He shook his head slowly, unable to help the smile he knew was on his lips. Her precociousness and innocence were enchanting. In truth, she was a woman now, and his followers were becoming impatient. Her breasts were developed and full, her body ripe and ready for womanly pleasures.
But he was still waiting.
Laughing, she went into the water, running all the way in, and then squealing that it was cold. He laughed with her and went to the water’s edge, looking down at her as she shivered, watching the gooseflesh rise on her pale arms.
“Why do you go in if it is so cold?” he asked, squatting down near a rocky ledge so he could see her face.
“I want to get it over with. I think that if I waited on the shore and inched my way in, I would never go. So I do it all in a run, just don’t stop and then—it is too late, I am in!” She splashed him. He ignored the droplets that clung to his clothing and dripped down his cheek.
“It is good to see you in such a happy mood. Recently, you have seemed....” He shook his head and let the sentence hang there, knowing she would fill it in.
Virginia looked at her hands in the water, settling them on the surface and holding them still, like they were pressed against a pane of glass. “Won’t you come in?” Her head was down, not meeting his gaze as she asked, her voice a siren’s call, and he felt his body react.
“No. I shall only sit here and speak with you. No more.”
“You used to go swimming with me.”
“Yes. And after we are joined, we can go swimming together again.”
“Well… why not now?” Her glance speared him. So direct. She looked at his coat, like she wanted to touch it. “Why wait? I am old enough. You are my destiny, Cerdewellyn, and I am ready for it.”
Cer sighed and rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, unwilling to look at her. She moved a little closer, so half of her body was out of the water, the material of her fine garment now doing nothing to hide her. Her pebbled nipples and the pink areolas, her flat stomach, and even the shadowed juncture of her thighs.
“Virginie,” he said, using his pet name for her. “I know what it’s like to be young. To think you are more grown-up than you are.”
“Are you calling me a child?” Her voice rose dangerously.
“No. I am saying that I want things to be perfect between us. Not just for you and I, but for our subjects. And for that, we need to wait.”
She stepped towards him, out of the water, droplets falling off of her hair and fingers. “I see the way the Queen watches me.” A lengthy pause. “The world could be ours. We could be together, and yet, you hesitate.”
Virginia dropped to her knees beside him, bringing her chilled face close to his. “I want you. I know you want me.” Her hand reached out, touching his full lips, stroking her finger across them.
Cer leaned back from her and grabbed her hand, hard enough to get her attention. “You are still a young girl. Now you are pretending to be a woman. What we do will remake the world. Herald our return and cause a reckoning. And yet, you are being impatient. I will be your husband—ever your King. Even when you rule all others, I will still rule you. And I say we wait.”
Maybe he had been too harsh. Her mouth was frowning angrily, but her eyes were watering with tears. “I know you are mature, and perhaps you are ready. But, it does us no harm to give you a little more time to prepare. We have one chance, Virginie. Only one. And you must be strong and secure in your magic to help me open the portal.”
Her lower lip trembled. “She’ll kill me, I know it.”
His first instinct was to laugh. “Who? The Queen? No, she will not. What good would it serve her? She knows her duty. These are her people, too. She wants what is best for them.”
“She does not put anyone above herself. I feel it in my heart, Cerdewellyn. If she can kill me she will, no matter the consequences.” She wrapped her fingers hard around his, like she’d force him to listen this time. “They all bow to me now. I am already Queen to everyone but you.”
Cerdewellyn made a tsking noise in the back of his throat, partly scolding her for her ridiculous fears and partly scolding himself because he was going to kiss her. She looked up at him, an expression of trust and innocence—anticipation that had nothing to do with being a girl but a woman. He could indulge her with a kiss.
Her lips were cold, but the moment he touched her she exhaled, warm breath contrasting with the coolness of her skin, and he moved closer, wanting more of her. He pressed firmly, his tongue licking along the seam of her lips, and she opened her mouth and met him greedily. He wanted to laugh again, because she was so endearing, thinking this was her chance and she would make full use of it. His Virginia was always daring, always ready.
