by Jane Ederlyn
“Why didn’t you change Marcel?”
“He didn’t desire it.”
“You’ve never turned any of them into vampires?”
“No.”
“They all knew about you, every generation. So many humans involved and no danger came of it?”
“They were my family. They would not jeopardize my safety. My possessions get transferred from heir to heir, but I am not recorded anywhere. I don’t exist. Besides, humans don’t want to believe in fairy tales. You know that.”
“True.”
“The point is, Gabrielle was right about celebrating life. I don’t wither with the deaths. I am reborn with each birth.”
“Where is the rest of your family?”
Her expression clouded. “Fate has been cruel to me, Odin. Abigail is the only one left. The last of my blood.”
“You have my word that I will protect Bee with my life. I can’t promise to be nice.” He smirked. “But I can promise never to let anything happen to her.”
Did she dare believe him? She searched his eyes. They glinted gold, dilated with unmasked emotion and earnestness. Relief swept through her. She was tired of being on guard all the time. But now she could finally relax, at least a little, knowing that someone had her back. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been wondering. Do you hunt every night?”
“Hunt is such a primitive word.”
“Let me rephrase. How do you get your blood?”
“Through the years, my family has acquired a relationship with blood banks, laboratories, and hospitals. When the opportunity arose, they opened a biological waste management company.”
“What is that exactly?” he asked, curious.
“We dispose of human blood.”
“Isn’t that regulated by the State?”
“Yes, by State and Federal law,” she said matter-of-factly, as if reading a contract. “We follow all requirements, but it is quite simple. Why waste something so nutritious by burying it in a landfill? One person’s waste is another person’s treasure.”
“How does it taste?”
“I admit it is watered down with chemicals, but it sustains me. Occasionally I will treat myself to it pure, warm, and sticky from the vessel that carries it.” Her eyes sparkled and her tongue touched a fang.
“Where’s the company?”
“Here in Florida. But I have the blood delivered to wherever I am. We even advertise on the net. ‘Leave your blood to us’ is our motto.”
Odin laughed.
“What do you do?” she asked.
“We’re shipbuilders. We specialize in high-end yachts and vintage replicas. No one can build a longboat like my father. I like working with my hands and I flip properties on my own time, otherwise I’m the face of Ulfsson and Sons.”
There was a discreet knock on the door. “That must be Abby with dinner.” Marie opened the bed curtains and glanced at the clock on her night table. She climbed off the mattress, reached for his shirt, and shrugged it on. After he pulled his briefs back on, and brought up the covers, Marie opened the door. “Good evening, ma chérie.”
Abby handed Marie the tray in silence.
“Is there something for me?” Odin asked, peering over Marie.
Abby gave him a contemptuous look and marched off.
“See, I told you she loves me,” he said.
Marie rolled her eyes. “I have to go out. Can I trust you alone with her?”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Not today.” She walked into the bathroom and started her bath. As the water rippled and frothed with lavender bubbles, she thought again about Stormda and the wisdom of keeping the visit from Odin. She wasn’t sure what the Alpha wanted to discuss with her, but the more she reflected on it, the more certain she was it had to be an apology of sorts, for the rogue incident. It was long overdue. What didn’t sit well with her was she’d been approached alone, when she wasn’t with Odin or any of his men. That meant something, but what?
When she was in the tub, Odin entered the bathroom gloriously naked.
“Are you going to join me?” She scanned his tousled hair, the wide shoulders that flowed into a lean but muscled torso, then lowered her gaze to his flat abdomen and hipbones. She loved the masculine line of those hips and how they held up jeans just above his hairline. Of course, his jeans were currently on the bedroom floor.
“You look like you want to join me.” She smiled.
“Nope. Your imagination.”
“Is it?” She kicked water at him, but he dodged the splash.
“I’m going to jump in the shower.” He made a big show of sniffing the air. “No lavender water for me.”
She stood. Her skin glistened as bubbles and water trickled down her body.
His eyes narrowed. “I guess I could join you,” he growled.
“Too late. I’m done.”
“Can I dry you off?” In a flash, he appeared in front of her with a towel, devouring her with his eyes, nose, and body, about to spring on her. She stepped out of the tub and snatched the towel from his hands. “I think I can handle it.” Instead of wrapping herself in the cloth, she brought it to her breasts and walked into the bedroom, water dripping down her back and rear, as she glided away.
By the time that he got out of the shower, she was dressed in a powder-blue sheath, belted at the waist with a bow, and nude peep-toe pumps.
“How can you walk in those?” he asked.
She looked down at the red soles of her platform shoes. “They make me taller,” she answered, knowing that Odin wouldn’t understand twenty-first century style any more than Mathieu had understood eighteenth-century fashion.
