by Apryl Baker
Roman gave her a once over, looking for weapons. Just because he saw none didn’t mean she wasn’t packing. He’d taught her himself how to carry a hidden weapon and not give it away. “No, Delia, and no one is killing her.”
“The crowd outside says otherwise.” She motioned toward the front of the tent. “No one feels safe with that running around loose.”
Anger burned inside of Roman at his sister’s tone. He looked past her and indeed saw a crowd milling around outside. He took Delia by the arm and hauled her outside. “I am Chieftain of this clan. My word is law. Anyone is free to challenge me for the right to lead. Until that happens, the girl is not to be harmed in any way.”
“But her turning…” Marcy O’Keefe, one of his oldest followers, stepped forward. He respected the woman and had deferred to her good judgement on many occasions. “Is it true she has ravager blood inside of her?”
“Aye, it’s true.” He held up his hand. “That doesn’t mean anything, though.”
“Of course it does!” someone shouted from the back. “She’s unclean.”
Red flashed behind his eyes. “So are we. All of us must feed off the living to survive. We are unclean to them. Monsters, they call us, but are we? Would you call yourself an abomination because of the cursed blood running through your veins?” He spoke to the masses, not just the whoremonger who’d dared to insult her. “She is no different than we are.”
Roman turned and motioned for Greggor to bring the girl outside. When they were both standing beside him, he turned back to his people. “Look at her. She’s not some raving lunatic mad with the compulsion to kill. She’s one of us. A newborn, scared and unsure of her new life.”
“How do we know she won’t murder us in our sleep?” Marcy asked, eyeballing the girl with distrust.
“How do you know I won’t just have the earth swallow you up?” the girl countered. Roman almost let out a groan. Didn’t she understand he was trying to soothe them? Making threats was not helping her cause.
She leaned down and scooped up a handful of dirt. Roman’s eyes widened. He’d seen her do that with the ravager.
“It’s such an easy spell.” She stepped forward, her fingers letting the dirt sift to the ground. Marcy gasped and stumbled back, making the sign of the cross. “But I won’t. Do you know why I won’t?”
No one answered her. “Because I am the daughter of the Regent. It is my duty to protect my people. You are my people now, and because of that, you get my protection whether you want it or not.” She let her gaze sweep over them. “Take it or leave it, but it’s who I am.” She turned and walked back inside the tent.
Roman stared after her, his ears full of the arguments behind him. She’d just pledged to protect them. Did she mean that, or was it something said in the heat of the situation? Either way, he’d hold her to it.
“She’s really the Regent’s daughter?” Marcy asked once everyone had calmed down. “He sent us his own child?”
“She is.” Roman nodded. “Our blood runs through her now. Yes, she is part ravager, but that only strengthens her. The girl survived the turning to wake up to feelings of betrayal and abandonment. She was delivered to us like a sheep to slaughter. The Regent and his wife do not deserve her. Maybe we don’t either, but she’s ours now. Are you going to do the same thing to her? Are you going to offer her up to slaughter out of your own fears, or are you going to do what’s right by her?”
Silence met his question. People didn’t know what to think about her, and that was fine. He just couldn’t allow them to stir up trouble.
“As long as I am Chieftain, she is under my protection. Anyone who tries to harm her will be met with the same punishment they tried to mete out to her—death. Am I understood?”
“Death?” Delia shouted, her anger plain on her face. “You’d kill one of your own for her?”
His expression hardened. “Yes, sister, I would.”
Roman turned and walked back into the tent, letting the flap close. Fury bubbled just under the surface, and he needed to calm down before speaking to any of them again.
The girl sat on the bed, her head down. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what she must be going through. So many things had been thrown at her. She’d stood up to his people, and that took more courage than he’d given her credit for. He’d seen her as weak because she’d tried to end her life, but he was beginning to see how much he’d underestimated her.
“What do you need my help with?”
Her words were soft, almost a whisper, but he heard them. She seemed…vulnerable, and it set off all kinds of protective instincts which he shoved down. He needed her to regain his kingdom and nothing else. Nothing.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Being outside would be easier. He wouldn’t feel so closed up, breathing in her scent. It was driving him a little crazy at the moment. Her scent was tinged with the taste of vulnerability and fear. The urge to take her in his arms and comfort her ate at him. Getting out into some fresh air would help.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Her words might be rueful, but the seriousness of the question pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Aye.” He held out a hand to help her up. When their fingers touched, they both pulled back. A shot of electricity jolted him. He grunted and she gasped. He eyeballed her and she stared right back, her gaze curious. She’d obviously felt something, but before she could ask questions, he reached down, grasped her hand, and pulled her up. That same bolt of energy rippled over him again, but he didn’t let go this time. She landed right up against his chest, and his arm automatically went around her waist to steady her. She looked up at him, shocked. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Her scent filled him and he fought the urge to lean down and inhale.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Roman released her and stepped back. Best not to touch her. He cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, her face scrunched up. Why was she staring at him like he’d done something to offend her? He’d only helped her to her feet.
“Yes, brute, I am ready to go.”
