The Necromancer's Dance (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book 1)

by SJ Himes

  “You are not as I expected,” Batiste said, drinking from his goblet. Not a drop of crimson to be seen on his lips, and Angel was watching with morbid curiosity. “Most humans dare not speak to me at all, let alone dare ask me about my feeding habits. Beautiful and daring, and quite powerful. Is your heart set on Simeon, Angelus, or can I sway you to my side? An Elder is truly powerful, but none are more powerful than a city master. To have a Master as your lover would keep your enemies forever at bay. I might even be able to help you find revenge on the few that escaped mortal justice.”

  Angel leaned back in his chair, hands crossed over his stomach. He put a leg out under the table and rested the toe of his boot on Simeon’s foot. He got Simeon to send a glance his way for a nanosecond before the Elder went back to his impression of an undead statue. For some reason, Simeon was remaining out of this, and for a powerful Elder to be so cautious made Angel both infuriated and curious.

  “We’ve only just met, and you’re trying to get in my bed? You move fast for an old guy.”

  Batiste smiled, showing a sharp fang and his blue eyes flashing. “When I see what I want, I get it.”

  “So you want me.”

  “Oh, yes. Very much.”

  “I’ll ask you exactly what I asked Simeon. Why now, after two years? I’m beyond certain you’ve had every step I’ve made in the last two years watched, so you’ve had plenty of time to come calling if you were all that interested. And I know you could have just as easily told Simeon to stay away from me, which means you know he’s been courting me. What now? Did my choice to have sex with Simeon prove my supposed aversion to vampires was an assumption, and now you think the way is clear? Simeon’s done all the work after all, and like you said, a Master is better than an Elder any day.”

  Angel was so mad a puff of smoke rose from his fingers, and he fought back the urge to let his hellfire out. A singed brow may make Batiste back off, but he had doubts he could kill the Master before he got to Angel.

  Elder Etienne hissed, and flowed across the room, coming to stand right behind where Angel sat. Angel didn’t react at all—he was not showing fear in here.

  “My Elder objects to your tone, necromancer. Are you brave, or foolish?”

  “Both, without a doubt. I’m full of flaws.”

  “Maybe less than you think.” Batiste finally stopped staring at Angel, and sent his regard to Simeon. “My oldest child loves you. He calls you Leannán, in old Irish. Has he told you what that means?”

  “No, but I’m guessing it’s important.”

  “Yes, very. But as he hasn’t explained, the way is clear for me.” Batiste stood, and walked around the table, edging Etienne out of the way and coming to stand right behind his chair. Simeon was watching now, green eyes locked on Angel’s face. Heavy hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers curling in slightly, holding him in place. Angel let his own arms relax, his hands falling from his stomach to rest by his hips.

  Angel now had a strong suspicion why Etienne came back with Simeon for Angel—they were planning this fucking sexual ambush from the start. And Simeon couldn’t stop it. The Simeon he knew wouldn’t let Angel be harassed like this unless he had no choice—and that meant there was a hidden motive to this all. Simeon wouldn’t let his life be in danger, he knew that much, but maybe if he interfered Angel would be in danger then? Something was happening here that Angel couldn’t understand, and not knowing what was going on pissed him off even more.

  The hilt of his athame was not that far from his left hand, and if he needed to, he could grab it. Maybe not before he lost his head, but he could try. Whatever kept Simeon from interfering was not going to keep Angel from protecting himself.

  Batiste leaned down, mouth by Angel’s right ear. Again he got the scent of apples and spice, and he fought back his enjoyment of the scent. Charisma and sheer power rolled off the ancient vamp, and Angel gave the tiniest of shivers, Batiste’s hands tightening when he felt it. Angel held Simeon’s gaze and tried to keep his anger and increasing fear off his face.

  “Surely a city master holds more appeal than a single Elder. You’ve tasted the passion found beneath a vampire’s touch. Imagine how mine would feel. I could satisfy you, pleasure you, protect you and treasure you for the entirety of your life. No enemies could get to you while you enjoy the protection of my embrace.” Each word from Batiste’s lips tickled along his ear and neck, and Angel’s whole body tingled with instinctive fear and the need to run.

