Roth’s jaw rippled with tension. “The survivors of the armada,” he said in a roughened voice, “blamed Pettrila for leading Ştefan Dragoş to them. They thought him to be a real Vârcolac Vânător.”
Pettrila held Roth’s gaze. At the top of her vision, she could see her eyelashes quivering. She was shaking.
“The royal seat went to the Mihneas. My family.” A shadow crossed Roth’s face. “Unfairly, it would seem. Dragoş did arrange that armada in good faith. All of the people who escaped Romania that night owe him, and Pettrila, their lives.”
Pettrila turned her eyes away, more memories sleeting over her. “By the stars, I never knew why Grigore was so upset the night I…Pettrila was stripped of her title. She and Grigore fought savagely, and by the end of it, he swore that if nothing else, he’d have a son from her.”
“Wait,” the D’Amberville girl interrupted, her lips parting. “Are you saying that Pettrila ended up with Grigore Nichita?”
Pettrila’s lungs compressed around a bitter laugh. “I’m afraid so, child. The weak-willed woman let Grigore manipulate her into thinking that Ştefan was the true betrayer.” A heaviness settled over her heart. She hadn’t believed in Ştefan, doubting a love that had been real. Her nostrils quivered, emotions she usually kept in merciless check threatening to rise beyond her control. Such a bleak, demoralizing landscape of regret and lost opportunities in her life.
“What happened?” the D’Amberville girl asked softly.
Pettrila’s lips threatened to tremble, but she ruthlessly firmed them. “Out of that unhappy marriage, Pettrila proceeded to give Grigore only daughters, four precious girls he wanted nothing to do with. They were…killed in a cave collapse.” She set a hand to her breast. Her breath wasn’t coming correctly. “In that tragedy, she and Grigore turned to each other in shared grief, remarkably, and found peace for a time. Many years later, when Grigore wanted more children, Pettrila agreed, and she gave her husband a son at last.”
She felt her lips constrict, heard her voice harden. “Grigore all but took the child from her, turning their son against her in their marital battles, never giving her a chance with the boy who…who…” From the side of Pettrila’s vision, she saw Devid bow his head, his lips stiff and bloodless, his throat working rhythmically. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly, though. What would she show her son in her eyes, on her face? All the ways she’d failed to be his mother? How she’d given up even trying? How she’d let bitterness and regret rule the decisions she’d made about her life and her children?
She glanced down, focusing on a blotch on the garage floor. “Grigore became greedy,” she went on thickly. “He wanted to try for another son, but Pettrila refused and…” She paused and blinked, that strange burn back in her eyes. “The next time I went into my fertile period, he drugged me into a deep sleep.”
Devid exhaled, a staccato burst of air. Over in the gallery, someone was crying softly. Luvera.
The D’Amberville girl gave Pettrila a strange look.
Indeed… Pettrila had just spoken of herself in the first person. She didn’t care anymore. “When I awoke, Grigore was sprawled next to me in bed in his hibernation state. I knew what he’d done, and I’d never hated him more.” He’d made a victim out of her for the first time in her life. In all her years, through every hardship, she’d always managed to keep a piece of her dignity intact. Until her own husband had done the unthinkable. “It broke me.” She crossed her arms, cupping her elbows. “I couldn’t come back from it. I could hardly look upon my daughter, knowing how she’d been conceived, nor my son, as he—”
Luvera choked softly on her next sob.
Pettrila stared hard at the air vent, watching two stringy strands of dust wave from the slats. She’d wrapped herself in a protective shell, hating everyone—humans for what Ştefan had done to her, her husband for his offense—and had never come back. For over fifty years. Emotion roiled in her chest. “And now I find out Ştefan loved me in truth. Loved me! Grigore knew it and stole that from me, the despicable cur. And for what? Power,” she clamped her teeth around the word. “I could have had love, damn his soul. Love!” Her chest heaved, her eyes burning so painfully now that…good night, she was crying.
She lowered her head, concentrating on breathing slowly and steadily. Everyone in this damnable garage was staring at her, standing here naked before them, all of the ugly secrets of her past exposed.
