Leman

by Serena Akeroyd

  Georgios supposed that shored her up as her voice, quivering at first, grew stronger as she declared, “Duncan, son of James, sired by Matthew, I hereby declare you as traitor to the coven. Traitor and coward.

  “Your blood for my blood. Your life for my life.”

  Anthony appeared, grabbed hold of Duncan’s hair and dragged his head back.

  With two slashes of the knife, Lara slit from one side of his throat to the other and sliced from the soft underbelly of his chin down to his collarbone.

  Blood burst from the gaping wound, covering her and the guards in front.

  She didn’t blink at the arterial spray, just let it coat her in the mist. Let it carry on until his heart ceased beating.

  Then, she moved to the next traitor and did the same again. And again.

  And again.

  Nine

  Painted in blood.

  It was the only way to describe it as she looked down at herself and saw how saturated her skin, clothes, and hair were. It was everywhere.

  In her nails. In her pores.

  So much blood.

  Wasted.

  So much life.

  Wasted.

  So much destruction.

  Needed.

  She gulped at the twelve corpses lying on the chapel ground.

  Had it really been so bad to save Max? Had she really deserved to die for not helping Sandra more? For allowing her the freedom that only Vampires could find in death?

  Had she deserved such a frenzied attack for those pitiful reasons?

  Now, twelve of her coven coated her in their lifeblood. She’d had to punish them, lest she appear weak and unable to lead.

  Strength was everything to Vampires.

  Marcus was the strongest nightwalker in the coven after her. Had she not fulfilled the punishment, had she sent them to the court for the Emperor and his judges to deal with, Marcus would have challenged her.

  More bloodshed. More life lost. She’d win, but at what cost? Georgios was already terrified for her. Stacking his misery further and at the start of their relationship, would cause them nothing but more misery in the long run.

  It would not surprise her if, one day, she was ready to see out the rest of her years in the other realm. But that was not now.

  Today, she still had her coven. And that coven had businesses, targets. Plans. Things she’d poured thousands of hours into. She couldn’t throw that away yet.

  It would be like handing her child over to another mother.

  There would come a time when Marcus could have the coven. But not yet.

  Not now.

  With a shuddery breath, she pulled off her shirt and used the back of it to wipe her face.

  Blood was caked on her as was the right of the betrayed to the betrayer. But it clogged up her senses, made her feel like she could choke on it even though she had no lungs to drown.

  She wanted a shower. Desperately. But the only right she had, was to clean her face before she faced her coven once more.

  With each dead daywalker, the ones holding them traipsed back to their seats in the congregation.

  The blood covering them was a link to her now.

  By blood, they became her Chosen.

  It was old fashioned, almost an ancient lore, but it was their right, and she had to follow protocol even if that protocol was ridiculous.

  She realized then she’d been treating her coven more like a corporation rather than a family of Vampires.

  That changed tonight.

  “I stand here before you, warm with the blood of my enemy. Let this be a warning all of you must heed.

  “I am Sanguenna. You challenge me as is your right. You come to me as is your right. You do not attack me in the dark, when I am alone, and you do not set upon me like cowards with a pack of twelve to tear me down.”

  As she looked into the crowd, she purposely sought out the loved ones of the daywalkers just killed.

  To them, for their grief, for the tears they wouldn’t dare shed in public for their traitorous kin, Lara murmured, “You have lost friends and family tonight, my coven. Blood has fallen because these fools tried to kill me. This is no fault of the other daywalkers. You need not fear further punishment or suspicion from me.

  “Be faithful to the coven. Be loyal to me, but not blindly so. I have never asked that of you. Kin of the daywalkers fallen here this night, you yourselves are not my foe. I state this now.” She firmed her jaw, lifted her chin. “You need fear no reprisals. You are safe.”

  The warning was for any nightwalker who had a grievance against a daywalker. Or for someone who thought to use the murder of kin against another Vampire.

  Situations like these always spawned revenge killings. She refused for that to happen this night.

  Refused to have more bloodshed.

  “Those of you who acted in my stead. Those of you who wear the blood of the coven’s enemy, I charge you with the protection of my people.

  “Be they daywalker or nightwalker, kin or foe of those laying here, you are my enforcers from this moment forward.”

  She let her gaze drift from the family and friends of the corpses before trailing it over the men and women covered in blood.

  Some of them would be suitable for the role, others would need to be watched with a vigilance she could only rest on Marcus’s strong shoulders when she was in the other realm.

  Undoubtedly, the night’s antics would cause more trouble. She felt that, sensed it, and was annoyed by it.

  She had enough shit on her plate without having to deal with the foolish misunderstandings of a select few.

  With a sigh, she stepped back from the congregation and chose to give her last few words. “I don’t understand their motives. Duncan explained them to me, but they make little sense. I saved a boy. He was a Shifter. I made a powerful ally that night. For when that boy becomes a man, he will remember that our coven saved him.”

  And so saying, she trudged toward her mate, hating that she was covered in blood, hating that she’d just murdered twelve of her people, and he’d seen her do so. Been there to watch her do it.

