“And the Brotherhood?” Lucien tossed him a towel.
“They are flesh and blood.” Krieger glowered.
Lucien walked over to the rack where his dragon sword lay. “With this I can slaughter anyone, anything.” He reached for his sword, skillfully slashing with it through the air until the magical blade shimmered under the lights.
“And that you will.” Krieger smiled.
“What of Nina?” Lucien stilled. “The Brotherhood’s gift to us?”
“Merlin has her well in hand.”
“Does he now?” Lucien stepped through a few fighting movements with his sword.
It wasn’t Krieger’s call to make, not yet. For now, he would let Merlin decide if Nina was what she seemed, or the pawn of the Brotherhood. She’d literally appeared out of thin air one night, an unconscious young woman, savagely beaten and missing her tongue, lying next to the road that bordered the king’s mountain. Merlin had taken to her from the start. Krieger remembered how his advisor had put her in his bed, cared for her, protected her. One day soon they would get to the bottom of Nina’s story. Why she was marked with the upturned cross of the Brotherhood. Why all her memories had been wiped from mind. “I hear your concern, as I have heard the rumors.”
Graceful and effortless, Lucien continued to practice at half speed. “Are you taking Lily to the council meeting?” he asked.
“She’s safest with me.”
Lucien ceased his maneuvers, secured the dragon sword in its sheath, and accompanied Krieger out the vaulted entranceway of the training room. “Does she know?” Lucien read his sideways glance as they walked down the hallway. “I see. So you’re going to order her.”
“I’m going to encourage her to join us.” Krieger raked back his hair with his hands. “Right now she’s waiting in my office.” Krieger was coiled with energy since making the decision to summon her. If Lucien weren’t walking by his side, he’d fly to his office.
“She’s asked about you.”
“Has she?” Krieger’s heart constricted but before he could ask anything further they’d reached the hallway outside his office where Liam was waiting.
“Sire.” Liam bowed. “Lily is inside.”
“I’ll take my leave.” Lucien dipped his head and turned to go, stopped. “Treat her gently,” he said, and continued down the hall.
The guards opened the double doors, startling Lily, who was walking towards him.
“Oh.” She stumbled back. “I thought you weren’t coming.” Her eyes ran over his chest. “You’re bleeding.”
“You should see Lucien.” He didn’t like the immediate flash of concern in her eyes when he said his slayer’s name. “Only swordplay,” he explained.
Lily turned away from him and grasped the back of a chair. “You wanted to see me.”
This wasn’t going as he’d planned. He dipped down into the blood bond he shared with her. Something he’d not allowed of himself since that fateful night so many months ago. She was understandably nervous, but not afraid or angry, this was good.
Krieger had thought his desire for her would have burned out until it lay in cinders. He was wrong. Now with the bond flowing between them, he felt the keen-edged yearning for her more acutely than ever before. The ash of his desire was not dead, only dormant, and now leapt to life with the heat of an inferno.
He had to remind himself of his agenda for this meeting. Charm her, regain her confidence, and ready her for the council meeting. He’d beguiled legions of women. Why did this one confound him so?
“Eat,” Krieger said, and motioned towards the food Mathers had prepared for her. The word sounded harsh, like an order and not a request. “Enjoy it while it’s hot.” She didn’t argue. That was something.
Lily tilted her head in such a way that her hair fell down between them like a curtain. As she sliced her steak he cleaned the blood from his chest and went to the small closet inside his office, choosing an oxford shirt with blue stripes. It reminded him of the night they’d spent in his underground quarters. How she’d worn a similar shirt of his.
Outside the wind howled and bent the old trees sideways as the front edge of a storm whipped over his mountain. He raked his hand through his hair. The last time she’d seen him it had been almost completely burnt off, and now it brushed the edges of his collar. Knowing Lily needed time to relax into his presence again, he watched her reflection in the window panes. When Lily came into his thoughts she was always bathed in firelight, just like tonight. The glow from the flames brought a blush to her pale skin. His eyes skimmed down her delicate neck and traveled over her shoulder. Her shirt was unbuttoned one too many and had fallen to the side.
Two parts of Krieger’s nature warred as to whether he should cover her or rip the shirt from her. He did neither. When she finished her meal and pushed her plate away he walked over, keeping the table between them as a buffer, knowing she needed the distance, and instead of looking into her eyes as he longed to do, he focused on the book tied round with a ribbon. She’d laid it next to her plate and periodically ran her hand over the leather like a beloved pet. “Merlin tells me the archives speak with you. What does that one have to say?”
Lily didn’t rush to respond. She lifted her wine glass, swirled the contents and took a long sip. With their blood bond opened, he could almost taste the wine she drank.
“Why did you ask me here?” she said finally.
Because it pains me to be away from you. “I’m leaving Wednesday for the council meeting.”
“Did he…” Lily hesitated. Krieger waited. “Ask for me?”
“No, but it is inescapable.” He almost smiled as he caught himself using one of Merlin’s choice words. “You feel him, don’t you?” It sounded like an accusation. He softened his tone. “You must be curious about Grigori.”
