Categories > Original > Romance > Vampire's Lover
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Blade’s actions tonight went beyond unacceptable. As the hostess whose hospitality he’d violated, Io had final say. Faelen looked to her for approval.
Her cinnamon eyes flashed. “Three blood-tied members of noble houses testify Gianneth of Nadirah has denounced her liaison with you. The respectability her station afforded you no longer exists. Leave Masion de la Paris.”
Blade grinned. “I just pointed out this entree’s shortcomings as a lay. Surely even you starched shirts don’t consider that illegal.”
Faelen stepped forward. “In light of my formal grievance against you, my status as Magnus, and both Lady Paris and Lady Nadirah’s wishes, I will insure you leave this house.” His canines lengthened, locked into place with a soft grind and click of bone and flesh.
“Christ on a crutch,” Blade hissed, blood teeth displayed as he smiled. “What a mouthful of old maid prattle. Talk to kitty-cat like that in the sack. She’ll come to me in no time.”
That reckless insult following Giann’s denouncement gave Faelen all the go-ahead he needed. “As heard by these witnesses, I now have cause to call you out.” He savored the words like Life’s essence on his tongue. “And kill you.”
“When and where, you uppity bastard?” Blade shouted, his face contorted in a flare of rage. “I’m gonna rip you open and bathe in your blood.”
A collective gasp swept the drawing room. Faelen took his turn to smile. “I don’t want to soil Io’s floor with you. I’ll finish this on the back lawn. Your choice of weapons, of course.”
“Swords, goddamn it, because you think you’re unbeatable with them.”
“An hour then?”
“An hour, Cairo. I can’t wait.”
Blade stalked from the crowded room. Faelen turned to Io. “May I request your familial dueling weapons?”
“Use them with my blessing,” she replied.
To Dougray, he said, “Please escort my mate.”
“I will.”
Faelen savored the sensation of triumph. He had Blade just where he wanted him.
Tynan looked pale when he saw her. Even the warm light cast by the hastily erected torches did not disguise her pallor. She clutched Dougray’s arm as a castaway might a life raft. He attributed the change he sensed in her to the impending event.
“Mae ilshlava,” he said. He recited the formal words with a warm feeling of family, “For the insult to you, and myself as your mate, I defend the name of Cairo.”
Her pupils dilated then grew small. She released Dougray’s arm with obvious reluctance. Then, she moved to his own side. “Don’t risk a fight. Let’s just go.”
He realized her species might handicap her perception. “Tynan,” he said, to her, “I have challenged Blade to a duel. In a few minutes, we fight.”
“I know what’s happening. Dougray explained. Let’s leave.”
His temper piqued. “Honor’s at stake.”
“So what?”
Faelen’s nature called, screamed with the need to settle this and bring glory to his House. He drew her aside, to a secluded arbor. Gazing in her feline eyes, he said, “I am the last of my kind. Its history and future rests on me. I must defend them.”
She shivered. Whether from his words or the night wind, he knew not. The cape she wore over her gown couldn’t offer much warmth. “This is insane,” she whispered. “I can’t watch.”
Faelen wanted her to understand. “You are my mate. I need you here.”
“So my wishes mean nothing? I’m expected to heel like a good dog.” Something bright and brittle flashed in her narrowed gaze. “I don’t understand. You make this sound like such an evolved race, so grand a society. What’s happening here is medieval. It’s barbaric.”
“I won’t fight you and Blade,” he told her, infuriated by her lack of support and concern for him. “Your complaints must wait.” He tested her response by adding, “If I’m alive.”
“Am I supposed to perform some deranged rendition of a cheerleader here? Go, fight, kill?” she demanded, tone hot and emotional. “I saw enough violence in London. You want to hack up someone else, do it without me.”
Volcanic anger coursed through him. He caught her arm as she turned to leave. “Say what you will in private. Now, in the eyes of my kind, you will honor me and mine.”
Tynan’s tip-tilted eyes narrowed. Determination and force of will worthy a vampiress reached him. “I’ll stick around for this. Even though I hate it. Next time I want to go, you’ll owe me.”
“We’ll discuss that afterward.” Faelen pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted a little, but she didn’t soften in his arms. He forced his way into her mouth, plundered her sweetness with his tongue until she moaned and leaned into him. He lifted his head, said, “I take your kiss into combat, mae amouhrn.”
He escorted her to Dougray and Io, with whom he’d entrusted her. Then, shed his shirt and walked to the liveried footman who held the elaborate dueling case. Inside, on a bed of white velvet lie the remaining sword. An elegant bastardization of rapier and saber, it felt balanced and light, but also strong and lethal. The handle pressed his hand in all the right places. A sword like this promised integrity.