  But he didn’t look at her with disgust. Didn’t look horrified.

  This man was a Shifter. He was a Dragon male. He understood the importance of strength, she realized. Had known she had to act.

  Together, as a unit, his hand folded over hers, they walked down the aisle, and in the dead of morning, quickly rushed to her house which was only two doors down.

  There was no other way of making it home without looking even more suspicious. In the pitch black, the blood covering her couldn’t be seen. And this small neighborhood was hers. All the houses belonged to her coven, so there was no fear of human misunderstanding or reprisal, but it didn’t matter.

  She didn’t want to be seen like this by an outsider.

  Rushing up the four steps to her townhouse, she unlocked the door and headed inside. Relief sighed from her as he closed the door behind her and shut out the rest of the world.

  “I need to shower,” she said softly, keeping her back to him.

  Before he could do more than process her words, she scurried up the stairs and ran for the bathroom.

  The minute the water flowed, she stepped underneath it. Hot and cold didn’t affect her like it did humans or Shifters, but she found the water was more silken if it was warm, so she had a water heater, though it was technically unnecessary.

  As the water shifted from frigid to tepid, she watched the shower tray. Saw the water turn from transparent to rose, pink to red. Scarlet. That was how much blood was on her.

  Christ, if a human had seen her, they’d think she’d taken part in a satanic ritual.

  Shuddering, she waited until the water ran clear, and then, with it still flowing overhead, she shucked out of her trousers and slip ons and threw them, and her blouse, on the floor. More blood drained from the clothes, and she reached for some liquid gel and soaped herself up.

  If she got a little roug
h, it was only because she felt like she’d never get clean again.

  Shampoo came next, an act that had more blood tumbling down the drain.

  She didn’t stop until no part of her was dirty, and even then, she stayed under the spray until the water once more turned cold. With a shiver that was a reflex, she opened the door and saw Georgios was standing there.

  Waiting for her.

  He held out a towel, opening the folds wide so she could step out and into the covering.

  He tucked it around her, rolling her in the thick terry. Then, he reached for another smaller towel on the handrail and began to dab at her hair. Gently drying her.

  The shower was enclosed in frosted glass so opaque he hadn’t even been a shadow through it. Opposite the shower, a wide porcelain sink was set atop a marble counter with her toiletries on either side.

  There was no toilet, as Vampires didn’t need that particular facility, so the bathroom was nothing more than opulence rather than functionality. Although, now that she had a Shifter mate, she’d have to call her plumber in the morning and have one installed.

  The thought made her frown. Was there a bathroom back at the cavern? Did Dragons even pee?

  Icky questions, but necessary, she guessed. Just not now. Not tonight.

  A floor to ceiling mirror reflected Georgios as he tended to blank space—Vampires had no reflection in regular light. She had to put on her make up by black light.

  He was gentle with her, careful not to hurt or to be too rough, but still all male in his handling. Her boobs, for example, were very, very, very dry.

  He was all hers at that moment.

  She let him tend to her, because she knew he was concerned for her. She could feel that concern.

  How she felt it, she wasn’t altogether sure. His face was blank, free from expression. His grip wasn’t too tight, as though he was trying to repress his anger. Nor was his jaw gritted.

  He was patience itself.

  She frowned at him, at the normalcy of his expression. “Aren’t you disgusted?” she asked him softly, but it was more of a rasp than a whisper. “Aren’t you horrified that I just sliced the throats of twelve of my own?”

  He looked at her, square in the eye. “I am a Shifter, leman. Strength begets strength. More than a Shifter, I am a Dragon. Blood and death do not scare me.”

  “I never thought you would be scared. Just repulsed.”

  “For defending yourself? For defending your people?” He shook his head. “You were betrayed, leman. Twelve people tried to murder you. In cold blood and with more cowardice than anything else… You did what you had to do, Lara. If anything, I’m proud of you. You acted like a warrior. A leader.”

  She closed her eyes, guilt flooding her at his words. “I’ve been treating the coven more like a business,” she admitted to him as she’d admitted to herself earlier.

  “This is a more modern age, sweetling. Warriors aren’t as necessary as they once were. You’re a warrior in a business setting, of which there’s nothing to be ashamed. Yet, when it came down to it, you acted as you needed to act, and for that, you’ll be respected.

  “That was all that mattered to me tonight. That you come out of that meeting with the respect of your people, safety intact, because your reputation is set in stone now—they’d be a fool to challenge you. You make the hard decisions when they need to be made. You proved that tonight.”

  “All I proved is I can slit the throats of men and women who someone else holds down while they’re a puppet on my string.”

  Georgios sighed at her bitterness. “And isn’t that the way it’s done? There was too much of a ceremony to how you handled everything, for it not to be the way of it.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  “Would a Sanguen sentence death that way? With others holding the guilty party in place?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, then. That says it all.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. You claimed a mate, and you’ve had nothing but shit ever since.”

  He hushed her by wrapping her in his arms and holding her tightly. She shivered in his grasp, loving how he embraced her, like this wasn’t enough. Like they could never be close enough unless he was buried inside her to the hilt.