Marie arrived at the werewolf compound. She drove up to the gate, counting men and supernaturals as she went. Two humans manned the gate. One werewolf patrolled the gatehouse, one patrolled on foot just inside, and another hid in a car down the street. Was Stormda expecting war?
“Do you have an appointment?” asked one of the werewolves. He wore a tan and brown uniform with a wolf decal on the pocket.
She was going to have to talk to Odin about these uniforms.
“I am expected,” she said.
“Are you alone?”
She made it a point to look at the seats beside and behind her before meeting his eyes again. “Do I look alone?”
Flaunting his perceived superiority, he stuck his head into the driver window, forcing Marie to sit back. She remained calm though his scent was increasingly repulsive. He snickered before continuing on to inspect the hood and trunk of the car. Seemingly satisfied, he unhooked his clipboard from the wall and asked for her name.
“Marie.”
He flipped through a couple of pages. “Nope. Turn around, lady. This is private property and you ain’t here.” He waved the clipboard like it was a divine scroll.
“Stormda is expecting me. Check it again.”
At the mention of the Alpha, the security guard gave her a lecherous grin. “He loves visitors, especially the ladies, but if you ain’t on the list, you don’t get lucky tonight.”
“I suggest you confirm with Mr. Ulfsson before I drive away.”
Her tone made him hesitate and he picked up a phone and punched in a number. “There’s a chick here for the Alpha.” His eyes darted to Marie. “Petite. Blonde. Green eyes. Dead. Yeah, I’m certain.”
She looked straight into the camera, knowing she was being watched.
He nodded at the telephone and opened the gate for her. “Follow the road. They’re waiting for you. Have a good ole time with the boss man, lady.”
She went a quarter of a mile through dense brush and overlapping trees before spying thick turrets hinting at the house beyond. She tapped her fingers on the st
eering wheel, impatient with the drive and wanting to be done with Stormda. When the thicket faded, the compound came into view. It was immense, comprised of a two-story square edifice with attached wing structures on either side, and unattached buildings spread generously across several acres. If Marie’s nose was correct, they also kept a multitude of animals on the grounds.
The front door was large, double sided, and guarded by five supernaturals. Was all of this on her behalf or did Stormda have a God complex? He had more guards than the King of France. Well, almost.
The heavy door swung open and she was motioned forward by a woman dressed in the skirt version of the brown uniform. They had style these wolves. Marie was greeted and immediately ushered through the main house in a brisk clip.
“Through this door,” mumbled the female werewolf.
“Are you going to open it or shall I?” Marie asked, noticing runes etched on the frame. If she was right, the markings symbolized protection and vitality.
“You can open your own door.”
“Is a bolt of lightning going to hit me?”
“Can you get any deader?”
Marie ignored the woman’s lack of manners and entered. At the far end of a dark, long, rectangular room, Stormda sat in a high-backed throne chair, with elaborate wolf heads carved into the arms. Two wolves in their beast form flanked him, one on each side.
“Marie?” The Alpha acknowledged her but didn’t stand.
The wolves shifted into humans and moved from Stormda’s side to stand directly behind Marie in an obviously orchestrated move. They were very tall, very fair, and very naked.
“I have no weapons,” Marie said.
“Of course, how rude of me.” He waved off the guards.
Marie glanced over her shoulder at them for a last look at Mother Nature’s generosity. She smirked. Her wolf was better endowed.
“Please sit,” Stormda said.
Her eyes returned to her host. There was an air about his eyes that reminded her of Odin. But beyond color and intelligence, the resemblance ended. Stormda was fairer in both complexion and hair color. His nose was wider, less refined, and his lips were thinner. He didn’t have his son’s stature, but what struck her was that he was showing signs of aging. She would have to ask Odin about that.
She became aware of his gaze running down her body, his body alert to hers. She sat across from him and crossed her legs, blithely uninterested.
“I don’t think I’ve met a female vampire before, let alone one so beautiful. Forgive me, but you must understand that your kind can be vile creatures who don’t care what they look like, so I am surprised.”
“I have never run into a smelly, unkempt vampire.”
“Perhaps it’s the company you keep or the places you frequent.”
He was full of shit. She hadn’t liked him from the onset and found it increasingly hard to believe that this man had fathered her Odin. “You wanted to speak to me.”
“I have a matter which is probably only mildly concerning to you, but your cooperation would be greatly appreciated. Lycanthropes take their responsibilities very seriously. I hear you’re acquainted with my eldest son, Odin, and it needs to stop.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
“Is that why you called me here?”
“Indeed, to discuss my heir.”
She stood. “Then you have wasted your time and mine. You are addressing your concern with the wrong person.”
“I’ve discussed this with Odin and he refuses to obey me. I’m asking you not to see him. We don’t take our friends for granted, and as a valued ally, I’d appreciate your cooperation.”