“Have you anything to say?” Faelen asked in observance of protocol. The anticipation of battle made his blood sing. His canines lowered. All around them, the crowd lie silent.
Blade gave his sword an experimental swipe through the crystal clear night air. “Yeah. Throw down, Cairo, I’ve wanted this for too long.”
A sharp thrill raced through him. “For once we agree.”
His enemy charged him. He pivoted, dodged the well-timed attack. Despite his base manners and clumsy brutality, Blade possessed considerable skill. Faelen kept his weapon in play, turning away strikes and testing his opponent’s technique. Whoever tutored Blade had used a mix of classic fencing and more practical battlefield savvy.
“This all you got?” Blade demanded. “I’ve fought women who hit harder.”
Faelen side stepped a whistling swing. He put his sword beneath the other and let the momentum of the uncontrolled follow-through knock Blade off balance. Although he recovered quickly, he couldn’t avoid the edge of Faelen’s weapon as it slashed across his belly. It just missed spilling his entrails. Blood spurted and a collective gasp rose from the crowd.
Blade whirled to his left, free hand holding the wound. “That’s better.” His eyes glittered. An indefinable emotion flashed in their depths. Distaste swept him as he sensed the other man’s sexual arousal.
“That’s for Jenny,” he told his enemy. In a surprise maneuver, he changed sword hands and opened Blade’s thigh from hip to knee. “For Ilsa.” He gave his opponent room to retreat. The gut laceration had closed. Blood continued to pump from the leg gash.
“Wonder why I took her?” Pain roughened Blade’s voice.
“I know.” Faelen threatened his nemesis’s right, just enough to worry him. “You’re like a school yard bully who only wants what the other boys have.”
An awful fury infused Blade’s whispered words. “She belongs to you. For that, I’d kill her. Just like Kitty-cat.”
In a horrible rush of clarity, Faelen put together the unreasonable hatred and arousal. His disgust made him angry where the taunting had failed. He controlled it. “I see.”
“Goddamn you, you uppity bastard,” Blade snarled. “You’d never try non-bitch action, would you? No matter how good.”
Faelen shook his head, but kept his gaze trained upon the other vampire as he circled. He relished the chance to inflict insult. “It’s you that disgusts me.”
“I’ll take the next best thing. Plowing where you’ve plowed.” Blade gave a guttural shout and attacked.
Like a Viking berserker, he hacked and slashed with wild aggression. Faelen deflected the blows, twisting the other sword from him and holding his ground. After a few moments, he turned the tide. Three swift strikes sent his opponent backward. He brought his weapon under Blade’s defense and split his chest to the breastbone. The resulting cry of agony didn’t last long. Faelen took off Blade’s head in the next stroke.
The crowd erupted in murmured conversation. Faelen felt the splattered blood dotting his torso and face grow cold from the night wind. Blade’s headless body crumpled in a strangely languid manner. Io’s dueling sword fell from its limp hand to the gore-slick grass.
Tynan removed her shaking hand from her mouth. The thunder of her heartbeat began to slow. He’d survived. Going into it, she hadn’t given it a thought. Once the fight began her dread consumed her. For the second time she’d tortured herself with fear of his death. And, for the second time she’d seen him take life.
Io’s soft voice reassured her. “It’s done, ma petite. Go to him.”
The breath of the night wind cut into her feet and legs, as it blew under her gown. It turned her mind to the moment, to the relief at having Faelen safe. She broke from the protection and comfort of Dougray’s embrace and rushed to him.
Less than five feet from him she slid on the blood-slick ground. She caught herself, stopped and looked at her lover. Firelight reflected on the inky blackness of his hair, glittered in the jewel-like topaz of his eyes. The duel had brought out the predator in him, accenting his soaring cheekbones and chiseled jaw. Dark shiny drops of red dotted his face, spangled the golden brown skin of his arms and torso.
He terrified her. He made her pelvis go liquid with his sheer masculine beauty, and she hated herself for the weakness.
Two footmen saved her from her lack of words. They rushed to take the red stained sword from Faelen and its pristine twin from the grass near Blade’s body. A few other servants came forward to remove the decapitated corpse. Despite what it meant for her, she didn’t look to closely at it. If she equated the ruined life with the resumption of her own, the guilt might crush her.
“I’m filthy,” Faelen murmured, words white in the chill air. He held out his hand. “This much of me’s fit for your touch. Take it, and we’ll return to our rooms.”