  She shuddered at the thought, but she was too traumatized for sex. The very idea of it was enough to warm her through, but exhaustion overwhelmed arousal.

  She needed to be loved in a different way. Needed to be shown the tender and gentle side of the mate bond…as he was doing, she realized. Tending to her, holding her.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” he said to her softly when she remained silent, heavy in thought. “It’s been a too long night, and tomorrow will come soon enough.”

  She nodded against his chest, then let him lead her to the bedroom he’d watched her change in that same evening before she’d butchered members of her coven.

  In the dark, she saw her bedroom as though a light were on. Night vision was her preference, after all. But she shut off the peripheral vision that was as strong as her main line of sight. Instead, chose to focus on the bed.

  The big mattress.

  A space she’d soon share with her mate.

  She shrugged off the towel and quickly ruffled her hair with the one he’d lain about her shoulders to catch the damp strands. Then, naked, she climbed onto the bed and curled onto her side.

  She was down, heartsore, not blind. She watched him undress, unblinkingly. Loving each inch he revealed and loving that he would be plastered to her all day long as they slept.

  Silently, he padded toward her, climbed behind her and, then, scooped her up so her back was against his chest.

  Wrapping an arm about her stomach, he whispered, “Sleep, love. You are safe.”

  She knew that. Knew she was safe more than just physically speaking.

  She closed her eyes and wished for slumber. She didn’t have to wish for long. Before she knew it, it was there. Upon her.

  Ten

  Eight weeks later

  “What is this Valentine’s?” Georgios asked his best friend and House Head, Remy.

  The other male wrinkled his nose and said, “A human tradition.”

  “Does this mean we don’t have to do it?”

  Remy shrugged. “Our lemans are Vampires.”

  “Sensitized to human tradition. Do you think they will be mad if we ignore it?”

  Remy snorted, shaking his head as he said, “You do realize we are those males now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We worry if our lemans will ‘get mad’ at us. Dear Mother, what has become of us?”

  Georgios thought about it a second and said, “I get more sex than the single me. Therefore, the single me loses every time.”

  Remy grinned. Slowly. “It is probably very bad that I concur.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing to dislike about it. I’d prefer to be pussy whipped and not use my fist every night.”

  Remy snorted. “Agreed.”

  It wasn’t that a male couldn’t call on another for sex to relieve his needs, it was that as time passed, and they grew older, the need to fuck random women, to slake one’s urges, dissipated.

  Lust went nowhere, of course. But a desire for that one female consumed everything.

  He rubbed his hand on his jaw as he eyed a huge display in a florist’s window. He’d met Remy at the portal to this realm in Seattle, and they were walking across the city toward the Meeting (Coffee) Grounds, where Remy could speak with Lara about how active she’d like to be in the House.

  Georgios had asked Remy to come here mostly because if he returned to the other realm, he’d be expected to present Lara at court.

  If he did that, he’d have to explain why there was still no mating mark. Nor a single manifestation of the mating mark, and yet, there were other ‘aspects’ of the bond that told him, loudly and clearly, that she was his female.

  There would be doubts. That was what pissed him off. Doubts wh
ere none were necessary.

  The Dragon shed two tears in its life. For the other Sanguennas he’d met, the beast hadn’t shed a tear, because that right belonged to his leman.

  He still had the intact crystal in a cushioned box in Lara’s safe at their townhouse. That was proof, but the mating mark was vital for formalizing the mate bond, and without one, questions would be asked that would make him want to spill blood.

  With that in mind, it was easier to have Remy come here to speak with his leman. A fact Remy agreed with, as he didn’t want Georgios spilling blood either.

  The florist before him had more hearts in it than Georgios had ever seen. They were everywhere. The florid things decorating every inch of the window. Roses too. Bright scarlet petals that were as dark as blood then others that were delicate explosions of frothy cream.

  He waved a hand at the ludicrous display and said, “I don’t think Lara even likes flowers. She never has any at home, and there are none around the coffee shop.”

  “I have seen Valentine’s Day in the movies. There are other gifts,” Remy imparted.

  “Such as?”

  “Meals out so that’s no use. We’re our lemans’ meals.” They shared a glance and snickered, two very satisfied beasts shooting the shit in the middle of downtown Seattle.

  “What else?”

  “Other foods. Like chocolate. Mia does like that.”

  “She can eat? Already?” Georgios asked with no small surprise.

  “Yes. Little things. I have heard Lara has the appetite of both a nightwalker and a daywalker?”

  “And how did you hear about that?” Georgios asked, slightly disgruntled to hear he was being watched without his knowing it.

  “Eirik pops over every now and then to monitor the situation.”

  Eirik was the bane of Georgios’s life. Remy’s enforcer, Eirik had been sent many times to nanny Georgios.

  Something he’d never appreciated.

  “And he saw her eat?”

  “Something called a cronut, he told me.”

  Georgios blinked then grinned. He remembered that evening. She’d enjoyed the sugary treat so much she’d given him a blowjob in the car on the way home.