by Apryl Baker
Would it be that bad to belong to Roman? Despite his brutish tendencies, he could be sweet, even kind. He’d taken care of her since he picked her up out of the snow. Protected her from his people and even herself. Could that be him showing her how he cared? Her hand snuck up to touch the place where he’d bitten her. It hurt, but then she expected that. A person didn’t have their flesh punctured and not have it hurt. He said he’d marked her. What did that mean? Would the wound never go away? Just be there on display for forever?
“It still hurt?”
She looked up to see Greggor beside her. He leaned in to see the wound when she removed her hand. “The bruising is going away, at least. The tattoo will show up better once the wound heals.”
“Tattoo?”
“Roman didn’t tell you?”
She laughed, the sound harsh. “He didn’t really say much of anything except to order me to be his mate.”
Greggor winced. “Not his finest moment.”
She sent him a flat stare. Sometimes Greggor made her laugh, other times his charm could be irritating.
“I guess it’s sort of my fault he dropped it on you like he did.” He looked sheepish, his hands playing with the reins. “I might have told him if he didn’t claim you, I would.”
“You did what?” she squawked.
“Roman is slow to action when it comes to things that could potentially make him happy. I know my brother. He would have waited around until it was too late and you’d found yourself someone else to be happy with.”
“He said a vampire knows his mate…but I don’t know what I feel. Why is he so certain when I’m not?”
Greggor glanced at his brother’s figure ahead. “Your scent. It calls to him, tells his beast you are the only one who can soothe it. You bring out the man and not the beast. He smiles around you. I’ve even heard him laugh a few times. You frustrate him, you challenge him, you are his opposite. All good things. I’ve never seen my brother truly happy. Until you. He might be all gruff and surly, but you are softening his edges, just as a mate is supposed to do.”
“That’s all well and good for him, but what about me?” Katyia growled in frustration. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“Let’s think this through, okay?” Greggor slowed their horses. “What is the first word that comes to mind when you think of Roman?”
“Safe.” Easy question.
“He makes you feel safe and protected. That’s a good start. What else do you feel?”
“More confident. Bold.”
“Traits he brings out in you.” Greggor nodded sagely. “Our true mates bring out the best in us, traits we didn’t even know we possessed.”
“He’s a really good kisser too,” she whispered.
Greggor laughed. “Always a plus.”
“I do like him,” she admitted. “Despite himself.”
“Then why are you so upset about being claimed as his mate?” Greggor asked her. “Shouldn’t you at least give this a chance? Roman is a good man. He deserves to be happy, Katyia. You make him happy.”
“Would you like to be told you’re someone’s mate and deal with it?” She scrunched her nose. “I do not like being told I am someone’s property.”
“Did he call you his property?” Greggor asked, appalled. “We do not treat our women like chattel.”
“Well, no, not directly. It was just his high handed way of telling me. It made me feel owned and I don’t like that feeling at all, Greggor. If I am going to choose someone to be my…mate, I guess I want it to be because they loved me and not because of some kind of weird supernatural thing.”
“Who’s to say he doesn’t love you?”
“I’ve known him all of a week.”
“So?” Greggor shrugged. “Why can’t you know if you love someone in a week? People get too involved in their doubts. They overthink everything. Your body will tell you if you are attracted to him. Your instincts will guide you to find the qualities about him you admire. That can lead the heart to love what’s right in front of it even if the people involved are too stubborn for their own good.”
“I’m not stubborn.”
He laughed so loud, Storm flicked his head, startled. She shoved him off his horse. He hit the ground, still laughing. Roman was there in a heartbeat, his eyes assessing. “What happened?”
“Your brother is an idiot.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Greggor lay in the falling snow, smiling like a goof. “She says she’s not stubborn.”
Roman’s eyebrows raced toward his hairline. He tried to hide the smile teasing his lips. Katyia glared. “Do you think I’m stubborn?”
“Well, you did nag me…”
“I do not nag!” The very idea. Nag him? She shoved him and he fell off his horse, flailing, not expecting her attack. His elbow landed squarely in Greggor’s gut, his breath whooshing out in a painful grunt. Roman looked unsure of what to do and then he joined his brother in the laughfest.
Laughing at her, were they? She smiled her cattiest smile and urged Storm to move back. Once she had some distance between them. She held out her hands and let the snow land in them. She used the snowflakes to ground her and tap into the elemental magic around her. In her mind’s eye she saw the snowballs form in the snow, saw them rise up around her.
Roman and Greggor pulled themselves to their feet, staring at her in something akin to horrified awe. She and Nicolette ruled the snowball fights in their family. Easy as pie. She pulled them forward with a flick of her wrist, lined them up, and then shouted “Fire!”
Too late, they tried to run. There was no hiding from Katyia’s aim. She showed the men the same mercy she’d shown her brothers—none. The snowballs flew toward them, curving with them as they tried to duck and dodge. One after the other, they found their mark. By the time the last one smashed Greggor in the face, they were both out of breath and looking very much the worse for wear.
