Lorraine stared at herself in the mirror. Andor was hers. Her family. The man she chose. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t take that back. She had crossed a line somewhere when she’d let him in, and now he was there, deep. She wanted it that way. She wanted him enough to give up the sun and the sound of children playing in play yards. She would choose him every time.
“Andor.” She whispered his name. Needing him. Knowing it was better if she didn’t call telepathically and awaken him before the soil had a chance to do its work. She straightened, still looking at her reflection in her mirror. “You are capable of going a few hours without touching his mind, so pull it together.”
Ruthlessly, she crushed down the need to reach for him. The need to protect him, even from her intrusion when he required healing sleep, helped her focus back on other things. She hadn’t eaten anything since that first blood exchange, only drank water. Food seemed repugnant to her. She knew she would have to eat something soon, she was getting weak, but the thought turned her stomach.
Very slowly, taking her time, she dressed, pulling out her last pair of clean jeans, her vintage blues, washed so many times they were soft and pale, with a few worn places, but still acceptable to wear if she was going out. Her T-shirt was old as well and one of her favorites, soft and black with words touting Fireball Cinnamon Whisky. She liked the sentiment. Did Carpathians drink whiskey? Any kind of alcoholic beverage? Probably not.
She pulled on her hiking boots because they were the only shoes she had with her. Glamourous, that was her. She was going to look good standing next to the model out there. She’d make a really good impression. Squaring her shoulders, she left the safety of the bathroom and made her way down the stairs to the front door.
The moment she neared the door, she felt a surge of power—of protest. You better not have tried to lock me in, she said, reaching for him without thinking, a small bit of laughter bubbling up. She sobered instantly when she realized she was doing it again and then her heart began to pound and she could barely catch her breath—signs of an impending panic attack. Swearing under her breath, she fought her way through it, going for logic.
“He told you that you wouldn’t be able to reach him and you would do this. You’re smarter than this, Lorraine. You have a brain. You don’t need to lean on a man, you’re one hundred percent okay without one. You know how to take care of yourself. Never, in your life, did you rely on someone else, other than when you were a child and even then, your parents insisted on you trying things yourself before they helped, or allowed Theodore to help.”
She pressed her forehead against the door, one hand on the knob. Theodore. He’d helped her so many times when her parents didn’t know. She’d always had a sweet tooth, and sugar was strictly forbidden. She wasn’t allowed to eat anything that wasn’t healthy and good for her. They practically counted calories for her, watching how much she trained and anything outside her home had to be done in the form of exercise, such as bike riding. That was an acceptable pastime. Running was. Reading was okay, but only for short periods of time, like when she was taking a bath.
Theodore had helped her find ways to get her sugar fix. He’d always brought her candy-coated licorice. They’d hid it, most of the time successfully. She couldn’t have gotten it for herself because her parents had watched her so carefully, but Teddy had managed and when she’d gone on reading binges, he’d always brought her some. She never wanted to forget those things about him. The good things. The childhood memories she had of him before . . . What had made Theodore take the steroids? She still didn’t know. Maybe she would never know.
She opened the door and breathed in the refreshing air. She’d been outdoors for long enough that being inside felt a little stuffy. There was a feeling of reluctance to step outside, even onto the porch, and she knew that had to be part of Andor’s safeguards. Still, she wasn’t locked in, and she wanted to go talk to the children and the model.
She gripped the doorjamb, heart accelerating as the feeling of power surged over her and under her feet. The floor seemed to tilt back toward the inside while just across the doorway, for one moment, she could see bands, like heat shimmer. Not bands, bars. Keeping her in? Keeping someone out? Maybe both.
Andor, I’m heading out to see the compound and talk to the children. Abruptly she broke off again. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t stop? Couldn’t remember she wasn’t to wake him? To reach for him? Every time she did only made her feel more alone and abandoned. More scared that something had happened to him and she wasn’t doing her job of protecting him.
She stepped over the threshold, ignoring the pull on her body to go back inside. She wouldn’t retreat, she wasn’t that kind of woman. Once on the porch with the door firmly closed behind her, she felt free again. Her eyes immediately burned and wept in protest at the almost blinding light of the sun. Every bit of exposed skin prickled as if it might burn under the rays. She had never worried about sunburn, thanks to her father’s complexion, so she ignored that weird sensation on her skin and went down the stairs, wishing she’d thought to bring sunglasses.
The lake gleamed, the water appearing like glass, shimmering with grays and blues, even deeper greens. It was beautiful and inviting. A pier ran out over the water and she was tempted to walk along it. The water added to the eye-burning effect the light seemed to have on her so, reluctantly, she turned away.
The little boathouse caught her attention. Someone clearly lived there. She could see someone moving around inside, and when they noticed her watching, they waved and beckoned to her. She’d taken a single step toward the cute little house when the door opened and a woman appeared. She wore an apron and was drying her hands on the material as she stepped onto her porch. She looked older than Lorraine expected, maybe in her late sixties.
“I’m Mary Walton. My husband, Donald, and I live here. We’ve been with Tariq for a few years now. Donald is just inside watching over the cookies I’m baking for the children.”