“Here.” The D’Amberville girl held out the diary to Pettrila. “Take this. Please. I have it memorized, anyway, and I think you should read it for yourself.”
Pettrila made herself stop crying, wiping away her tears before she looked up. She didn’t reach out to take the book, though. “No. Thank you.” Reading it would only submerge her more deeply into the agony of all that she’d never had.
The girl bit her bottom lip. “It doesn’t have to be too late to feel Ştefan’s love for Pettrila, ma’am.”
And that decided her. Because it was true; no matter how painful Pettrila’s losses, she could salvage some love in the last years of her life. She drew herself up, smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt. “Very well.” She accepted the book. “Thank you, child.” She traced the weathered cracks in the leather with her fingers. Ştefan had held this diary in his hands, had written in it of his deep affection for her. Because he’d loved me. He’d never wavered in his feelings, never betrayed her. Sweet stars, if only she’d known that, she could have endured anything. Even if she’d ended up with Grigore through ghastly circumstances, she could have borne it by simply holding Ştefan’s love in her heart to buoy her. But living a life without love had been—
A breath caught in her throat. Heat crept into her cheeks. She looked at her son.
Devid’s silver eyes were ravaged with pain, his face ragged and worn. So many dreadful things he’d learned about his hero today.
For the first time in a long time, her heart reached out to him. She stared intently at his face, making herself see past Grigore’s image for once and find her son. She traced the angular cheekbones, the strong jaw, the noble, Pure-bred nose. How could she have ever thought Devid’s thickly lashed silver eyes were like Grigore’s? Her son’s were so much more lively and warm, even now in his pain. She remembered gazing into those eyes when he’d been just a wriggly newborn in her arms, her heart overflowing.
She looked down at Ştefan’s diary again, then strode to the sacrificial area. “You are quite a handsome man,” she murmured. “I never realized.”
Devid’s eyes flared wide for a heartbeat, then his stony regard slipped back in place.
She rearranged the pearls at her throat. “The Tribunal regards us with such reproof,” she said in an undertone.
He stared at her for an arrested moment.
“But then I suppose they are rightfully furious, since Grigore attempted to kill them all,” she said.
“Our breed,” Devid said rigidly, “is on the verge of extinction because of my father.” He paused, his jaw working as if he was chewing on his next words. “On top of that, the things he did to you… I honestly don’t know how to think about it.” He glanced aside. “You’ve been such a horrific tyrant for so long,” he said bluntly, “I’ve always thought you were the one to blame.”
She took an extra moment to answer, her voice hoarse. “Perhaps it’s time to stop all the blaming.” She turned toward the Tribunal and raised her voice to be heard. “I hereby refuse Josie D’Amberville as the person to erase the Nichita blood-debt. By the law of Dantură Pravilă, this negates my plea.” She turned back to face Devid. “Go bond with that girl of your heart, son. Go, and have love in this life.” She clutched Ştefan’s diary to her breast. “Trust me when I tell you, it’s quite a wretched experience to live without it.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Marissa stared at the pots and pans cluttering the long expanse of the kitchen counter, and rubbed her brow. Here she was, a chef, and she couldn’t figure out
what to do with them. Her brain was kind of numb, and the pans weren’t even hers. Friends in the community had been coming and going from the house for the last few hours, dropping off things for her to borrow until the Travelers could move her own stuff down here. Nobody had been by for about an hour, though, and being alone left her with nothing to do but think about everything that had just happened.
Her heart ached down to the core over the look she’d seen on Dev’s face when he learned all that stuff about his father. The moment the Tribunal adjourned, Dev left Ţărână’s garage with uncharacteristic stiltedness in his stride, glancing only once at Marissa, very briefly, as if he’d been too ashamed to hold her gaze for long. He’d gathered a weeping Luvera into his arms and half-carried her out. That’d been hours ago, and Marissa hadn’t seen him since.
