FicWad

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It surprised Tynan how days could stitch themselves into a seamless unit when spent in the pursuit of pleasure. The first whirlwind day in Paris came to a close and then it seemed the sun rose on the fifth. She’d attended three fittings for the dress she would wear to the Halloween masque. As she sat before the vanity mirror in their Paris House suite, Tynan gave it some thought.

Clothing had never moved her. Function and comfort came first in any selection. Since her visit to Yvette’s fanciful boutique in London, all that had changed. She understood what Faelen meant that morning when he’d told her in some ways Yvette told fortunes. The woman possessed a tremendous gift for seeing inside and bringing the best outside. She sensed one’s fantasies and longings, then found a way to make them true.

Tynan separated her hair into sections at the crown and began French braiding. When in Rome, she thought, and pictured the incredible gown. Yvette had titled her total costume ‘Siren’.

At the time it made her cringe, but eighty percent on principle. A stylist of Yvette’s choice would style her hair and apply the make-up to correspond with the mask. The gown itself, a rich supple column of blue-green silk velvet, would boast complex, yet subtle stitching to hint at the outline of scales below the waist.

As she completed her braid and secured it with a thick scrunchie, Tynan gauged the effect of her current ensemble. She wore a long sleeved, contoured, mock turtle neck dress of fluid wool knit in a deep forest shade. The mid-calf suede ankle boots matched to perfection.

Tynan could see bits of her former self, who’d relied on camouflage, in the current reflection. Her eyes still held traces of the old reluctance to let her beauty shine. But, the image in the mirror looked like a woman who traveled the world, let it see her as a vital, sensual woman, and didn’t spare a moment’s worry it would doubt her intellect.

“Mae amouhrn.” Faelen’s voice brought her from her internalizations.

Tynan shifted in the chair so she could see the reflection of the bed behind her. Her lover’s deep golden brown skin contrasted sharply with the pristine sheets and almond brocade spread. He lie propped on one elbow, turned toward her, his shiny onyx hair flowing to the mattress.

“Good morning,” she whispered, her breath arrested at the pure eroticism of the view.

He’d actually slept for several hours, and the rare lazy quality it lent his eyes made her body heat in instant response. Covers rumpled low at his narrow waist, muscles and sinew stark in their prominence, he gifted her with one of his enigmatic almost-smiles.

“So far.” Faelen scooted more upright. The brawn of his torso contracted in a mouth-watering ripple. “Better if you’d kiss me.”

The unpleasantness sometimes associated with human mornings didn’t apply to Faelen, she’d learned. Despite activity or consumption, he tasted, smelled and behaved just the same: fresh, exotic, self-possessed.

She went to the bed, sat on its edge. Already she felt the heat of his skin. It beckoned. “What kind of kiss?”

He rolled onto his broad back and gazed up at her with disarming boyishness. “You pick.”

“Dimples like yours should be illegal.” She traced the attractive indentions that bracketed his mouth.

His thick lashes lowered. Kiss me

Tynan leaned forward. Her heart thundered as if they would kiss for the first time. And despite the many they’d shared, and the other sensual delights, when her lips touched his, she shuddered. An electric shock of sensation streaked through her.

His hands came up to cup her shoulders. “I can’t get enough,” he murmured into her mouth. “I need an eternity of making love to you.”

Love.

The word did strange things to her when he said it. Tynan’s belly fluttered. Her palms grew damp and her pulse sped. Before she could halt them, an image of herself, at home with him in the house on the beach cliffs flashed across her mind; the two of them, on the chaise before the library hearth, snuggled together, a heated book debate turning into another brand of heat altogether.

Tynan gave herself a mental shake and pulled from his grasp. While the ‘new’ version of her could share this time with him in his world, enough of her old self remained to know the idyll must end. She didn’t want to think about saying good-bye right now. But, she realized their different worlds couldn’t co-exist outside this lover’s vacation.

She gazed down at him, more determined than ever to memorize him, soak him into her for future recollection. “I offered to help Io with some last minute details before the guests start arriving this afternoon.”