  Angel fought to control himself, to stay as relaxed as possible so as not to give himself away to the monster leaning over him.

  “And what would you get out of it? You make no mention of love.”

  “I would get you, Angelus. Power and beauty, strength and danger in one gorgeous body. And love. Love is for mortals, humans who have nothing. What need have I for love when I have eternity? And I know you, Angelus. Never have you kept a lover, nor something so insipid as a boyfriend. You satisfy an itch, then move on, still listless and discontent. Let me satisfy you. I know you have not mentioned love to Simeon, so surely my bed holds more appeal. Let me send them away, and I can show you passion you’ve never known.”

  Angel kept his eyes on Simeon. He saw something in the emerald depths that spoke of worry, and a shadow of fear. Etienne moved closer, as Batiste scented at Angel’s neck. He felt a tiny hint of fangs gliding over his skin. Things were about to get dangerous. Maybe a city master had the ability to survive magic poisoning, and Angel was about to join the menu.

  Somehow the thought of sleeping with the golden Adonis wasn’t at all that appealing. Simeon was wild, an untamed creature masquerading as a gentleman, and the touch of feral strength in the Elder called to Angel. Wild he may be, but Simeon was also kind, patient, funny, and sometimes so sarcastic he made Angel wince—but he spoke of love with honesty and without fear. And Angel trusted him. Yet it was there in Simeon’s eyes—Batiste was right, Angel had never mentioned love, or even how he felt to Simeon, and that worried Simeon, gave him doubt. Angel had said nothing, other than a mangled yes to an urgent plea, and given his lover no firm foundation on which to stand.

  Angel sighed. He was such an ass.

  “You’re right, I haven’t told Simeon I love him,” Angel said, Batiste giving a growl of satisfaction in his ear. Angel slid his left hand back and under his sweater, and pulled the athame free, holding it out of sight. Batiste was nuzzling at his neck, right under his right ear, no doubt able to see Simeon’s love bites. A hand slid down from his shoulder, over his chest, now getting way too close to his abdomen and below. Batiste was going for gold immediately, thinking Angel a sure bet. “I may not have told him I love him because I’ve never been in love before. Saying it before I’m sure I mean it would be as wretched as never saying it at all.”

  “Will you be mine then?” Batiste whispered against his flesh, making Angel tip his head to the side. Batiste’s wandering hand stopped just shy of his waistband, fingers rubbing over his stomach, before slipping lower. The ancient vampire’s fingers slid under his jeans, homing in on his groin. Angel shivered with repulsion, and bared his own teeth in a snarl.

  “No.” Angel pulled the athame up, faster than he should have been able to, but then a man, no matter the species, tended to get distracted when thinking with his cock. Angel pressed the tip to the bottom of Batiste’s chin, calling his hellfire to the blade. It erupted in green flames, and Batiste froze. His cool hand was centimeters from grabbing Angel’s cock, and Angel wanted nothing more than to light the undead fiend up like a torch. Etienne snarled, and made to leap at him, but Simeon thawed and jumped over the table, shoving Etienne into the window and holding him with one hand to the glass by the throat. Simeon looked back at him, worry now obvious on his handsome features. “Get your fucking hands off of me.”

  Batiste obeyed instantly, pulling his hand out of Angel’s pants and holding both hands out to the side.

  “I may not know if I love him,” Angel gritted out, pushing
with the blade, breaking skin. He made Batiste stand up, and Angel moved, the burning blade spitting and hissing like a cat as Angel maneuvered them so he could see both master and the two elders. Angel glared at Batiste, and raised his right hand, calling hellfire to dance around his fingers. Etienne hissed again, but Simeon choked him, silencing him. Batiste was smiling, even as blood dripped down the blade and began to burn, filling the air with a bitter odor. “I may not know if I love Simeon, but I want to. I want to love him with everything that remains of my broken heart. I agreed to be his. I am his, and I always will be. Now back the fuck off, or I show you just how nasty things get when I’m upset.”

  Batiste laughed. Angel had him at blade-point, and the bastard laughed. It snapped and coiled around the room, echoing oddly. Angel tensed, ready to fight, but all Batiste did was raise his hands, palm out and said, “Peace, necromancer. You have proven Simeon’s claim upon your heart and affections. You may relax, and I will trouble you no more on the subject of switching lovers.”