Lorraine moved closer so she wouldn’t have to shout. “I’m Lorraine Peters. I came with all the others last night.” She hadn’t been told a lot about those living on the estate. Mary Walton was clearly human. So were the children. She didn’t know if they knew about Tariq and the ancients. She should have asked more questions.
“We saw them coming in,” Mary said. “Of course, we always worry about their battle wounds. They heal so fast, but when they first get them, the injuries look frightening. I still can’t get over wanting to wash out the wound, not put soil in it.” She gave a small deprecating laugh. “I suspect it’s my age.”
Lorraine shook her head. “That’s my first instinct as well.”
“Are you feeling all right? Can I get you a cup of tea?”
Immediately her stomach protested with another lurch of warning. She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m okay. I thought I’d go talk to the children. They sound so happy. After all the trauma of seeing things I thought were only in movies, worse than anything in movies, I need simple and happy.”
“Don’t be deceived, Lorraine,” Mary said. “Those children have seen and experienced some of the worst those monsters do. They live here because as long as they stay within this compound, the safeguards surrounding us, the undead can’t come inside. They know they’re safe and it’s the only place that is for them. No schools or shopping or fun like other children. They have us and they have one another. That has to be enough for now.”
She knew Mary was warning her that the feeling of safety she was experiencing would go away the moment she left. She smiled. “Andor is here, Mary. As long as he’s here, I’ll be here. If he leaves, I go with him.” She wanted that clear. She wasn’t a shrinking violet. If he left the safety of the compound, for any reason, she would be at his side.
“Andor? Are you Andor’s lifemate?” Mary looked happy about it and sounded even more so. “He’s a good boy. They all are. I’m so gl
ad he found you. I wish the others would find their women. Some of them seem so close to the end.”
“I’m definitely Andor’s lifemate,” Lorraine said. It was the first time she’d actually said the words aloud. The first time she acknowledged to anyone else that their souls had been woven together into an unbreakable bond.
She glanced toward the playground and the woman just getting up from the bench and walking over to the swing set. “Who is that?” She couldn’t be Carpathian, not when she was out in the sun. Lorraine doubted if one of the hunters had claimed her, because, although she was wearing sunglasses, she was showing a lot of skin with her designer camisole. She looked sexy and elegant. She wasn’t certain an ancient would approve, but then again, she would never allow Andor to tell her what she could or couldn’t wear. “I’m not going to lie, she’s a little intimidating.”
“That’s Genevieve. She’s one of Charlotte’s oldest and dearest friends. She’s psychic, but hasn’t found her man yet. She’s independently wealthy, from France, and yet she stays here looking after the children during daylight hours. I’m quite thankful for her. The children are a handful for Donald and me. Genevieve watches them closely during the day. We take over evenings and nights when she gets tired.”
Amelia put her arm around Genevieve and leaned into her. Genevieve’s face lit up and she smiled at the girl, wrapping her arm around her waist. They laughed together, the sounds mixing so the notes rose into the air. Lorraine thought she could see musical notes and then they disappeared.
“I love when that happens,” Mary said.
“So, I’m not crazy,” Lorraine said. “There really were musical notes flying around in the air when they laughed.”
“You’re not crazy,” Mary assured. “I think that’s one of Genevieve’s gifts. Whenever she laughs with a child, or with anyone, you can see the notes in the air. It looks especially beautiful at night. Of course, she doesn’t always do it, but now, when all of us try to give the children something special, that’s been happening.”
“I love it. She’s really beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Yes, there’s no denying Genevieve is beautiful, but she’s also one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met. She’s no fighter like Blaze, Charlotte’s other friend. She’s more like Emeline, Dragomir’s lifemate. Sweet. Kind. Courageous, but you won’t find them on the front lines. Which are you?”
“I’m more a front lines kind of woman,” Lorraine admitted. “I’m anxious to meet Emeline. I’ve made up my mind to be with Andor, but I need information. I like to know everything before I make decisions. This one is happening very fast, and I’m on board with that, but it’s a little scary. I thought some of the women might help me out by answering questions.”
“They will,” Mary assured. “Everyone seems very willing to help one another. Are you pregnant?” She was blunt about it, eyeing Lorraine’s midsection speculatively.
“No. But I’d like to know if I were to get pregnant what happens to the baby while we’re asleep belowground. Are children with us or do they have to be aboveground with someone else?”
“Your man can answer that. I don’t honestly know,” Mary admitted.
Lorraine flashed her a smile and gave a small wave. She wanted to meet the children and the model. “Is she someone famous I should know?” She indicated Genevieve. “Maybe a supermodel? As you can see, I don’t know the first thing about fashion.” As a rule, she didn’t care, either, it was just that she needed friends, and the model seemed a good beginning.
Mary shook her head. “She’s very nice,” she assured again. “Run along and tell the children I’ll be out soon with cookies.” She glanced at the sky. “It will be sunset in another hour or so. They’ll be joining us soon after, one by one.” She waved again and went back inside, closing the door behind her.
