She was human. She was mortal. She recognized the fact that she was not all knowing. However, in the two years she had spent hunting vampires, she had never met a creature she so completely failed to grasp.
Nathaniel had painted Jaguar as a dangerous, cold foe; she had wanted to plant a knife in the creature upon hearing the mercenary’s words. Yet Nathaniel’s arrogant Master of Midnight had turned out to seem sincere and open, and she found herself wondering about the contrasts in his character. One moment he was coldly dismissing Lord Daryl, and the next he was affectionately wrestling Shayla. Turquoise did not understand him, and for that reason above any other she did not trust him.
Trust. That was a word she had long ago learned to avoid. The only thing anyone could trust was that everyone else would look out for himself first.
Shayla was trying for Turquoise’s attention again; the jaguar was as bad as a kitten wanting a playmate — a very large, deadly kitten, but just as spoiled and restless.
Barely noon, and Turquoise had little she could do for hours. Ravyn had looked exhausted; she would sleep for a while yet. The courtyard, while beautiful, had proved far less interesting than when it had been forbidden. And fortunately, the vampires would mostly be asleep at this time.
She stretched out next to Shayla. The sun felt wonderful on her bare arms. She was pale, having spent most of the past two years following the nocturnal schedule of the creatures she hunted; she could not remember the last time she had simply lazed an afternoon away in the sunlight.
That was exactly what she decided to do. She had not slept much, and combined with the loss of blood, she was tired. She dozed, and then wrestled with Shayla for a bit, then dozed again.
CHAPTER 10
“FIRST LESSON: TITLE,” he said calmly as Catherine struggled for breath past the pale hand wrapped around her throat. “You will address me as Lord Daryl.”
“Get your hands off me,” she hissed in return, her voice made hoarse by the difficulty of drawing breath. Lord Daryl backhanded her nonchalantly, and sparks danced in her vision.
“Say it,” he ordered, one hand still wrapped around her throat and holding her against the wall.
Instead, she tried to kick him; with reflexes faster than a striking snake he caught her ankle and pulled her off her feet. Her back slammed against the ground hard enough to knock the already scant breath from her lungs, and she choked around a gasp of pain as her head snapped against the polished wooden floor. The world swam; she could not have stood if she had tried.
“Well, Catherine?” he prompted.
“My lord,” she growled in response, “you can go to hell.”
She started to push herself back to her feet and he kicked her down again, the tip of one steel-toed boot glancing off the side of her ribs hard enough that breathing became instant agony and she wondered if anything was broken. Another couple of those love-taps would probably kill her. But why should he care? He had already killed her family.
The thought gave her the energy to try to stand again despite the ache in her ribs and head, but the attempt was rewarded by another blow.
“Lord Daryl,” she whispered, still on the floor, unable to get the breath to speak louder. “You happy now?”
He nodded, those fair, sculpted features betraying nothing past a cool mask of derision. “Almost.”
She woke struggling for breath, aching from phantom injuries long healed. That first beating, the first night she had woken in Lord Daryl’s manor, had been minor compared to what she had later endured, but it had been the first and that made it the most terrifying in her memory.
A modern American teenager in a white-collar, preppy town, Catherine Minate had never been hit in her life until Lord Daryl had entered the picture. The remembered terror and pain of that first encounter left her with the taste of fear on her tongue, bitter, metallic, and hot.
Shayla had curled up beside her, and the mixture of the mid afternoon sun, the jaguar’s own heat, and the nightmares had left Turquoise uncomfortably sweltering. Carefully, she moved back into the shaded grove where Jaguar had retreated.
His animal form remained still, curled up on the soft moss, as his voice flitted in her mind. You okay, Audra?
She nodded, realized he could not see her, and then formed the thought clearly in her mind: Fine. Just bad memories. She doubted Jaguar would be surprised to learn that a slave had a few bad memories, especially a slave who came with such a brutal history written on her skin in scars.
