gloved fist. It made her aware of the dark, husky timbre of his voice, the sound her nails made upon the cool, slick sheets, the scents of man and woman mixing in the air, the sultry taste of his mouth still lingering in hers.

“As you’ve accepted my nature?” he pressed.

Tynan dragged a slow breath into her lungs. “Discussing this now is like extracting a rack confession.”

He chuckled. The wide blunt tip of him nudged the threshold of her body. With infinite finesse, he teased the ultra sensitive nubbin above it. “Is this torture, my fated?”

Chills erupted over her skin, despite her elevated temperature. “Omigod. Yes.”

Inch by delicious inch, he buried himself deep inside her. Tynan could not stop the cries of sensual delight that escaped her. She pictured herself, on her hands and knees, neck and back arched, her body impaled, possessed by a powerful, dark lover. The image struck her as so unbearably erotic, her inner muscles clamped tight around his erection.

Faelen breath hissed between his teeth. “You belong to me, Tynan. No other man will have you again, ever know your sweetness like this.”

Tynan refused to either dignify that with an argument, or fight at a moment like this. “Finish what you’ve started, Faelen.”

He did. His driving thrusts abetted by the abundant slickness of her arousal, he drew it out longer than she believed she could stand. The cries he wrung from her emerged between panting breaths, lingering in the air like scented smoke. And when he finally allowed her the surrender of climax, he whispered a litany of endearments and praise so tender she ached.

I’m lost, she thought, and let him empty his own release into her.

A few minutes later, lying draped over him, the thunder receding into the distance, Tynan admitted to herself she was in real emotional trouble.