Faelen laced his fingers behind his head. Heavy biceps contracted beneath smooth dark honey skin. The position fanned the deltoid muscles, accentuating the breadth of his back and shoulders.

“She’ll understand if you’re late,” he tempted.

Tynan wavered. Her eyes returned to his torso, noted the many subtle definitions the pose created. She dragged her gaze up to meet his. “What would she think if I reneged on my offer.”

He smiled, a slow, purely sexual smile that caused her heart to somersault and her thighs to tingle. “She’d think I made you a better one.”

For a split second she glimpsed the frightening, alluring glint of dangerous teeth. Tynan vacated the bed’s edge. She backed away, aroused, intimidated though she trusted him. He chuckled. The silky, self-assured masculine amusement brought her up short. She stalked back to the bed, snatched up a big pillow and whacked him with it. Twice.

Still chuckling, he caught it the second time and tossed it aside. “Such violence.”

“I’m going to help Io,” she told him.

“Take Shang with you.”

“Honestly Faelen, we’ve been here five days and nothing’s happened. As long as I’m inside, why worry?”

He sat up in bed, swung his legs over the side. His playful mood vanished. “I won’t risk your life. End of discussion.”

Anger spiked through her. “You could try not using that ‘lord and master’ tone with me. I might attempt to appreciate your concern. Rather than tell you to kiss my -”

“Tynan,” he cut in, coming to his feet in a fluid surge. He walked to her, naked and splendid and powerful. Stopping before her, he lifted her chin so their eyes met. “I have been, in your words, ‘lord and master’, for too long to change at once. For sake of your happiness, I will try to relent where I can.” His thumb stroked her lower lip, an olive branch of pleasure to go with his words. “Still, there will come times I must act as Magnus and your mate.”

“I liked the first part better,” she replied. “Keep the ‘magnus/mate’ stuff to yourself next time.”

He kissed her lips, gentle, brief. “Please,” he infused the word with unfamiliar humility, “until I come down, take Shang and keep him with you.”


Faelen showered, dressed and went to join Tynan in an economy of time. Shang melted away as he approached. He found her in the main dining room with Io, bickering over color selection for table linens. They laughed and made their respective arguments with feminine good nature.

His mate held a white napkin in one hand, a brown one in the other. “Imagine a Halloween ball without black. That’s a statement.”

“Mais non, ma petite, that is a disaster. Imagine, we, the embodiment of the gothic occasion, celebrating among such shades.” Io clucked her tongue.

“All right.” She dropped the napkins. “Standard orange and black. Plastic pumpkins at every table. Wax fangs for party favors.”

Io laughed. “Oui! Tres bien! Also candy corn. Why did I not think of it before!”

“I don‘t catch much of your French,” Tynan admitted, “but whatever you said, it sounded tres elegant.” She mimicked her hostess’s accent to perfection.

Faelen experienced a rush of tangled emotion. In part due to a sense of family he’d lacked since the death of his parents. In a swift moment of realization, he knew he’d used Fen, Io, Kai, Ilsa, Shang, and his employees as Tynan had her books. Though he’d never questioned his recognition of her as his fated, in that moment, the knowing flooded him with a kinship and love that humbled him. He took a moment to collect himself.

Then said, “Iolanthe, I lend her to you, and you become corrupt.”

They turned, amusement abundant in both.

Ilceste mae johie Io sent in Vhumpeehr.

Tynan quoted phonetically, “Ill-say may jo-hee.”

Io’s cinnamon eyes widened. “It is my pleasure,” she translated, applauded. “Brava!”

Faelen’s heart swelled with pride. “She is an Incomparable, oui?”

Io slid her arm round his mate’s slim waist. He saw the way Tynan accepted it. What is that American phrase? Something ‘A’?

The two dissolved into giggles. He’d never known either to ‘giggle’.

Io sent I love this, mon sucre. You’ll have no way of talking over her.

I didn’t intend to even before I knew

“Please,” Tynan began, “I hear it, but it’s still strange.”

