by Tessa Dawn
Ciopori set her mug down on the counter. “Truly, that was the most terrifying yet spectacular thing I have ever seen: Napolean, I mean.”
Despite his good intentions, Marquis growled low in his throat, his territorial instincts getting the best of him.
Ciopori rolled her eyes. “It is good to know that at least you still care, warrior.”
Marquis felt utterly powerless. “Ciopori...I will always care.”
She nodded and began to fiddle with a stack of silk napkins, carefully unfolding and refolding each one before replacing them in their stainless-steel holder. She held one up in her hand. “Funny, isn’t it? How a male that doesn’t eat keeps so many unnecessary things around.”
Marquis walked over to her side, removed the cloth from her delicate fingers, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He bent to her ear. “You will always be the only woman I love. Never forget that. Never.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away. “I know I should feel guilty, Marquis, especially now that you are married—”
“Mated.”
She sighed. “Now that you are mated, yet even knowing…I pray that your words of love are true. And my heart breaks to know that there will come a day when you will also…love your wife.”
“My destiny.”
“Oh hell, Marquis!” Ciopori spun back around to face him. “Who cares what you call her. She’s yours. And I’m not!”
Marquis leaned forward then. He placed both hands palms-down on the counter and stared out the window. What more was there to say? “I will stay away from you, Princess...I promise.”
Much to his surprise, Ciopori punched him in the arm. “Is that what you think I want?”
He shrugged. Gods, what more could he do? Did she desire to watch him bleed before her?
“And how will that make things better, warrior?” she continued. “To never see your eyes again? To never hear your laughter…well, your piteous attempts at laughter.” She smiled despite herself, yet the warmth never reached her eyes. “I don’t know which would be worse: seeing you, while knowing I could never have you, or trying to exist in a world without you.”
“I understand.” His words were a mere whisper.
“No,” she argued, “I really don’t think you do. My heart is sick, Marquis. It’s breaking. And for the life of me, I can’t understand it.” She paled. “Yes, I realize that you were the one that was there with me all those years, all those long centuries, lying in the ground, waiting for a brother that was never coming to awaken me—all those years when your voice was the only sound I heard, your face the only escape I had...in my dreams.” She sat down on a high bar-stool and stared at him with such deep sorrow in her eyes he feared his heart would break in two. “But this”—she placed both hands over her heart—“this is something else entirely. It is almost as if I can’t breathe without you, Marquis.” She looked away. “Almost as if I don’t want to.”
Marquis stared at the inconsolable woman before him, wishing he had a gift for words. Hell, wishing he knew how to speak to a female at all. He understood her pain. More than she knew. But, unlike her, he hadn’t spent the last fifteen centuries asleep in the ground with only dreams to sustain him. He had spent the last fifteen-hundred years living what had been a hard life, fighting in countless wars, killing, and feeding, and protecting his brothers…watching his parents die. He had spent the last fifteen-hundred years waiting on a destiny that never came—and learning how to harden his heart.
Marquis had spent a lifetime perfecting the art of shutting down all but the breath that sustained him. “You will not die, Ciopori.” It was all he could think to say.
Ciopori cupped her hands over her face and said nothing.
“Brother.” A deep, rich voice reverberated from the kitchen entrance. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
Marquis turned to find Kagen standing beneath the arched door-frame. He was glancing back and forth between him and the princess, trying to hide his concern.
“Can this wait, brother?” Marquis asked.
Ciopori blinked and brushed away her tears, plainly embarrassed.
Kagen regarded the princess with a kind glance, his eyes soft with compassion, and then he quickly looked away out of respect. He cleared his throat. “No, Marquis, I’m afraid it can’t.”
Marquis turned to face his brother squarely, switching to telepathic communication. It has been a trying day, healer. I will seek you out when I am finished here.
I’m afraid it really can’t wait, Kagen insisted, the silver centers of his dark brown eyes deepening with intensity.
“What is so important?” Marquis demanded, forgetting to speak privately.
Kagen indicated Ciopori with a nod, looked back at Marquis, and then shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“Well?” Marquis prodded.
Kagen sighed in frustration. “It’s Kristina.”
Marquis frowned. “What about her?”
Kagen hesitated for a moment. “She’s very ill.”
“Ill? What do you mean, ill?” Marquis had already converted Kristina to their species, and vampires simply did not get sick.
“This morning, right after you departed with the other warriors, she retreated to one of Napolean’s guest rooms.” He paused, seeming uncertain as to how much to say in front of the princess.
“Go on,” Marquis prodded.
“At first, I thought she just needed some time alone. You know, considering the nature of your mission.”
Ciopori glanced down at the floor. Her tousled hair fell forward, intentionally shielding her face from Kagen’s view.
Kagen frowned. “But when I went to check on her, she had a fever—”
“A fever?”
Kagen nodded. “Yes, brother. And as the day progressed, she began having severe muscle pains and cramps, weakness and nausea. It almost appears as if—”
Marquis held up his hand to stay his brother’s words. Despite the situation with Ciopori, he felt like a complete jerk for not checking on his destiny the moment he arrived at the mansion. Like it or not, she was his first responsibility now. “Where is she?” he asked hastily. The concern in his voice was genuine, and Ciopori lifted her head to regard them both. Her face was stricken with grief, though she tried desperately to hide it.
