by Aneesa Price
Conall laughed, relief echoed in the sound, “I’m so glad that you sound like a proud mamma right now and not a near ex-lover.”
Anais grinned back, “God, I do, don’t I? I was too old for him! Huh, the irony! The cougar and the wolf,” she stated before bursting into gales of laughter.
Conall joined in, “Don’t go there. I’m centuries older than you and if you’re a cougar to Raulf I don’t want to think what I’m to you.”
Anais considered that, tipping her head to the side thoughtfully, “You’re right, sugar daddy. Let’s not go there.”
“Thanks,” was Conall’s sardonic remark. Hell - that had made him feel old. He continued with the conversation about the dinner, wanting her take on the events, “Miss Suzette lightened up eventually and let herself be pampered.”
“That was random,” Anais grinned, “and a poor attempt at changing the subject but I’ll entertain it. After all,” she threw him a grin, “one’s elders must be respected.”
“I hear a challenge in that, love,” Conall’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Conall leaned in and delivered a smoldering kiss, leaving her breathless.
Apparently he was teasing her too because he pulled away and left it at that. “I loved Miss Suzette’s reaction to the jambalaya!” Anais smiled. Two could play that game – and the anticipation would drive them nuts. Conall’s hand was moving to her calves now and Anais felt the pain heels inflicted on them ebb away under his expert hands. “She swore it wouldn’t taste better than hers but when it did, she said that it was a good try. Huh! The first time I’ve ever seen her put in her culinary place, the poor darling.”
“And you adore her,” Conall commented.
“Yes, I do. We all do. She’s the mamma we never had.” Anais responded.
Conall stopped massaging her legs and sat down on the chair, scooping her onto his lap. “What of your own mother?”
“Vampires don’t like to talk of their past. The time before turning, even if it is just the moment before, is often one that’s painful. But for you, for what you’re becoming to me, I’ll make a special concession.”
Conall didn’t respond. He was intrigued by what she said; dying to know what he was becoming to her but knew that if he pursued that, she might not share of her past. So, he let the silence urge her on.
“I was born in Rouen, France. My family was devoutly religious as was common in those times. Except I wasn’t like the others. I was different. I know now that it is the royal magick. Back then, I was seen as devil spawn – literally. So, when the nuns looked for new coffin girls to take to the New Orleans colony, my parents shipped me off. Well, after they unbound my powers so the nuns wouldn’t find out and could maintain the belief that I was virtuous and pious.”
Conall didn’t interrupt; he listened, holding her in his arms. Perhaps it was the warmth of them seeping through their clothing that comforted and made her feel safe enough to continue.
“I met my husband when I was brought to Papillion Plantation. It had another name and another life within it then. It was the time of slavery, racism and prosperity for the plantation owner – before the wars of North versus South. Disease was rife in New Orleans – not just the fever but the disease of arrogance. My husband suffered from that. And I’ve come to realize that it was the root of his insanity.” At Conall’s lifted brow, she explained, “To me, racism and slavery isn’t normal and neither is rape and torture. He was guilty of all of that.”
“The night I was turned, I’d interrupted his raping of a young slave girl. She hadn’t even reached puberty. Apparently it was a favorite pastime of his and although I suspected something untoward, I never could put my fingers on it until then. To the genteel society, he was the epitome of the gentleman a pillar of the community. In fact, that’s how I met Yves. Yves was one of his many business partners and my husband was even better at business than cruelty.”
“That night, I’d been experiencing cramps – I was pregnant you see and worried. I tried to find him. None of the servants would call him and none would say where he was. Maybe it was my magick that intuitively led me to him or maybe it was fate – whatever it was, I was grateful, am grateful because I saved that girl’s life. I interrupted him just as the sadistic bastard was strangling her. I found out later that it was a sex-game he liked to play and the early deaths of so many female slaves on the plantation was not due to sexual disease and promiscuity like he often ranted about but because of him. The girl I saved is a direct ancestor of Miss Suzette’s. When I found them, I was overcome with rage and lashed out at him. He lashed back and beat me to near death. The girl had escaped and found the strength somehow to run for help. Fortunately, I was good to the slaves and the free slaves and the men drew a line that night. They came, saved him from finishing me off and finished him off instead.”
Conall was filled with anger at what she’d been through, wishing he could go back and kill the bastard all over again. “You lost the baby?”
“Yes,” was her soft response, a lonely pink-stained tear slid down her cheek.
Conall pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head and used his thumb to gently wipe the tear away. “I’m sorry, Anais.”
“It’s in the past, Conall,” Anais gently lifted her hand to his face, accepting his over hers as he gently took it and held it.
“But it still haunts you,” Conall stated.
“What haunts me is that I never knew my daughter and as a vampire, I can’t have children.”
Again, Conall didn’t respond. He knew that he didn’t need to and held her instead. After a while, he asked, “Where does your fear of snakes come from?”
“Your deductive skills never cease to amaze me,” Anais smiled through the pain of the memories. “The slaves didn’t know how to save my life so they took me into the bayou to the nearest voodoo queen. The bayou is filled with snakes and other creatures attracted by blood, and while the slaves kept them away from me, I could still hear the noises, the hissing – feel their predatory hunger.”
