My Familiar Stranger

by Victoria Danann

  Sol sat down at the end of the table. “I need to consult with Monq.”

  “Alright. Get him in here.” Elora sounded imperious.

  “I’d watch my tone if I were you, young lady.”

  Elora exploded out of the chair startling everyone in the room. “I don’t work for you, Mister Sovereign. And, unless you want to change that and make my employment official, what exactly is my motivation for watching my tone? What am I to fear? Incarceration?” The last word was scalding with sarcasm. “It’s simple. You need something from me. I need something from you. If such negotiating tactics work for a vampire, why not for me?”

  Sol appraised her with a hard glint in his eye and a tick in his jaw. Then he reached for his phone and dialed Monq. “Can you come to my office straightaway?” He said to the group in general, “Wait here,” and left the room.

  Ram and Storm were both a little stunned having never seen Elora on a rip. Being short on actual relationship experience, neither understood that every woman has a Medusa side.

  “No need to hold back,” Kay turned to Elora, evidently enjoying himself, “just come straight out and say how you feel.”

  “Look,” said Storm, “I know this place must feel confining.” Elora snorted. “And I agree it’s time to adjust your security clearance so you can move around more freely, but this audience with Baka thing… Ram is right.” He glanced toward Ram. “For once. You don’t just have tea with a vampire. They’re danger in the first degree, tricky, lethal, and evil -regardless of what the training manual says. And this is the oldest one we know of.”

  Elora was unmoved. “I’m not being dismissive. I’ve spent enough time with the manual and the annals to know that what you’re saying is true. But I’m not the girl next door.” Reconsidering that she turned to look at Ram. “Well, I am the girl next door to you.” Returning a resolute gaze to Storm she added, “I’m strong and fast.”

  “And way too cocky!” Storm interrupted.

  “Even if that was true, it’s not your call, Sir Storm.”

  In the middle of the argument, Storm found himself wondering when her accent had disappeared and when her speech patterns had become so informal, the cadence so contemporary. She was close to being able to pass as a native. He couldn’t decide whether he thought that was an improvement or not.

  “And you’re not worried about the fact that he specified ‘unbound’? If all he wants to do is talk, why would he care whether he’s bound or not?” Storm asked.

  “Good point,” Ram said nodding and pointing to Storm like he was Exhibit A.

  Kay said, “Putting that aside for now, there’s the issue of trance.” He looked around. “We had nearly a decade of training to resist it. It’s not something you can pick up in a weekend workshop. If you’re hypnotized, all the strength and speed in the world won’t help you.”

  “Not a problem. I’m not hypnotizable.” She looked at Ram. “Is that a word?” He just stared. She shrugged. “Ask Monq.”

  She looked at her fingernails nonchalantly. The three were exchanging one of their telepathic looks when Sol and Monq walked in.

  Kay dispensed with the pleasantries and pinned Monq, “Is it true she can’t be hypnotized?”

  “Yes. That is true. A very useful trait should she decide to proceed with the meeting.”

  Elora looked at Sol. “Did I mention that somebody needs to take care of my dog while I’m gone? Someone of my choosing.”

  Storm looked at Monq like he was a traitor. “You’re going along with this madness?”

  Monq turned toward Storm looking sympathetic because he wasn’t even trying to disguise his feelings for Elora. “Sir Storm, this is an ideal assignment for Ms. Laiken and, so far as security clearance goes, her profile scores indicate candidacy for top level duty.” He leaned toward Storm and whispered. “She outscored you!”

  Storm huffed in response. “Why not just bring him here?”

  “Baka has proven to be reliable to the letter of written agreement. Once a deal is made, he can be trusted to abide by it, but, he will not hesitate to take advantage of any contractual loophole no matter how minute.

  We brought him here to assess the developing situation before it gets away from us completely, but transporting him, and striking bargains with him, well, there’s always a slight chance that we didn’t write a flawless contract. The facility in Romania is without equal. Until we need him out, he stays in.”

  Quietly, Elora turned toward Sol, “So. Do we have a deal?”

  He looked her over and said, “Yes. If you take the vow of secrecy. And, by the way, since you work for me now, you will give me the deference I require.”

  “Yes sir,” she said seriously.

  “You need to go get your inoculation.”

  “What’s involved in that?”

  “You never had shots as a child?”

  “You mean with needles like they use in the infirmary?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Well, they administer tiny little doses of the vampire virus combined with an antidote and it instigates an immunity in your system.”

  “Okay.” Then she brightened and turned to the three members of B Team. “Road trip!” she said with the exuberance of a person who had spent many afternoons steeping in American “B” movie culture. “When do we leave? How long will we be gone and, most importantly, what do I wear?”

  If the prospect of Elora in a room alone with that thing wasn’t so horrifying, her excitement would be contagious. Storm regarded her for a moment and then coolly turned to Sol to play his trump card.

  “What if the three of us refuse to go?”

  “Then we’ll send one of the other teams.” Sol replied just as evenly and without hesitation.

  Storm tightened his lips, gripped the arms of his chair, and looked at Kay who simply shrugged, opened his hands in a gesture of helplessness, and shook his head. Looking utterly disgusted with the turn of events, Ram, who had been pacing, flopped into his chair like a surly teenager, forgetting that flopping doesn’t help broken ribs. He winced silently.

