by K. M. Shea
Great Aunt Marraine grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Adept, are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” I said. “Though he’ll try to boss us all around and might have a go at making you all wear suits whenever you’re here, he’s not going to physically hurt us. He’ll suddenly turn colder than a prissy mean girl in high school, but we can roll with that.”
“Such an admirable depiction of me,” Killian mused as he considered an unopened blood pouch.
“You’ll have the papers drawn up?” I asked. “We’ll have to register them through the Curia Cloisters before we can sign them.”
Killian glanced at Julianne, who bobbed her head. “It’s done. Julianne will correct and format the contract. I’ll give you a copy before you leave, and submit a second copy to the Cloisters.”
I sagged a little in my chair, relieved that negotiations were over.
Killian had given in to everything I wanted—probably a ploy so he could get his one night a month. I wasn’t exactly moved by that request. It was more like I was wondering how he was going to use it—because Killian never did anything just for the heart of it.
“Splendid!” Celestina clapped her hands once and beamed at me and my wizards like a benevolent fairy godmother. “Since we’re going to be working so closely together for the foreseeable future, please allow me to give you a tour of Drake Hall as our esteemed guests!”
My retinue doubtfully looked back at me, and I felt like a mom giving permission for her kids to go play. “You guys should go,” I said. “It’s a big house, and if any of you come with me for my weekly practices, you’ll want to know your way around.”
“This way!” Celestina made her way to the door, resembling a tour guide.
I don’t think it had occurred to my family to wonder why the Drake Family’s First Knight—in other words the strongest vampire after Killian—was playing tourist with them. I was pretty sure it was because her warmer, tawny skin tone that hadn’t lost all its color when she turned and her bright personality would make them lower their guard faster. (Her personality was a tactic that had worked on me, after all.)
“Hazel,” Killian said. “Would you join me in my study?” His faint British accent was ever so slightly pronounced. But I couldn’t see anything in his expression that would indicate why.
I glanced at the door, making sure the last House Medeis wizard cleared the room. “Sure.”
“Really?” Killian blinked down at me. “I thought I’d have to try harder to pry you away from your family.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what you want to talk about,” I said. “And we’ll have to discuss it eventually. We may as well have at it now while I know they’re occupied.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate my family’s tight defense. But to make this alliance work I needed to draw clear boundaries for Killian, and given our…murky history, I didn’t really want anyone listening in, just in case he decided to drop the bombshell that we—a wizard and vampire—had kissed.
Inter-supernatural romances weren’t outlawed or anything—it was the offspring of vampires and humans that became the first vampire slayers, and the descendants of werewolves and humans had become werewolf hunters. But nowadays it was a taboo—and had been a taboo for a looong time.
Some of the races had pulled back to “protect the purity” of their bloodlines. (Give me a break.) Otherwise, it was more of a political thing, done so each race could solidify their power base. They couldn’t have us intermingling—it might make it harder when we had to fight for laws and favorable outcomes for our own people.
“Very well,” Killian said. “You know the way.”
I raised my eyebrow at him, but left the meeting room and made my way through the maze-like mansion to his study.
Killian’s study was a blend of decadence, militant tidiness, and technology.
Austere bookshelves filled with tediously sorted magical books guarded the walls, but there was also a shelf dedicated to a giant TV, a tablet, and a laptop. The tall walls had some kind of damask wallpaper, but the wooden floor was covered with a surprisingly plush rug.
He’d gotten new chairs since I’d last been there, and now there was a comfy-looking sofa in a corner that previously had been occupied by a statue of a rearing horse.
I flung myself into one of the new chairs—which was soft and cushy—then peered expectantly at Killian. “All right. I’m here. Let’s talk.”
Instead of sitting himself at his desk, Killian stood next to it, his eyes narrowed. “You know why I sent you out of Drake Hall.”
“We’ve covered this,” I said. “Yeah, I know that you did a raid on the Night Court to keep them busy so they couldn’t help Mason when I attacked him, and yeah, I know you sent the Paragon to my doorstep to ensure a fair fight, and yeah I know you kicked me out because you knew I was a prime target for the Night Court. Can we stop rehashing this?”
“Then I’m confused,” Killian said. “If you know all of that, why are you so angry with me?”
“Your motivation doesn’t excuse your behavior.”
“But I apologized.”
“Not very well,” I muttered.
“But everything worked out for the best,” Killian persisted. He leaned against his desk and tilted his head as he studied me. “And you’ve never been this angry before—not even when I dropped you off the balcony.”
I almost grinned at the memory—I’d been terrified and furious at the time, but the balcony incident had helped break the ice with the other Drake vampires, and had been my first real step toward friendship with them. At least it had been when I thought we were friends.
“Hazel.”
I reluctantly dragged my eyes up to meet his gaze.
He stared at me for several long moments, and something in his expression tightened before he adopted his slightly arrogant look he usually only used in political situations. “Is it that you can’t admit I was right?”