Conall kissed her brow in response and allowed her to finish the tale. “That’s when Yves came into the picture. He was like a knight in shining armor, helping me deal with the pain and get on my feet again. Later, I found out that he’d secretly coveted turning me and was just waiting for the opportunity, which he thought was inevitable. He knew what my husband had been doing and did nothing to stop him. That’s when I saw Yves truly for what he was for the first time and over time, I managed to irritate and disappoint him subtly enough to not punish me but sufficiently so that he left me alone. I believe that when I turned Sophie and V that it fueled his irritation. He’s a conceited man and the fact that I wanted female companionship and saved the lives of friends I had as a human did not sit well with him. There was nothing he could do about it though so he eventually left my life. Over the last century and a half, we’ve added to our family, always at the request of those we turned, whom I now consider as my sisters, and we’ve grown our business. We’ve survived and thankfully, have love and happiness.”
“What of another type of love? Have you ever been in love?” Conall asked.
“I thought I loved my husband and then Yves but I realize that it wasn’t real love. It was the responsibility a young girl feels to love her husband and with Yves, it was the hope for love, if that makes any sense.” Anais looked up at him, finding empathy in his eyes.
“Aye, it does,” responded Conall, “I thought I’d loved a woman once too. I was engaged to one of the most beautiful witches in the race and as I was crowned the reigning prince after my father’s death, it was time to marry and ensure the line. But it turned out to be a classic case of a prince falling for a beautiful gold-digger. It broke my heart but with the help of my own sisters and mother, I got over it well enough. I’m not after ensuring the line, Anais. I have sisters enough that can provide the throne with heirs.”
They sat in silence for a while, digesting each other’s confessions. Conall broke the
ice. “Now, after that, I think we needed a bit of a pick-me-up, don’t you?”
Anais laughed when he stood up with her and threw her on the bed. “I love how corny you are.”
“Corny and horny cher,” Conall mimicked a New Orleans accent, wiggling his brows at her.
“Jeesh, and the corniness just went up a notch,” she retorted. She laughed when he feigned hurt, “Yes, Conall, I love your horn and horniness too.” Another burst of laughter, “God, I think it’s contagious.”
“Good. Now strip.” Conall’s eyes were glinted with predatory purpose.
“Excuse me?” Anais responded, feigning shock. She could get into this game.
“Not what you think, cher,” he mimicked her, his Irish accent making the word sound nothing like it was supposed to. “I’m going to give you a full body massage. I heard that women like those things and pay good money for it.” He took his fill in gladly as she began to slowly undress on the bed, had to clear his throat to speak. “You can pay me in kind later.”
“Deal,” said Anais. God he had good hands, she melted into mush, luxuriating in the feel of them working the kinks out. This was the most romantic experience she’d ever had. He was giving her a lot of those – best sex, best romance and even more important, he was proving that he was there for her, holding her up without censure when she needed it.
“I’m not doing a good job, if it’s that hard that you’re thinking,” Conall’s voice came out gruff, husky with want.
“Oh, believe me,” Anais responded, “you’re doing a brilliant job.”
“Good to hear.” Conall couldn’t help the self-satisfied grin. “Now stop thinking, love, and just feel. Let me help you relax.”
There was that word again. Anais thought that she’d heard him say it a few times before but she’d been preoccupied with the drama of the moment and had put it down to auditory hallucinations. There was no way she’d just imagined hearing him call her ‘love’ again. She felt discomfort intrude on relaxation. She used what she had at her disposal to chase it away. Turning to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, loving the feel of the strength of it. Fuck, she thought, was she falling in love with him? Anais mentally shook the thought away. She didn’t want to go there, so she opted for peaceful ignorance instead.
“Conall,” Anais threw him a sultry look, “it’s kind of hard to relax with your hands on me when I want more.” She let her hand trail down the muscles clenching in his neck, his arm, his chest and gently rubbed the hard evidence of his need. God, she thought, I am falling for him. But Conall chased those introspective thoughts away with his mouth and hands as he leaned in and gave her what she’d asked for.
Anais dove in, in the mood for sex, hot and fast, to chase the emotions away. But, Conall pulled back, kept things slow, taking the pace down every time she pushed, ripped and growled.
Anais flamed and he gently stoked it at first. But the fire caught him too and they forgot the game and just lunged into it and each other.
The joining was all-consuming. Anais lay in Conall’s arms afterwards, recalling the moment they just went at it and the overwhelming emotions of desire and pleasurable release but not else. She couldn’t recall who touched whom where or when, only that they did touch and that it had been mind-blowing – so much so, that they’d ended up on the thick Persian at the foot of the bed and she didn’t remember the journey there.
“What was that?” Conall asked, panting, as they lay with their legs entwined.
“Well,” Anais snuggled into him as he spooned her, “you accomplished what you set out to do. That was de-stress sex.”
“Goddess!” Conall exclaimed, “that’s the kind of stress relief I could do with more often.”
