by Joey W. Hill
Mina lifted a shoulder, sighed and twisted so she was facing Alexis on the bench, commanding her full attention. "We are who we are, Alexis. Change is very difficult for all of us. All I want is for you to understand."
If Lex had been sitting with her mother, she knew Anna would have stroked her hair, explained all of this in gentle if inexorable terms. Nevertheless, Mina was giving her a different form of the same. Support, guidance and the truth, no matter how difficult it might be to hear.
Knowing everything she knew thus far, she couldn't deny Mina's logic for leaving Dante in the Dark One world, but she hated it. It would have been a difficult choice for anyone, but that didn't make the decision correct, right? Under her godmother's piercing stare, Alexis forced herself to consider what would have happened if Mina had released him, and someone like Lex hadn't been bound to him, translating his needs in a way that helped him cope with the transition to a world so different from the Dark Ones' desolate planet.
Had the seawitch's decision to leave him locked in his personal hell for twenty more years, whether intended or no, been an act of mercy?
"WHAT is it you want, now that you are here?"
"Not to be there," Dante said simply.
Lyssa's jade eyes narrowed. "That might be the truth, for now. It's not in our nature to be passive, Dante. You will want something in time. What questions do you want answered? The ones you did not ask in front of the others."
"What questions do you think I have?"
Lyssa leaned back in the chair, templed her fingers. "There's a fine line between intelligent caution and wasting a resource offered to you."
"Hmm." He considered the books on the wall, the stained glass design of the windows, the lights behind them, which made the glass sparkle. Then he was in motion.
He came over to the desk at his full speed, only to find that his target was not there. He hit the chair, but arched lithely over it, spinning it in front of him so it hit the desk and formed a bulwark against rear attack.
Lyssa sat in his chair, as relaxed as she'd been in her own. "Care to try again?" Her gaze sparked fire. "I will not be as tolerant this time."
With a snarl, he sprang. He never reached her. Instead a powerful energy rolled out from her body and slammed into him, meeting him halfway over the desk. He was catapulted backward, hitting the wall such that the wood groaned at the impact. He landed on his feet, but had to shake his head to clear the concussion. When she rose, the wind from the magic she'd used was still rippling her black hair over her shoulders. "Try again," she said, showing a hint of fang. "This time I will let you reach me."
Bloodlust clouding his mind, he leaped. As she'd said, he reached her, but when he expected to tumble her backward, instead she was moving with him, a turn and twist like a dance where she had all the balance. She put him on his knees, his fingers gripping her waist, his other hand caught in hers, unable to shake off the weight of the power she pressed down on him. He cursed and struggled, but it was obvious she outmatched him. She didn't appear to even be making an effort. Tossing her hair to one shoulder in a graceful move, she bent and sank her fangs into his throat.
Being helpless was something he'd sworn he would never again be, and yet, from that first bite, it was obvious there was something very different about this. It wasn't like the Dark Ones who'd overpowered and brutalized him merely for the vindictive pleasure of it. First, like him, she wasn't all vampire. In fact, he wasn't sure if she was vampire at all, though there was a lingering sense of the species about her. She had fangs to use on him, but her scent was different. Though she'd put him down, her free hand slid up to the back of his head, stroked through his hair, a sensuous, almost reassuring caress, as well as a reproof. He thought about using the hand at her waist to try and shove her away, break the hold on his throat, but something about the power of that bite, the way it stilled things inside of him, left him undecided. The rage he carried was there, but somehow she'd thrown a silken tether around it, kept it trembling but still, as if waiting for her command to unleash it.
She took several swallows, then licked his throat delicately, removing the excess blood and staunching the flow. When she lifted her head, she was still stroking his hair, but she tilted up his chin to meet her gaze.
"As you may have sensed, I no longer hold vampire powers, but I do observe the rituals when needed. My mate can connect to you through my blood, like a first mark. I can find you now, and sense something of your state of mind."
"Why would you do that?" he said bitterly. "To prove your power over me?"
"Yes," she responded evenly. "Because you need that. You would respect nothing less. You understand that, whether you admit it or not. Now, if you choose to attack me again, I will prove to you that broken bones are very painful, even if they do heal."
"I already know that."
"Mmm. I suspect you do. To our kind, you are very young, Dante. Keep that in mind."
When she at last let go of him, he put himself across the room, though he knew that was a false reassurance. While he stood straight and tall, his jaw clenched, some small, ridiculous part of him was glad Alexis had not been here to see his humiliation.
Lyssa's gaze flickered, giving him the impression she was communicating elsewhere. She allowed a thin smile. "My mate picks up on my mind far too well at times. He was concerned. I let him know it was nothing I could not handle. Normally, I expect he'd disregard my assurance and come to my side, but he will not leave our son alone with strangers, no matter who they are."
"Alexis would never hurt a child," he said.
"Intentions are not always the same as reality," she responded. "I've lived long enough to leave nothing precious to fate or chance. It often takes choices away. But you know that too, don't you?"