“My mate prefers this method of communication.” Faelen considered the discussion he’d overheard. “You make color selections when you order flowers. What’s the difference this year.”

Io released Tynan, gestured to the walls of the ballroom. “I had the silk replaced the day before you arrived. Though it came from the same house, the color is much darker red. I loved it, but now my linens do not please my eye.” She smoothed her coiled hair. “I think I shall stick with the white and black I bought to accent the orchids and roses.”

Tynan replied, “Don’t forget the candy corn.”

Faelen wondered what she might have told Io in their frequents times together. “When is Dougray due back?” he asked, “I begin to feel outnumbered.”

“After midnight tonight. My husband’s business in Luxembourg took longer than anticipated.”

“If you can do without her, I’d like to take Tynan with me.”

“Oiu, absolutemont.”

He watched the two exchange a brief hug. The relationship with an older woman gave Tynan a glow she’d lacked before. It softened her in that mysterious, nurturing way women could affect each other. She came to his side without asking where he intended to take her.

When the head footman helped her into her fleece lined wool cape, opened the door and she saw Shang with the Paris’s charcoal grey Mercedes, she looked at him. “Should I change?”

“You’re perfect.” He meant it. The fluid dress hugged the curves and swells of her body, brought out the many shades of brown and red in her hair, made her apricot skin glow. And, she made him feel more alive than he had in over three hundred years.

She smiled at him, accepting the compliment. “Can I ask where you’re taking me?”

“Yes.” He handed her into the car.

“Faelen-ese for,” she slanted him a jaunty glance, “I can ask all I want. But, don’t expect an answer.”

He smiled to himself, shut the door and circled the sedan.

Traffic hadn’t grown too congested yet, but weekday afternoons always made for busier streets. They wound through the rues. Despite the autumn weather, the legendary pink light warmed the stone and brick of the buildings, cast its magic upon the dark waters of the Seine as the pulled alongside the Nefriteri.

He watched Tynan’s gaze fix upon the black clad guards standing topside on the renovated barge. “Shang will come back for us in a while,” he told her, climbing from the car. He skirted the Mercedes, opened the door, offered his hand.

His security men, year round fixtures here, nodded in greeting. Hans, a towering Swede recruited for his tremendous skills and vampire blood, jumped from the upper deck to set the gang plank.

“Your boat?” she queried.

Faelen inclined his head. “Given to me by mae mamahn. She lived onboard when she met my father.”

A slight frown creased Tynan’s forehead as she boarded. “I got the impression your mother was very genteel.”

“That too,” he agreed and followed her aboard. He punched the nine digit PIN into the security pad. The light turned green and he opened the door for her. “Wait here.”

Faelen took the old lighter kept on a shelf inside the door and went about the cabin touching flame to wick. His mother had purchased some of these lamps sixty or more years before she met his father. In the stateroom, a cask of meticulously preserved myrrh-scented candles his father brought her from Israel, lie waiting.

“Close the hatch,” he said.

Tynan pulled it to. “I didn’t know barges looked like this inside.”

“Most don’t. Mamahn retained a nautical engineer to design it to her specifications. I made some modifications to preserve the work.”

Tynan descended the three shallow steps to the living area. He saw her run her hand over the back of the low desert style couch and cushions. “The colors and furniture make me think of your tent.”

Faelen expected her to see the resemblance. “She came from one of the oldest houses of aristocracy. She liked to surround herself with things that reminded her of Egypt.”

His mate halted, met his gaze. “She didn’t look Egyptian.”

“Not as most humans perceive them. Tell me, ilshlava, why do you think pharaohs insisted their sarcophagi be cast in gold?” He gave her a moment to consider. Then added, “There is a reason ancient Egyptian rulers wished their skin depicted in shades of gold, their servants and subjects in black.”

“They knew about vampires?” She sounded incredulous.

“Many of their efforts in mummification to preserve the body for the afterlife were due to having seen my kind - my maternal ancestors - living hundreds of years.”

Tynan walked round the end of the couch, halted in front. “May I?”

“Please.”