Anais mumbled her ascent; half-way towards what she hoped was the dreamless sleep of the undead.
“I love you, Anais,” Conall confessed.
Anais felt the shock reverberate through her body and willed herself to be still. It was the first time a man had ever said those words to her and it both gladdened her and scared her. So, she feigned sleep and left a frowning Conall to watch her, a strong, confident man suddenly unsure.
Chapter 20
“Eat, feed and then we can fight,” Conall stated, pulling Anais away from the direction of the area where the rest were fight training.
“That’s sounds suspiciously like an order,” Anais bit out. “I don’t take orders from anyone, Your Royal Highness.”
“What the hell are you on about?” Conall growled. He knew he’d been irritable and was a bit peeved about her not returning his profession of love. He hadn’t been fooled by her pleasurable machinations – just distracted. It rankled him that he’d given in so quickly – like a randy teenager.
“Nothing,” answered Anais. “I’m just reminding you that us sleeping together does not give you the right to run my life. So, don’t even think of it.” Typical, thought Anais. Why didn’t she learn? Once again, she let herself open up and a man takes advantage with a power trip.
“I’m not running your life,” Conall responded. “I’m just looking out for you. We’ve spent the whole morning doing difficult magick, even with the help of the fae sorceress. We have fed life and hope into each and every one of the captive witches and the odd wolf. We’ve communicated with them telepathically over God knows what distance for hours.” Conall realized he was shouting and brought his voice down a few notches, took a breath and continued more calmly, “And as with any other time you’ve used magick, or anyone else for the matter,” he threw up his hands at her defensive glare, “you need to eat. I need to eat. And then, by all means, go ahead and learn to fight. Although, if you ask me, by the way, you’re itching for one with me, you’re pretty good at it already.” He dragged his hands through his hair in frustration. He was usually great in resolving conflict but what he felt for her chased all of the centuries honing that skill away.
“Where are you going to?” Conall called after her.
“The hell away from you,” was Anais’s retort.
Before he could help himself, he called out, “Fine. Off with you then. Deal with things by walking away. Sweep it under the fucking carpet.”
The cussing stopped Anais in her tracks; it was so unlike him. Turning around, she glared, her eyes flashing red. She shouted back, “Fine. I fucking will – a carpet’s a lot more comfortable to be around than you.” Then she stomped off.
--------
V came at her. Only her vampire senses would’ve been able to define the blur heading towards her. A memory intruded - of Conall flashing away as she dove for him, playfully trying to dominate him in bed while he acted allusive. V met thin air as Anais flashed away, a few feet to the left of where she’d stood.
V made another run for her and this time, the memory of invisible hands, Conall’s hands, caressing her, making her moan his name, came to mind. V met with thin air again and then fell to the ground as Anais, invisible to the vampire’s eyes, pushed her down.
Anais was deaf to the cheers of the other fighters watching in the training arena. They were all lined up, clapping at her tricks, but she only saw Conall. Leaning in all his beautiful arrogance, against the far wall, arms folded over, flanked by his faithful friends, Niul and Sylvain. The lapse in concentration was enough to make her forget to hold onto the invisibility and she felt the wind being knocked out of her as V tackled her to the ground. Anais got another flash of memory. Of Yves. He’d pushed her like that once and she’d resisted, squirmed and cried out. Not anymore. Anais let herself go soft and mellow to better absorb the shock of hitting the ground.
V, expecting resistance, was momentarily put off when Anais didn’t fight back. Anais took advantage of the moment, remembering how Yves had let her hit him, scratch at him before strategically delivering the hardest blow. Anais didn’t see V when she dealt the same punch. She saw Yves and how she would’ve fought him; should’ve fought him.
V, blood dripping from a cut lip, came at her agai
n. Another memory - she stood in the slave quarters, pregnant, defensively holding her stomach while bleeding. Her husband kicking her and her unborn child until he killed it. The pain of her child tearing away from her womb staggered her. V, unaware of the memories Anais was lost to, used the opportunity to back her up against a wall. Anais felt the wood of the slave quarters, splinters of wood digging into her exposed flesh. Anais gathered the anger underlying her fear that night and delivered a kick to V’s middle that had her flying across the room.
Anais saw herself fly across the room in the slave quarters. Saw herself hit the rickety table and moan with pain as the baby gave one final rip from her and its lifeline. A mother would do anything to protect her child. Anais’ child had sacrificed itself so that her mother could live that night. It should be the other way around. The pain ripped at Anais now and she clutched her stomach as she did that night, no longer in the present. She saw her husband hover over her and felt the strength in his hands as he strangled the strength out of her.
“Anais, stop!” Marie shook her friend, trying to break the iron strong-hold Anais had around V’s throat. “Anais, STOP!” she shouted.
“It’s no use,” shouted Sophie, panicked by what she saw through the link she forced with Anais, “she’s back in the slave quarters the night she was turned. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
Conall had noticed that something had been off with Anais from the off-set. He advanced towards her, shouting to the others, “It’s the magick. It depleted her and she didn’t want to feed to show me up. Now, she’s having a magickal episode of post-traumatic stress.”
