To her relief, a heavy lock was thrown on the door. The iron soundlessly swung open on its hinges. Jaden paused, swallowing, not knowing what she should expect. But, whatever she anticipated seeing, she couldn’t have been more wrong.
The prison led out into a stone cavern filled with the natural carvings of rock formations. She had been right. They were under the earth in the belly of a cave. But it wasn’t just a cave. It was a home, too. His home.
Jaden shook. She panted, trying to force her legs to move. Her mind sung with freedom, only to be frightened in the face of it. Closing her eyes for a split second, she forced herself to move, not knowing what horrors she could possibly find in a vampire’s lair.
Jaden slowly took a step forward, terrified of looking too closely at the surreal ambiance of her surrounding. The room was amazedly clean, no spider webs hung from the ceiling, no dust gathered on the walls and furniture. For a vampire’s lair it was astonishingly well attended. Thick red rugs lined the smoothed floors. The stone had been worked flat by endless pacing until it was as fine as any marble. At first she didn’t detect Tyr watching her carefully. She moved past him, her eyes twitching in one fascinated direction, her head urging her in another.
Anchored into the ceiling hung a bed. Instead of wooden posters there was thin red gauze clinging around chains as they led up, hiding them from view. The gauze swept over the top stone forming a roof of sorts over the mattress. On the bed was a silken coverlet of the deepest red edged and decorated with embroidered gold. The craftsmanship of it was fine, sewn by hand. Matching pillows scattered the top.
Jaden had to turn her eyes away in embarrassment as she thought of Tyr’s large body encompassing the span of the mattress. It was a mistake. Her vision took her right to the object of her fantasies. Tyr raised a brow in expectation. He was handsome, dressed all in unforgiving black. His hand lifted with the silent, consuming ease of shadows creeping over the earth.
Jaden shivered, feeling as if he could read the wicked thoughts that swam in her head. She tried to deny her body, but seeing his cool eyes the fire he ignited in her swept over her once more. All anger disappeared, replaced by passion. She resisted the urge to go to him, knowing he must have surely put it in her. When she spoke the words were quiet.
"Where is your coffin?"
"I have no need of one here," was his swift, low response.
Jaden was sorry she asked. It would have been better for her self control to imagine him in a rough pine box. Then a sudden insight hit her. We must be under a crypt, which means we are in a city.
"Go ahead," Tyr urged her quietly from behind. His words carried the soft essence of a babbling brook with the hard finality of fire--tender, yet dominating. "Explore. For as long as you are here, my home is your home. But, try and escape, and my home will become your prison."
Jaden glanced at him, seeing the handsomeness of his youthful face, the steadfastness of his firm mouth. The black of his turtleneck sweater and pants contrasted his pale beauty in a most dangerous and delectable fashion. She waited for him to hunch over, his body conforming as he stalked her, attacking like the wild beast she could feel churning beneath his surface. He held flawlessly still.
Seeing the tip of his lip threaten to twitch at her staring, she turned her attention back to the bed. It was the last place she wanted to look. It brought forth images that she tried hard to banish in her dreams. Pride kept her from darting away. She forced herself to resume inspection.
At the end of the bed was a trunk, very large and old in design. Next to the bed a thin table fitted along the wall, its top barren, a single high-back chair pushed up against it. Candles sprinkled in sconces and on surfaces adding a soft glowing light that was very ambient of his whole seductive theme. To her side, close to the prison door, was a wide cushioned chair carved in a style of a throne, but done in such a way that she was sure she had never seen the like of before. Through the dimness of the corner, she detected an unlit fireplace, its stone mantle carved into the wall.
From the bedroom, there was only one escape. Seeing through the soft flickering of firelight, Jaden’s feet skirted past the end of the bed, following the carpeted corner of the rug. As she turned the corner, she was forced to take a step down. Jaden gasped. She could feel Tyr moving behind her, studying her carefully for her reaction. But she had little time to wonder why he should care what she thought.
For a man, even an undead one, the home was tastefully done. Jaden was surprised at the continuity of style. The cave was set up like a studio apartment, only there was no kitchen or bathroom, just one long chamber that functioned as a living room.