As though she could never have been anything else but his Queen.
He wondered at the perfection of the moment—her lips and the life that lay before them. Opening the portal, returning to the world. And one day, when their numbers had grown, he would have his revenge.
His tongue slid into her mouth, tasting her, craving her so much, that at first, he didn’t even feel the arrow that pierced his heart.
Finally. Finally! Virginia thought with fierce exultation. Cerdewellyn kissed her, and she wouldn’t give him the chance to stop, would kiss him so ardently that he would be driven by desire to claim her and make her his. She opened her mouth, letting him inside, arching closer with a moan, disbelieving that he was finally kissing her.
Cerdewellyn, King of the Fey, would finally be hers. So tall and imposing with his dark curling hair and black eyes. Eyes that looked as if they had seen everything since the moment time began. A king of beauty and life.
She tilted her head, felt her body responding, opening, wanting, needing him. And then there was a slight noise, a combination of a woosh and a thud.
A shadow loomed over them. She pulled back and Cerdewellyn was gazing down, his hand flat to his chest, over his heart, staring dumbly at the heavy, red flow of heart-blood soaking through his white shirt.
Virginia cried out and stood, looking everywhere around them, searching for the danger. A shimmer of yellow cloth glided out from the trees. The Queen came closer, her once beautiful hair dull in the light, her skin flushed. Her guards were with her, one holding a bow, the other an axe.
“He is not dead,” the Queen said. “He is a deity. They do not die so easily. Look.”
Her heart thundering, Virginia looked back, saw that Cer’s chest still rose and fell. He lay on his back, staring at the ground, but where the arrow pierced his heart, vines were growing. They were snaking out of his chest and twining up the wooden shafts, stretching over his body, coiling over his legs, even towards her, forcing her to scramble away.
“He is healing. That is what it means to be immortal.” Here, she smiled at Virginia. “The same cannot be said for you.”
The Queen pulled out a short sword from her tunic and advanced. Virginia looked to the guards, half-men and half-abomination, creatures the Queen had created with her darkest magic and Virginia saw their empty minds gazing back at her. They would not help her. She looked around wildly. Saw no one to aid her.
She screamed.
“Virginia, Virginia, did you think I would let you take him? My king. My crown. My people and my land. They all bow to you. You cast me glances, Every day you look at me like I am a fool. As if I will take it. As if being a Queen was your destiny. And now you have none. You are a fate that never was.”
Virginia felt a hand in her hair, a guard grabbing her from behind, pulling her neck taut. She threw herself backwards, trying to think of anything she could do to escape. She kicked and screamed, struck out with her hands, raking her nails down the guards hand and arm, feeling skin come away because she dug so deep into his flesh. Delay the moment. Fight. Someone will come.
She looked at Cer, met his gaze as he begged her to keep fighting. Tears filled her eyes, clogged her throat as she fought the guard who held her. The Queen moved closer but
Cer moved his arms, almost able to stand and save her. Another moment and he’ll save me, one more, just one—
The blade sliced her throat, slipping across her jugular cleanly. Delicately. A small, insignificant line across her throat. Her life pulsed out in huge liquid gasps. Her vision narrowing down to the pond in front of her, to Cerdewellyn on the ground, still covered in snaking vines. The final blow came, severing her head from her neck, and she didn’t feel a thing.
The queen worked quickly, kicking the girl’s head out of the way and turning her attention back to Cerdewellyn. His eyes were blinking, the vines receding. Where the arrow had been, there was now only a fine pile of mulch. The arrow devoured and composted, returned to its natural state. Cerdewellyn breathed deeply and coughed, looking up into his Queen’s familiar blue eyes.
She shook her head sadly at him. “You lost, Cerdewellyn. You lost to Lucas because you were too late to act. You lost your people because you were too weak to open the portal. And now you have lost her, too. So blind to the treachery around you.”
She stabbed him in the chest, pinning him to the earth with her blade, and then snapped her fingers to the waiting guards. “You’ll be as close to dead as I can get you, here in your realm.”