Lorraine stared at the little boathouse, wondering how Mary and her husband came to be on Tariq Asenguard’s property. He was a celebrity of sorts with his elegant nightclubs. He was a handsome man and very wealthy. He went to black-tie charity affairs. In her wildest dreams, she would never have equated him with vampires. Even when she’d sat at the big round table, every time she’d looked at him, she’d thought it was absurd that he was there and that he was their leader.
He owned a tremendous amount of acreage. The houses on the property were worth a large fortune, but coupled with the land and the lake, she couldn’t imagine what it had all cost. She knew the other Carpathians were purchasing the land around Tariq’s. They were building a stronghold with Tariq’s property in the center. That way, they knew they had a defensible fortress that enemies couldn’t penetrate.
She’d learned that Carpathians were selfless. They didn’t think in terms of one having more than another. They shared everything. They helped one another. They put their lives on the line for one another. They considered themselves a family, all of them. She wanted that. She’d lost her family, and it made her all the more protective toward the new one being offered to her.
As she walked up the road toward the main house and the playground, one by one the occupants turned to face her. Danny caught the swing and brought it to a stop. Amelia did the same with Lourdes. They stood, partially in front of the two small children. Genevieve stepped between the children and Lorraine as she came closer. Lorraine noticed that the moment the Frenchwoman put herself in front of them, Danny moved just a little to one side, to ensure he could come to her aid. Lorraine liked him instantly for that.
“Hello,” she called, waving, before she got too close. She kept walking, making certain they could see she held nothing in her hands. Her vest and boots covered the fact that she had several weapons on her. “I’m Lorraine Peters. Did Tariq let you know I would be here?” She directed her question at Genevieve.
The should-be model nodded. “Yes. Ferro’s lifemate, right?” She smiled sweetly.
Lorraine shook her head. It was a good test. “Andor’s lifemate. Ferro is still without one and is extremely happy that I am not his.”
Genevieve’s smile was instantly genuine. “Of course, he would say that, when you’re probably very nice.”
“I fight vampires.”
“Aw. Of course. Ferro would disapprove.”
“He was very good to me, though. Mary Walton said to tell all of you that she will be along with freshly baked cookies quite shortly.”
“I’m Genevieve Marten.” The woman stepped closer, holding out her hand.
Lorraine took it, noting that up close, Genevieve was even more striking. “I’ve just got to say it, you could be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Genevieve laughed and shook her head. “Thank you, although you haven’t seen Emeline yet. She’s gorgeous.”
“You’re intimidating enough. Knowing someone else is that good-looking is just plain off-putting. I think I’ll take Andor and go while I’m ahead.”
Genevieve laughed again. “By now you know very well these men don’t see other women. Not a single one so much as glances at me. They’re all pretty hot, too, so it’s a tad disappointing and can make a girl lose faith in herself.”
Danny stepped forward, nudging Genevieve with his hip. “No worries, woman. I’ve got your back. If no one claims you by the time you’re fifty, I’ll step in and give up my freedom.” He heaved a tremendous sigh as if the mere thought was difficult for him.
Genevieve batted his shoulder with her hand. A very girlie move. Lorraine instantly wanted to teach her how to hit.
“Fifty. I have to wait until I’m fifty before you’ll step up?”
“Wouldn’t want to give up my freedom too early and settle with the old ball and chain,” Danny explained.
Amelia stepped around him and delivered a kick to his shin. He howled and leapt around holding one leg and glaring at his sister.
“What did you do that for?”
�
�Women are not balls and chains. You don’t even think that way, Danny, and now Lorraine is going to think you do.” Amelia switched her attention to her. “He really isn’t nearly as annoying as he sounds. He’s actually very nice. Most of the time.”
Bella slipped her hand into Danny’s. “He’s always nice,” she corrected.
Lourdes came up on his other side and took his hand. “Yeah, he is,” she said accusingly, looking at Lorraine as if she’d made the disparaging statement instead of Amelia.
“Not always,” Amelia clarified, but she clearly was bailing Lorraine out of trouble.
Lorraine crouched low so she was eye level with the two little girls. “Mary said she was bringing you cookies. What’s your favorite kind?”
“Sugar cookies,” both girls chimed at the same time and then looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“I’m Lorraine. Do you know Andor?” She waited until both girls nodded. “He’s my lifemate.”
“I’m Bella,” the little girl who was a bit taller stated.
“I’m Lourdes,” the smaller child said.
Amelia rubbed at the grass with the toe of her boot. “Tariq told me that you defended Andor when he was wounded by hitting a couple of assassins with a frying pan. Is that really true?”
“Wait. You knew about her and didn’t tell us?” Danny demanded.
Lorraine slowly stood up. All of them were looking at her as if she were a heroine out of a movie. She shook her head.
“You didn’t?” Amelia sounded disappointed.
“It was actually a saucepot. I was rinsing it off in a stream when I realized someone was attempting to kill somebody. I should have had my gun with me, but I had no idea anyone was around. So, my saucepot became my weapon of choice.”
Danny studied her face. “You went up against two men trying to kill a Carpathian armed only with kitchenware?”
Dark Sentinel Page 27