“Right?” I exploded out of my chair. “You think you were right? You lied to me! You could have just told me what was going on, but instead you decided to manipulate me. Things could have turned out so differently if you had just told me the fae were making stupid threats! But no, you didn’t trust me enough to stay with you, to be safe—to even handle myself! I’d worked like a dog to become a better wizard and decent in a fight and thought I’d won myself a place in this wretched hall, but you took everything because you didn’t think you could tell me the Night Court was scheming! Which—newsflash!—is all they ever do!” I snarled.
“If you think I’m so incompetent you should have just told me. Instead you chose to do everything behind my back and nudge me into what you wanted to do because obviously I can’t be trusted! And you’ll never trust me, because you don’t trust anyone that’s not a vampire!”
When I finished my tirade I heaved a few breaths, and Killian looked thoughtful. I reviewed what he’d said, compared it to the slant of his eyebrows, then pointed a finger at him. “And you just did it again! You manipulated me into yelling at you!”
“It’s hardly my fault you were so reluctant to share,” Killian pointed out. “And I can’t correct my mistake if you don’t tell me what I did.”
I angrily threw myself back down in the comfy chair. My magic had spiked a little with my emotions, so now I was hot and somewhat miserable since I’d ripped the wound open again.
“It seems that you were most offended by my lack of trust,” Killian said. “Which isn’t quite true. I trust you a great deal more than you would think.”
I gave him a withering glare. “Now that’s the stupidest lie you’ve ever tried to tell me.”
“Except it’s true.” Killian thoughtfully folded his arms across his chest. “However, I don’t trust anyone—vampire or otherwise—at the level you seem to desire.”
I opened my mouth to interrupt, but Killian must have guessed what my retort would be. “Not even Celestina and Josh,” he said. “They are comrades that I
treasure, and they are probably the most capable at guessing what my plans are, but I don’t tell them.”
I folded my fingers together and stared at him.
“It’s very…difficult for me to trust anyone,” Killian continued. “I didn’t become the Eminence by good sportsmanship. Vampires in general tend to be distrustful—it’s in our nature, and frequently enforced upon us. When you live as long as we do, you are inevitably betrayed again and again, and after a while the bitterness tends to seep into even the most kind-hearted of vampires.” Killian sighed. “Though I am admittedly worse. For my own safety, for the good of vampires, and to achieve my goals I’ve learned that deep trust is a luxury I can’t afford.”
I plucked at my warm sweater, pondering my response. “In your position, trusting someone would be difficult. However, the way you manipulated me isn’t okay. It’s not healthy, and I won’t take it long term. You really hurt me. Even though I had a hunch I knew what you were doing, you ripped me from the friends I’d made—from you—and dumped me on my own without any warning. That’s toxic, and I’m not going to experience it again.”
Killian pressed his palms together. “What does that mean?”
“It means either you trust me more and tell me what’s going on, or, once we take care of the Night Court, we will have an alliance of formality, not friendship,” I said.
Killian cocked an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem fair. You’re asking me to go against instincts and experience.”
“It’s the price of my friendship, Killian,” I said. “Trust me, or we’ll both be miserable.”
His expression was thoughtful, which shocked me. I didn’t think he’d actually care quite this much.
But it was about time to lighten the moment, so I inhaled deeply and forced myself to perk up. “And I still want an apology—a real one,” I stressed.
He snapped on a caressing smirk. “But all of my apologies are real,” he insisted.
“Well they’re not at all convincing,” I grumbled.
“If I apologize properly, you’ll forgive me?”
I thought for a moment. “No. I already have forgiven you—now that everything is out there.”
“Then why is trust still an issue?”
“Forgiveness means giving up my anger at your actions. It doesn’t mean there are no consequences to your actions,” I said.
“How very inconvenient.”
I rolled my eyes. “So sorry you don’t get to have everything you want.”
“There is another matter we should discuss.”
“Hm?” I lazily glanced at him, then tensed.
In the stark light of his office, he looked more vampiric than usual with his eyes glowing red and his slight smirk revealing one of his pronounced fangs. His eyes were usually closer to a shade of obsidian veined with rubies, and typically only intensified when he had stronger emotions—whether he was feeling murderous or smug. AKA, things looked shaky for me.
I sat up and eyed him. “What?”
“I was informed that we ought to define our relationship.” Killian pushed off his desk and strolled closer to me.
I cleared my throat. “Who told you that?”
“Research, and some sources.”
“Research?” I blinked, confused. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Killian stood so close to my chair his legs brushed my knees, and he thoroughly ignored me. “Where, then, do we stand?”
“Not very close together.” I pointedly tucked my legs up onto the chair.
His chuckle was smokey. “That isn’t quite what I meant.”
I squirmed in my chair, aware that this could end badly.
I wasn’t an idiot. I was painfully aware of how handsome Killian was, and I was competent enough to know he hadn’t kissed me on a lark. But I was also intelligent enough to know that if we couldn’t get the trust issue worked out, things would end badly. And I would be the one to pay the price. I didn’t love by halves—it was why Killian’s lack of trust hit me so hard, same as Celestina and Josh’s rejection.
“Nothing changes,” I blurted out. “Until we fix our issues.”
Killian thoughtfully studied me. “You mean until I show that I trust you?”
“Yes.”
“Your butt is still off limits to me, then?”