The guards worked quickly, hacking Cerdewellyn into pieces: feet, legs, arms, then his head and torso. But the heart—his heart she took for herself. She clenched it in her fist. The part of him that he’d once given to her and then taken away, she now had again. She alone would dispose of this piece.
He would have killed her. Replaced her with Virginia Dare. Did he think her a fool? There had been a queen before her too. She knew that her death was required for Virginia Dare to rise. And Cerdewellyn, an antiquated man from another time, had assumed she would behave honorably. Put their people first, let him kill her and transfer her magic to Virginia Dare.
Lucas had won because he was aggressive. Before anyone could scream for help, he had already acted. That was something she had learned from the vampires. Something Cerdewellyn had never comprehended.
The victor always strikes first.
Chapter 14
Valerie picked up the phone and exhaled deeply. Took another breath in. Another breath out. Looked at the phone and imagined a hundred different ways this conversation could quality as the ‘worst phone call ever. ’
She was being ridiculous. There was no reason to get flustered. She’d just stay focused on the goal. Call Lucas, tell him I will go to Roanoke. Skip lots of painfully awkward questions and emotional upheaval, maybe talk about the weather instead. Will I need a coat in Roanoke?
Argh!
She tried to remember their last conversation. The one where he’d stripped down and flaunted his body like a waiter with a stacked dessert cart, hoping she’d lunge over and shove her face into his huge…piece of cake.
‘When you come back, this changes. ’ Wasn’t that what he’d said? Man, someone really needed to tape record those big moments. They always seemed hard to remember in retrospect.
She shivered at the memory of his words, the look on his face. The general shirtlessness.
What a slut! Her relationship with Jack had just fallen apart, and she was ready to jump on Lucas’ bandwagon? No, all she was doing was calling him to tell him that she was ready to go to Roanoke. She had no intentions of doing anything shirtless.
Who was she kidding? Intentions, inshmensions. She’d probably be flat on her back the moment she saw him. They might as well just bury her in a Y shaped coffin. Jack’s words came back to her—‘Just keep your legs closed. ’
She’d never forgive him or forget the look of disgust on his face. The fact that he wouldn’t listen to her. He’d made her feel ashamed and stupid. Her actions were stupid, she knew that! That was why she’d brought it up! He was supposed to listen to the words, not just assume she liked being coffin bait.
Frankly, she never wanted to see Jack again. But Jack would be back. When would he track her down? Tomorrow? A week from now? And he’d demand she find the Fey. So fuck it. She’d do the right thing, but she wouldn’t bring Jack. If she wanted Jack to come out of this alive, she had to make sure they didn’t meet.
Maybe she shouldn’t call Lucas yet. She’d just buried her father. Some of her laundry from Hawaii was still sitting in the corner of her room. Waiting sounded like a wonderful idea. She only needed a decade or two.
But if she waited, Jack would show up again and demand to go with them to Roanoke. Talk about disaster. Jack and Lucas looking daggers at each other. Jack trying to kill Lucas, her hoping Lucas was feeling magnanimous enough to not kill Jack.
She’d get it over with. Go to Roanoke, figure out that faeries existed only in Disneyland, and then she’d ditch them both. Maybe look up Ian, see if he was still on the hunt for an issue-laden American.
Her palms were sweaty, and she had that twisty feeling in her stomach where she thought she might dash to the bathroom and have to decide if it was a sit-or-stand situation.
She looked around her room for a moment, still stalling. Her pretty, pink room that her mother had decorated for her. Before she was killed by a vampire. And now Val was going to call Lucas, King of the Vampires, and tell him she was willing to help him. And probably bone him.
Oh shit.
She dialed the number quickly, heard it ring, and had her voice-message all planned out. He’d never answered before. In fact, there was probably nothing to be worried about. Not at all. She almost wondered if he ever answered the ph—
“Hello?”
