“There’s my father,” she said, love filling her expression as she pointed at the page. “The man beside him, is that Markdor?”
“Yes,” Sathan said. “That’s my father. They were once great friends.”
“So sad that he forgot these times. I wish I could’ve shown this to him.”
“Look at this one,” he said, flipping to the next page.
“Grandfather!” she said, awe filling her features. “Oh, he looks so happy. The artist even colored his eyes the right shade of green.”
“Deep olive,” Sathan said, “like yours. The color is striking. I have never seen it on another.”
Lifting those gorgeous eyes to his, she shook her head. “This is…amazing. Thank you. It’s been so long since I’ve seen his face. I remember him as a child but it was so long ago. It’s as if he only exists under mists and clouds.”
Reaching down, he closed the book and placed it in her hands. “I want you to have it.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she said, thrusting it back toward him. “It’s part of your archives, your history. I can’t take that from you.”
“Our history,” he said, gently pushing the book back into her hands. “We shared peace once, long ago, and I want to share it again with you. Please, keep it. The road ahead will be long and winding, now that your father is gone. If you get lost this will remind you what you’re fighting for.”
For the first time since he’d known her, she gave him a brilliant, heartbreaking smile. It almost knocked the breath from his lungs. The force of her beauty was overwhelming.
“Thank you,” she said softly. All trace of hate was gone. He felt a sense of renewal and purpose.
“You’re welcome.”
Her gaze dropped to the ground and then lifted to bore into him.
“You were right last night,” she said, clutching the book to her chest.
“Now there are words I never thought I’d hear.”
She shot him a look.
Smiling, he asked, “What was I right about?”
“Comforting my father in front of my men. I shouldn’t have.”
He remained silent, feeling it important to let her keep going.
She placed the book on the table and blew a breath out of her puffed cheeks. “How in the hell do you stay so composed all the time? I’m stubborn and hardheaded and it gets me into trouble.”
“You?” he asked, arching an eyebrow and smiling. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious though. Is it something you’ve worked on over the centuries?”
“I’ve done my best to learn to control my impulses so that I can make decisions free of passion. A passionate decision is usually just but not practical.”
“Don’t I know it. How did you learn to do it?”
“Through many years of trial and error. It took me five centuries to write your father, asking to negotiate. I should’ve tried earlier but I was young and arrogant. These things take time.”
“And now you’re just old and arrogant,” she said, her lips curling into a smile.
“Something like that.” He grinned.
“There’s something inside that drives me to push,” Miranda said. “I want better lives for my people and I get so frustrated when I can’t accomplish that. I’m sure that sometimes I just make it worse.”
“Your passion is one of the things I admire most about you. Your desire to help your people is inspiring. It’s not something you should lose, just something you should control. I know it’s hard for you to take advice from me but I would be honored to try and help you. I had to learn on my own. There’s no self-help book for becoming a competent ruler.”
“You had the weight of the whole world on your shoulders,” she said, her gaze filled with compassion.
“As you do now. Perhaps I’m the only other person who can truly understand how you feel.”
She absently chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated him. “You know, it’s much easier to hate you than to do…this,” she gestured back and forth between them with her hand, “whatever this is…with you. I don’t know how to feel when you’re nice to me.”
“I’m nice to you,” he said, feeling his lips form into a small pout.
“You’ve been grumpy to me for two weeks.”
“You’ve been training. I thought it best to leave you alone. And it pissed me off that you fawned over Nolan.”
Her mouth gaped open. “I did not fawn!”
“You did. It was annoying.”
“You’re jealous!” she said. “Of a human? Wow. That’s low. Even for you, Vampyre.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I think I’ll just let that one go.”
“Coward,” she said, smiling up at him.
They were flirting. It was something he’d rarely done in his life. He quite liked it.
“Thank you for making me laugh.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “It’s obviously been a hard few days. My father was the only family I had left. Except for Ken and he’s unreachable.”
Sathan squeezed her hand back and mourned the feel of her soft skin when she dropped it back by her side. “Do you think that Crimeous really has another child?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But if he does, Ken will find her. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever known and my closest confidant. I miss him so much.”
“I don’t want you to feel alone. I’m always here for you, Miranda. I’ve grown quite fond of you. And if you tell my brother I told you that, I’ll deny it until my dying breath.”
She laughed and twin splotches of red appeared on her cheeks. His little Slayer was embarrassed.
“I guess I’m fond of you, too. Considering that I stabbed you in the chest on the night I met you and tried to murder you in the Cave, we’ve definitely come a long way.”
“We have.” Those memories seemed like a lifetime ago and yet they had happened so recently.
“It’s just all happened so fast. I can’t believe my father killed himself,” she said, sorrow creeping back into her tone.
“He knew he was defeated. He had no choice.”
“I’m going to choose to believe that in his final moments he chose peace, in his own way. Is that delusional?”
“No,” Sathan said, unable to resist the urge to draw her close. Pulling her to him, she wrapped her arms around his torso and nuzzled into his chest. “There is something I’m wondering, though.”