She smiled at them from atop her horse. “Don’t irritate a witch. It never ends well.”
Roman watched her turn her horse around, the animal trotting off like he carried the Queen of Sheba herself. He looked at his brother, his hair dripping water from the melted snow, and burst out laughing. Oh, dear God. That woman.
Greggor grinned and slapped him on the back. “You’ve got your hands full with that one. Remind me to never piss her off.”
He shook the snow out of his hair, his laughter rumbling through his chest. “She’s magnificent.”
“Finally figuring that out, are you?” Greggor winked and dusted himself off.
“Which was your point earlier, wasn’t it?” Roman studied his brother, trying to discern the truth behind the smile.
Greggor shrugged. “Sometimes we have to give you a good strong kick to get you moving. You’re as stubborn as she is.”
“And if I had decided to let her go?”
“Then I would have snapped her up in a heartbeat.” Greggor’s smile faded.
Roman nodded. His brother had never lied to him before and he wasn’t about to start now, even if it did make Roman’s vision go a little red. He also knew Greggor wouldn’t touch Katyia now that Roman had claimed her. It settled his beast down.
“But now I’ll do everything I can to help you hold on to her,” Greggor promised. “She likes you and thinks you are a really good kisser.”
“I’m a good kisser, am I?” Roman preened. At least he’d done one thing right with her.
“Her hesitancy doesn’t have anything to do with her not caring about you. It’s more about the way you handled her. That woman doesn’t like to feel like property.”
Roman grimaced. He could see where she’d probably thought he’d been laying down the law. It wasn’t his finest hour. His emotions, hormones, and his instincts had all been clamoring to claim her at all costs. That mix tended to be volatile to begin with. Add in her resistance, she was lucky he hadn’t found somewhere and shown exactly how much his beast owned
her.
“It is the strangest thing,” he told his brother. “When I hear her try to question our being mates, it’s like the beast that lives inside of us turns territorial. It demands I show her how wrong she is. In my head it is ownership. She is mine. Simple.”
“But it’s not that simple, Roman.”
“I know.” His shoulders slumped. “I can’t lose her, Greggor, not now.”
“You won’t,” Greggor promised. “Just try to remember to be more considerate and less…”
“Brutish?” he supplied.
Greggor failed to hide his grin.
“Come on.” Roman collected their horses. “Let’s catch up before they get too far ahead. I’m uneasy.”
“Aye,” Gregor agreed. “I’ve felt something watching us too.”
“Ravager?” Roman mounted Goliath.
“Maybe.” Greggor shrugged, mounting his own horse. “Could be anything. Won’t know till they decide to make a move.”
Roman’s mood turned from playful to warrior in a heartbeat. No one was going to harm his mate. Not on his watch.
They had to stop three more times to thaw the horses’ noses as the day wore on. Katyia yawned, feeling the day’s journey finally catching up with her. They’d been riding since early morning and it was well past dark now. Her thirst gnawed at her. She hadn’t fed in almost six hours. They’d brought along four humans to help feed her. All of the vampires could go days without having to feed, but her body couldn’t sustain itself for days while she still required it for finishing up changes. While she was proud of herself for going this long without blood, if she didn’t feed soon, someone might end up seriously hurt. The images of slaughter were starting to resurface, a sure sign her bloodlust teetered on the verge of getting out of control.
They were only a day’s ride from Broderick Castle, Roman’s family home. Katyia had never seen the place, never even heard her father mention it. How could she live this close to a vampire stronghold and never know it? Did the wards also keep the vampires as well as the ravagers out? Maybe the wards around the castle kept others from seeing it?
Roman finally stopped for the night, deciding to make camp just inside the tree line where the thick cluster would help with shelter from the bitter cold. Katyia noticed the horses were tended to posthaste, a fire built to help warm them, before anyone tended to their own needs. It impressed her. The stable master at home once told her you could judge a person’s character by how they treated their animals. Based on what she saw here, they were all good people. Not that she’d thought anything less of them before. They’d proven to her how unlike monster they really were. They were the same as humans, mostly. They cared for each other, fought to keep their families safe and provided for. So many preconceived notions were tossed out the proverbial window every day when it came to the vampires.
Once they’d secured a perimeter and started a fire, Roman came to collect her to feed. Her thirst burned like a forest fire raging in defiance against a storm. She was glad he stood there with her while she fed. The fear of going too far stayed with Katyia. It probably always would because of the ravager blood. She thanked the young man when she was finished and watched as one of the other men led him away to rest. She only took enough to take the edge off. It was the first thing Roman taught her. Part of learning to control the thirst was learning when enough was enough. The more she practiced, the less her thirst ruled her. Greggor told her the other turns weren’t having as much success at learning to limit their feeding.
Katyia chalked her control up to her background. She’d hidden her capabilities, learned to live with fire on her back from the whippings, and smile like nothing was wrong. She’d fooled an entire people for most of her life. She put her thirst in that same little niche of learned tolerance.