The oval room fell forward like the hall of a small museum. Couches and chairs were impressed into the stone along the sides, cushions fitted perfectly to the carved inlets in black with red and gold pillows artfully arranged. On the far side, the floor was carpeted completely. The space was left wide and open. Jaden decided it would be the perfect sparring corner. In the far wall she detected a wooden door with large iron hinges.
A stone-based couch was set down into the floor before a fireplace that burned hot. The crackling of wood was distinct now that she was before it. One would have to walk down a slight incline to reach the comfortable nook.
She could feel heat pouring over the room in perfect temperature. Hanging from the tallest crevice in the center of the room was a cast iron chandelier with melted candlesticks waiting dormant. Matching candle sconces were set into the walls, the candles unlit.
But Jaden’s greatest discovery was the hollowed out spaces along the wall, encasing ancient to not so old artifacts. Where she expected to see only weaponry and torture devices she found paintings and old nobleman clothes. The groupings passed over the walls like a testament of the eras of human growth--and failings. Odd knickknacks found their respective places amidst their brethren. Swords hung next to their respected inlets, the metal gleaming and well kept. A gem encrusted jewelry box settled next to a plain locket resting alongside a metal crown. A silver handled cane rested next to a snuff box and top hat. A rifle met with a leather satchel and silver timepiece. An expensive pistol, available at any American pawn shop, nestled next to a box of ammo. The items were as endless as time itself.
Tyr watched Jaden’s expression cautiously. She was the first mortal he’d had in his home. It was strange, watching her eyes, waiting anxiously for her opinion of it. When it came, he felt a little part of him release a nervous hold.
"It’s beautiful."
The words were a softened whisper, admitted with reluctance and awe. Tyr nodded his thanks. She didn’t see it. Her eyes discovered the oldest collection, the collection from his human past. Following her gaze, the items seemed like a once loved but now worn and forgotten dream.
Jaden slowly made her way forward over the slight incline. Stepping next to the fireplace, she stopped by a lonely inlet. Most predominately displayed was the cross shaped handle of a broadsword. The blade was straight, perfectly even and looked sharp to this day. Jaden leaned forward seeing an old inscription weathered across the tang. Her fingers itched to touch it, to test the mighty weight. A round wood shield rested on the ground, its edges a bit chipped and worn. Next to the sword was a trunk. The edges once tattered were now smoothed and disfigured by time. She reached down to lift the lid and hesitated. Her fingers trembled, afraid to touch it lest it turn to dust.
"Go ahead," Tyr whispered from behind. "It is only clothing and a suit of armor."
Jaden refrained, even with his offer. It didn’t seem right disturbing the relics, as if her touch could undue the last centuries and alter time. On its shelf were some crude grooming instruments, bronze artifacts, an amber decorated brooch, a once brightly colored tunic shirt and some leather shoes starting to stiffen and corrode.
Jaden closed her eyes, not turning away. Her breath came in hard gasps. Guilt, thick and choking, surfaced within her. Her nose stung with the need to cry out. She only now realized the true impact of a vampir
e’s life and the length in which Tyr had lived. He had seen so much of life, but even more of death. He had seen countless eras come and go and still he braved forward, forever alone. And here she was ready to give up after a few lousy years. She was a coward.
"Why do you keep these?" she asked hoarsely. She already could guess at his answer. Only a sentimental being would care about such everyday things--things used and discarded by the humans of their respective eras without thought, yet kept and preserved by an immortal who never forgot them. An immortal who loved and cared for them, dusting them off for an eternity, keeping their dead spirits as alive as he--stuck in their immortal tomb never to find the rest everything must eventually seek. Time had no meaning in this cavern of infinite age.
Tyr studied her from behind with the silence of a walking ghost. He saw her shoulders tremble, felt the agony of her grief flowing from her. Her anger slipped, her animosity fleeing with it. Carefully moving forward he hesitated before touching her shoulder.
"It is all the memories I have of the passing time," he answered in a low murmur, surprised that the admission came out. It rested between them, spoken as an answer to her unasked questions.