Giann’s words returned to her in a chaotic rush. “What a great deal for him. Keep you young and fresh until he tires of your lovely soft skin and sweet body.” Tynan hesitated. “Think fast and keep your pretty mouth shut.” She realized in that instant, that if she decided to take Giann up on her offer, anything she did between now and then would determine if she’d have that luxury.
She forced her face into an expression of acceptance. “Let’s do. I’m exhausted.”
His hand felt big, almost godlike in its palpable, leashed strength. Her own tightened around it as they left the impromptu Field of Honor. On the way back into the house and upstairs, neither spoke. Once the door closed behind them, she tried to contain her jumbled emotions.
Faelen seemed to sense her turmoil. “We’ll talk after I bathe.”
Tynan took off her gown and undergarments to the sound of the shower and then the filling tub. Her mask lie discarded on the lawn somewhere, she realized, as she hung the luxurious costume into the closet. It required patience to remove the stands of seed pearls from her hair, and put it up in a coil. The solitary lamp in the sitting room cast just enough glow to let her see the glitter scattered upon her skin. She suddenly wished for a shower.
Naked, she stood at the bathroom portal. Her compulsion to wash away the night’s events warred against her reluctance to face the issue of intimacy. From the other side, he said, “Come in, mae amourhn.”
Myrrh-scented steam billowed out as she opened the door. When it cleared, she saw Faelen, illuminated by the light of a half dozen column candles, reclined in the deep copper tub. His hair flowed over his broad shoulders into the fragrant water, and his long powerful arms lie draped along the sides of the tub.
She went to the adjoining shower, stepped into the etched glass box as quick as she could. “I’ll just take a minute.”
The tell-tale swoosh of the water preceded his voice coming from the other end of the tub. “Take your time. I insist.” He’d turned to watch her and the side mounted faucet accommodated his position. She heard him settle back and knew he’d watch her every move.
The etched glass panels would do little to shield her from those lion’s eyes. Tynan tried not to think about that as she turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. She washed off the glitter and stress with apricot gel, rinsed in record time and shut off the spray. A thick blue bath sheet waited on the towel bar, thoughtfully provided earlier by a servant. She swirled it around her body, stepped from the shower.
Though she fought it, a trembling grew in her. Sensual heat pooled low in her belly. He wanted her. In her bones she felt the potent desire. Like his hands upon her, his arousal tempted.
You play a dangerous game, my fated.
Her heart stopped, lurched into a rapid tattoo. He’d seen through her, she thought, wild with an unwelcome sort of guilty panic. About Giann and her decision to leave.
Call the bull, endure the wound
Unwelcome longing and fear mixed in a giddy cocktail. She tried to keep it from her tone. “Enjoy your soak.” Fast as dignity allowed, she left the bath.
Out in the bedroom, Tynan ignored the decadent sleepwear from Yvette’s in favor of her trusty old pajamas. They lent her a little comfort. Maybe he didn’t know. Perhaps he meant she’d teased him by showering as he watched. Only that. She brushed out her hair, left it loose down her back. In the depths of the mirror she saw the expression her father had termed ‘deer in the headlights look’ in her eyes. Her hands shook as she placed the brush upon the vanity.
Tynan found the bed turned down, its fresh clothes scented with bayberry. She cut off the bedside lamp and crawled beneath them. Her pulse sped as she waited, feigned sleep, listened to Faelen as he exited the bath.
In her mind’s eye she saw him locked in combat, blood-sprayed and savage. The torchlight had accented his feral appearance. Then, images of him, boyish and loving, intense and passionate, patient and indulgent assaulted her.
She shivered, waited, as she heard him come close. The bed dipped. Heat from his body invaded the bed, her senses. Her heart. No.
Faelen drew her into his strong, warm arms. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Tynan faked it. Held silent.
“My fated, I hear that brain clicking.”
“I hated what I saw.” Her admission surprised her. “I didn’t intend to tell you. But, the violence made me sick. I hate death.” Scenes from time spent mourning her parents and the time she’d tended her dying aunt assailed her. The force of her emotions vibrated in her body, her words. “At this moment, to me, you represent death.”
“We went through this before, in London,” he began, tone gentle yet firm. “Would you rather I’d let him have my head?”
She ignored the question. “London was different. Those men came to kill us. You were outnumbered, protecting your servants and me as well as yourself. Tonight you let him goad you into initiating a fight.”
“You can’t believe I challenged him over a hospitality breach.” He shifted a little and she could sense his gaze upon her. “For almost thirty years he’s terrorized the west coast, killing, kidnapping, and corrupting. Half the police departments in California have unsolved homicide files on crimes he committed. You know what he did to Jenny. You should know what he would’ve done to you given the chance.”