So, now here she was, setting up their new home all by herself…something she’d been pushed by the Council to do before she hooked up with Dev, rather than after, as other couples had done in the past. Bonding in the mansion was now prohibited, the new law passed after a newly bonded Gábor had attacked a couple of warriors for doing nothing more threatening than walking past his bedroom to get to theirs. He’d punched a hole in Jeddin’s door and nearly ripped the hinges off Kasson’s.
Sounded pretty mental. But from what Marissa had learned from the community manual on Vârcolac culture—required reading for all new hires—vampires became very protective right after they bonded, especially males, just as Dev had warned her about at her mother’s wake. So…maybe it was a good thing their bonding had been delayed. Probably the last thing Dev needed right now was to feel more mental.
Sighing, she picked up a random saucepan and opened one of the cabinets. She might as well put this stuff away while—
“Hey.”
She whirled around, gasping.
Dev was standing just inside the kitchen.
“God, you scared me.” She blew out another breath. “Weird, I was just thinking about you.”
“Yeah?” He rasped a hand over his goatee. “I’m sorry I took off. I guess I needed to hang with Luvera for a while.”
“No, I understand.” She set the pot down. “Are you feeling better?”
He crammed his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged. “My perspective is still pretty damned inside-out and backwards. I just found out that the father I looked up to my whole life was a dickhead of the highest order, and the mother who’s always been a pain in my ass has every right to be as bitter as she is.” He looked down at his boots. “Christ, I remember how painful it was being separated from you for a week, so thinking of my mother having to live her whole life without this guy she was crazy about…” He sighed out a long breath. “I can’t help feeling sorry for her.”
“Anyone would’ve grown bitter under those circumstances, Dev.”
“I know.” He looked up, his eyes igniting with a fiery rage. “And I swear, Marissa, if my dad were alive today, I’d pound his head in.”
She bit into her lower lip. That had to feel awful. “I’m sorry.”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “On top of everything else, I could stand about a Big Gulp of blood right now.”
She ran her eyes over him. “Yes,” she agreed. “You don’t look so great.”
One side of Dev’s mouth hooked upward. “A shitload of stress can activate a Vârcolac’s blood-need, and I’d say what happened tonight qualifies as a mother lode. Not to mention five fucking days spent in jail.” He set his palms on the kitchen island. “I considered calling in Ruxandra, but I kept thinking any day I’d get out.” He slanted her a look. “Besides, I wanted to wait for you.”
She set her hands on her hips. “Good thing you did, buster.” The thought of him biting another woman made the tips of her ears burn. She narrowed her eyes on him. “I would’ve had to kick your ass.”
“Oh, ho! Jealous?”
“Hugely.”
He looked entirely too pleased by that.
“Don’t be a troublemaker.” She slipped up next to him and took his hand. “Come on, I want to show you around our new house.” She gestured at all the empty space. “Such as it is.”
“It’ll be fun sprucing it up together.”
She smiled. Something about the idea of hanging pictures and moving furniture solidified the reality that they were actually, at last, embarking on their life together. “I hope you don’t mind, but I chose the house with the biggest kitchen. We had to give up a den for that, but…I just… I mean, I know I have a restaurant, but I just love big kitchens, and there are four nice bedrooms upstairs, so you can make one of those into your man room. And this house is only three doors down from Toni and Jacken, two from Arc and—”
“Hey, no sweat, sweetheart.” His smile lit his eyes. “A house is the chick’s domain, right? You get to do whatever you want.”
“Hmm, I don’t know whether to get all up-in-arms feminist on you or be immensely thrilled.”
She took him around the house, pointing out things he probably didn’t care about, like the built-in ironing board and the windows in the living room that opened two different ways. But if he wasn’t interested, he did a good job of pretending.
“See,” she said as they came to stand in the doorway of one of the upstairs bedrooms. “This would make a great man room, wouldn’t it?”
He pulled her back against him, fitting the curve of her bottom neatly against his hips. “I’d prefer to fill these rooms with little guys.” He set his chin on her shoulder and smoothed his large hands over her abdomen. “When do we get to start doing that, by the way?”