She sank to the thick, dark purple cushions, crossed one long leg over the other. “Which brings to mind a question.”

He went before her, dropped to a squat. “Yes?”

“I’ve seen several of ‘your kind’. I don’t think all have looked the same age.” Tynan leaned forward. Her thick braid slid over her shoulder into her lap. “How does it work? Are you immortal? If you’re born a vampire, you must still age, or you’d remain a baby.”

“Let me show you the bedroom. There’s a stove in there. I’ll lay a fire and answer questions.”

She wagged a chiding finger. “Oh no. I let you take me in there, the conversation will be conducted in body language.”

He kept his expression bland. “I thought of your comfort.”

“Answer my questions.”

Faelen stood. “We are born. Like humans we age. However, at a far slower rate. Different bloodlines progress at varied rates. Humans turned into vampires do not age after the transformation.”

Confusion clouded her features. “So Ilsa is a vampire?”

“No.” He decided to tell his mate everything now. “Almost fifty years ago, at her request, I put a few drops of my blood in a glass of wine. She takes the same once or twice a year it to maintain the suspension her aging.”

“You can do that?” Her voice rose a notch. She shivered. “Make humans immortal?”

“No. The frailties of humankind still apply. Sickness and injury pose the same threat.” He caught her hand and tugged her to her feet. “It’s too cold for you. Let me build you a fire in the stateroom.”

She canted her head and studied him with those feline eyes. The glow of a lamp lit the right of her face, defining the fragile structure of her cheek and jaw. He ached for his paint and canvas to capture the exquisite play of light and shadow. In their absence, he memorized details. Traced the intriguing angles with his finger.

His mate’s chin lifted a fraction, her thick lashes lowered. “I want answers,” she stipulated.

“Of course.”

Faelen lead her to the forward cabin, the bedroom his mother designed. He’d never allowed anyone else in here. Yet, it felt right as he closed the door behind his fated. His mother’s approving spirit seemed to touch him in an unprecedented connection. In that moment, his love for Tynan cemented. Every fiber of his being swelled with it.

He turned back the thick down filled cover on the low wide bed. Beneath its purple-blue thickness, cream sheets stretched over the mattress. After he gave the thick pillows a fluff, he invited, “Come sit.”

Tynan did. She lifted her feet and he obliged by slipping off her boots. The slick pale stockings she wore made his gut tighten in an abrupt sexual response. He knew above them, he’d find her thighs bare. The session of lingerie selection at Yvette’s had made his blood boil.

“You’re learning fast,” he said, seeing the glint of feminine power in her eyes.

She ran her hand over the sheet. “They’re very satiny, but not too cool.”

“Special weave.” He placed her boots in the floor, shed his coat and hung it on the back of the door. “You’ll wrinkle the dress like this.”

“Then I’ll take it off,” Tynan said. Turning half on her side, she looked over her shoulder. “Unzip me.”

He knew she’d dressed herself without his help. Nonetheless, he unzipped the garment and assisted her slithering from it. Taking care to hang it in the armoire, he returned to her.

Tynan presented an unrivaled picture of female sexuality. Clad in a sheer tan bra and panty set, velvet garter belt in the same shade circling her slender waist, shimmering stockings showcasing her long legs, she surpassed Venus.

In an instant he grew hard and hot. “I’ll warm you myself.”

She snuggled beneath the cover, hid herself from him. “I’d love a fire, Faelen.”

He suspected she intended to hone her newly discovered feminine wiles on him. He welcomed it. So, he went to the short thick little stove, took tender and paper from the kindling box, and started a blaze.

On his haunches before the pot belly stove, he monitored the fire’s progress. “I can tap your essence as often as I desire without your risking a transition.” He steeled himself against her reaction. “However, in a moment, I could give you endless youth.”

“Faelen,” she began.

Her dismissive tone mixed with his current arousal made him aggressive. In a heartbeat he joined her on the bed, sat at its edge. “I want to suspend you, ilshlava. I brought you here to say this because my ancestral home died the same death as my parents. This is the closest to it I have.”