“This is not a business transaction, Stormda. Odin has free will. I do not and cannot control him.”
“That is true, I’m afraid. He takes after his mother that way. But you can say no to him. It might be the only way. You can choose not to see him. He will not force himself on you, I know him to be too much of a gentlemen for that.” He cackled. There was no other word to describe the ugly noise coming out of his throat. “Even in the old days, he would not exert his privileges.”
Marie’s jaw tightened in annoyance.
“My son is not a free man. He has responsibilities to the pack and to his fiancée.”
Marie lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see the color change, or guess the impact his carelessly thrown words had on her. She would not let her disappointment show.
“His association with you is not good for him,” Stormda continued. “She is expected soon. You were once a woman, Marie. I’m sure you can empathize.”
“Excusez-moi?” she said as politely as she could muster. He was being intentionally insulting. He obviously had no idea who he was dealing with.
“You must understand how devastating it will be for that poor girl to find out about her fiancé’s dalliances. She must not find out.” His gold, piercing gaze searched hers and he must not have seen what he wanted to see. “It has to stop,” he boomed, and his voice filled the room and echoed off the walls, stifling Marie.
She bit her tongue with the need to rip his throat open. “Stormda, I thought you asked me here to discuss the rogues, to either commiserate or apologize for their attack on me. I was mistaken.”
He grunted.
“I have to go.” She stood and turned her back on him, the ultimate sign of disrespect to a pack leader.
“You and your ward are stunning women. Give my regards to Anton. He is a lucky master.”
She tensed but didn’t stop or turn back. If she never saw Stormda again, it would be too soon.
Chapter XVIII
When Marie returned to the house, Odin’s SUV was still parked next to Abby’s like he belonged. She stormed into the kitchen, scanned the room, and finding it empty, exited into the backyard. He was sitting on the grass, staring up at rolling clouds in a moonless sky. The glass door shuddered as it closed behind her.
He glanced up. “I’ve missed you.” He uncurled his long limbs and strode toward her.
“I am not good company tonight, Odin. Please leave.” Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, itching to hit him.
He paused mid-step. “What’s wrong?”
Disappointment had spiraled into something ugly, and her eyes burned with it. She shook her head.
“Did something happen?”
“When were you going to tell me?” She raised her hands and made contact with his pecs, sending him flying across the lawn.
He hit an oak tree. His back slammed into the gnarly trunk and his head ricocheted off a low, sharp limb, knocking the air out of him. He grunted and slid down the trunk.
A light flared on in an upstairs room and Abby’s silhouette appeared at the window.
Displaced leaves fell on and around him. He coughed, inhaled, and then shifted into his wolf. Snarling, he charged at Marie. The slanted eyes remained similar, but his nose extended into a snout, his fangs distended, and hair sprouted on most of his half-human, half-wolf beast form coming at her on all fours.
“When were you going to tell me?” she yelled and spread her legs to brace for impact.
With the strength of his forearms and momentum, he knocked her to the ground.
“Get. Off. Me!” Her emotions thickened into a gummy menace that stuck in her throat.
He shifted back into full human and rolled off. “Now what?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. His shirt was in shreds lying somewhere by the tree. His jeans were ripped down his legs but still clung to him at the waist.
“Fiancée?” She spit at him.
He froze. “What?”
“I had a pleasant conversation with your father just now. Do you know what he told me?”
“I’m sure you�
��re going to enlighten me.”
“You have an intended. Is that true? Do you?”
Odin cleared his throat.
“Do you?” She repeated.
“Partially.”
She sat up. “What kind of answer is that? Either you do or you don’t. When were you going to tell me? Were you waiting to send me a wedding invitation? When were you going to tell me?” Her voice sounded shrill and broken to her, like her heart. “I should not have found out from your father. It was embarrassing. You are the one who has insisted that we be something more and yet you keep this from me.” It took an extreme effort to keep her emotions under control.
He fell to his knees and grabbed her shoulders, but she removed his hands with steely determination and turned her face away from him. “You are no better,” she said and closed her eyes against the pressure that was building inside of her. “Please leave.”
“Let me talk.”
“There is nothing to say.”
“I’m not getting married, Marie. My father still lives in the Dark Ages and believes in arranged marriages. I have no intention of marrying someone to increase my father’s wealth or position. I will find my mate.” He raised his eyebrows significantly. “Or she will find me.”
She searched his eyes, wanting to believe in him.
“You have to understand that this has been a topic of conversation long before you were in the picture. It’s just another form of my father’s control.” He cupped her face with his hands. “I need you, Marie. I know all of this has happened quickly, but I know what I feel.” He trembled with checked emotion. “Tell me you won’t disappear now that I’ve found you. Tell me you need me, too.”
