by Jane Ederlyn
“I need you,” she said.
“It has nothing to do with you. You’re the one I want and I’m not going anywhere.” He lifted her face up and kissed the trail of tears sliding down her cheek. “We can’t keep anything from each other. It’s going to be okay.” He kissed one eye and then the other, and pressed his cheek against her damp, fluttering lashes. “My father will get over it. He can always pawn the Slovakian girl on one of my brothers, or my cousin.”
“You have brothers? I don’t know much about you.”
“I’d be happy to tell you everything, but I have something else in mind first.”
Marie laughed, a sweet sound of relief and happiness.
“Renfield is watching and she looks murderous,” he said.
“Stop that.”
“I can’t. Besides, I bought her greens today, so I have brownie points to protect me.” He stood and held out his hand for her. She took it, and he pulled her into his arms.
“Have you had sex with this woman?” It had been all she could think about it the long drive home. Would he eventually prefer someone warmer? Someone who could give him little wolves to inherit the pack one day? Of course he would. Nothing in life was certain except instinct and impermanence. One day, his need to breed would kick in and he’d slip away from her.
Should she end it now to save worse pain later, or let it continue and savor every moment until the timer sounded?
He howled and like his heartbeat, it breathed life into her. And she realized she wanted whatever she could have with Odin and the temporary bliss of not being on guard all the time.
“I haven’t,” he said.
“I believe you.”
“Say it.”
She didn’t ask what. “Do you really need me to?”
“Yes, I do. First and foremost, I’m a man.”
She reached up, slid her hands into his hair, and lowered his face to hers until his nose was touching hers. “I want you, Odin Ulfsson.”
“You look terrified.”
“I am,” she admitted.
He gave her an irresistible half grin and swept her up into his arms. She hooked her hands around his neck and held on as he strode into the house.
“Odin and I are retiring. Do you need anything?” Marie called out as he carried her past a frowning Abby.
“You were fighting. Are you all right?” Abby asked.
Odin stalled with a sigh.
Marie shifted and slid out of his grasp. “I am. Are you?”
“Of course Bee’s fine. She has a pot of coffee and a book,” he said.
Both women cocked their head and stared at him intently. Marie went completely still, not breathing or blinking, while Abby was animated but still unnervingly still. He threw his hands in the air. “Whoa. That is a really creepy family resemblance.”
Marie slapped his butt, and he flinched. “You give her reason to be upset with you.”
“Ahh, I haven’t done anything. Bee was born upset.”
“My name is Abby.”
“Whenever she gets cranky, I think of a bumblebee and its stinger. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Cute but deadly,” he mumbled and quickly left the room before Abby started pitching objects at him again.
Odin and Marie lay entwined in bed, his unyielding arms wrapped around her and his hard body spooned behind her.
A sigh of contentment escaped her lips. “Were you born or made?”
“I was born a werewolf. What about you?”
“I was made by a very old vampire. Anton. He saved me.”
“Saved you?” Odin prompted.
“I would have died at the hands of rogues if not for him.”
“How was it that he was there?”
“I don’t know. I know only that he changed me and gave me eternal life.”
“Did you know what would happen?”
“No. I don’t think anyone can expect this. If I had, I wouldn’t have chosen it. I was naïve, young. I was a new mother and all I could think of was my child being left alone.” She shrugged. “Anton was good to me and my Marcel.”
Odin contemplated her words. He’d heard somewhere the bond between maker and child was special, but he didn’t know how much truth there was in that statement. He did know a few vampires. But they were business associates and questions like these would not have been welcomed. They loved their mystery but could he blame them? All supernatural beings lived with the fear of discovery looming over their heads. He gazed at her, her pale, cool cheek rested against his arm, and her luminous hair spread across the pillow. She belonged in his arms. She belonged with him. “Marie . . .”
“Yes, Odin.”
He wanted to ask her if she loved her maker. He was afraid of the answer but needed to know. “Are you in love with Anton?”
She twisted in his arms to see his eyes. “I am not.”
“What about your husband?”
“I will always love Mathieu, but that was a different life. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Have you been married?” she asked.
He nodded. “Her name was Astryd.”
“Tell me about her.”
“It was love at first sight for us and my father ultimately approved because she was the daughter of another pack leader.”
“Did you have children?” She laid her head down on his warm chest, feeling the rise and fall of his words.
“I didn’t have children with my wife, but I have children now.”
She shot him a pointed look.
“The pack is my family.”
She relaxed and her fingers trailed on his chest, connecting the hairs like she would constellations.
“Egon, Lagmann, Thorhild, and Siv are my children. I protect them with my life. Like Renfield is your child.”
Marie laughed. Conscious of her fangs, she covered her mouth with her hand. “It would be your demise if she heard you. I would not be able to stop her.”