Kagen sighed. “Last door on the left. Front hall.” He turned his attention to Ciopori. “I’m…sorry.”
Marquis waved a dismissive hand. Whatever was happening between him and the princess was a private matter. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kagen. I will attend to her shortly.”
Clearly in a hurry to leave, Kagen declined his head and instantly dematerialized.
Regretting what he was about to say, Marquis turned to Ciopori. “Princess—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand and nodded, a tear of sorrow escaping her eye. “I know...but I’d rather not hear you say it.”
Marquis couldn’t help himself. He came around the counter, lifted her from the barstool, and gathered her in his arms. “Gods forgive me; I have so much to atone for.”
“No,” Ciopori insisted. She shoved against his chest to gain her freedom but refused to back away. “You cannot help what you feel for me, and still, you remain a male of honor.” The resignation was plain in her eyes. “Marquis, we both know you must do what is right. Go to your mate, warrior…where you belong.”
Marquis held her gaze, wishing he could stay there forever, wishing the two of them could just disappear, but he did not challenge her words. “You will always be in my heart—”
“No.” Ciopori pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Words have far too much power, Marquis. Do not damn your future with Kristina, not for me. You must find a way to love her. And I must find a way to move on.”
As true as they might be, her words cut him like a knife.
She forced a smile. “In spite of everything, I do want you to be happy, Marquis. Please, if you can do
nothing else for me, at least be happy.”
Marquis allowed himself one last indulgence as his head fell forward and he nuzzled her neck. He reveled in the feel of her thick, silky hair and deeply inhaled her scent, hoping to store it in his memory until the end of time. And then, drawing on every ounce of strength he possessed, he stepped away. “And I pray for your happiness as well.”
Ciopori caught at the edge of the counter as if it were all that was holding her up; she was trying so desperately to be brave. When Marquis reached out to steady her, she drew away. “Go, Marquis. This has to end now. Just go.”
Marquis turned and left the kitchen, refusing to look back.
With the quiet resolve of an ancient warrior, he forced his thoughts to the back of his mind, buried his emotions behind an iron wall, and closed the door to his heart.
Propelled by duty alone, his feet carried him through the mansion toward the guest bedroom.
Where his destiny was waiting.
nineteen
Marquis threw open the heavy bedroom door. His eyes immediately searched out Kristina, and what he saw sickened his stomach. The pint-size female was lying on the enormous cherry-wood bed, doubled over into a fetal position. Her wild, curly hair was damp with perspiration. Her body trembled with fever.
“Dear gods,” Marquis exclaimed, rushing to the bed.
Kagen glanced up from Kristina’s side and nodded his greeting. He leaned over the frail wisp of a female and began taking her blood pressure. “She’s getting worse.”
Marquis blanched. Instinctively, his hand went to her forehead, and he pulled it away when it burned his skin. “She’s burning up. Kagen, what is this?”
Kagen smiled warmly at the quivering female and whispered in her ear. “We’ll be right back.” He gestured at Marquis and walked over to the window.
“Is she dying?” Marquis’s voice revealed his alarm.
“Yes and no,” Kagen answered.
His temper flared. “Yes and no? What the hell is that supposed—”
“If you don’t take care of her immediately, she will die. But if you see to her needs, she will be just fine.”
Marquis’s lips drew back in a snarl. “I’m not a healer, brother. Speak plainly.”
“She needs to feed, Marquis. And right away.”
Marquis took an inadvertent step back. “Feed? Are you kidding me?” He glanced at Kristina, suddenly recognizing all of the signs of his species’ severe hunger, but still not understanding: Newly converted destinies did not have to feed for at least six months following their conversions. Even then, the female would have to endure months of neglect to become this ill. “How is this possible?” he asked.
Kagen looked down, his eyes solemn. “Normally, that is true, but Kristina wasn’t well when you converted her.”
Marquis slumped against the wall, a sudden wave of guilt washing over him. “What do you mean, she wasn’t well?”
Kagen placed his hand on Marquis’s forearm and gave him a firm grasp before releasing it. “Do not take it so hard, brother. I didn’t catch it either—that day at the clinic. And I was her doctor.”
Marquis snarled, “Enough of the riddles! Tell me what is wrong with her, Kagen!”
Kagen squared his chin and raised his shoulders in a cocky shrug as if to point out that Marquis’s words were water rolling off his back. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and waited patiently…for Marquis to show some respect.
Marquis appraised his little brother then. The healer had always been the epitome of kindness and good manners—until he wasn’t. And now was not the time to rub him the wrong way. With everything that had gone on that day, Marquis was in no mood for a heated brotherly argument. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would throw the arrogant ass right out the stained-glass window if Kagen pushed him too far. And then Kagen would turn into Mr. Hyde.
And then...
He exhaled slowly through his nose. “What happened during the conversion, Kagen?”
Kagen crossed his arms over his chest leisurely, a point of emphasis that he would not be intimidated. “When Dirk...hurt her...he caused several internal injuries that I didn’t catch in my exam. She was bleeding internally the entire day.”