“I think you use those reasons instead of the fact you wanted to kill him.” Tynan hadn’t intended that remark either. She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t alerted him to her having outside influence.
“I haven’t made a secret of intending to separate his head from his neck,” he said in a low, deliberate tone. “And I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy it. He was a disease. A cancer to human and vampire kind.”
Tynan shuddered at his coolness. “No more violence,” she whispered, to herself as much as him. “No more.”
“I won’t make that promise,” he warned, voice gentler.
“Then at least help me understand some of this,” she countered, mind racing with what she’d seen and heard tonight. “Why would Blade and Giann hate you so much? Why is Shang so loyal to you, and so trusted by Io and Dougray with the secrets of their house?” Questions occurred one after the other. “Have you dueled like this before? Is it common? Why decapitaion?”
“Peace, ilshlava.” Amusement flirted in his words.
She moved a little from him, only to have him draw her back more snugly to his chest as he lay on his side. “I want to know.”
The warm, myrrh-scented dampness of his hair brushed her cheek as he spoke. “Blade disliked me for many reasons. Foremost envy.” Something unidentifiable flickered in his voice. “Giann’s motives elude me. As for Shang, his service to me is in penance of his former way of life. Over the years I’ve known him, he’s proven his trustworthiness and dedication many times. Dougray and Io know enough of what he used to be, appreciate the strength it required for him to transform. Taken with my faith in him, that is enough to secure theirs.”
“Past duels?”
“Formal ones following audiences with the council, no. Matters of honor between myself and others, yes. Many. I’ve lived in times when it was not only common but fashionable. A fight is hard to avoid when others wish to make it.” After a moment he added, “I’ve also fought in many wars.”
Tynan pictured him as she seen him in London and tonight, sword and eyes flashing, graceful powerful body a weapon itself. What a terrible, awesome sight he must have been on the battlefield. “And the head thing?”
“A born vampire can only die when the spine is severed. Daylight can sicken a vampire made, and in extreme cases cause death. But, severance of the spine guarantees the end.”
She attempted to digest everything. Answers seemed to beget more questions. “I don’t understand. What Shang ‘used to be’?”
“Ask him yourself, mae amourhn. He’ll tell you everything.”
A subtle change in him evoked a sudden response in her. The smoldering coals of her desire flamed to instant life. It went against how she felt about what he’d done tonight and her realization she should get away from him as soon as possible.
She flattened her palms on his wide warm chest. “No.” Pushing did nothing to free her. “I don’t want this. I have to think.”
In the next instant, she found herself stripped and swept beneath him. She felt him brace his weight from her on one bent arm. His other hand plunged into her hair even as his lips covered hers and his tongue invaded her mouth. Lightning-like lust pierced her. Her nipples pebbled, hot wet welcome pooled between her trembling thighs and the soles of her feet tingled.
Faelen’s pelvis parted her legs. The rigid evidence of his arousal nudged her slick sensitive flesh in the most intimate of courtship. In the dark like this, the difference in their proportions seemed exaggerated. In her mind’s eye, she pictured him twice her size, more like a god than a man.
He lifted his mouth a fraction. “Tell me you want me.”
Tynan fought the exquisite sensations assaulting her: his touch, his taste, the heat of his body, the fierce need he’d conjured.
“Say it.”
But she couldn’t. Instead she abandoned resistance, slid her feet up the cool sheet to bend her knees. She tilted her hips, lifted and captured the tip of him.
Faelen gave a deep throated sensual growl of pleasure and buried his hot, demanding erection inside her.
Yes, her body screamed, spasming.
No, her mind wailed in protest.
He lavished her with kisses, wreathed her in caresses. She shivered and shook and came apart under him.
Even as the carnal joy carried her over the pinnacle of climax, she felt tears course down her flushed cheeks. Clinging to him, baptized in sexual nirvana, she sealed her vow.
Tynan would accept Giann’s devil’s bargain.
And, escape.
~ For those who read already, I hope you enjoyed. I have saved all comments from all stories in a file. Much appreciation to those few of you who took the time.
I posted here as a means to reach readers and speak to them one-on-one. It has not yielded the results I hoped for. So, in the interest of maintaining sales and therefore my livelihood, I have decided to remove most of my novels. They continue to be available through online retailers. Soon, they will be sold in bundles of two or more at a reduced price at my request. So, if you intend to purchase, wait, but keep checking the sites. I recommend BooksOnboard and Fictionwise.