Her laughter proved contagious and he, too, started laughing.
“I think you’re right, but we’d both be in trouble.”
She grabbed his chin. “Not me.”
“If she heard me say it and you didn’t stop me, you would be an accessory to the crime.”
She shook his chin back and forth. “You are incorrigible.”
“But charming.” He smirked.
She touched the side of his face, now thick with beard growth. “Tell me more.”
“It’s hard for female werewolves to conceive and even harder for them to go full term. The fetus begins more human than wolf and often rejects the mothers’ physiology. Miscarriages are common and my gentle Astryd was not an exception. When it became apparent that we were fated not to have children, my father withdrew his support. He wanted me to leave her and remarry. He wanted an heir from his heir.”
“That is cruel.”
“I have been fighting my father’s whims my entire life.”
“You should have a child, Odin,” Marie said, her tone wistful.
“Egon is Astryd’s little brother. When her family was killed, he came to live with us and he is like a son to me. Lagmann and I share birth days, he is like a brother to me but sometimes more of a son as well.” He caressed her shoulder, the feel of her helping him think. “Thorhild and Siv are my cousins, but they are younger. They too are my responsibility as is the pack as a whole. I don’t need a child of my seed.”
“You said you have brothers.”
He nodded. “Two, but we aren’t close. My blood brothers are mini versions of my father. They do his bidding to his supreme delight and paternal pride.”
“It’s just the three of you. No sisters?”
“Just three sons in thirt
een hundred years.”
Her eyes widened. The only person she knew older than Stormda was Anton.
“Marie,” he said.
“Yes, Odin.”
“Don’t keep anything from me again.”
She couldn’t promise that exactly. All she could say was, “I should have told you about today.”
He was satisfied and let her answer with its fissures, slide away uncontested. His hand brushed her necklace again. “You are always touching this,” he said fingering the baroque diamonds. “I thought vampires and crosses didn’t mix.”
“Another myth. I go to church, too.”
“Did Mathieu give it to you?”
“No, my mother did.”
She hesitated a moment then crawled out of bed.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
She disappeared into her closet and was back, almost before he finished asking the question. She unwrapped a silk bundle and handed him a miniature painting barely larger than the palm of her hand.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“My mother.”
“Tell me about her.”
“It is the past, Odin.” She took the picture from him and returned it to the closet. She had wanted to share that with him, but she didn’t want to dwell on what was gone.
“Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I am. But don’t think I didn’t notice that you changed the subject.”
“I hear noise in the kitchen, go on and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He picked up his torn jeans and looked at them bemused. He had nothing else to wear, so he put on the ripped pants anyway.
Abby looked up when he entered the room. “Where’s Marie?”
“On the way. Do you have anything to eat?” He opened the refrigerator.
“There’s leftover chicken.”
He grabbed two pieces and turned to talk to her, a drumstick in one hand and a thigh in the other hand. “I’m a leg man.”
Abby rolled her eyes.
“So her mother gave her the cross she never takes it off?” He bit into the thigh.
“Of course.”
“Of course? You say that like it’s a given.”
“It is.”
“She doesn’t like to talk about her past.” He took a bite from the drumstick.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what? Why so much mystery?” It bothered him that there was something important about Marie that he didn’t know.
“Marie is a Petite-fille de France.”
“Granddaughter of France? I get it that’s she’s French. What’s so mysterious about that?”
“Odin, Marie’s mother was Madame Louise Marie of France.”
He looked at her blankly.
“Don’t you know any history? Her grandfather was Louis XV. Marie is a royal—a Princess of the Blood—an heir of the Bourbon monarch. We are descendants to the throne of France.”
He smirked. “That . . . explains a lot.” He paused and quirked a brow. “Did you cook the chicken, Bee?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
She sighed. “You’re not going to bother me.”
“You do have a glow about you.” He sniffed the air. “You bathed.”
She glared at him. “It’s not going to happen. You aren’t going to rile me today.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said innocently. He reached into the fridge for another drumstick.
“Would you like more chicken?” Abby asked sarcastically.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He straightened and gave her a serious look. “What else should I know about Marie?”
“Ask her,” Abby said.
Marie walked into the kitchen and glared at both of them.
The microwave dinged. “Saved by the bell. I’m going to watch a movie.” Abby retrieved the bowl of popcorn and exited the kitchen, the scent of buttery kernels trailing behind her.
Odin licked his fingers. “You may as well tell me everything.”
Marie sighed.
“Why don’t you talk about your past?”
“The past is the past. It is gone.”
“I feel like that, too.”
“You know everything you need to know.”
“I didn’t know you’re a blue blood.”
“Does it matter, Odin?”
“It does to me. I want to know everything.”