“Yes!” I bristled at him and sank deeper into the chair as if it could protect me. “Why are you so obsessed with my butt, anyway?”
“Mere curiosity. You are profoundly protective of it, so I imagine there must be a reason for that.”
I groaned and mashed my palms into my eyes. “You’re the worst.”
Killian laughed again. This time, it wasn’t quite so throaty, and his eyes didn’t glow so much—though he still didn’t move.
I leaned my head back as I studied him. “Is it really okay for me to borrow Gavino? I mean—if he doesn’t want to come he doesn’t have to.”
“You’re allowing him an honor he’s sure to hold over every member of my household,” Killian dryly said. “He’s more than fine with it. And yes, I can lend you Gavino. I’m surprised you didn’t try for Josh or Celestina.”
“I didn’t part well with them.”
“You fault them for their loyalty to me?”
“No. I was hurt by the way they treated me as I left.” I sighed. “They could have at least said goodbye, or wished me luck—anything.”
“Ahh,” Killian said. “Well, I’m sure you will have ample time to discuss it now that we have our alliance.”
“I don’t want to discuss it,” I muttered.
“You are willing to forgive me, but not my First or Second Knight?” Killian raised both eyebrows. “I don’t know if I should be concerned or rejoice at the preferential treatment.”
“It’s not preferential,” I said. “I expected scheming and manipulating from you—you don’t even try to hide it. But Josh and Celestina treated me like a real friend, and then ripped that from me. Since they weren’t scheming like you, it revealed what they really thought of me.”
“I wouldn’t say they weren’t scheming,” Killian said almost dismissively. He glanced at the door behind us, probably hearing something I couldn’t.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Your dear Great Aunt Marraine is giving Rupert a tongue lashing in the hallway for sneering at your family,” he said.
I hopped to my feet. “We better intervene,” I said. “Or they’ll be at each other’s throats.”
“Fine, but I have one last question for you,” Killian said. “If you were still angry with me, why did you agree to meet and discuss an alliance?”
I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I was mad at you, and I knew we needed to define our boundaries…but I’m furious with the Night Court for attacking you guys in what was supposed to be neutral territory.”
“Ahhhh.” Killian smiled. “Your virtues stirred up righteous indignation, I see.”
“What?”
“Not to worry. It seems I ought to be thankful to the Night Court for provoking your champion-like tendencies.” He joined me at the door and gestured for me to continue. “Now, let us go save our wayward kinsmen.”
“Great Aunt Marraine is a lot of things. I don’t know that I would ever call her wayward. Pushy, yes. Opinionated, for sure. Stubborn, heck yes. Naturally, I assume this means she and Rupert will be besties.”
“What an auspicious start to our alliance.”
“Totally.”
The following week I puttered with two refrigerated blood packs as I waited for Gavino to arrive at House Medeis.
I’d learned more about blood refrigeration in the past few days than I had ever wanted to. Apparently, an extremely accurate fridge was required for the blood, because if it froze the red cells burst—something vampires didn’t appreciate in their food, apparently.
I mentally went down my checklist as I adjusted the shades in the room.
I’d chosen what everyone called the “front parl
or” to welcome Gavino. It was a little more ornate than I wanted since it had an onyx fireplace—which was lit and crackling—a fancy tiled ceiling I had been informed was called a “coffered ceiling” (Momoko, it seemed, was a secret HGTV fanatic) dark wooden paneling on the lower portion of the walls, and antique furniture. However, it was also the least sunny sitting room at this time of the day, and I wanted to make sure Gavino felt comfortable. We’d probably be talking for a while—I needed to explain to him some of House Medeis’s…eccentricities, and my family was going to pass through so they could slowly introduce themselves to him one at a time instead of overwhelming him at dinner.
The doorbell for the driveway gate rang.
“I’ll get it!” Felix thundered down the hallway to greet our vampire guest.
I gave one last look at the snacks I’d put out—some crackers and cheese, though Gavino usually just nibbled at human food so I didn’t know if he’d really want to eat—and turned to the parlor door just in time for Great Aunt Marraine to bustle through.
“How nice!” She appropriately cooed, cupping her plump cheeks with her hands. “Your little vampire friend will feel quite welcome! We’ll all make sure of it.”
“He’s not exactly little,” I said.
“Oh, pooh,” Great Aunt Marraine wrinkled her nose at me. “Everyone is little to the likes of me.” She winked, flashing her neon pink eyeshadow. She’d changed her dyed stripe of color in her silvery-gray hair from blue to pink, and had adjusted her wardrobe accordingly.
“How so?” I asked, though I got distracted when I felt the warm but dry touch of House Medeis mentally poking me.
Great Aunt Marraine chuckled. “At my age, you realize just how small the world is. Why, I—”
The House poked me again. “I’m sorry, Great Aunt Marraine, could you give me a moment? The House wants something.” I expectantly turned to the wall.
“Oh. Well. The House is important,” Great Aunt Marraine rambled uncharacteristically. (She was never one to lack words, but usually she had a point she was driving you to, so this was a little odd.)
I filtered her out as I tuned in to House Medeis.