Brute? He frowned. “My name is Roman.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then why…” Roman broke off, realizing he didn’t know her name. “What is your name again?”
“Katyia.”
A strong name. It suited her. It meant pure in Russian. As tainted by bad blood as the girl was, he still sensed the purity of her spirit. Yes, it suited her well. He pulled the tent flap back and motioned her out. Her scent wafted up as she walked by him, and he suppressed another urge to do something he shouldn’t. This was going to be a long week.
He led her through the camp, ignoring the whispers and the stares. His people were upset, but they’d get over it once they had control of their kingdom again. The girl was no danger to them. The more they were around her, the more they’d understand that. Well, as long as Delia didn’t go stirring up trouble. He loved her, but sometimes he wanted to strangle her.
“Why are you frowning?” Katyia asked as they walked. “You look like some dark thundercloud rolled in over you and is threatening to let loose.”
“It is nothing.” He shook his head and focused on the path in front of them.
He saw her wrinkle her nose out of the corner of his eye. It was a look he’d seen on her several times now, one he was starting to define as annoyed.
“What is it you want my help with, anyway?”
Definitely annoyed. He chuckled, which earned him another scathing glare. It was a rare moment when he laughed, but she didn’t know that. Something he’d thought he’d forgotten how to do. Running this clan and keeping everyone safe caused him to be harder than most. Strange this slip of a girl could bring his laugh back. She’d managed to make him feel a lot of things he’d buried or thought he’d lost.
“I want my kingdom back.” The words came out blunter and harder than he’d meant, but perhaps it was for the best. He couldn’t let her or any
one see how protective he was becoming of her.
“Vampires have kingdoms?” Curiosity tinged her voice.
“Yes, we do.”
“Then how’d you lose yours?” she asked as they came to a stop near the stream that ran behind the camp.
“My uncle murdered my family and took it. Delia and I barely escaped. My father’s friend got us out before any harm came to us.”
“Delia?” She leaned against a tree. “That’s the woman who wants me dead, yes?”
Well, he couldn’t say no. “She’s just trying to protect our people. After what happened to us, it’s something we both work to ensure. She’ll get used to you.”
“How old were you?”
“I was eight and Delia five.” He stared into the icy water, the depths a mirror for his memories. It was something he rarely thought of. The grief still tore at his soul. He’d seen his parents murdered. Thank God Delia had been spared that much, at least. No one should have to suffer that memory for an eternity.
“I’m sorry.” The simple words held a world of sorrow in them. She understood better than most because of what happened to her family. He stared down at her hand where she’d put it, as if to comfort him. Her touch burned through the sleeve of his shirt, the heat seeping into the flesh and bone. It did comfort him in an odd way.
“What happened after you escaped?”
“We ran.” And they had, for days on end. He honestly didn’t even remember how long they’d survived out in the woods, amongst the ravagers. Not one had come near them. It was the only reason he still had a smidge of faith left in the God his people worshiped. “For a long time, we ran and we hid. Finally, when we were too hungry to go on, we stumbled upon a house out in the country. The man who saw us took us in and fed us. He gave us a home.”
“Were you vampires then?” She was rubbing a soothing circle with her fingers where they rested on his arm.
“Yes, we were born that way. Greggor’s father understood what we were and still took us in. He fed us himself until the servants saw we weren’t evil monsters sent to destroy them.” A laugh slipped out. Their first few months at the house were quite hilarious. He’d never seen people fear children before. Greggor had laughed right along with them.
“And Greggor, he was human then?”
Roman nodded. “Yes. We’d never planned on turning him, at least not when we did. He became very ill. Lung infection. The healer tried everything. I waited until there was no hope left before I turned him. Becoming a vampire had never been Greggor’s plan. He’d wanted to grow old, farm his father’s land, and die a happy man.”
“Fate likes to play devious tricks on us,” she said, her voice coated in bitterness.
“Aye,” he agreed, “it does.”
She seemed to shake off some of her dark mood as they both stood there, looking out over the stream, bathed in memories of their pasts.
“So, how did you go from Greggor’s family home to here?” She removed her hand from his arm, and he missed her warmth immediately.
Roman laced his fingers together to keep from snatching her hand back. “Feeding two vampires stressed the family’s limit, and adding Greggor to the mix wasn’t a viable option. We decided to go looking for survivors of my clan. We traveled through the sectors, picking up lone vampires looking for safety in numbers. We did find a few of our own people, not many, though. Hardly any survived. My uncle saw to that. We’ve been traveling, piecing together a family out of barebones.”
“You think of yourselves as a family?”
“Yes, your clan is your family. It is the only way we survive. Family keeps us strong.”
“And you hold that family together.” She turned to face him. “Is that why you are so unyielding? Because you lost one family and you won’t lose another?”
Nonplussed, Roman gaped at her. She’d hit the proverbial nail on the head. One day, and she knew more about his motives than perhaps anyone outside of Delia and Greggor. Was she so perceptive because of her witchy skills?