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Regards,
Kristina Dalton
editor/author Stonehedge Publishing
Blade’s actions tonight went beyond unacceptable. As the hostess whose hospitality he’d violated, Io had final say. Faelen looked to her for approval.
Her cinnamon eyes flashed. “Three blood-tied members of noble houses testify Gianneth of Nadirah has denounced her liaison with you. The respectability her station afforded you no longer exists. Leave Masion de la Paris.”
Blade grinned. “I just pointed out this entree’s shortcomings as a lay. Surely even you starched shirts don’t consider that illegal.”
Faelen stepped forward. “In light of my formal grievance against you, my status as Magnus, and both Lady Paris and Lady Nadirah’s wishes, I will insure you leave this house.” His canines lengthened, locked into place with a soft grind and click of bone and flesh.
“Christ on a crutch,” Blade hissed, blood teeth displayed as he smiled. “What a mouthful of old maid prattle. Talk to kitty-cat like that in the sack. She’ll come to me in no time.”
That reckless insult following Giann’s denouncement gave Faelen all the go-ahead he needed. “As heard by these witnesses, I now have cause to call you out.” He savored the words like Life’s essence on his tongue. “And kill you.”
“When and where, you uppity bastard?” Blade shouted, his face contorted in a flare of rage. “I’m gonna rip you open and bathe in your blood.”
A collective gasp swept the drawing room. Faelen took his turn to smile. “I don’t want to soil Io’s floor with you. I’ll finish this on the back lawn. Your choice of weapons, of course.”
“Swords, goddamn it, because you think you’re unbeatable with them.”
“An hour then?”
“An hour, Cairo. I can’t wait.”
Blade stalked from the crowded room. Faelen turned to Io. “May I request your familial dueling weapons?”
“Use them with my blessing,” she replied.
To Dougray, he said, “Please escort my mate.”
“I will.”
Faelen savored the sensation of triumph. He had Blade just where he wanted him.
Tynan looked pale when he saw her. Even the warm light cast by the hastily erected torches did not disguise her pallor. She clutched Dougray’s arm as a castaway might a life raft. He attributed the change he sensed in her to the impending event.
“Mae ilshlava,” he said. He recited the formal words with a warm feeling of family, “For the insult to you, and myself as your mate, I defend the name of Cairo.”
Her pupils dilated then grew small. She released Dougray’s arm with obvious reluctance. Then, she moved to his own side. “Don’t risk a fight. Let’s just go.”
He realized her species might handicap her perception. “Tynan,” he said, to her, “I have challenged Blade to a duel. In a few minutes, we fight.”
“I know what’s happening. Dougray explained. Let’s leave.”
His temper piqued. “Honor’s at stake.”
“So what?”
Faelen’s nature called, screamed with the need to settle this and bring glory to his House. He drew her aside, to a secluded arbor. Gazing in her feline eyes, he said, “I am the last of my kind. Its history and future rests on me. I must defend them.”
She shivered. Whether from his words or the night wind, he knew not. The cape she wore over her gown couldn’t offer much warmth. “This is insane,” she whispered. “I can’t watch.”
Faelen wanted her to understand. “You are my mate. I need you here.”
“So my wishes mean nothing? I’m expected to heel like a good dog.” Something bright and brittle flashed in her narrowed gaze. “I don’t understand. You make this sound like such an evolved race, so grand a society. What’s happening here is medieval. It’s barbaric.”
“I won’t fight you and Blade,” he told her, infuriated by her lack of support and concern for him. “Your complaints must wait.” He tested her response by adding, “If I’m alive.”
“Am I supposed to perform some deranged rendition of a cheerleader here? Go, fight, kill?” she demanded, tone hot and emotional. “I saw enough violence in London. You want to hack up someone else, do it without me.”
Volcanic anger coursed through him. He caught her arm as she turned to leave. “Say what you will in private. Now, in the eyes of my kind, you will honor me and mine.”
Tynan’s tip-tilted eyes narrowed. Determination and force of will worthy a vampiress reached him. “I’ll stick around for this. Even though I hate it. Next time I want to go, you’ll owe me.”
“We’ll discuss that afterward.” Faelen pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted a little, but she didn’t soften in his arms. He forced his way into her mouth, plundered her sweetness with his tongue until she moaned and leaned into him. He lifted his head, said, “I take your kiss into combat, mae amouhrn.”
He escorted her to Dougray and Io, with whom he’d entrusted her. Then, shed his shirt and walked to the liveried footman who held the elaborate dueling case. Inside, on a bed of white velvet lie the remaining sword. An elegant bastardization of rapier and saber, it felt balanced and light, but also strong and lethal. The handle pressed his hand in all the right places. A sword like this promised integrity.