Jaguar startled her by standing and loping toward her. She smiled as he brushed along her side, a soothing but amusingly feline expression of comfort. Again she had a brief touch of his mind, wordless this time, but offering sympathy nonetheless.
He stretched out again next to her, and Shayla lay down at her other side, as if Turquoise was a frightened kitten to be guarded.
Maybe she was. Either way sleeping with a protecting jaguar on each side successfully chased the memories away from her dreams. She could see why the old cultures had worshipped these creatures: beautiful and proud, they also radiated savage, protective strength.
CHAPTER 11
SHE FELL ASLEEP resting against the beautiful, soft fur of a jaguar; she woke in a very different situation. Sometime while they had both slept, Jaguar had returned to human form. Now he lay on his back, so that Turquoise woke to find herself snuggled against his side, one of his arms casually draped around her waist.
For a moment she paused to admire the beautiful form stretched out beside her: the black silky hair tousled on the ground, the smooth golden-tanned skin that was warm as any human’s.
The illusion did not last. Her cheek rested on his chest, and beneath it there was no heartbeat.
Jaguar woke at the sound of her sigh. She felt his chest rise and fall in a silent breath, and his arm around her waist tightened for a moment in a companionable hug. “Evening.”
Evening? Had she slept so long?
Yes. The sun had set, and in the darkness his voice was soft and a little too warm for her liking.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized by reflex, as she started to push herself to her feet.
“No need to be,” he responded. He did not release her instantly and she found herself hesitating, trying not to stare into black eyes that at the moment were frighteningly intense. “It’s not an unpleasant way to wake up.”
Maybe not to him, her mind argued bitterly. He was the owner, not the slave. The choices were his.
He let her go and she stood hastily; Jaguar followed more slowly, but as she stepped out of the grove and into the open starlight he caught her arm.
Her mind kept flashing snippets of memory as she tried to deal with the present. Lord Daryl had mostly treated her as a disobedient pet. More than once she had fallen asleep — usually still bruised and aching from the last beating — with her head resting on his knee as he worked on some carving, and woken curled in his arms like a child’s favorite toy.
“Audra, there’s no need to be frightened.”
Only when he said it did she realize she was frightened, enough that she could feel her heartbeat in her temples and wrists, fast with nervousness. Jaguar and Lord Daryl were nothing alike; she repeated the words in her mind over and over.
The fact that he was a vampire did not scare her; she had hunted enough vampires over two years that they no longer forced terror into her mind.
The fact that she had let her guard down, forgotten even so briefly what Jaguar was, that frightened her. The fact that she actually found him likeable, with a sense of humor and compassion, that terrified her.
She might need to kill him; she did not want to start thinking about how human he seemed.
“What are you afraid of?” Jaguar asked, as she yanked her arm out of his grip. “You had no fear in you until this instant.”
She ignored him, picking her way carefully around stones in the darkness and trying to remember which wall the door was on.
“You’ve bared your t
hroat to me, Audra. You aren’t afraid of what I am,” he stated. “What else is there?”
She turned back to face him, wishing she could simply sink into the wall she leaned against. “I can’t explain.”
“Why not?” he asked, and though his voice was gentle she could tell he was not going to let her worm her way out of this easily “Who is stopping you? I’m your only master here, and I’m not going to hurt you for anything you say.”
He stepped toward her, and Turquoise flinched as he planted one hand on the wall to each side of her shoulders. “What are you afraid of?” he asked softly. “Are you afraid I’ll recognize that you’re pretending to be a slave when you have as much free will as I do? Or are you afraid I’ll recognize these … ?” With fingertips that barely grazed her skin, he traced the scars on her right arm, finally settling on the ring around her wrist. “And that I’ll know whose weapon made this mark?”
Her throat was choked around the knot that must have been her heart, which jumped from her chest at the mere suggestion of Lord Daryl.
