by L.H. Cosway
His body pulsates with power and it affects me in a strange way, makes my pores tingle, makes me feel that tiniest fraction more alive.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice unexpectedly filled with wonder.
The man wears a pristine grey suit, a black shirt and a silver tie. His tall form is sleek and I can tell he’s probably got some serious muscle going on underneath his clothes.
A smile creases his eyes and I get the distinct feeling that although he appears to be no more than thirty years of age, he is in fact much, much older.
“You’ve been asking after me,” he says in a deep, thrumming voice.
“I have?” my tone goes up a notch at the end in anxiety. I don’t feel like I’m in danger, however I do feel intimidated.
“You have,” he states. “I am Roman.”
Roman? My grandfather, Roman? Oh God, I suddenly feel incredibly uncomfortable at the thought that I had just been checking him out a moment ago. Only my bizarre life could present me with a long lost grandfather who looks just a couple years older than me.
“Ah, right, uh, yes. Good. Thanks for, um, answering my call.”
This is so strange. How on earth could he have known I was asking Emilia about him when he’s not even supposed to know that my mother was his daughter? Or that Emilia had been pregnant with his child at all, for that matter.
“I can hear when people say my name,” he explains, answering my unvoiced question. “No one has uttered it in a long time, not until a couple of weeks ago when I heard an old lover say it to you.” He pauses and the silence drags out as a thoughtful look crosses his features. “Why did she say it to you?”
Right, so maybe he doesn’t know the ins and out of it all. I guess I’d better tell him. “B-because you’re my grandfather.”
The moment the words leave my mouth he walks towards me until we’re standing as close as possible, his chest pressing against mine and his cool breath hitting my cheeks.
“Your grandfather?” he breathes. “How?”
“Emilia Petrovsky is my grandmother. She had a baby that was yours but she never told you about it. Her name was Darya. She’s dead now.”
He absorbs this information with an emotionless expression. “So, you are my kin.” Reaching up, he trails a hand down my face before resting it in a grip on my shoulder. His hand is firm and then it’s caressing me.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Another smile. “Wonderful.” And a moment later I get the surprise of my life when his mouth descends on mine and he’s kissing me – with tongue. WTF? I struggle to push him away but his hands clamp down on me, holding me firmly in place. A tingle of what I can only describe as magic shudders through me and I relax into the kiss, responding to it with an embarrassingly loud moan
Oh no he didn’t! He just magicked me into allowing him to kiss me, into bloody liking it. My stomach turns with thoughts of how wrong this is and I summon every ounce of the power I have in me. Sparks shoot from the palms of my hands as I shove him away and finally manage to break the kiss.
“What the hell was that?” I shout drawing back from him hastily.
He touches his hand to his chest where some of my sparks still singe him, burning through his immaculate grey suit. He looks amused, intrigued even.
“You have powers. More than I would expect from a Halfling.”
“A Halfling?” I question.
“Half human, half witch,” he explains and I wave him off. I’ve heard enough about that old chestnut at this point, thank you very much.
“Okay, whatever. Could you please explain to me what that was all about?”
One end of his mouth tilts up in a smirk. “I kissed you.”
“Yeah, I know. Is that how you greet all of your granddaughters?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had one before, and you are very pretty.” He stops a second and studies me. “Ah, I get it. You were brought up in the human tradition. If you had been raised in the way of magic you would know that what you have been taught to refer to as incest is not frowned upon in our world. In fact, it is encouraged. It allows us to maintain our pure bloodlines.”
I scrunch up my face. “Okay, eww, just eww.” I have to shake my entire body as though his kiss is a tangible thing that’s stuck to me and I want it off.
He laughs long and deep and I feel it vibrate right down to the pit of my stomach.
“You’re feisty,” he says and with a sweep of his hand the white room transforms into a lush library filled with old bookshelves and antique furniture. He gestures for me to sit on an armchair and I oblige him. I’m still trying to get my head around the whole ‘incest = good’, as opposed to ‘incest = bad’ thing. I want to get to know my grandfather, but if he has some sort of dodgy intentions then I can definitely forego the family bonding.
Roman sits at the head of a gorgeously carved wooden desk and then continues to stare at me. “So, you sought me out for something. What was it?”
“Don’t you even want to know my name first?” I ask.
He closes his eyes and a grin touches his perfect mouth. “Tegan Stolle. Now I know your name. Talk.”
“Aren’t you just full of surprises,” I mutter and a silence ensues.
Finally, I exhale and proceed to detail the predicament in Tribane with Theodore’s barrier keeping everyone shut out from the rest of the world, and how the people all know about supernaturals because of the vampire attacks that Whitfield incited. I finish up by requesting that he help me in undoing the barrier and somehow making it so that the humans forget about the supernatural world they have uncovered. Oh, and I also sneak in that I would very much like to make my friend Rita better again.
“Sounds like a tricky situation. I actually remember Theodore from my youth. He had already become a sorcerer at that point but he wasn’t as powerful back then as he is now.” A look of nostalgia crosses his features.
“Oh yeah, and when exactly were those days of youth?” I ask curiously.