“Have you anything to say?” Faelen asked in observance of protocol. The anticipation of battle made his blood sing. His canines lowered. All around them, the crowd lie silent.
Blade gave his sword an experimental swipe through the crystal clear night air. “Yeah. Throw down, Cairo, I’ve wanted this for too long.”
A sharp thrill raced through him. “For once we agree.”
His enemy charged him. He pivoted, dodged the well-timed attack. Despite his base manners and clumsy brutality, Blade possessed considerable skill. Faelen kept his weapon in play, turning away strikes and testing his opponent’s technique. Whoever tutored Blade had used a mix of classic fencing and more practical battlefield savvy.
“This all you got?” Blade demanded. “I’ve fought women who hit harder.”
Faelen side stepped a whistling swing. He put his sword beneath the other and let the momentum of the uncontrolled follow-through knock Blade off balance. Although he recovered quickly, he couldn’t avoid the edge of Faelen’s weapon as it slashed across his belly. It just missed spilling his entrails. Blood spurted and a collective gasp rose from the crowd.
Blade whirled to his left, free hand holding the wound. “That’s better.” His eyes glittered. An indefinable emotion flashed in their depths. Distaste swept him as he sensed the other man’s sexual arousal.
“That’s for Jenny,” he told his enemy. In a surprise maneuver, he changed sword hands and opened Blade’s thigh from hip to knee. “For Ilsa.” He gave his opponent room to retreat. The gut laceration had closed. Blood continued to pump from the leg gash.
“Wonder why I took her?” Pain roughened Blade’s voice.
“I know.” Faelen threatened his nemesis’s right, just enough to worry him. “You’re like a school yard bully who only wants what the other boys have.”
An awful fury infused Blade’s whispered words. “She belongs to you. For that, I’d kill her. Just like Kitty-cat.”
In a horrible rush of clarity, Faelen put together the unreasonable hatred and arousal. His disgust made him angry where the taunting had failed. He controlled it. “I see.”
“Goddamn you, you uppity bastard,” Blade snarled. “You’d never try non-bitch action, would you? No matter how good.”
Faelen shook his head, but kept his gaze trained upon the other vampire as he circled. He relished the chance to inflict insult. “It’s you that disgusts me.”
“I’ll take the next best thing. Plowing where you’ve plowed.” Blade gave a guttural shout and attacked.
Like a Viking berserker, he hacked and slashed with wild aggression. Faelen deflected the blows, twisting the other sword from him and holding his ground. After a few moments, he turned the tide. Three swift strikes sent his opponent backward. He brought his weapon under Blade’s defense and split his chest to the breastbone. The resulting cry of agony didn’t last long. Faelen took off Blade’s head in the next stroke.
The crowd erupted in murmured conversation. Faelen felt the splattered blood dotting his torso and face grow cold from the night wind. Blade’s headless body crumpled in a strangely languid manner. Io’s dueling sword fell from its limp hand to the gore-slick grass.
Tynan removed her shaking hand from her mouth. The thunder of her heartbeat began to slow. He’d survived. Going into it, she hadn’t given it a thought. Once the fight began her dread consumed her. For the second time she’d tortured herself with fear of his death. And, for the second time she’d seen him take life.
Io’s soft voice reassured her. “It’s done, ma petite. Go to him.”
The breath of the night wind cut into her feet and legs, as it blew under her gown. It turned her mind to the moment, to the relief at having Faelen safe. She broke from the protection and comfort of Dougray’s embrace and rushed to him.
Less than five feet from him she slid on the blood-slick ground. She caught herself, stopped and looked at her lover. Firelight reflected on the inky blackness of his hair, glittered in the jewel-like topaz of his eyes. The duel had brought out the predator in him, accenting his soaring cheekbones and chiseled jaw. Dark shiny drops of red dotted his face, spangled the golden brown skin of his arms and torso.
He terrified her. He made her pelvis go liquid with his sheer masculine beauty, and she hated herself for the weakness.
Two footmen saved her from her lack of words. They rushed to take the red stained sword from Faelen and its pristine twin from the grass near Blade’s body. A few other servants came forward to remove the decapitated corpse. Despite what it meant for her, she didn’t look to closely at it. If she equated the ruined life with the resumption of her own, the guilt might crush her.
“I’m filthy,” Faelen murmured, words white in the chill air. He held out his hand. “This much of me’s fit for your touch. Take it, and we’ll return to our rooms.”