“Afraid I’ll remember stories I’ve heard, the ranting complaints of one of my associates? Pretty, but very disobedient, he said. And strong — but of course he would call her strong, since he couldn’t seem to tame her. She had a natural resistance; he couldn’t get into her thoughts, and didn’t know any other way to break her. He called her Catherine.”
The silence after he finished speaking seemed to last forever.
She jumped when he reached for her again, but all he did was brush a lock of hair out of her face. Jaguar’s proximity was awakening more than her hunter’s instincts.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jaguar repeated. He lowered his lips to her throat, and she relaxed in the familiar position. “What is it that terrifies you not of this …” She felt the sharpness of fangs against her throat, not pressing quite hard enough to pierce the skin. “… but of this?”
He kissed her.
He kissed slowly, unhurried, as if he could stay all day and not miss a beat. At the same time he was demanding, deepening the kiss before she knew what was going on. Gentle he was not, but the aggressive edge of his kisses was like the sweet rush of adrenaline so dear to a fighter.
Of course, he had a few hundred years of practice, and Turquoise had very little to compare him to — human boyfriends, mostly, and all of those a long time ago. And Lord Daryl.
The last thought made her jump. Jaguar’s kiss had none of the violence of Lord Daryl’s, but the undertone of possessive dominance was the same, and that made Turquoise recoil the instant she recognized it. She pulled back, slamming her back against the stone wall as she pushed Jaguar away.
“Audra —”
“Jaguar, let go of me.”
He hesitated. “Audra —” he began again, and again she interrupted, “Let go of me.”
He released her so suddenly she had to bite back a gasp. “I’m sorry.”
Turquoise saw the newcomer enter the courtyard before Jaguar did. The vampiress glanced at Turquoise for a brief moment before turning her gaze to Jaguar. She caught him by the shoulders and whispered, “How touching, kitten. It seems you’ve made a new friend.”
Jaguar spun around in a movement too fast for Turquoise’s human eyes to follow, recoiling from the vampiress behind him. “Jeshickah.” The name fell off his lips as a mixture of greeting and fear.
“Are you enjoying your new pet, little cat?” Jeshickah purred, inclining her head toward Turquoise. Turquoise’s hand itched to reach for a knife — if only she had one — the instant those black eyes fell on her.
At the same time, Turquoise heard Jaguar’s silent voice. Kneel. She cringed at the invasive feel of his command in her head. Jaguar’s expression did not change, but his voice was desperate as he added quickly, Don’t fight me now, Audra. Not unless you want her to hurt you.
The sensation was like sandpaper scraping down her throat as she swallowed her pride and went down to one knee, lowering her gaze so “Mistress” Jeshickah would not see the blatant hatred there. She had been prepared for moments of subservience, but that didn’t make her enjoy them.
To Jeshickah’s question, Jaguar answered aloud, “Audra has been keeping me entertained.”
“She’s not very well trained,” Jeshickah observed.
Jaguar shrugged. “She’s adequate, and I don’t have time to work with her.”
“Adequate?” Jeshickah’s voice sounded amused.
“Do you need something?” Turquoise marveled at how perfectly cool his voice was, after he had been so obviously frightened by her sudden arrival. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Do I need your permission to enter?” Jeshickah’s voice had picked up a dangerous tone, but it was light again when she added, “Besides, I would have hated to miss such a touching little scene with the girl.”
Turquoise wondered how much Jeshickah had seen. She also wanted to know when she could stand up; her neck was getting a crick in it.
“As for what I need,” Jeshickah continued, “we were supposed to have a meeting several hours ago that you neglected to attend.”
“I told you I had other obligations,” Jaguar answered. Of course, the fact that he was blatantly lying showed his disregard. He had done nothing all day, unless Turquoise had slept through it.
Jeshickah’s voice carried a threat. “And I told you to cancel them.” Turquoise could only see Jeshickah’s feet as she strode forward, until she and Jaguar were nearly touching. “I’ve been amused so far by your toy replication of my Midnight, and because of that I have allowed you to rule, but I am not amused by what I see now. I am most disappointed with what you seem to have become.”