“Hmmm?” she asked as he held her.
“How did you know he was going to attack?”
She stiffened slightly in his arms and detached from his embrace. “I just knew,” she said, shrugging. “Like a feeling in my gut or something.”
“A feeling in your gut,” he said tonelessly.
“What can I say? We women have this intuition that you guys just don’t have.”
He had the distinct impression that she was lying to him but decided to fight that battle another time.
“I know you’re mourning, Miranda. The loss of a parent is devastating. Your father’s betrayal of you only compounds that. But you must find the strength to forge ahead. Your men are counting on you and your people are without a leader. If you don’t hurry, you will lose this opportunity and one of Marsias’ supporters will assume the throne. I speak from experience on this. But I did what I had to do and so must you.”
She nodded and absently rubbed her upper arms. “You’re right. Kings and queens don’t get the luxury of mourning, do they?”
“Unfortunately not. I’m so sorry. I wish you had more time.”
“Me too. But I’m a big girl and I need to get my shit together. I’ve got a kingdom to rule and a Deamon Lord to kill.”
“That you do.”
Those tiny teeth appeared as she chewed on her bottom lip, sending his heartbeat into overdrive. He found the habit so fucking sexy.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re one of the only people in my life w
ho isn’t scared of me. Most people do what I tell them, when I tell them. You put me in my place. I like it.”
There were several places that he’d like to put her at the moment. All of them involving him and her in bed. Keep it in your pants, he scolded himself.
“You put me in my place too. It’s infuriating. But it makes both of us better.”
“Agreed,” she said, gazing down at the book he gave her. “I’d like to look at some of the other archives you have here. Do you mind?”
“Take all the time you need. When night falls tomorrow we will need to address the troops together. Think about what you want to say and what course you want to chart. Let’s meet in the conference room three hours before dusk to plan. I’ll invite Latimus as well.”
“Okay,” she said. Triumph surged when she didn’t argue or accuse him of ordering her around. Perhaps she was coming to see him as a true ally. He hoped so.
“Good night, Miranda.”
“Good night,” she said softly.
* * * *
Kenden was embroiled in his mission and growing tired of being in the land of humans. Narrowing his eyes, he observed his target. The scarlet-haired woman sat in the French café, laughing amongst friends as she drank a glass of red wine. He sat across the street, the lone man at a table set for four on the sidewalk. Humans buzzed by, lost in their phones and their conversations, never conscious that he wasn’t one of them. They were an amazingly oblivious species.
Kenden snapped a picture of the woman with his phone. Touching it with two fingers, he spread them apart so that the image of her grew larger. Her pale skin was flawless but he hadn’t gotten a direct shot of her face. Damnit.
Deciding to try again, he lifted the phone. And then he froze.
The woman stiffened and turned her head, locking her gaze onto his. It was filled with a warning. I know you’re watching me, Slayer. The voice seemed to travel through his brain. Startled, he stared back at her, refusing to be intimidated.
He couldn’t deny what he saw.
Her eyes were the same vibrant olive green as Miranda’s.
Giving her a nod, he acknowledged her awareness of him.
She lifted her glass, saluting him through the window of the restaurant.
Heartbeats pounded in his chest.
Rising, he dropped a few euros on the table and stalked off.
Chapter 25
Miranda arrived promptly, three hours before dusk, and sat at the conference room table beside Sathan. Latimus sat on his other side.
Looking refreshed and renewed, she thrust up her chin and spoke with confidence. “I need to return home and inform my people that Father is dead. I have come up with a plan. I welcome your thoughts.”
She informed them that the first phase was to march home with her soldiers. She would assume the role of ruler until she could be formally coronated. In the meantime, she would work on helping her people assimilate to a life without Marsias as king.
Phase two was attacking Crimeous. She planned to attack him during the full moon in three months’ time. This would give her enough time to ensure her people were safe and work out logistics of banking blood for the Vampyres. Once she defeated Crimeous, she would return home and officially claim her throne. Any remaining supporters of Marsias would have to choose between accepting her rule or banishment.
Phase three would be her coronation as queen.
“So, what do you think?” she asked, looking back and forth between them.
“It’s a solid plan,” Latimus said. “I would like to send our twenty men to stay at your compound and support you through the transition.”
“Thank you. I accept. We welcome their help and they have become part of our team.”
“Who are you going to enlist to bank blood?” Sathan asked.
“I haven’t decided yet. I think I’ll ask for volunteers and see if anyone offers. There were many who spoke to me of wanting to negotiate with the Vampyres for centuries. Now is the time for them to put up or shut up.”
Sathan was pleased at her turnaround. She seemed to have come to some sort of acceptance with her grief and she appeared strong and ready. They strategized about minor details for the next several hours and then went to address the troops.
Under the light of the waning moon, Miranda stood on a wooden box she had carried from the barracks and addressed the men. They stood still, in front of the cabins, their attention focused on her words, her confidence. A small seedling of some unidentifiable emotion began to grow in his gut. Her bronzed skin glowed in the moonlight, under the twinkling stars, and he truly felt that they had a chance at peace. With this magnificent creature by his side, how could they go wrong?