“I get that,” she continued, ignoring his failure to answer the question. “I respect it. I’d do anything for my brothers and Nicolette. It’s why I don’t want to take being Regent away from her. She should be given the chance to see if she’s strong enough to hold the wards.”
“As you wish.” He didn’t like it, but he could respect her wishes. Time would tell if her sister could protect the people of Sector Three. He needed Katyia focused on his plight and not that of her sector. Whether she was Regent or her sister mattered not to him. Just as long as she used her considerable skills to get him within killing distance of his uncle.
“How do you think I can help you reclaim your kingdom?” She tilted her head, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Roman took a deep breath and almost groaned. All he could smell was her scent. Intoxicating. It made him want to pull her close and kiss her. He shook himself. Now was not the time to let his head get away from him. He needed her to help him.
“My uncle protects himself so heavily, none can get near him. I have searched for a witch with the skills to get me into his compound, past his guard. Once he and I are face to face, he’ll pay for all his sins.”
“You think I’m strong enough to do all that?” She laughed, the sound sending shudders through him.
“I saw what you could do before, Katyia. You are even stronger now. You almost destroyed us last night with your rage. This place is only standing today because you passed out from blood loss.”
“I did not.”
Outrage. The smell of blueberries and cream. That was what it smelled like on her. He leaned in for a closer smell.
“What are you doing?” She took a nervous step back.
“Sniffing.” He winked, something he hadn’t done in ages.
“Why?”
“Because your outrage smells delicious, kitten.” He reached out and pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck, where the scent was strongest. “Mmm…you smell like dessert.”
“Well, I’m not.” Her hand shot up between them and she tried to shove against him, but there was no moving him at this moment. He’d been fighting with himself since he’d met her yesterday, but no more. His tongue swept over her pulse point, feeling it go wild. Her heartbeat sped up and her breathing hitched.
“But you are,” he murmured and scraped his teeth over that wildly beating vein calling to him. His lips swept up her throat, tasting, teasing. Her scent invaded every fiber of his being. His choice had been taken from him in an instant, when his body recognized what his mind refused to acknowledge. Her scent told him everything he needed to know.
He’d found his mate.
When his lips met hers, Katyia gasped. Roman pinned her against the tree, his mouth a conquering army, demanding complete and total surrender. She stiffened and pushed against him. This was his idea of trying to convince her to help him? Her hands went up and shoved against his chest. Hard. She was not the kind of girl to be manhandled.
Then he switched tactics on her. His kiss softened, his lips teasing hers. One arm wrapped around her, the other tilted her head back, his fingers caressing the base of her neck. Whereas the rougher kiss she would have fought against, this kiss caused her knees to weaken just a bit. A slow fire erupted in her belly, spreading outward. Roman deepened the kiss and she melted into it. Her toes curled. She closed her eyes, the scent of warm cocoa surrounding her. He smelled so good…
Roman pulled back, his hands tightening around her. “You’re hungry.”
She blinked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Something sharp nicked it and she tasted blood. Fangs. She had fangs now. The pain cleared away some of the fog her mind had slipped into. Her stomach clenched painfully. A little groan escaped her. Did it always hurt when she needed to eat?
“Come, let’s get you fed.” He took her hand and started pulling her back toward camp.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Because I wa
nted to.”
“Well, don’t do it again.”
A laugh rumbled out of him. “I will kiss you again if I want to.”
Katyia frowned. Kissing Roman was not a good idea. Granted, she’d never been kissed like that in her life. Toe curls and all. Katyia wasn’t a stranger to kissing. She’d done her fair share of it, but Roman’s touch brought out feelings no one else ever had come close to. It frightened her.
The man came off all hard and unyielding, but that wasn’t the man she’d been with all morning. She considered herself a good judge of character. Here was a man who had suffered unimaginable horrors, and now all he wanted was to keep his family together. She understood that, respected it. She also understood he wasn’t the kind of man who fell in love. Love had no room in his life. Roman could easily break her heart. Not something Katyia was willing to go through. Her heart was too fragile, having been broken once last night already. How much more pain could it take? A question she refused to answer.
They came to a stop and his arm went around her. She opened her mouth to tell him to keep his hands off when the smells hit her. So many tantalizing smells. They were at the end of camp where the humans were. People stared at her. People she knew. People she’d talked to every day since she was a little girl. No. He couldn’t expect her to…no.
“Easy, little kitten,” his voice purred in her ear. “I won’t let you harm anyone.”
“I know them,” she whispered. “I can’t…”
“Of course you can.” He pulled her closer, his embrace more of a comfort than she wanted to admit.
“Miss Kat!”
A bundle of brown hair and blue eyes latched onto her. She looked down to see little Mikey Donavan clutching her for dear life. She’d just spoken to his mother a few days ago about the winter ball plans her mother was organizing.
Citrus. That was what Mikey smelled like, sunshine and citrus. Her fingers dug into Roman’s arm as she tried to gain some kind of control over this thirst telling her to rip the boy apart and drink him dry. She would not hurt him. Even if it killed her.
“Where’s your mama, Mikey?” Her voice sounded a bit strangled and lispy. Her new teeth had dropped, causing a lisp.