  “Was this a fucking test? I have a knife to your throat and that’s okay because you didn’t mean it?” Angel hissed out, enraged. Simeon made a noise, halfway between a sigh and a strangled laugh. “You put your mouth on me, your hands on me, without invitation, and it’s all okay because this was just a test? Fuck you!”

  “Leannán,” Simeon spoke for the first time since they sat down, his voice a sexy rumble that cut through Angel’s anger better than yelling ever could, “All will be well now. You have made yourself very clear, and my master will apologize for his transgressions. Will you not, Master Batiste?”

  “I sincerely apologize for doubting your devotion to my treasured Elder, and my methods for testing you. Please forgive me.”

  Batiste still had that cocky grin on his lips, but Angel was done fucking around. He didn’t believe a damn word, but this standoff couldn’t last forever. “Touch me again without invitation, even with something so innocent as a handshake, I’ll burn you to ash without hesitation, and I could give two shits about your Master of the City title.”

  “Understood, necromancer,” Batiste replied with a purr, smiling.

  “Do you know who Deimos is?” Angel asked, intensifying the hellfire for a heartbeat.

  “I do not.”

  It irked him to no end, but he believed Batiste.

  Angel killed the hellfire, and dropped the athame from the vamp’s throat, stepping away from Batiste at the same time. Simeon dropped Etienne on his ass and blurred as he came to Angel’s side, taking him in his arms and burying his face in Angel’s neck, breathing in deep. Simeon was shaking, and Angel stilled, battling back his anger. Simeon was deeply upset, more so than he’d ever seen the vampire before. Angel tucked the athame back into his belt, and hugged Simeon back, lifting up on his toes to get a better hold around Simeon’s neck.

  Angel glared at Batiste over Simeon, the ancient vampire merely grinned back at him and dabbed at the cut on his chin with a snowy white handkerchief. Etienne hovered over his master, but Batiste ignored him, returning to his seat at the table and sitting down.

  “Hey,” Angel murmured, rubbing the back of Simeon’s neck. “You doing okay there?”

  Simeon lifted his head, and smiled down at Angel. “You wish to love me?”

  “Yes,” Angel said quickly, disregarding their audience, not that Batiste was paying them any attention now. “I may love you already, but that’s outside my experience so how about I get back to you on that?”

  Simeon chuckled, and kissed him. Angel closed his eyes and leaned into Simeon, humming as Simeon delved deep, exploring Angel’s mouth and taking his time. Simeon broke the kiss, and said, “I will show you my love until you recognize your own, and you can tell me with surety that you love me.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Angel replied. “But maybe you can tell me what Leannán means?”

  “This ought to be interesting,” Batiste said dryly, chuckling.

  “How about you tell me when we aren’t surrounded by assholes,” Angel said, and he flipped off the Master. Etienne twitched and Angel flipped him off as well. Batiste smirked. A thousand-year-old vampire smirked at him.

  “Come sit, my love, and finish your meal,” Simeon said and tugged him back to the table. He wanted out of here, but until he knew for certain that Deimos wasn’t in the Tower and that the police weren’t going to arrest him, he was going to have to stay here in vamp HQ for now.

  “Not so hungry anymore,” Angel said, and his thoughts got derailed when Simeon pulled out Angel’s chair, sat in it himself, and then tugged Angel to sit in his lap. “We have too many people watching to be playing at Santa and his Naughty Elf.”

  Simeon snorted out a laugh, but tucked Angel close to his chest and held him there. Angel sighed with exasperation, but let Simeon have his way. The expression on Simeon’s face was pure satisfaction, and the smug twist to his lush lips made Angel growl, and nip at them. Simeon gave him a delighted glance, and kissed him in return, taking his time, as much staking his claim as pleasing them both.

  A dark chuckle came from across the table, but Angel ignored it, taking his time with the kiss. He was discovering that after years of avoiding intimacy that he was severely starving himself of some really great sensations, chief of which was how it felt to be held and adored. He’d never realized that he wanted such a thing, but he was beginning to love it, and it was in this undead man’s arms. Simeon gently nipped his lower lip as they broke apart, and Angel sighed, his residual anger seeping out of him. He was never going to trust the Master, but he wasn’t homicidally angry anymore.