“My mother called him Azazel.” Folding and placing the linen napkin carefully next to her plate, Lily rose and moved closer to the fire. She ran her hand along the carvings on the mantel, stopping when she came to a small portrait sitting alone at the end. “Though we don’t know that they are one and the same.”
Unguarded, now that her attention was diverted by the painting, he allowed himself the pleasure of tracing with his eyes the line of her neck that flowed into her back and down to her hips.
“Who is she?” Lily asked.
She’d turned towards him just enough that he could see his mark upon her neck. It gave him hope. For a time he’d feared she would ask Merlin to obscure it, but she had not. When he didn’t answer, she turned fully to hold his eyes, demanding a response.
“Catherine Ayres,” he answered, and scrutinized Lily’s face for a hint of what she might be thinking. Without the bond, Lily would be a complete mystery to him. She was small and fragile and looked almost as innocent as those ridiculous cherubs people sometimes associated with angels. And yet, she was emotionally strong and could guard her facial expressions better than most seasoned soldiers. Krieger knew she was interested in the small portrait of Catherine by the way her finger rested against the frame and the fluttering of a tiny crease line under her eye as she willed herself to meet his gaze.
Curious to see what she’d do, he languidly contemplated the portrait. He knew the image by heart, but nonetheless took his time taking in Catherine’s long brunette hair which cascaded over her shoulders like a bridal veil. Her lips were a little too large, as were her eyes, yet those hazel eyes burned with curiosity, intelligence, and a large dose of mischief. It was a portrait made to be viewed in private, and only by him, and he treasured it, because even vampires could find it hard to recall the face of a loved one gone so many centuries ago.
Lily let out a long sigh. “If you think I have some psychic connection with Grigori you’re mistaken. My visions have not returned. I’ve felt nothing. Whatever it was, it is now gone.”
He would not be baited by her, not tonight. “Do you want to know about her?” The dark half of his nature jeered at his restraint. It want
ed Lily now. It wanted her here on the floor in front of the fire. She is yours – have her and be done with this obsession, the darkness said to him.
“Yes. I’ve often wondered why you chose my family.” Lily’s voice was less than a whisper. “I always thought the first link would have been a man.”
The tense line of her shoulders eased a fraction as he moved the table out of the way and sat in the large leather chair in front of the fire. Lily mimicked his movements and curled into the accompanying chair to his left.
“I was in London when I first saw her.”
“Catherine?”
Krieger resisted his desire to reach out and lay his hand upon hers. “Yes. It was right before I came to these shores, in the last years of the sixteen hundreds. I was in the Southwark district of London. Back then it was packed with ale houses, stews, theatres, and all forms of pleasurable entertainments.”
“Stews?”
“Brothels.”
“Oh.”
“Southwark was a good place to blend in and quench my thirst.” Krieger caught Lily’s eyes move from his neck to his wrist. She sawed her lower lip between her teeth. He didn’t need the bond to know she was hungry for his blood. Would she ask? Should he offer? “Only the wealthy had the luxury of cleanliness then. Catherine was poor and filthier than most.” He imagined his thumb freeing her imprisoned lip from her teeth, slipping inside her mouth. He tore his eyes from her and stared into the flames. “I liked to sit in the public houses after feeding. I didn’t notice her at first. She wasn’t a woman I would normally look at twice. Her clothes were tattered, encrusted with dirt, and hung loose on her small frame. She was new and hadn’t yet learned not to smile.” He heard Lily move and turned back to her. “She had all her teeth,” he explained. “Her eyes were bright and clear. It was obvious she’d come in from the country. A pretty girl didn’t last long on the streets of Southwark.”
“She was a prostitute?”
He smirked, not too kindly. “Shocked?”
“No.” Mercifully her lip slipped from between her teeth. “Just not the story I expected.”
“They rarely are.” He watched as she kicked off her shoes – she was wearing blood red nail polish, which amused him – and tucked a leg underneath her. “Catherine was quick but the patrons quicker, and she couldn’t always avoid their hands. For hours I watched her carry ale back and forth between the tables. She never complained, smiled even at the nastiest of customers. Each night thereafter I would find myself sitting at one of her tables. There was a quiet acceptance I felt from her. It calmed the restlessness in me like she understood I needed to be there and not once did she ask why I never drank the ale I purchased. Over time her clear eyes dulled, and her gait slowed until she couldn’t avoid the grabbing hands. Her smile became fixed.”
“You cared for her.”
He ignored Lily’s comment and the surprise in her voice, perhaps she still thought he was incapable of feeling compassion. “The patrons thought me a nobleman and left me to my thoughts. One night a pickpocket decided I was an easy target. I played along and went with him out into the alleyway. I would get a quick meal and help rid the city of vermin. Unbeknownst to me Catherine had followed me outside, worried that I would be harmed.” He placed his hand on the arm of Lily’s chair. “Can you imagine? Barely fifteen years old, alone, losing her innocence under filthy, grunting men, and she comes to my defense.”
Lily’s hand moved a fraction closer to his. “What happened?”
“She saw what I am.”
“You tranced her then?”