  Once everyone involved was resigned to the inevitable, they began making plans. First, The Operations Office arranged an identity complete with passport for Elora. Second, in Chamber, she formally gave the vow of secrecy to a triad of Sol, Monq, and the sitting government liaison with B Team as witnesses. She pledged never to reveal anything seen, heard, or learned about The Order for so long as she lived. Amen.

  Elora reported to the med center for her first inoculation in the series. The needle was bigger than she had imagined, but not as big as vamp fangs as Ram was quick to point out. She was kept for two hours for observation to confirm that there were no immediate side effects of a debilitating or pernicious nature. The first injection is apparently the best indicator of whether or not the subject will tolerate inoculation.

  After being cleared to leave, she spent the afternoon with Ram glued to her laptop at the combination dining desk, getting outfitted online for a trip far afield.

  It was heaven to be close enough to smell her natural jasmine scent and feel the radiance of her body heat. It was hell to be close to her and not reach out to wind that shiny hair around his fingers. Or bury his face in her neck. Or pull her close to find out if her body would mold to his the way he imagined it would. A thousand times an hour.

  As she concentrated on laptop shopping, he stared at the side of her breast. Sometimes he thought she suspected what he was thinking because he had the pleasure of watching her nipples tighten and bud through a silk shirt or a lightweight knit top. His hands were mere inches away from a caress. Once he literally put his hands between his thighs and the chair and sat on them because the compulsion to reach out and touch might override his will power.

  When Elora caught Ram staring at her with heavy lids, eyes darkened to navy blue and magnifying the reflection of any nearby light, it made her uncomfortable because she treasured the friendship and wanted nothin
g to interfere with it. And. It made her uncomfortable because it was titillating, a rush of excitement that ran the length of her body like a drug always beginning and ending in a little jerk of her clit.

  She didn’t have much experience with boys, but she wasn’t a virgin either. One of her cousins had brought a friend from prep, a cute son of a County, to a big event at the palace.

  While everyone’s attention was on the fireworks display, the two of them had sneaked off to sample kisses and touches. At least that was what she thought. Those kisses, those eye-opening kisses, warm and delightful, soon turned into a demand for more.

  She would like to say the story went that she didn’t want what happened next, but she couldn’t say that honestly. She’d been curious, eager for new experiences, and acutely aware that her life didn’t present a lot of opportunities for sexual experimentation. So she allowed him to lift the long, costume skirts and take her against a wall, behind an old stone column. The entire event took less than a minute, or seemed so, just enough time to lose her virginity painfully. Enough time to learn that boys could make revolting noises. Enough time to be left feeling thoroughly used without anything to show for it.

  He didn’t even bother to walk her back to her place in the hall. He just smirked and walked away. She knew he wouldn’t go back to school and brag about deflowering one of the royals or her cousin would kill him.

  As a species-old rite of passage she learned that flattering words, looks of longing, and inadvertent touches are often no more than skillfully applied means to an end. The humiliation that burned inside her caught fire and crystallized into resolve. What came from the ashes of anger and shame was a determination that she would never be used for rutting again. Ever.

  So, when she thought Ram was flirting with her, she pretended to be oblivious. If his knee brushed against hers, she simply chose to ignore the contact even when her body seemed to have its own ideas.

  Resisting him was easy when he was engaged in raucous laughter over some movie scene with over-the-top vulgarity or nasty bathroom humor that would make the vilest of boors regard him with disdain.

  Likewise, on occasions when she thought Storm might be expressing interest in her as a woman, she preferred to take that bit of presage and set it aside for examination at some later time. Storm was attentive to her, gentlemanly to a fault, and protective. That was clear. Certainly a girl could do a lot worse than be adored by a gorgeous man with exceptional intelligence, courage, and a heart that was good through and through.

  There was no doubt she owed Storm everything. He didn’t just save her life. Throughout recovery he’d been there every day, but it didn’t stop there. After she was physically well, he made every effort to support her and help her find her way in a world that was strange at best and desolately lonely at worst. If Storm wanted her, she didn’t know how she would be able to say no.

  “Elora?” She felt a light tap on her knee and blinked out of her reverie shaking herself internally. “Welcome back.” Ram’s lips curled up at the corners and his eyes sparkled with teasing. And affection.

  “Sorry,” she smiled in return. “Where were we?”

  They made certain to shop with merchants who could ship overnight in the true sense, not in the we’ll-ship-overnight-three-days-from-now sense. They bought luggage and clothes that would travel well and be temperature appropriate. That was the tricky part, traveling from New York to high in the Carpathian Mountains in mid October, they could encounter a seventy degree difference. The remote Carpathians were at a high enough altitude that even snowfall was possible.

  Ram explained the dress-for-warmth technology of their world which was functional, comfortable and fashionable in fabrics that absorbed color with the deep intensity of silk. What more could a girl want?

  They had developed light weight layers with temperature ratings such as warms to forty, twenty, ten, zero degrees and so on. One of the best features was that synthetic fur looked and felt exactly like the real thing while being extremely light weight.