Marquis stepped back. “Good gods. And I converted her in that state?” He glanced at the bed, feeling deep regret for the first time over how he had turned her.
Kagen’s eyes grew serious. “You saved her life, actually.” He stared at his brother, refusing to blink. “Marquis, if you had waited to convert her, she would’ve died from her internal injuries, perhaps the same night.”
A deep, feral growl escaped Marquis’s throat. If he could raise the dead he would bring Dirk back just to kill him again.
“Your venom has been sustaining her,” Kagen continued, “and she did convert successfully, but she needs to feed right away. At least a couple of pints.”
Wonderful, Marquis thought. She’s going to love that.
Marquis nodded and visually assessed the tiny, suffering female in the too-large bed. “Leave now, Kagen.”
Kagen smirked. “You’re welcome, brother.” He ambled over to the bed, retrieved his bag, and headed toward the door. “Marquis,” he whispered on his way out, “all pettiness aside, do not forget your life is tied to hers.” He smoothed his hair away from his eyes. “Please, don’t wait.”
Marquis nodded. While his own life didn’t seem all that important right now, there was absolutely no way he was going to let this female—his female—die as a result of being claimed by him. “Do I have time to take her home?”
“Honestly?” Kagen stared at Kristina for an intense moment and then turned back to Marquis. “No.”
He turned and left the room.
Marquis approached the bed slowly, understanding just how much the sickly woman hated and feared him. “How are you feeling, Kristina?” His voice was deliberately matter-of-fact.
“I think I’m dying,” she muttered. Her deep blue eyes fluttered upward, and she shivered. “Good thing for you, huh?”
Marquis frowned. “Kristina, this is no time to amuse yourself. Did Kagen explain to you what was wrong?”
Kristina doubled over in pain and grimaced. “Sort of. He said I need to feed, but I can’t eat anything. I swear; I’d just throw up if I tried.”
Marquis placed his hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed the back of her neck. “You are no longer human, Kristina. While you can eat food if you wish, your body does not require it anymore. You do not need to eat. You need to feed.”
“Feed? What the heck does that mean?” Her voice held a hint of fear in it.
“It means—”
“You mean blood? Drink blood? Oh, hell no, Marquis. No! I can’t.”
“You can,” Marquis argued, “and you must.”
Kristina sat up; her body rocked with spasms at the sudden movement. She clenched her stomach as she shook her head adamantly. “Are you crazy? What am I supposed to do? Go hunt like some little vampire warrior or something? Have you seen me, Marquis? I’m not big enough to kill anything. And I couldn’t even if I was.” She ducked her head under the pillow. “No!” The sound was muffled.
Marquis almost smiled. Almost. “Kristina, you are a vampire now, but our females do not hunt. And you’re right, you couldn’t kill a fly… Unless—”
He stopped himself.
“Unless what?” she demanded, lifting the pillow.
He offered a lopsided smile. “Unless you did it with your mouth.”
Kristina glared at him. “To hell with you, vampire! I bet I could bite you if you made me mad enough, you jackass.”
Marquis smiled broadly then. “Now that’s the Kristina Riley I know. And that is precisely what I am going to let you do.”
Kristina positively recoiled, jerking away so violently she slammed her head into the headboard. “Ouch!” She sneered at him. “Are you insane?”
Marquis took a slow, deep breath. “Kristina, this is
no joking matter.”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?”
“You’re dying.”
Now that got her attention.
“I’m dying? Just because I’m not out murdering humans and sucking their blood?”
Marquis frowned. “I repeat, our females do not hunt, nor do we expect them to murder humans. You are dying because Dirk hurt you far worse than we realized, and for that, I apologize. We should have caught your injuries sooner.”
Kristina’s eyes flashed with anger. “Kind of hard to do with those saber-tooth fangs lodged in my throat, huh?”
Marquis didn’t blink. “I am not proud of my behavior, Kristina, although it did ultimately save your life. But think of it this way: This is your chance for revenge.” He knew he would have sounded more convincing if he could have smiled—or even put an air of teasing into his voice—but Marquis Silivasi just didn’t do lighthearted. And he was hardly going to pick up the nuances of humor now.
The two of them sat in utter silence for an interminable amount of time before Kristina finally looked up at him beneath slightly hooded—and extremely frightened—eyes. “Marquis,” she whispered in a tone that sounded far too much like defeat, “I can’t. I mean...I really can’t.”
Marquis took her hand in his and forced himself to hold on solidly. “Kristina, you must. You know I will not allow you to die.”
Kristina shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, I mean, I can’t. Let’s say, even if I wanted to drink someone’s blood, which I don’t, then no offense, but it probably wouldn’t be yours. And even if there was someone else more my type—like really young and sexy—like maybe Nachari or something…I still wouldn’t know how. I can’t.”
Marquis blinked several times, trying to process that his destiny had just referred to his little brother as young and sexy. And preferable to him. Despite his utter lack of affection for the female, his haunches stood up, and a deep, territorial growl rumbled in his throat. “Be careful, floricica mea. I will not have you speak that way of other males, especially not my own brother.”