They ate their cold dinner of cheese and bread, all talking quietly amongst themselves. Katyia paid no real attention to them. Something had been nagging at her since about noon. She couldn’t shake the feeling of something watching her, like an itch on the back of her neck. It made her hackles rise thinking about it. She suspected the others were experiencing the same feeling. Roman had set a tight perimeter, asking two at a time to take turns at watch.
Her gaze roamed the perimeter, the trees shielding whatever was out there. It wasn’t a ravager. She knew that much. How she knew that, she had no clue, but she did. Maybe it was because of her ravager blood. Blood always recognized blood. Whatever lurked in the dark was malevolent. It meant them harm. She sensed it. Her unease rose. The longer she concentrated on it, the more her senses heightened. She got up and walked to the very edge of the perimeter, searching with all her new senses.
Eyes bored into her back. Roman came to stand behind her, shielding her from the stares of the men. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the same thing she’d seen Roman do time and time again.
A dizzying variety of scents and flavors played havoc with her new senses. Katyia began to sort them. The smell of the snow was like the taste of cold ice water on a hot summer day. The trees smelled of rich maple. Even stripped bare of their foliage, they breathed with life. The earthy tones of the dirt tickled her nose. The animals had fled from this part of the woods. Only the sweat soaked scent of the horses reached her.
As she sorted out the many flavors, she caught a whiff of something akin to foul, rank dishwater. She’d been in the kitchens one morning while the servants cleaned the pots they’d left soaking in water from the night before. It had been a wretched smell that stayed with her enough to always wait until later in the day to raid the kitchen for sweets as a child. That was what she smelled now. Foul, dirty dishwater.
The scent became more pungent as she concentrated on only that strain. She bent down and dug through the snow until she found a bit of dirt. Scooping it up, she used it to center herself. Her magic had always been tied to the earth, and holding it helped her. Her witchy senses perked up and mingled with her new vampire ones to create a net of power unlike anything she’d ever felt. She cast it out, searching.
Images rushed her, knocking her to her knees. They came so fast she couldn’t make sense of them. Roman knelt beside her, his hand on her back, and the kaleidoscope of images ceased. She let out a little sigh of relief.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. That’s never happened before.” She took several deep breaths. “There’s someone out there, Roman. I could smell them.”
He lifted his head and took a deep breath himself. After a few minutes, he shook his head. “I can’t smell anything. Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She let him help her to her feet. “They smell like dirty dishwater.”
He took another curious sniff, but sighed. “I can’t smell it.”
“It’s like everything in me that is a witch decided to play nice with their new vampire buddy,” Katyia explained. “It heightened what I could already do, including my sense of smell. I don’t know how close they are, but they mean us harm.”
“Nothing is getting through the perimeter, little one.” Roman’s hand on her back burned like a brand, reminding her of their earlier discussion. “You’re safe with us.”
“I know,” she murmured as they walked back toward the others.
Greggor had helped her understand what Roman had failed miserably at conveying. She’d thought about little else all afternoon. A mate. It wasn’t something she ever really thought about. She’d always assumed her father would arrange a marriage for her, as was the custom among their people. Now, here she was with a man who claimed she was his mate, making promises that spoke to the very heart of her vulnerabilities. She doubted any man her father would have chosen would have cared one way or the other about her, except in the political pull the marriage would bring to their family.
Would that really be a better option than the man next to her? She cared for Roman. He’d snuck up on her, she realized. She’d never assumed she’d love the man she married. None of her siblings thought that either. They
knew their matches would be political, or the very least what their father considered best. She had a chance to find love. She might actually already be falling for Roman. He’d done so much for her. A shiver ran through her thinking about the way her body reacted to his.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Hmm? No.” She was, in fact, quite warm thinking about his kisses. When they sat by the fire, he pulled her into his side, his arm around her. The other men grinned and she shook her head. She hadn’t agreed to be his mate. Yet.
“Tell me about the stronghold.” She didn’t want to hear any jokes from any of them. One thing she’d learned, they loved to joke around, and this mate business was fuel for the fire.
“What do you want to know?” Roman shifted, stretching his feet toward the fire.
“Everything.”
“It was built in 1300 AD, if I remember correctly. Each generation improved upon it, and it’s now a massive structure, room for thousands of people. It used to be a place our kind came to feel safe. After my uncle’s coup against my family, most left the castle, splitting off and forming clans.”
The only castles Katyia had ever seen were in books. After their sector fell victim to the ravagers, everyone fled the cities, seeking shelter elsewhere. The magnificent architecture of castles and cathedrals in their part of the world had long since fallen into decay and ruin. Excitement at seeing one of her secret loves bubbled to life. She loved castles. She reminded herself this castle brought back painful memories for Roman and did her best to tamp down her excitement.
“It’s protected by wards now. My uncle hid it from all so no one could do to him what he’d done to his brother.”
“How are we supposed to find it, then?” Katyia asked. Sometimes wards kept even the most skilled witches from sensing their presence. Her magic might be strong, but even that might not help if the person designed the ward to fool witches.