She sat straighter. “I see you’re serious,” her eyes searched his, “and, I don’t intend to make you angry. But, you know how I feel about our relationship. How could you think I would take such a huge step?”

“Enough denial,” he replied. His temper spiked. “I know you’ve grown to care for me.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes. Vanished. “I don’t deny it. I’m just realistic. This couldn’t continue in the real world.”

“This is real.”

Tynan placed her slim hand upon his jaw. “I’ll treasure our time for the rest of my life. Still, what we have exists only in these days. When we go back, and I start my shop, it won’t work. Why let this deteriorate and ruin the memories?”

“It won’t.” He refused to let anything come between them.

Her hand dropped to the covers and she leaned back into the pillows. “How could it survive? I’ll have to put in horrendous hours to establish my business. That means no late nights, no days off. Play time over. Not conducive to an affair.”

“No,” he agreed. “But, this isn’t an affair.”

For a moment she appeared to study him. “Faelen, I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I.” He drew the cover down, bared her to his gaze.

Tynan took a deep breath, exhaled. “Good.” She smiled, sent him a warm look from beneath her thick lacey lashes.

Faelen stood. He shed his boots and shirt. “You said before that confessions during sex were like those given from the rack,” he murmured. Already he could smell her excitement. “Let’s see what I can learn.”


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Faelen took a moment to savor the sight of his mate. Her fragile femininity juxtaposed the almost feral sensuality she exuded. She wore the enticing underclothes as Jeanne d’Arc must have worn her armor; with a sureness of purpose and strength despite facing a greater force.

“You have all the power,” he mused as he unbuttoned his shirt. His gaze raked her from the crown of her regal head to her stocking clad feet. A surge of libidinous heat streaked from his groin to his heart and back. “You make me savage with lust, then gentle me.”

Her pale eyes sparkled, narrowed. She lifted and lowered her knees in a slow tease. “I thought you intended to extract sex-induced confessions from me?”

Faelen’s erection bucked within the confines of his pants. “You want that. To let everything inside you spill with the luxury of a disclaimer.”

“I want you,” she returned, tone hushed, heavy with promise.

He loved her. Despite everything between them, their short time together and the obstacle of species. Her blossoming sexuality riveted him, her spirit enchanted him, and he refused to let her continue to put a time frame on their union.

“I belong to you, my fated,” he pledged, far gone in love. On fire.

Faelen shrugged out of his shirt and stripped to his skin. His senses expanded to take in the fluctuations in his lover’s physiology. Her response to him added another dimension to his desire. The flavor of passion in her blood was a rarefied delicacy. In anticipation, his canines tingled, tested his restraint.

Another barge sounded its horn somewhere in the distance. It accented the muted noises of the lapping river and lively city. Her subtle, restless movements told him of her mood far plainer than words.

“If you belong to me today,” Tynan murmured, “then you take orders.”

“My body belongs to you, and I’ll have no other.” He sat beside her, ran his hands up her legs. “But, my will is my own.”

She must have sensed the steel in his words, for she shivered a bit. Still, feminine guile glittered in her gaze as it dipped to his erection. “I wonder.”

His mate wished to sharpen her sexual claws on him. Good. She’d taken a huge step toward reveling in that part of herself. He ran his thumbs back and forth over the tops of her sheer stockings, and her soft skin. “We’ll test that another time. I’ve a confession to exact.”

Faelen considered her reaction to him that morning. He’d flashed his teeth to tease her. She’d responded in a rush of fearful, sensual fascination. To test the result, he let his canines lower a bit, until he knew she could see the glint.

Tynan’s breath caught. He felt the surge of jumbled emotion - passion, pleasure, uncertainty, intimidation - race through her. She liked the novelty of danger putting an edge on arousal. Without another word, he coaxed the silky panties down her hips, helped her pull one leg then the other from them.

“You know how to get those off and leave the garter belt and hose on,” she said “Should I resent that?”

He noticed the way the slant of her feline eyes seemed more pronounced. “Only if you confess you want to keep me.”