“I turned fourteen in the year 1578, if I recall correctly. My memory is not what it once was,” he jokes and I can tell it’s just that, a joke. I have a feeling this is a man who forgets nothing.
“Say what?” I exclaim. “1578. That means you’re like, four hundred and something years old.” It also means that Theodore is even older. A shiver runs down my spine.
“That’s correct,” he preens as though my amazement is a compliment.
“I’ll be twenty-four in a couple of weeks,” I say.
His eyes grow intense as he appraises me. “And you wear your twenty-four years exquisitely.”
I roll my eyes at his flirting and this seems to excite him. “I bet Emilia just loves you,” he says with a note of sarcasm.
I chuckle. “Yeah, she thinks I’m a real prize.”
“I remember her well. She was never fond of girls like you. She thought women should act as ladies.”
“That’s a laugh. She wasn’t acting like much of a lady when she was spreading her legs for you with a husband at home none the wiser.”
“Touché.”
I smirk and try to direct the conversation back to business. “So, can you help me?”
He stands from his desk and walks to the chair I’m sitting in, perching himself on the armrest. His long, cleanly manicured fingers trail from the top of my head down my hair and along my spine slowly. I bristle at his touch but suffer through it, not wanting to offend him and his granddaughter loving ways. (Even if they do creep me the eff out.)
“I will look into it,” he tells me in a silky voice.
“And when will I hear from you again?”
“I will come to you when the time is right. You have my word. Sleep well, Tegan.”
And with that I fall from this dream and into another one. When I wake up the next morning, Ethan’s hard body is wrapped around mine. I remember the conversation I had with my grandfather vividly. All I can do is hope that he holds true to his word.
Chapter Seve
n
Believers
Finn
It’s three in the morning by the time I get back to the hotel. I undress and climb into bed beside a sleeping Allora, close my eyes and it’s lights out. When I wake up Allora’s gone but I can hear her moving around inside the bathroom.
I get up and walk to the door before knocking on it. “Hey Goldy, you okay in there?” I call.
“Um, yes,” she answers hesitantly. “I’m just getting dressed.”
I let my voice drop a note when I ask huskily, “Need any help?”
I think I hear her let out a little nervous giggle. Damn, I like that sound. “Nope. I’ve got it under control.”
“Call if you need me. I’m going to make a start on packing up all of our stuff.”
She’s only worn one outfit from the clothes I bought her. I stuff the rest of them into a bag and gather the remainder of my things. Somewhere along the way the bathroom door opens and the clean smell of the soap she was using streams out. I inhale it deeply and then continue what I’m doing.
“We’re going back to mine today. I’ll make up a room for you and you can stay as long as you want,” I say not turning around.
“You don’t have to do that if you don’t have the space for me,” she says and I turn to give her a look that says, you’ve got your shit in bucketfuls if you think I’m going to leave you on your own.
“I’ve got the space,” I tell her firmly, thinking of Tegan’s vacant room. Something hollow stirs in my gut. She belongs to Cristescu now. I can see it in the way he looks at her, all reverent and possessive like he wants to make her his queen or something.
I get dressed quickly and go to let the others know we’ll be leaving soon. After I left Cristescu’s place last night, I hightailed it back to the DOH compound where I’d deserted the van I stocked up with weapons and ammo. I found it in the exact place I’d left it and drove straight back to the hotel. The girl vamp who’d been lying on the ground with half her head blown off was gone. The only evidence of her presence was a circle of black blood on the ground and a smeared line of it where she presumably crawled away.
Once everybody’s loaded up into the van I drive out of the hotel and back onto the motorway. I certainly won’t miss the place. In my head I’m figuring out where everyone’s going to sleep. Delilah’s going back to vamp territory sometime today, so that leaves me with one less person to cater for. Alvie and Gabe can have the RV since Rita’s gone. Ira can stay in Gabriel’s old room, I’ll stay in mine and Allora can stay in Tegan’s. It’s a small comfort to know I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed again.
“So, when are you heading to your bro’s place?” I ask Delilah on the drive.
She shrugs. “I’m actually thinking of staying in the house across from yours. Ira can sleep there, too.”
I bet he can. I give her a smirk through my overhead mirror before focusing back on the road.
“You sure Cristescu’s going to be okay with that? He seemed eager to have you back under his roof when I spoke to him.”
Earlier today I briefly filled them all in on my vamp encounter last night and my subsequent meeting with Tegan and her beau.
Delilah lets out a humph-like noise of annoyance. “He’s not getting me back in that house again. The whole time Whitfield was in power he hardly let me go anywhere by myself because there was too much hostility towards dhamphirs. I’m keeping hold of my freedom this time around.”
“If that’s what you want,” I say with a shrug.
Twenty minutes later I pull up outside of my house.
In the end it’s only me and Allora staying at my place because Ira silently takes Delilah up on her offer. I don’t blame the fella. The red head dhamphir is hot and he’s had one hell of a dry spell that far outweighs my own. I’m not sure if it’s a love match between these two, but it’s certainly a sex match.