  By the time they were done they had everything from lightweight sleeveless silk knits to cashmere socks.

  Last, but not least, Elora wanted to prepare for her meeting with Istvan Baka by learning what she could about him.

  “I’m no’ exactly the end all authority, but I’ve heard he sits in a plush accommodation writin’ vampire romance novels under a nom de plume. And that they’re best sellers.”

  Elora blinked at Ram while waiting for the punch line. When seconds ticked by without so much as a twitch of his beautiful mouth, she ventured, “You are joking, right?”

  Nodding he said, “I can see why you would think so. It does sound fanciful and farfetched.” He shrugged his shoulders, stood up, and raised his arms in a stretch that made the six pack ripple in a fascinating pattern that could be glimpsed under the thin cotton tee. She couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it. “Probably just a rumor,” he yawned.

  Following her gaze to his torso, and clearly pleased that she was looking, he got a fresh infusion of energy. “Hey! Caught you checkin’ out the machine. Look at this.” Grinning, Ram pulled his knit shirt up to his neck and proceeded to make his stomach muscles dance in and out, side to side, like a belly dancer.

  She had to admit it was an amazing performance. Cirque du Soleil offered nothing more captivating. She gaped partly because of the spectacle and partly because she couldn’t believe they had actually knighted someone so common and vulgar.

  With considerable effort she finally pulled her eyes away so that she could register disapproval with a resounding, “Ughhhh!”

  She stood and closed the laptop with a resolute click. “Does it even cross your mind that this is not appropriate behavior? You could use a few months of finishing school, you know that? On second thought, make that years.”

  “Finishin’ school?” he spluttered taking his turn at gaping. “Now that is a joke!”

  “No it’s not a joke! Blackie has better manners than you do, elf.”

  Inexplicably Ram felt offended even knowing that was ridiculous considering how often he had mocked the conventions of "manners" and gone out of his way to rebel against them.

  “Really? That bein’ the case, in your book it would be better manners for me to fall on my back with big, naked balls rollin’ from side to side, tongue hangin' out, askin’ for a nice, tummy rub? 'Cause I can manage that. Right here and now.” He pointed at a spot on the floor next to her feet. “Is this good for you?”

  “And besides,” she continued, ignoring his rant, “doesn’t that,” she pointed at his stomach, “hurt your injury?” Suddenly she did a double take and narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “Or have you been faking this whole time to get attention?”

  His eyes widened at the same time his mouth fell open even further. The term ‘brain freeze’ took on a whole new meaning. It was too much. The very person who did the damage claiming he was faking! Still trying to form a response, he caught the light in her eye half a second before her mouth twitched.

  “Got cha.”

  He relaxed, giving her wicked smile a once-over with an entirely new appreciation. “Seems I’ve taught you well.”

  Elora chuffed and gave a throaty laugh he hadn’t heard before as she reveled in his admiration.

  It made him want to press his face into her chest and ask her to do it again so he could absorb the vibration while he nuzzled the locket out of the way.

  He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to last at this outrageous business of flirting without touching. Everything about this experience was foreign for him. He’d never had to work at seduction. Women often pressed breasts into his body and shoved panties into his hand just because he had glanced in a direction where they were in his line of sight. Elora’s indifference was making him crazed and enthralling him at the same time.

  It occurred to him that it had been over six weeks since he’d last been laid. Certainly that was the first since he’d r
eached puberty. Even stranger was the realization that he had no desire to bed anyone else. It seemed the whole thing about elf mating was true. He wanted Elora. Just Elora. And he wanted her now.

  When Blackie heard the laptop close, he stuck his head out from under the table looking hopeful that it might be time to go out for a run. Elora reached out to rub between his ears and the dog automatically leaned into her leg.

  Sanction agreed to take care of Blackie while Elora was away. The dog never failed to give Sanction a canine equivalent of a grin and that was a good enough character reference for her. She supposed ‘Sanction’ was a nickname, but didn’t think it would be polite to ask. In case it wasn’t.

  She fastened Blackie’s leash and took him with her to hunt down Monq and find out the best way to go about researching Istvan Baka.

  Monq confirmed that, indeed, Baka was the successful author of a very popular series of vampire romance novels.

  “…however unlikely that might seem. I believe he writes as Valerie de Stygian.”

  “Stygian? As in the River Styx?”

  “I see my counterpart gave you a decent education in classical studies.” Monq looked at her above the rims of his glasses. “I suspect Baka didn’t think many of his readers would catch the tongue-in-cheek reference, but, at the same time, hoped they would.”

  "A vampire who is a complicated personality?"

  Monq summarized what he knew about Baka’s history before his capture and gave her the records of his involvement with The Order since.

  “Your friends from Bad Company are worried and not entirely without justification.”

  Elora made a scoffing noise in response.

  “There’s nothing wrong with feeling competent, Ms. Laiken, but you are treading very close to the edge of disrespecting your associates. They don’t make a habit of hand wringing, you know. They’re experienced vampire killers who know all too well what you will be facing whereas you do not. You must not get overly confident in your abilities. Even you need to be careful around a vampire as old and strong as Baka.”