“Very well,” Marie relented.
Abby glanced up as they walked into the room. He reached over her to grab a fistful of popcorn and plopped down on the sectional. The cushion sank with a whoosh.
“Don’t break my sofa.”
He pilfered more popcorn.
Marie sat next to him and crossed her legs. “My mother was the last child of Louis XV.”
Odin and Abby stopped chewing.
“She and three of her sisters were raised at the Abbey of Fontevraud. When she was thirteen, she returned to Versailles. None of my grandfather’s marriage plans for her, including a possible match with cousin Bonnie Prince Charlie, materialized to her relief. One day the Duke d’Orgemont came to Versailles. He was the eldest son of an old family that was newly in favor. My mother and father fell in love immediately and my grandfather allowed them to marry. I was born a year later. A year after that, my father died in a riding accident, and my mother was so devastated she left me at Versailles and entered a convent. She was religious and took the death of her husband as a sign from God that her father’s morals and sexual escapades were condemning the family. She dedicated herself to God in order to save all of our souls.”
“Ahh yes, Madame de Pompadour and Madame du Barry,” Odin said, remembering Louis XV’s infamous mistresses. “But how could she have left her baby?”
Abby resumed chewing, munching nervously.
Odin shook his head. “Your mother became a nun and left you?”
Marie nodded and he brought her into the warm enclosure of his body.
“She left shortly after my cousin married Marie Antoinette. I was just a baby. Surprisingly, I wasn’t sent off with a governess like my cousins, Marie Adelaide and Elizabeth, even after my grandfather died. I grew up at Versailles with Mathieu and the rest of my male cousins. Eventually, it was obvious to everyone, especially to the queen, that Mathieu and I were sweet on each other. She was fond of both of us and convinced the king to sanction the union.”
“I’ve never dated a princess. Hell, I’ve never dated someone in a history book before,” he said, trying to lighten the sadness in Marie’s eyes. He wished he hadn’t forced her to remember.
“I am not recorded anywhere. When I became what I am, Anton erased all traces of me, Mathieu, and Marcel.”
“How could he have done that?” Odin asked, outraged.
“History is written by men, and men can be influenced. Anton is very powerful and always gets what he wants.”
“What purpose did he have to rewrite history?”
“He claims it was in our best interest to protect us from the Revolution because I had become a vampire, and because he could.”
Odin was silent. He thought he picked up something in Marie’s voice, other than the usual devotion for her master, but it would be best to let the subject drop, especially in front of Abby. He kissed Marie’s nose. “I think I like vampires.”
“You think?” Abby asked.
“Who asked you, Bee? Start the movie.”
“My name is Abby.”
“What are we watching?” Marie asked.
“Underworld,” Abby replied. He and Marie rolled their eyes but didn’t complain.
“Marie, why don’t you dress like that?” h
e asked.
Marie looked at him quizzically. “Like how?”
“Like Kate Beckinsale?”
“He means in leather,” Abby added. “Too Goth for her. We’ve already had this discussion.”
“I like it,” he said, looking sheepish.
“You would.” Abby gulped another mouthful.
“Nobody asked you, Bee. Hand it over.”
Abby passed him the bowl.
“You know what I think is Goth?” He waited until he had both of their rapt attention before continuing. “The outrageous powdered wigs the French court wore. How did you walk with those stacks on your head?”
Marie beamed at him. “Carefully.”
Abby was about to insert the movie when a news alert flashed on the screen.
He held out his hand. “Wait.”
She turned to Odin with an impatient, “What?”
He leaned forward. A mauled dog was found in an apartment dumpster on South Beach, stomach gashed open and organs missing. No witnesses and building security footage proved inconclusive. Despite it being too far south for panthers, authorities suspect a large predator.
Odin exchanged glances with Marie.
“Do you need my help?”
Chapter XIX
England, 1805
It seemed to Marie that she spent most of her waking time looking through windows, watching people breathing and drinking in life while she watched, separated by a pane of glass. Tonight, she would not watch. Tonight, she would participate.
She secured the gold mask to her face and entered a ballroom ablaze with candles and lilting music. Just beyond twirling couples and tables of tiered champagne glasses, she spotted Marcel and settled in a corner where she could watch him inconspicuously. He was laughing at something and his shining blue eyes sparkled. He so resembled his father, she had to check herself. If she betrayed too much, Anton might whisk her away. Her hands fisted at the thought of Anton and she fervently hoped he wouldn’t make an appearance.
She closed her eyes as the music floated around her. She loved dancing and it was another thing on a long list that she’d given up. When the song ended, she opened her eyes. Her son stared back at her. She felt a momentary twinge of panic, but this was, after all, what she had ultimately wanted and lowered her head in greeting.