Oh fuck! Her mouth hung open as she tried to remember the English language. “Lucas, it’s me. Umm… Valerie,” she said feeling like someone should congratulate her for remembering her name. She knew, even with that one word that it was Lucas. She knew because her nipples pebbled, her breathing hitched, and she plopped back onto the bed bonelessly.
“What’s wrong?” he said, voice clipped.
Her chest went tight, and her lower lip felt like trembling. She wanted to say things to him, tell him what was wrong because… he’d listen? He cared? He made it seem like her problems were something she’d move beyond? She tried to think what to say. She’d expected voice mail! She must have waited too long because he spoke again.
“Are you in danger? Shall I come to you?” His tone was distant and hard, like she meant nothing to him.
“No. I’m fine.” She swallowed. “You know where I am?”
A lengthy pause. “No.”
How come she couldn’t choose a guy who used lots of words and explained himself? Val sighed, staring at her bedspread, picking at a pink flower whose edge was coming up. “I’ll help you find the Fey.”
Another long pause. Maybe he didn’t want her help anymore. Why would he? What the hell was she going to do anyway? She was half-convinced the whole thing had just been a ploy to get into her panties in the first place.
She wasn’t ‘super’ anything. Not ‘super’ powerful, ‘super’ tough. Crap, she wasn’t even ‘super’ hot, smart or thin. Oh wait. I’m ‘super. ’ ‘Super’ ordinary.
But then she’d rejected him, ditched him for another guy and was now crawling back. She could hear it, feel it in her marrow—he was done with her. He didn’t want her anymore.
“What has happened?” he said impatiently.
“Nothing.” More lower lip trembling. She heard breathing over the phone. Oh no, it’s mine! Val shifted the phone, flushing. She’d sounded like an asthmatic Pug, panting down the line.
“You would come with me to Roanoke? Meet me there?”
“Yeah. Sure. Umm…but…Jack wants to come, too.” Her eyes were squeezed shut as she said it, like that would somehow lessen the blow. Why the hell had she said it anyway? She didn’t want Jack to go. Was it to try and provoke Lucas, get some indication that he might be jealous? That was stupid, Valerie. She hadn’t meant to mention Jack. But she’d gotten flustered.
Big silence. “No.”
“Lucas—” She heard him
exhale, and it raised goose bumps on her skin.
“Valerie, I want to have this conversation in person. Is Jack there now?”
“No,” she said a little sullenly.
The line disconnected, and she went to hit redial again.
Her doorbell rang and she squealed like a thirteen year-old with Justin Bieber at the door. Val’s heart began to pound and she went into frantic panic mode.
She looked in the mirror. Yikes!Don’t do that again. Why hadn’t she put on makeup? Why hadn’t she done her hair, or in any way anticipated that he might show up?
Val brushed her hair, put on lipstick and dashed downstairs. She opened the door and there on the porch, leaning against the wooden porch rail, arms crossed, was Lucas. In the flesh.
Oh, that flesh.
He looked very modern. Black jeans and a black t-shirt that was beautifully tight and showcased the hard muscles of his arms. And his hair, still with a hint of curl, was disheveled in a way that she wouldn’t have thought happened naturally. Did he spend a lot of time on his hair?
“Hey.” That was dumb.
“Hey,” he said back, but the way he said it sounded more ironic and had a soft accent in the undercurrent. Made even that crappy, inferior little word sound sexy.
Man am I in trouble now. She scowled. Modern language. Modern look. WTF?
“Would you like to discuss this somewhere else? We could have dinner? New York? Paris? Tell me where you would like to go.”
She was going to say no, but then stopped. He could, and would, take her to dinner anywhere in the world? Wow. That’s fracking hot. “Do something jerk-like,” she grumbled.
“Excuse me?”
Her shoulders slumped. “No, don’t take me anywhere…nice. Just come in—”
“No. Do not invite me in.” He’d thrown out a hand towards her like he could stop her speaking with a gesture.
“Okay. I hadn’t thought that would pose a problem. Sorry,” she said, oddly discombobulated.
Love is Fear Page 9