“I do.” She smiled in feminine challenge. “For now.”

Faelen accepted it as a gauntlet thrown. He caught her hands and pulled her upright, reached around and unhooked her bra.

“You’re in a hurry,” she observed.

He inhaled the scent of her excitement and replied, “So are you.” Then, he urged her to recline again and left the garment in place. A tiny line of confusion appeared upon the bridge of her elegant nose. She left the bra as he had.

“I like knowing I can have it off the second I decide to,” he offered in explanation.

She gave a little shrug he felt sure she intended to convey insouciance. The wild flutter of her pulse at the hollow of her throat gave away her game.

Faelen touched the little wedge of cinnamon curls at the juncture of her legs. She made a soft sound of surprise. Without taking his eyes from where his fingers played, he said, “Open for me. Let me look.”

She did. Just a bit.

“Don’t be shy with me, mae amourhn,” he coaxed. “I’ve tasted you there.”

“Faelen,” she whispered. Shock at his boldness and stimulation warred in her tone.

Tynan parted her long smooth thighs. His hungry gaze traced the sleek, wet folds and feasted upon their quintessential female beauty. That small sensitive bud of sensation nestled at their apex, already swollen, and he knew, aching for his touch.

A juggernaut of lust hit him, made his canines tingle and his erection give a demanding buck. “You’ve opened for me,” he murmured. “Like a rose.”

Her shaky exhalation brought his eyes to hers. She’d closed them, their lashes moving upon her flushed cheeks. He watched her as he ran a fingertip over the slick delicate flesh.

“You’ve never felt like this about anyone,” he stated, certain, but filled with enough desire and love to will it true if he must. She bit her full lower lip. “Yes. Feel it, Tynan. What I do to you. What you do to me. This power between us.”

She moaned, reached for him.

“Not yet.”

She opened her eyes, rebellion simmered in their passion darkened depths. “Yes.”

Faelen joined a second finger to the one and pushed them into the tight slick sheath of her body. “No.” Her muscles spasmed. She cried out, trembled at the brink of climax.

He kept his fingers still, splayed his other hand over her belly to prevent her from moving. The liquid pearl of her arousal saturated his senses and fingers. Slowly, he withdrew them.

It took all his self possession to leave her there and walk to the chair. He sat and watched her eyes study him, the confusion on her lovely face. “Come here.”

She pressed her knees together, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. A strap of her bra slid down her arm. When she reached to return it to its place, he said, “Take it off.”

Tynan slid the other strap off her shoulder, pulled her arms from then, but held the garment to her. She possessed the instincts of a born courtesan. His mouth watered and his gut twisted as he waited. For a long moment she denied him her beauty. Then, she dropped it.

Faelen sucked in his breath. With her glorious breasts bare, her slim waist accentuated by the garter belt and those curls framed by it, she gifted him with a sight worthy a sultan. He held out his hand to her, and as she halted before him, he took her hips in his hands and turned her back to him.

Just as beautiful, he thought, admiring her slender back. Twin dimples graced the base of it, just where she curved in and flared out in a delicate contour. Her pretty bottom tempted his touch and he smoothed its delicious curve.

Faelen placed one hand at her waist, gripped his rampant erection with other. “Sit on me,” he murmured. She glanced over her shoulder. It made the tip of her braid whisk across his belly, teased at his straining hardness. It’s all right, mae amouhrn. Do this for me

He guided himself into her hot honeyed sweetness as she brought her bottom into his lap. She gave a throaty cry of pleasure and clamped around his cock like a velvet fist. He held her there for a few minutes, to give her time to adjust his length stretching her, and himself a chance to get control of his raging libido.

Careful of her far more delicate body, Faelen reached around and gently lifted first one then the other of her legs over the arms of the chair. She reached back, clutching his hair, his shoulders.

“Now,” he began, brought his palms to rest at the very inside top of her thighs, fingertips brushing the wet petals his buried erection had spread. “I want you to tell me-” With just one, he touched the trigger of her passion. The liquid silk of her excitement drenched it, and she whimpered deep in her throat as he circled its swollen crest. “-if you’d let anyone else do this to you.”