I unpack all the weapons and ammo from the van and haul it inside the house. Allora asks if she can help but I tell her no. I have this thing where I don’t like making women do men’s work. Plus, I have an urge to treat her like she’s fragile because of the whole being blind thing.
I’ve just unloaded the last box and shoved it under the stairs when I notice her hovering by the kitchen door.
“Can I make you some tea?” she asks fidgeting. She looks like she’s feeling kind of useless and wants something to do. “I’ve been getting used to the layout of your kitchen, so I think I know where everything is now.”
She can hear the smile in my voice when I answer, “Sure, tea would be great. I’m going to put my feet up in the living room for a while.”
“I’ll bring it in to you, then,” she says and turns back into the kitchen, her hand sliding along the wall as she feels her way about.
I turn on the television and flick through the stations, listening to her potter with the kettle and cups. I can’t help waiting to hear something shatter as she drops it, but that doesn’t happen. A few minutes later she enters the room holding a steaming mug in her hand and wearing a triumphant expression. Something in my chest stirs at seeing her so proud of making a simple cup of tea.
“Where are you?” she asks.
“Over here,” I say and she follows the sound of my voice. When she’s standing before me I take the mug from her hand and sip.
“Ah, powerful cup of tea, Goldy. Thanks.”
She tugs on the hem of her T-shirt and bites her full bottom lip. “Why do you call me that?”
“Goldy?” I question and she nods. “It’s because of your eyes.”
She wrinkles her nose. “They’re hazel.”
“They’re gold,” I disagree. “And they’re fucking gorgeous.”
She blushes and hurries back out to the kitchen. I chuckle. A minute later she comes inside with her own cup and takes a seat beside me on the couch. We drink in silence for a bit with a soap opera playing on the television.
“How old are you?” I ask her because I have absolutely no interest in soaps.
“Twenty-one,” she pauses and sips. “I was nineteen when Ridley took me.”
Just a baby, I think to myself. I’m practically a decade older than her. Given the amount of time I’ve spent looking at her chest (and arse), I feel like a bit of a dirty old bastard right now.
“Were you still at school?”
“My first year of college. I was studying for a degree in science.”
“Science. Little brainiac, are ya?” I tease, nudging her with my elbow while she shakes her head bashfully.
It’s funny I should accuse her of being a brainiac, because I’m kind of one myself. You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but I got a degree in computer technology when I was a nipper. That was before I even knew about the existence of vampires and in my mind the world was still a bright place full of endless possibilities.
When I got recruited into the DOH, they asked me about my skill set and continued to train me in computers for years. I can hack the shit out of anything nowadays.
“I like practical subjects,” says Allora. “I much prefer experiments over written work.”
“I get that.”
Taking another gulp of my tea, I study her for a moment. “Listen, everything’s kind of been a crazy rush this last day or two and we haven’t really had the chance to talk. Is there anything you need? Anything that will make staying here more comfortable for you? Name it and I’ll do my best to get it. I want you to feel at home.”
“I can’t believe you’re helping me like this,” she says in disbelief and gratitude. “You hardly know me.”
“What can I say, I like to prove the saying about relying on the kindness of strangers to be true. I can also see that you’ve been through a really tough time of it and you deserve to be protected. Given that the barrier is in place, Michael Ridley must still be in the city somewhere and he could decide to come after you again. I want to make sure you have someone looking out for you if that happens.”
“You’ve got a kind
heart, Finn,” she tells me and I think I hear a catch in her throat.
“That’s me alright,” I say with a laugh. “Finn Roe: Kind-hearted vampire slayer. So, I repeat, is there anything you need?”
Without thinking I reach over and put my hand softly on her shoulder.
“Um, I could use some toiletries, I guess. Shampoo and body wash, the girly kind.”
“Girly shampoo and body wash, done and done,” I tell her smiling. “What else?”
“That’s all,” she answers sheepishly.
“Low maintenance. I like it.”
We fall into a comfortable silence and finish our tea.
“Finn,” says Allora.
“Yeah?”
“Can you describe what everyone looks like for me? I want to be able to picture you all in my head.”
I grin. “Sure. Delilah’s petite, face like a china doll, pale skin and curly red hair. Ira’s tall, built like a brick shithouse, dark colouring. Gabriel’s got short brown hair and bright green eyes, and Alvie’s thin as a rake, brown eyes, black hair, wears a lot of Goth clothes.” I pause and watch her as she absorbs it all. “And then you have me, handsomest motherfucker you’ll ever come across,” I joke.
She laughs. “Be serious!”
“Okay, okay. My eyes are blue, hair’s light brown. That’s about the size of it.”
“Stand up for a minute.”
Curious, I do as she requests and she follows suit, reaching up to place her hands on my shoulders. I stand at least a foot higher than her. “Hmm, you’re tall,” she says as her hands drift from my shoulders down my arms and then across my chest. “And you’re lean.” Now her hands drift up to my face. Her fingers are soft as feathers as they tenderly search my features. “I think you weren’t lying either when you said you were handsome.”
Jesus, I have to concentrate to keep my dick under control, my breathing coming out all fast and shit. I really, really like it when she puts her hands on me.
“Keep touching me like that and I might have to kiss you.”