Jaden stiffened beneath his hand but didn’t pull away. She lacked the strength to fight him. She took a deep breath and then another. She couldn’t face him. She couldn’t face herself. She wanted the floor to open and swallow her up.
When she didn’t move, Tyr became alarmed. The feelings stirring from her were not her usual strength and defiance. He forced her around, her body too weakened to protest.
"What?" he urged softly. His eyes ran over her body. "Are you ill?"
The words were a whisper, one she heard but couldn’t fathom. So instead of answering, she asked, "Can I have a bath?"
When Tyr hesitated Jaden glanced at his face. It was as pale as she remembered. But the unnatural blue of his eyes was not so cold and unfeeling. They bid her to go to him, to draw comfort from his arms, to lay her head to his chest and confess everything as a small child would to a loving parent.
Jaden drew strength from within, turning her eyes purposefully hard against him. She couldn’t tell if it was his power pulling the emotion from her or her own treacherous heart seeking comfort where there could be only a lonely void. Either way, it wasn’t in her best interest to indulge. Tyr wanted information from her and would stop at nothing to get it, had kidnapped her to discover what she knew.
She’d be damned before she would incriminate herself or Mack. No matter what Mack was guilty of, she would be the judge of it. She wouldn’t turn her only family over to the hands of a professional killer. Faulted or not, Mack was her kin and she loved him as much as she could love anyone. And if not for love, then for loyalty she would act.
Tyr detected the change in her. It came like a sheet of ice announcing a blizzard. His hand dropped away in regret. His offer of comfort had been pure. He wanted to help her, to find her innocent. He wanted it desperately and not so much for her but for himself. He wanted everything he had learned about her to be wrong. But she wasn’t helping him and he was too proud to force her before duty demanded it.
With a gruff nod of his head, he turned, spurned by her rejection. The fast gait of his stride took him from her with supernatural speed until she was left alone in his living room. Jaden glanced around. Her eyes fell on the wooden door. She tensed, ready to run for freedom. His words in her head stopped her.
Don’t even try it, dhampir, he warned. His tone echoed callously in her head with inflexible authority. You’ll get lost in the maze of the black caves and I’ll be forced to put you back within the cell.
Jaden gulped, the artificial strength draining quickly from her limbs. Her body surged with a numbing fear. She couldn’t go back in the small prison, not yet. Besides, at the moment she could think of nowhere to go. Turning back to the sword, she moved to touch it. Her fingers hesitated, shook and fell away before ever knowing the cold steel of the ancient blade.
* * * *
Steam curled and danced in ethereal patterns up from the portable metal tub to create a soft mist of clouds. They pulled together like the upper reaches of the heavens before dissipating altogether. The mist reflected the softened glow of firelight as it blazed from the bedroom fireplace. Lifting her arm, Jaden watched as the pale cast took over her wet skin and golden rivers of bathwater trailed and beaded on her flesh.
She sighed in momentary contentment and let the heated water warm her blood. It had taken an eternity for Tyr to prepare it, hauling water in buckets to the tub from where they heated on a hook in the living room fireplace. She didn’t know where the water came from, only that he hauled it in from behind the mysterious brown door.
Guiltily, she almost offered to help him. But pride and the annoying truth that she was there by force kept her from speaking. Instead, she wandered patiently about his living room, watching and waiting for him to finish. By the time he was done she had fashioned herself a medieval princess--a princess locked in the tower guarded by a terrible dragon, but a princess nonetheless.
Tyr left her alone in his bedroom to bathe. He hadn’t spoken to her as he worked, only motioning when he was finished. For a brief instant his cold blue eyes had found her. Jaden imagined she found loathing there.
Next to the bath, on his bed, he left folded linen for drying. The thin material was a far cry from a thick terry cloth towel, but she decided it was a small price to pay for getting clean.
Jaden had literally peeled her clothing from her itching skin, surprised when her shirt didn’t crawl away on its own. Her first task had been to wash her hair with a shampoo and conditioner he set out for her. They didn’t have any particularly distinct scent to them, but they were clean and that was all that mattered.