Faelen nipped her once, quick, at the juncture of shoulder and neck. Not to take from her, then eased the sting with his tongue. He circled his fingertip, made a steady rhythm, in time with his lower body as he began to thrust.

“Tell me,” he pressed.

A violent pre-orgasmic shiver traveled through her. “No ... fair.”

“You wanted this. Remember?” He bucked his hips higher. She squeezed him with her inner muscles, brought his lust to volcanic intensity. Made him savage. Merciless. “Tell me.”

Tynan unfurled her splendid sexuality as he impaled her. She climaxed - a fragile flower sacrificed upon the blade of a dagger - still, she would not answer.

Faelen took her with his teeth then, dragging her life’s essence into himself. He took more than he needed, greedy for her and drunk on her taste. Her heartbeat joined his and they merged, for that precious time, into a single being. She screamed and shuddered to a sudden second orgasm. He exploded inside her, holding her to him as the fierce surges of his finish filled her.

“Only ... you,” she half sobbed. “Only you.”

“My fated.” Humbled, shaken to his core by the force of his emotions, he buried his face against her tousled hair. “My love.”


Tynan sat pressed to his side, wrapped in his arms during the drive back to Paris House. She’d let him help her dress, repair the damage to her appearance, and almost carry her to the car. A light mist had formed since they boarded the Nefriteri. She’d hoped it would shield her some from Shang’s too-sharp black eyes, though doubted the possibility.

Even with Faelen holding onto her as he would never let go again, she dreaded the inevitable scrutiny she must face upon arrival. Whatever they’d shared on that barge left her in no state to make polite conversation. Her body felt wonderful: sated, still tingling and utterly well-pleasured. Her emotional self felt raw and wounded. He’d gotten to her, reached in so deep she feared she could never hide again.

“I’ll take you in the back,” Faelen said, as if he sensed her mental vulnerability. “We can slip up to our rooms without encountering anyone.”

Part of her wanted to ask why she hadn’t seen this ‘back way’ during her tour, and how he knew they wouldn’t meet anyone. She did not. Instead, she watched out the window as they pulled into an unfamiliar garage.

Tynan sat forward, glanced around. “Where are we?”

Faelen replied, low and soft. “In an underground garage. From here we’ll take the tunnel to Io and Dougray’s.”

“Tunnel?”

He opened the sedan door, helped her from the car. “All Vampire High Houses have them.”

“How far are we from the house?” She didn’t like the prospect of a long walk.

“Not far.”

She thought they must have dipped perhaps twenty feet below ground. An iron door worthy a fortress had closed behind them. It blotted out the daylight, and left only the amber glow of security lights to see by. Stone walls and floor added to the fortress effect. Only two other automobiles occupied the garage, a vintage limousine she recognized from a show she’d seen once as a Packard, and a brand new Prowler.

Tynan wrapped her cape tighter about her. Something about the place made her shiver. She didn’t think the temperature caused it. “I don’t like it here.”

Faelen took her hand. “These stones hold much history.”

Shang proceeded them to the mouth of a dark corridor. There Faelen swung her up in his arms. “Lay your head on my shoulder and close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“It will help with the dizziness.”

A moment later, feeling the chill damp air rush past her as he carried her at inestimable speed through the black corridor, Tynan understood what he meant. Though she could see nothing, the moment she shut her eyes the sensation of displacement eased. She held onto Faelen’s neck as if it alone supported her.

Only a few moments more he sent in reassurance.

The encompassing strength and familiar scent of him did more for her comfort than anything. And as he said, they approached a warm flickering of gaslight. Tynan smelled the water before she saw it. To the left of where the tunnel widened into a room, an underground cannel flowed. It could have come straight from some circa fifteenth century swashbuckler epic, save for the small sleek ultra modern watercraft moored there.

By gaslight, she watched Shang ascend a set of wide stone steps to an iron clad door. He lifted a piece of stone she realized functioned as a clever cover for a security panel. A series of swift entries on the keypad and the door swung open.