Giann’s words returned to her in a chaotic rush. “What a great deal for him. Keep you young and fresh until he tires of your lovely soft skin and sweet body.” Tynan hesitated. “Think fast and keep your pretty mouth shut.” She realized in that instant, that if she decided to take Giann up on her offer, anything she did between now and then would determine if she’d have that luxury.
She forced her face into an expression of acceptance. “Let’s do. I’m exhausted.”
His hand felt big, almost godlike in its palpable, leashed strength. Her own tightened around it as they left the impromptu Field of Honor. On the way back into the house and upstairs, neither spoke. Once the door closed behind them, she tried to contain her jumbled emotions.
Faelen seemed to sense her turmoil. “We’ll talk after I bathe.”
Tynan took off her gown and undergarments to the sound of the shower and then the filling tub. Her mask lie discarded on the lawn somewhere, she realized, as she hung the luxurious costume into the closet. It required patience to remove the stands of seed pearls from her hair, and put it up in a coil. The solitary lamp in the sitting room cast just enough glow to let her see the glitter scattered upon her skin. She suddenly wished for a shower.
Naked, she stood at the bathroom portal. Her compulsion to wash away the night’s events warred against her reluctance to face the issue of intimacy. From the other side, he said, “Come in, mae amourhn.”
Myrrh-scented steam billowed out as she opened the door. When it cleared, she saw Faelen, illuminated by the light of a half dozen column candles, reclined in the deep copper tub. His hair flowed over his broad shoulders into the fragrant water, and his long powerful arms lie draped along the sides of the tub.
She went to the adjoining shower, stepped into the etched glass box as quick as she could. “I’ll just take a minute.”
The tell-tale swoosh of the water preceded his voice coming from the other end of the tub. “Take your time. I insist.” He’d turned to watch her and the side mounted faucet accommodated his position. She heard him settle back and knew he’d watch her every move.
The etched glass panels would do little to shield her from those lion’s eyes. Tynan tried not to think about that as she turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. She washed off the glitter and stress with apricot gel, rinsed in record time and shut off the spray. A thick blue bath sheet waited on the towel bar, thoughtfully provided earlier by a servant. She swirled it around her body, stepped from the shower.
Though she fought it, a trembling grew in her. Sensual heat pooled low in her belly. He wanted her. In her bones she felt the potent desire. Like his hands upon her, his arousal tempted.
You play a dangerous game, my fated.
Her heart stopped, lurched into a rapid tattoo. He’d seen through her, she thought, wild with an unwelcome sort of guilty panic. About Giann and her decision to leave.
Call the bull, endure the wound
Unwelcome longing and fear mixed in a giddy cocktail. She tried to keep it from her tone. “Enjoy your soak.” Fast as dignity allowed, she left the bath.
Out in the bedroom, Tynan ignored the decadent sleepwear from Yvette’s in favor of her trusty old pajamas. They lent her a little comfort. Maybe he didn’t know. Perhaps he meant she’d teased him by showering as he watched. Only that. She brushed out her hair, left it loose down her back. In the depths of the mirror she saw the expression her father had termed ‘deer in the headlights look’ in her eyes. Her hands shook as she placed the brush upon the vanity.
Tynan found the bed turned down, its fresh clothes scented with bayberry. She cut off the bedside lamp and crawled beneath them. Her pulse sped as she waited, feigned sleep, listened to Faelen as he exited the bath.
In her mind’s eye she saw him locked in combat, blood-sprayed and savage. The torchlight had accented his feral appearance. Then, images of him, boyish and loving, intense and passionate, patient and indulgent assaulted her.
She shivered, waited, as she heard him come close. The bed dipped. Heat from his body invaded the bed, her senses. Her heart. No.
Faelen drew her into his strong, warm arms. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Tynan faked it. Held silent.
“My fated, I hear that brain clicking.”
“I hated what I saw.” Her admission surprised her. “I didn’t intend to tell you. But, the violence made me sick. I hate death.” Scenes from time spent mourning her parents and the time she’d tended her dying aunt assailed her. The force of her emotions vibrated in her body, her words. “At this moment, to me, you represent death.”
“We went through this before, in London,” he began, tone gentle yet firm. “Would you rather I’d let him have my head?”
She ignored the question. “London was different. Those men came to kill us. You were outnumbered, protecting your servants and me as well as yourself. Tonight you let him goad you into initiating a fight.”
“You can’t believe I challenged him over a hospitality breach.” He shifted a little and she could sense his gaze upon her. “For almost thirty years he’s terrorized the west coast, killing, kidnapping, and corrupting. Half the police departments in California have unsolved homicide files on crimes he committed. You know what he did to Jenny. You should know what he would’ve done to you given the chance.”