When he chose silence, she took a step toward him. He held his ground. His bloodlust told him to try again, to seek a weakness, some way to undermine her. His mind tried to hold on to control, but deeper, darker things fought it. She wouldn't subjugate him, even if it tore him to shreds to prove it. He curled his hand into fists, his fangs pushing against his lips, trying to elongate further.
"Your mother hoped for children," Lyssa said, as if she was unaware of his dangerous state, though he knew she wasn't. "Though of course she knew they were rare. She had vampires, other than Lord Willingham, that she loved and lay with, for that is our nature. But she never conceived. I lived for over a thousand years before I had my son. Perhaps fate chooses a specific pairing for vampire children, and until that pair is drawn together, a child will not be born."
He struggled to focus. "You're saying my mother was supposed to be seeded by a Dark One male?"
"The pairing was perhaps less important to Fate than the result that came from it." Her gaze wandered over him, and he realized he was limned in the red and gold light from the tall stained glass window behind him. "You are unique, Dante. I sense many latent powers in you, as well as overt ones. If you learn who and what you are and make peace with that, you may become far more than you ever expected. Or"--she curled her lip again--"you are simply an accident and your own savagery will consume you so that Nature can fix its mistake."
Returning to her desk, she perched gracefully on it. "Set aside your anger and ask the questions you have. Don't irritate me with your stoic male silence."
Dante considered. "Was she like you?"
"No. Since she was human, a made vampire, she did not have any exceptional powers, though she came from Native American blood and confided there were some shamans in her ancestry." Her attention roved over his sculpted cheekbones, the set of his mouth and the long dark hair on his shoulders. "Before her turning, she had to hide that fact, since at that time her rights to own property or decide her own destiny would have been severely curtailed."
Lyssa pursed her sensual lips. "She handled herself well. In our world, power and violence are necessary to hold your own, but if you do not have much of those, you cultivate other talents. She understood how n
ot to be a threat, and at the same time not be a doormat. There was a loveliness to her core that attracted male attention, more than most. She seemed . . . decent to me. She wasn't overtly strong willed, but she would not go against her principles, either. Did she . . . how long did she live in the Dark One world?"
She gestured at the chair in front of her. When he didn't move, she raised a brow. "Not afraid I'll bite you again, are you?"
He saw that quirk to her lips he now understood was a near smile. He was also beginning to understand there were many types. While this was not the open freshness of Alexis's smile, it wasn't malicious in nature. He crossed the room and sat. She was only a foot or so in front of him now, and he suppressed the desire to back the chair up several feet.
"I didn't understand about time then," he said. "But I was half as tall as I am now. She transferred her memories to me when she died."
"Mmm. Not yet matured, likely around eleven or twelve." Though her intent expression didn't change, he realized she was not unmoved by his mother's fate. "Perhaps she had some magic after all. There are many types. From what Mina told me, she had great fortitude to survive that long. I hope her end was merciful."
"Any end in the Dark One world is merciful," Dante responded.
Lyssa's mouth tightened and she inclined her head. "I wish I had known her better, so I could tell you more. But I can inquire for you and see if I can find others, if you'd like to know more. Would you like me to do that?"
Dante gripped the chair arms. "What would you want in return?"
The vampire queen leaned forward, her hair whispering off her shoulder to fall against his knee. Her extraordinary eyes locked with his. "She told me if she had a child, she would have named him Patrick. It's from the Latin, meaning nobleman. Noble man. Learn to conquer your pride and fear, Dante, and live up to the name. Then you will have given me what I wish. What she would have wished as well, I expect. Would you like me to look for others who knew her?"
He lifted a hand before he thought, so he stopped in midmotion. Something in her face told him it might be all right, though. Slowly, aware of her power, he closed his fingers over the skein of hair, remembering his mother's. They'd often torn it out, but being a vampire, it grew back quickly, down to the small of her back in a matter of days. Soft, silken wisps of it had fluttered over his face when he pressed to her side.
He closed his eyes, a hard shudder running through him. Lyssa touched his temple, gentle, easy, her exotic scent cocooning him, the dim lights of the windows closing in. A vampire home, a place where vampires knew who and what they were.
Bolting out of the chair, he put the distance of the room between them again. Lyssa remained where she was, watching him breathe hard. He had his fangs bared, and he knew the crimson light of his eyes was likely like a demon's in the shadows.
"No," he said. "She's dead. There is nothing else I need to know." Nothing else I can afford to know.
Twenty-two
MINA returned them to a wooded area close to Alexis's home. Dante had said little when he emerged with Lyssa. Mina and David had made the appropriate farewells and thanks, and Lyssa had reiterated the invitation--though Alexis sensed an underlying command--that Dante should consider staying at her estate for a time to be tutored in the ways of his vampire kin. When she added that his servant would of course be welcome, Alexis detected emotion from Mina and David that suggested they would not necessarily welcome that idea.
Remembering how Mina had described the relationship between vampires and their servants, she shivered a little. Slaves, made to serve sexually . . . But then she thought of what Mina had said about Jonah and Anna. It's in your nature, to submit to the man you love . . . And then Lyssa: There is a bond there that should never be abused. It is the one constant in a vampire's life. What would she be willing to do to stay at his side?