“Then go away,” Jaguar suggested tiredly. “I’ve no desire to turn this place into what you made of the last one.”
He stumbled back as she shoved on his shoulders. “Don’t forget, cat, everything you own is mine. Even the blood that runs in your veins is what I have given you. If I say I want your slaves washing the floors with their tongues, you will make it so. And if I say I want her broken,” Jeshickah finished softly, “you will do it.”
“I will not,” Jaguar responded, his voice just as soft, just as poisoned by anger. “The humans in Midnight are exactly as I wish them to be. Audra is exactly what I wish her to be. Understand?”
The air grew taut with Jeshickah’s rage, and this time she slammed Jaguar up against the stone wall hard enough that Turquoise flinched, glad she had not refused to kneel.
“I understand that you think you aren’t a trainer any more,” Jeshickah spat. “I understand that you think yourself to be in charge here. And I understand that you are a pathetic beast who thinks no one remembers who he used to be.”
“Get out of my courtyard.”
Again Jeshickah bristled; pale fingers wrapped around Jaguar’s throat, holding him against the wall. “You can impress the others, but not me. You were a slave to me, Jaguar. I’ve seen you bleed. I’ve seen you cower. I’ve seen you beg.” She pulled him away from the wall just long enough to throw him against it again. “All the power you have now, all the power you use to rule this Midnight — I gave it to you. Displease me, and I will take everything you have and break you over my knee. Do you understand?”
Jaguar stayed against the wall, his eyes lowered, for a moment of painful silence before he finally raised his gaze and, with a voice dangerous as black ice, answered, “Yes. Now get out of my courtyard.”
“For the moment.” Jeshickah disappeared, and Jaguar slumped back against the wall suddenly enough that Turquoise worried that he really was hurt. She started to move toward him, but the lingering reminders of the moments before Jeshickah had appeared — her still racing heart and the light ache in her head — made her hesitate.
The indecision was solved when Jaguar pushed himself back to his feet. He glanced at Turquoise, and then turned away. “Go get something to eat, Audra.”
“Jaguar —”
“Out, Audr
a.” His voice was hard with the order. Turquoise hesitated one heartbeat, worrying about the emotional exhaustion she could see in Jaguar’s gaze, before hastening to obey.
CHAPTER 12
DAMN YOU, TURQUOISE, Ravyn growled when Turquoise slipped into the kitchen looking for her. “You disappeared all day, and then you weren’t at the sunset meal —”
“Calm down, Ravyn,” Turquoise interrupted. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. And keep your voice down, unless you want someone to run tell Jaguar two of his slaves are arguing in his kitchen.”
Ravyn looked appropriately chastised for perhaps a quarter of a second. Then Turquoise noticed the bruise blossoming on the left side of the burgundy hunter’s face, mostly hidden by her long hair. “What happened to you?”
Ravyn’s hand flew to the bruise on her cheek. “Our favorite queen leech thought I was a bit cheeky. If she hadn’t had another two vamps within arm’s length, she would be dead now.”
You armed?” Ravyn didn’t look like she was wearing a knife, but Turquoise knew there were many ways to conceal a weapon.
Ravyn’s gaze flit briefly to the doorway to double check that they were alone, and then she responded, “The vampire you saw me with was Gabriel Donovan. He is one of the only people here who isn’t terrified of Jeshickah. He deduced our reasons for being here, and donated a pair of knives to our cause.”
“Out of the kindness of his undead heart, I’m sure.” From the pieces of conversation she had heard, Turquoise wasn’t surprised that Gabriel was willing to help kill Jeshickah. She was only wary of why he would help a pair of slaves do it. “What’s between you and this vamp?” Turquoise pressed, remembering Ravyn’s reaction every time Gabriel’s name had been mentioned.
The Den of Shadows Quartet Page 33