“I think you use those reasons instead of the fact you wanted to kill him.” Tynan hadn’t intended that remark either. She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t alerted him to her having outside influence.
“I haven’t made a secret of intending to separate his head from his neck,” he said in a low, deliberate tone. “And I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy it. He was a disease. A cancer to human and vampire kind.”
Tynan shuddered at his coolness. “No more violence,” she whispered, to herself as much as him. “No more.”
“I won’t make that promise,” he warned, voice gentler.
“Then at least help me understand some of this,” she countered, mind racing with what she’d seen and heard tonight. “Why would Blade and Giann hate you so much? Why is Shang so loyal to you, and so trusted by Io and Dougray with the secrets of their house?” Questions occurred one after the other. “Have you dueled like this before? Is it common? Why decapitaion?”
“Peace, ilshlava.” Amusement flirted in his words.
She moved a little from him, only to have him draw her back more snugly to his chest as he lay on his side. “I want to know.”
The warm, myrrh-scented dampness of his hair brushed her cheek as he spoke. “Blade disliked me for many reasons. Foremost envy.” Something unidentifiable flickered in his voice. “Giann’s motives elude me. As for Shang, his service to me is in penance of his former way of life. Over the years I’ve known him, he’s proven his trustworthiness and dedication many times. Dougray and Io know enough of what he used to be, appreciate the strength it required for him to transform. Taken with my faith in him, that is enough to secure theirs.”
“Past duels?”
“Formal ones following audiences with the council, no. Matters of honor between myself and others, yes. Many. I’ve lived in times when it was not only common but fashionable. A fight is hard to avoid when others wish to make it.” After a moment he added, “I’ve also fought in many wars.”
Tynan pictured him as she seen him in London and tonight, sword and eyes flashing, graceful powerful body a weapon itself. What a terrible, awesome sight he must have been on the battlefield. “And the head thing?”
“A born vampire can only die when the spine is severed. Daylight can sicken a vampire made, and in extreme cases cause death. But, severance of the spine guarantees the end.”
She attempted to digest everything. Answers seemed to beget more questions. “I don’t understand. What Shang ‘used to be’?”
“Ask him yourself, mae amourhn. He’ll tell you everything.”
A subtle change in him evoked a sudden response in her. The smoldering coals of her desire flamed to instant life. It went against how she felt about what he’d done tonight and her realization she should get away from him as soon as possible.
She flattened her palms on his wide warm chest. “No.” Pushing did nothing to free her. “I don’t want this. I have to think.”
In the next instant, she found herself stripped and swept beneath him. She felt him brace his weight from her on one bent arm. His other hand plunged into her hair even as his lips covered hers and his tongue invaded her mouth. Lightning-like lust pierced her. Her nipples pebbled, hot wet welcome pooled between her trembling thighs and the soles of her feet tingled.
Faelen’s pelvis parted her legs. The rigid evidence of his arousal nudged her slick sensitive flesh in the most intimate of courtship. In the dark like this, the difference in their proportions seemed exaggerated. In her mind’s eye, she pictured him twice her size, more like a god than a man.
He lifted his mouth a fraction. “Tell me you want me.”
Tynan fought the exquisite sensations assaulting her: his touch, his taste, the heat of his body, the fierce need he’d conjured.
“Say it.”
But she couldn’t. Instead she abandoned resistance, slid her feet up the cool sheet to bend her knees. She tilted her hips, lifted and captured the tip of him.
Faelen gave a deep throated sensual growl of pleasure and buried his hot, demanding erection inside her.
Yes, her body screamed, spasming.
No, her mind wailed in protest.
He lavished her with kisses, wreathed her in caresses. She shivered and shook and came apart under him.
Even as the carnal joy carried her over the pinnacle of climax, she felt tears course down her flushed cheeks. Clinging to him, baptized in sexual nirvana, she sealed her vow.
Tynan would accept Giann’s devil’s bargain.
And, escape.
~ For those who read already, I hope you enjoyed. I have saved all comments from all stories in a file. Much appreciation to those few of you who took the time.
I posted here as a means to reach readers and speak to them one-on-one. It has not yielded the results I hoped for. So, in the interest of maintaining sales and therefore my livelihood, I have decided to remove most of my novels. They continue to be available through online retailers. Soon, they will be sold in bundles of two or more at a reduced price at my request. So, if you intend to purchase, wait, but keep checking the sites. I recommend BooksOnboard and Fictionwise.
You can reach me privately. MsKristinaDalton@aol.com or through my company. I will continue to provide material via email on a case-to-case basis.
Regards,
Kristina Dalton
editor/author Stonehedge Publishing
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