Finally, she stepped down and the troops returned to their cabins. Jumping in the nearby four-wheeler, Latimus drove them back to the house. She was set to leave at nightfall the next evening, hoping to navigate down the river under the light of the waning moon.
He wanted to be by her side as she marched into Uteria, her soldiers at her back, but knew that she must claim that moment alone. The future of her rule depended on it. Of course they would see each other again, as their alliance continued to forge, but he suddenly felt sad at the prospect that she wouldn’t be sleeping under his roof anymore.
In his chambers he felt restless. Pulling off his clothes, he threw on a pair of sweatpants. Pouring blood into his silver goblet, he walked onto his balcony to soak up the last hour of darkness before sunrise.
He smelled her scent before he saw her. Smoky, spicy and filled with a hint of jasmine. Gazing to find her, she was seated on the plushy grass, arms around her upturned knees, looking at the moon.
He knew he shouldn’t bother her; the woman loved her privacy. But he found himself calling her name.
Straight, silky hair snapped around in a shiny curtain as she gazed up at him. “Didn’t know you had a balcony,” she said. He could hear the annoyance in her voice. And something else, too. A breathy anxiousness.
“Come up and see it. The view is much better up here.”
“I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Us Slayers like hanging in the grass.”
He shrugged. Let her sit on the damn ground if she wanted. Stubborn woman.
She sat in silence for many moments and then he heard her exhale loudly. “Well, if you’re gonna stand up there and gawk at me, I guess I’ll come up. Stalker. Open the door when I knock. Maybe leave a sock on the door. Your house is a fucking maze.” He chuckled as she stomped inside. It seemed she had regained her sense of humor.
A soft knock sounded and her eyes traveled over his chest when he opened the door. “You don’t own a t-shirt?” she asked.
Smiling, he ushered her in. She scowled when he sat the goblet on his bedside table. “I can’t change who I am, Miranda.”
“I know,” she said, waving a hand at him. “Show me this amazing balcony.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her outside. The night was warm and breezy. Her hair whipped in her face and he longed to brush it away. Instead he leaned his forearms on the railing. “So, what do you think?”
Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The line of her throat was splendid against the backdrop of the darkness and he felt himself harden as he watched her. Opening her eyes, she regarded the sky.
“So many stars. So many universes. Do you think they even know we exist? Our problems seem so big but to them we’re just dots in the night sky.”
Who knew his little Slayer was a philosopher? “I would imagine that although we’re separated by distance, and our problems are not the same, all species feel the basics of emotion. Fear, hope, anger, love.” He paused on that last one, checking himself.
While he found the Slayer immensely attractive, love was a word that he had never used with a woman and felt he never would. As a ruler, he was practical. When he bonded with Lila it would be for duty, heirs and the betterment of his kingdom. He could think of nothing more noble.
“You’re probably right,” she said, dragging him from his thoughts. “I hope whoever’s suffering out there tonight will find some peace.”
He would miss her terribly when she returned home tomorrow night. He wouldn’t even try to lie to himself on that one. “I am always here if you need me, Miranda. I’m only a phone call away.”
“I know,” she said, reaching over to place her hand over his. It was rare that she voluntarily touched him and it set his body on fire. He turned toward her fully. Swept up in the moment, and their imminent goodbye, he wanted so badly to drag her to him and imprint himself onto her. Into her.
She locked onto him with those eyes. Lowering them to his chest, she studied the dark hair there. He was aching for her but was determined to let her make a move. He had always been the one to initiate their heated kisses and he wanted to know if she burned for him as he did for her.
Lifting one hand and then the other, she placed her palms on his pecs. Moving slowly, gently, she ran them over his copper nipples, causing the muscles underneath to tremble, and then over his eight-pack. She stopped at the ‘V’ of black hair that ran from his navel into his pants.
“You’re so massive,” she said, moving her hands back up his chest. “I feel so small next to you.”
He remained silent, determined to let her have control. Finally, she raised her eyes to his. “The world has gone mad,” she said as his heart beat furiously under her palm. “Why shouldn’t we have a piece of the madness?”
“What are you asking me, Miranda?” He reveled in her shiver at his voice.
She lowered her gaze to his chest again, contemplating.
“I won’t allow there to be any doubt as to who chose what comes next.” Lifting her chin with his fingers, he looked into her. “What do you want?”
Fear mingled with desire in her voluminous eyes. He saw the moment when the desire won out.
Reaching up, she pulled his face down to hers and lifted to her toes, joining their lips together.
Placing his arms around her, he lifted her so that she straddled his waist, her ankles crossed at his back. Heading inside, he lowered her to the bed and devoured her mouth. Little pants of her wanton desire filled him and he struggled to retain control. Reaching down, he tunneled his hand under her shirt, touching the soft skin beneath. Her tiny groan urged him on and he cupped her small breast over the satin of her bra, his hand engulfing it.
The End of Hatred Page 21