David and Mina had departed. As Alexis moved with Dante through the forest, following the jogging path she knew would come out behind her home, Dante remained silent, head down, gaze trained on the pathway. Alexis gave him privacy, involved in her own thoughts, though the odd absence of night sounds caught her attention. With a chill, she thought she knew why. Predator, as Mina had said. The creatures of the night stayed silent, motionless as he passed, instinctively hiding. But when she probed deeper than that, she stopped.
"What?" Dante's head came up. He stepped to her shoulder, a position allowing him to move forward or aft as needed, gratifying her with his willingness to protect her. It was falsely reassuring, she knew. His idea of protection might involve tearing some innocent apart before she could establish it was a power walker tuned into their iPod. Of course, it was the thought that counted, right?
"What do you feel?" he asked.
"Don't know," she responded truthfully. "It was different from the diner. Sometimes I catch a passing whiff of somebody else's house-cleaning issues, if that makes sense." She forced a lighter tone. "I'm starving. Want to watch me make a late dinner? You can taste things, right?"
He turned her to face him. Alexis tipped her head back, dreading that impassive look. Instead she was surprised by one that was . . . well, tender would be going overboard. Concerned seemed more accurate and sensible. "Alexis--"
"Let's not." She shook her head "I really think it would make sense for you to stay out of my head except when you need to talk without words. You can't worry about my moods, okay? You've got too many more important things to deal with right now. I'm kind of . . . I've got a crush on you, first-sex infatuation, whatever. You're not at a place that you can give back to that, and you shouldn't. I do understand that, really--"
Could she sound more idiotic? Maybe this was why girls had sex and first relationships early. She handled so many things well, with complete confidence, and yet the way he made her feel made her so . . . adolescent.
"Why are you helping me, Alexis?"
She frowned. "I wish you'd stop asking me that. I just want to, all right? I think you're worth helping. And you can read my mind. You know."
"No." He shook his head. "No more than you understand my emotions. You cannot read what I cannot read myself, and I think it is the same for you, what is going on inside of you."
"I'm not used to being confused," she said irritably. "You're inaccessible."
At his blank look, she made a face. "I can read emotions, meaning I can read them. Like a book, with words. You're a foreign language. I feel certain things from you, but I can't get into your head, really grasp the meaning. That shouldn't matter. I should know you're reflecting what you yourself are dealing with, but . . . aargh." She threw up her hands. "Fine, I'm sorry. It's selfish, but I want to know how you feel about me. And no, I don't want you to tell me. I want to know, to feel it. And I can't. It's frightening, because I told them you would be fine here, that it would all work out okay, and it turns out . . . I'm just guessing, really. I don't know. I just know I want you to be okay. I want you to be all right here. And that's different, you know?"
He blinked. "Females are confusing."
Alexis gave a half snort. "I guess we can be." Following his glance down, she saw she'd curled her fingers in several strands of hair lying against his chest. She was twisting it against his pectorals and the soft stuff of his shirt. She suspected it reflected the tangled state of her mind. She really needed food and sleep. She'd had the sandwich Mina had requested, but it had gone down like sawdust with her worry about other things. She'd only eaten half.
"Perhaps we can help each other," he said, drawing her attention. Taking her fingers in his, he splayed them out on his palm. "If I concentrate on one moment, very hard, maybe you can help me understand what it is I'm feeling. You are not alone in your confusion, Alexis," he said, so softly that the rumble of his deep voice was almost lost in the weighted silence of the forest. "I have felt only anger and hatred for so long. But it . . . pleases me, I think, that you want me to be here. Is that what you feel?"
She realized he wasn't asking about her fe
elings, but his own. His expression was concentrated, as if he were holding the emotion steady within himself with effort. Alexis closed her hand on his, listening with the sense she had. Slowly, as if his feelings were a nebula, slowly oscillating, drifting through her mind, one side turned up toward the light of her gift, reflecting the direction of his thoughts.
The smile bloomed first in her heart, her hand tightening on his. "Yes. You're pleased. That's what that feeling is. You're . . . glad."
His expression was somber. "Now, what do you sense?"
She closed her eyes. With his flame-colored eyes so intent on her face, it was easier to keep her own emotions disengaged that way. But the smoke sifted and what she felt now had a lighter feel to it, a tickle like feathers. It reminded her of her father tumbling her through the clouds when she was barely more than a toddler.
"Laughter," she breathed. "Amusement. We smile or laugh when we feel that way. What are you remembering?"
Opening up a window into her mind, he showed her the scene when she'd laughed at Clara's absorption with Marcellus. Her joy had planted and germinated within him, such that he'd had the unfamiliar urge to smile with her, even though he hadn't understood the humor.
"I know you've sent me a picture, but that's the first time you sent me a movie. Wow." She grinned. When his lips twitched then stilled, uncertain, she lifted onto her toes, teased the corners upward. "It's a smile," she said softly. "Don't be afraid of it. Imagine me laughing. Remember the mother and little boy at the craft room, when he asked you for a face painting."
"Will, and his mother." Another emotion came at her then, and this one was not laughter. Alexis stopped, her fingertips resting on his mouth. His eyes were only inches from hers as she let it flood her. "What is this one?" he asked.