Next, she managed to shave with an old straight razor he’d procured. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that was very badly needed. She couldn’t even fathom from which decade on the wall he had procured it.
Jaden let the water soak into her skin as she relaxed her tense neck against the edge of the tub. Languidly, she pushed her knees up in the water, letting them bob from beneath the surface as she lowered her shoulders. She could feel the grime soaking from her body. Reaching over the rim, she grabbed a bar of soap. As she worked up lather, she recognized the faint odor of it. It smelled like Tyr.
Unbidden, her hands drew themselves before her nose. She breathed deeply the earthy smell of him. It was strange that he would bathe. Most vampires got out of the habit. The clean potency of the soap encased her senses, making her body shake with longing. The bar slipped from her hands, landing with a splash between her legs. The noise brought her up short. Never had a smell evoked such a compelling reaction inside her stomach. For all that Jaden could remember, never had a man evoked such feelings of lust and power beneath her skin.
"I must be going insane," she fumed in a heated whisper. The sound of crackling wood grew in the silence. Scornfully, she scrubbed her skin raw, refusing to breathe through her nose lest her senses be tempted. Rising, she worked vigorously on her thighs. "It’s this damned place, made to make you forget reality. No wonder my senses are going crazy."
"You’re finished then?"
Jaden froze, spinning around in horror.
"I apologize," Tyr said quickly. He wasn’t quick to turn his back as his eyes roamed over her soapy skin. His blood slowed, filling into his lower extremities. Small scars from many battles lightly puckered her flesh, though they couldn’t even begin to mar her beauty. Her flesh was the color of cream with a hint of pink roses. The orange firelight silhouetted her slender form, shadowing her face. But Tyr didn’t need the aid of light to mark all of her features, every subtle nuance of her form. He could see her perfectly in the shadows--her parted lips, her pert breasts, her moist thighs.
His vision took in the wet strands of her washed hair sticking in wild trails to her shoulders, curling just above her collarbone. His eyes followed her hair’s direction, sliding easily do
wn the texture of her breasts, large enough to fill his palm but not impedingly so. Suds adhered to her nipples, teasing him as they clung to the puckered tips. Rivets of water trailed in the valley beneath her neck, dragging down in slow motion over the flatness of her finely toned stomach, pooling into her shallow navel, entangling into the short hair of her soapy womanhood. Easily, he saw the breadth of air between her shaved thighs, thighs that were parted naturally as she stood. There was just enough space for him to slip a finger into the lathered folds.
Tyr’s hands tensed. Jaden proudly straightened to her full height. She could see his eyes penetrating her hips. The ice blue encompassed her with uncivilized enthusiasm. His lips parted and he worked his jaw with the savagery of a devilish fiend intent on taking what he wanted, as if his lips might sample her true woman’s essence. Jaden’s chin lifted into the air. If he was tying to make her nervous, she wouldn’t succumb to it. She mustn’t give in … she wouldn’t give in … give in....
Tyr knew that if he wanted, he could move forward faster than her eyes could catch. He could claim her for his own, without giving her time to think or protest. He smelled her readiness as assuredly as an untamed beast senses estrus in his female mate. It called to him--she called to him with everything but her words. Her lips begged to be kissed--her body beseeched him to release it from the primitive longing she tried to deny.
Nevertheless he wouldn’t bend her to his will in such a way. When he took a woman to his bed, both before and after his dark rebirth, it was with her willing consent. Not like the others of his village when they went out on scouting parties to defeat the Saxons. Conquering the women, after burning their villages, had been a way of warfare. Tyr had claimed his fair share of feminine plunder, but by the time he bedded them the women were most ready partners.
He shook off the distant memory of the past, letting it slip as he focused on the woman in front of him. She reminded him of the strong women of his human time--women who knew how to fight and to defend themselves, queens who knew how to conquer a nation beside the throne of a king--women who weren’t afraid of passion in his arms once it had been learned. Not like the women of modern era. They were weak, pampered, spoiled, and greedy. They didn’t know the meaning of turmoil or hard work. They wanted everything handed to them. And the men were just as bad.
The Jaded Hunter Page 13