“I did not.”
“Why?”
“I wanted her to run.” He didn’t add that if she had fled his nature would have taken over and he’d have fed from her. “Instead she stared down at the thief and then back up into my eyes. We stood there, watching one another for what seemed like hours, even to me, but was surely only seconds. When she spoke tears streamed down her face and her voice was whisper quiet.”
“Catherine said, ‘I don’t want to die here.’”
Krieger rose and distanced himself from Lily – her scent evoked images he need not think of now. Not knowing his inner conflict, Lily came to stand beside him. The bond intensified their emotions towards each other. He knew Lily was more relaxed, more open to him now that it was flowing between them again.
“She was afraid of you.”
“No, not of me, but of the nightmare her life had become. Catherine wanted her last moments to be someplace beautiful and safe, like the village she grew up in before her parents’ death.”
“And were they?”
“Yes.” Krieger turned to face Lily. Slowly, so as not to spook her, he gently swept her hair back and rested his hand on her shoulder directly beneath his mark on her neck. “We came to this new world together. Without her I would have died on the voyage over. Her blood sustained me.”
“You loved her.”
In my way, he wanted to say, but knew it would cause undo questions. “Yes,” he answered.
“She never wanted to become vampire?” Lily leaned her head towards his hand on her shoulder.
His thumb ran across her collar bone, the bone he’d healed. “No. I wanted that for her, but Catherine wanted her legacy to be her children.”
“Who became your Keepers.”
Lightning illuminated his study and was quickly followed by a clap of thunder. The storm clouds opened and angrily pelted the windows with rain.
“Why was Catherine in the city? I mean why did she leave her home in the country?”
“Smallpox.” He opened his hand, covering her upper chest, his thumb and forefinger circling her neck. Lily’s eyes fluttered and closed for a heartbeat. “It swept through her village and killed her family. Her father owned a small plot of land with a house. When he died it went to the next living male relative, her uncle.”
“Why not Catherine?” Her heart hammered against the heel of his palm. “Why her uncle? The uncle should have taken care of her.”
“Yes, he should have, but he had a jealous wife who didn’t like a young woman, even if she was a blood relative, just a room away.” Lily smelled of lilacs and honey and sunshine. “Back then females could not inherit property. Catherine had no choice but to leave.”
“Did you…” Lily lifted her chin.
He was captivated by her bejeweled eyes, one blue and one green, both with a hint of purple running through them. “Did I what?”
She leaned in close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. After so many months, to have her so near was excruciating for him. Lily’s hand shook for a moment then came to rest on his chest. “Did you give her your blood?”
“No.” She was too close and he reined in his emotions by focusing on the strong winds of the storm that assaulted the panes with rain and debris.
“You said children. Were they yours? Is that possible?” Lily asked the questions in one long stream.
This particular discussion had not been on his agenda for the night. “Anything’s possible,” Krieger said, hoping to detour her from this line of questioning.
“If you don’t want to answer then say so,” she snapped back at him.
“Catherine and I lived as husband and wife for many years until it became necessary that I die, or too much suspicion about my lack of aging would have caused us trouble.”
“So they weren’t your children?”
“That depends on how you look at it. Catherine married well after my supposed death. I left her an extremely wealthy widow. She had no trouble attracting a man of means and station who she bore two sons. The first one died before he reached the age of one.” The memory of it caused him pain even now, and he felt the need to explain why he hadn’t intervened. “I was exploring the western territories at the time. The second, little Johnny, thrived.”
The two of them floated on the tumultuous waters of their own seas of silence. Speaking of his time with Catherine had brought back memories he’d n
ot thought of in centuries. A loud lightning strike connected with a tree on his property. He could hear the wood splinter and fall upon the forest floor.
Lily jumped. His arms instinctively wrapped around her. How small she is, and yet, she holds my heart. “It’s just a storm.”
“It sounded close.”
“Do you want children?” he asked. It had been something he’d wondered about.
“Yes, I think. Martha says that’s her greatest regret.” Lily leaned back a little to see his reaction. “That she never had a child of her own.”
And now he knew that either the impossible would become possible and he’d father a child with her, or he’d have to endure another man’s child growing inside her. He stroked her silken hair and tucked her head back against his chest. “How is Martha?”
“Happy.” Lily stiffened and pushed against him. “I haven’t seen her or Jo as much as I should.” He didn’t want to release her and loathed the loss of her touch as she moved away from him to pour another glass of wine. “If you could truly father children, would you want that?”
If, as he’d feared, her affection for him had waned, then she wouldn’t be so persistent with this line of questioning. Happiness and despair mingled together. “With you I would.”
“You only feel that because I’ve had your blood.”
“No.” He wanted to shake her, to make her understand. “We have spoken of this before, the blood we share only increases the emotions we already hold for each other. If you disliked me without the bond then it would make you loathe me with it.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Her eyes nervously roamed around the room.
“Why do you resist me?”
“I don’t want to be a pawn like my mother.”
Her words had the ring of truth, but there was more, more she wasn’t sharing with him. “You blame me for what happened to her.”
The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter) Page 2