Her lids drifted down at the feel of him caressing her belly. “Well, I’d always planned on having kids around thirty, but—”
“What!?” He straightened abruptly and spun her around. “You want to wait five years, Marissa? Are you insane?”
She held up a hand, cutting off the harangue she saw coming. “If you’d let me finish, for God’s sake.” She drew in a breath and continued. “I know you’re eager for a family, Dev, but I’d like to be married for a bit first, just you and me, for maybe…a year?”
“A year!” he blasted. “Forget it.”
“Dev,” she said in a measured tone. “Marriage is about compromise, honey.”
“Fine. Okay. We’ll wait.” He reached out and tugged her against him. “A bit.” His eyes smoldered. “But don’t expect me not to try and convince you otherwise, Riss, every month when your fertile time comes.” He bent his head and brushed his lips overs hers. “Betcha I can, too,” he said against her mouth, sucking lightly on her bottom lip then tracing it with his tongue.
“Mmm.” She slid her hands up the bulging muscles of his chest and twined her arms around his neck. “I look forward to your best efforts.” Ridiculously, she did, too, even though it’d probably mean a monthly argument. She touched the tip of her tongue to his and heard him catch his breath. “I was thinking…” She gave him a sultry glance from beneath her lashes. “If you’re looking for stress relief, I’ve got this fun thing we can do.”
He laughed deep in his throat. “Are you offering to have sex with me? Finally?”
“Hey, I’m not the one who’s been holding up this train. But, yes, it’s definitely nookie time.”
“Hallelujah.” He scooped her into his arms. “I thought the day would never come. Which room’s ours?”
She pointed to the one at the far end of the hall, and he carried her inside. The furniture consisted of two folding chairs, a beat-up bureau, and a queen-sized futon flung on the floor, which only had a set of sheets on it, but, oh, well. No way was she stopping to go hunt down blankets.
Dev set her on her feet by the bed, and she stripped down to her bra and panties in record time.
Dev’s silver eyes grew bright and hot as he inspected her from top to—His brows suddenly mashed together. “You’ve lost a lot of weight, Marissa.”
“I—?” She cut off her sentence and gaped at him. “Oh, my God, you�
�re kidding me. That’s what you have to say in response to seeing me for the first time in my altogether? A criticism?”
“I’m not criticizing. I’m worrying. How the hell can you expect me not to when you”—he gestured up and down her body—“when you’re this damned skinny.”
Her mouth fell open. Unbelievable!
“You know what would put some meat on your bones?” He wagged a finger at her. “A baby.”
Did the man not know when to shut up? He was killing the mood. Exhaling sharply, she whipped her bra off and threw it across the room.
“Because if you—Whoa.” His gaze latched onto her bare breasts, an appreciative sound breaking from his throat.
“A much better reaction, thank you.”
He groaned. “You have the best nipples, Riss. They make me want to—” He broke off as she whipped her panties down.
His eyes lowered to her soft triangle of tawny curls, and his face colored.
What? No peanut gallery comments now? Good, he was—
She yelped as Dev sprang at her, a low growl emanating from his chest as his brawny arms snapped closed around her. He brought her naked body crushing up against him, his hot, demanding mouth slanting down on hers to—
His arms sprang wide an instant later. “Ouch!” He stumbled away from her and hunched over, a forearm pressed to his lower belly. “Fuck and shit.”
She glowered down at his bent form. “I can’t believe this happens to you.” She threw her arms out from her sides and let them slap back down.
“Well, it does, so…” He craned his head up to squint at her. “I can’t do anything more till we bond, especially not with you naked. You still on board with that?”
“Of course.” She waved her hands impatiently. “I’m so sick of waiting for you. Let’s get on with it.”
“All right. Yeah.” He exhaled a long stream of air. “I totally agree.” He straightened cautiously and took a step back toward her, then paused. “Have you read the manual the community gave you?” he asked. “You know about the first bite…hurting a bit, don’t you?”
The Community Series, Books 1-3 Page 59