  Angel put an arm around Simeon’s neck, adjusting himself on his lover’s lap. He spared Etienne a glance, and the chilly expression on the other Elder’s face told him he would have to be cautious there. Batiste was smiling as if he hadn’t just had a knife to his throat and his hands down Angel’s pants. “Explain what the fuck that was. Now.”

  Batiste threw back his head and laughed. “You are the bluntest creature I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. You charge in, be damned the consequences, and you set the world aflame. No wonder my oldest child loves you so,” Batiste waved a hand, and servants appeared again, clearing the table and depositing a thick leather portfolio on the table in front of the Master. “Tell me, necromancer, what do you know of mating rituals among supernaturals?”

  Angel looked at Simeon, “You said we weren’t magically mated, dammit!”

  “And we are not, Leannán. I promise, all you swore to me was to be mine, but you can always take it back. I hope you will never want to, but you and I are not bound,” Simeon vowed to him, cupping his chin in one cool, big hand, smoothing a thumb over his bottom lip. “I would never trap you like that, I swear.”

  Angel humphed, but relaxed again, glaring now at Batiste. “Quit fucking around.”

  “So fiery. A shame I could not turn your head,” Batiste mused, but he went from annoying to business-like in a nanosecond, opening the portfolio. “I merely asked as I wish for you to understand how momentous an occasion this is for my darling Simeon. We vampires are capable of romantic love, just as we were when mortal. The exception is the means by which it happens.”

  “Master, don’t. Let me explain it to him,” Simeon interrupted. Angel looked back to him, frustrated and getting annoyed, again. Simeon held him closer, cradling him, and Angel was even more annoyed he liked it.

  “Someone explain. How the fuck is this hard?” Angel frowned, glaring. Simeon rubbed a hand over his back, soothing.

  “My master means to tell you that while we can love, once we turn, we can only ever fall in love once to such a degree that we call another mate. My heritage calls such a one Leannán. I can love friends, my sire, my fellow fledglings, even donors, but I have never been in love. I am over four centuries old, and you are the only person I have ever been in love with,” Simeon said. “And you have my heart in its entirety. I call you Leannán, as I have no other before you. After centuries of never
letting anyone in as I have you, Master Batiste fears that I will not survive loving you.”

  “So we are mates?” Angel asked, getting riled up again. Nothing but talking in circles.

  “No, we are not. But…the possibility to become mates is very high, and I wish for nothing more than to call you my mate, my Leannán in truth, and have you return the sentiment. Right now I am all yours, but the bond is incomplete. It takes more than instant lust and love at first sight. It takes prolonged contact, exchange of emotions, and developing a rapport of trust and love and willingness to sacrifice. A mate bond for our kind takes a long time. Sometimes weeks or months—sometimes years. And it can be broken before the final pieces are in place,” Simeon hurriedly explained.

  “Sounds less like mating and more like an engagement period before marriage,” Angel said, fucking butterflies in his stomach, mouth dry. “With magical and spiritual ties instead of legal or religious ones.”

  “Yes, that is the most accurate comparison,” Simeon agreed. His smile was wary, and Angel could feel the tension in the vampire’s big body beneath him. His vampire was waiting for his reaction to this Leannán situation, but the avid gaze of the master vamp nearby was bugging the shit out of him.

  “So what was the whole switching lovers bullshit?” Angel demanded.

  “I was testing your level of devotion to Simeon. He is already too far gone to recover from your loss if you decide that being his mate in the future is too much for you. He won’t die from a mate bond being left incomplete, but he will never love another. I wished to make sure you would not destroy my most treasured child,” Batiste interrupted, rifling through papers and photos in front of him. Etienne hissed, but everyone ignored him. “The Celt is a feared warrior, and much of this clan’s power comes from his superior skills and strengths. Having him laid low by a broken heart is not something I will allow.”

  “What the ever loving fuck…” Angel rubbed his face, thinking hard. He looked back at Simeon, their faces inches apart. Simeon was watching him, emerald eyes clear, without a trace of doubt. “You really know how to box someone in, don’t you?”