Their entrance into a small dim room and climb up a narrow spiral staircase past in the same blurring fashion as the trip through the corridor. A second later, it seemed, they emerged from a panel door concealed in the wall across from their suites. Then soon after that, she found herself in one of the sitting room chairs.

Faelen spoke to Shang for a few minutes, their voices hushed and serious. The door closed and she was alone with him.

Tynan exhaled a long shaky breath. She needed a few minutes to herself. To think and patch the emotional walls he’d crumbled. “I’m going to have a bath,” she told him as she stood.

“I’ll send word to Io we’ll take the evening meal en chamber.” He came to help her off with her cloak, and his fingers brushed the sensitive skin behind one ear. “I don’t want to share you tonight.”

Her belly fluttered at the sensual promise in his tone. What had he done to her? A little over an hour ago she’d basked in the kind of carnality that should satisfy her for days. Yet, he need only lower his black velvet voice just so, and she responded. She knew if she told him she’d like to meet the guests who may have arrived, he’d indulge her. She did not.

Tynan wanted what he did.

And it frightened her.



The drape snapped in her face like a whip. Rain blew on the chill wind. She stumbled even as the big male body struck hers. It knocked her backward to the floor.
“Who are you?” Her nostrils filled with the tang of male musk and anise.
Long, bone white fangs gleamed. “Death.”
She clawed and bucked and twisted free. Crawled from the room, somehow, and into the night. On hands and knees she first felt the half-frozen dirt and dry leaves. Musty odors of earth and decay reached her nose. She scrambled to her bare feet, shivering with fear and cold. Thick mist swirled. It parted here and there to reveal twisted winter barren trees.
“Tynan ... you belong to me.”
Her lover’s voice twined among the trees, vaporous as the fog. Somewhere out there, he waited. Behind her, she heard Death chuckle.
Frantic, she turned and fled through the forest. Sharp stones bruised her feet. Branched snagged her hair and thin gown. The frigid air made her lungs ache, but she raced wildly, blindly ahead.
Big cruel hands caught her shoulders. She cried out as she he hauled her back against him. “He left you in a state,” Death hissed.
Her lover appeared in front of her, snatched her from the other male’s grasp. “Mine,” he said.
Death sneered, “I didn’t see her running to you.”
“Tynan,” her lover commanded, “tell him.” His hand covered her breast, catching her peaked nipple between his fingers in a gesture of pure possession. “You’ll only let me do this to you.”
Her voice eluded her. Crushed against her lover’s front, she felt the other vampire’s breath at the back of her neck.
“I’ll let you watch me kill her,” he growled, catching her waist and pulling.
Her lover’s mouth came down on hers, brutal and proprietary. She felt him ripping at her gown, parting her legs. She realized he meant to have her - there with his enemy fighting to steal her - as a final act of ownership.
A terrible sense of helplessness and terror gripped her as surely as their strong, demanding hands. She found her voice and screamed.


Wake, ilshlava

Tynan opened her eyes and sat up with gasp, jerking from Faelen’s embrace. She glanced around the dark room. Disjointed disturbing images flitted just beyond memory. A sense of dread remained. Her heart thundered.

She felt him come upright in the rumpled bed. A large warm hand settled upon her back, stroking her as one might a fearful child. “Like the one on the plane?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” The recollection of both nightmares remained locked somewhere within her. She realized her hands and legs shook.

Faelen drew her back into his arms and down half atop his hard body. It didn’t help. If anything, her trembling intensified. Confused, she tried to pull free.

“Stay with me.” His words drifted over her in the dark, a coaxing caress. “Let me help you.”

When she offered no argument, she found herself turned over onto her stomach upon the cool sheets. A sense of peace began to spread through her, driving the demons of her subconscious back into their subterranean lairs. He lie propped on his side along hers, rubbing the tension from her muscles as he murmured to her in his musical language.

After a while she drifted near slumber, carried on the luxurious cloud of his deep voice and gentle hands.

I’ll guard your rest, my love

She heard his promise and slept.