Blaize reacted with a blur of speed and power. Nobody would hurt his wife, not even her brother.
As Kentmere unleashed a whip of power, the slash of his hand releasing an arrow of fury aimed straight at his heart, Blaize reacted without thinking, defending the woman he loved with a flare of anger, knocking away the arrow and sending a shot of pure power straight at his opponent’s heart.
“Nobody takes her from me,” he growled.
Kentmere shoved Aurelia aside—as if Blaize would ever put her in danger—and kicked out, knocking the table over. It fell with a crash of glass, porcelain and the harsh clatter of silver, but Blaize barely glanced at it. Only to ensure Aurelia was not hurt, and then he was knocking aside another arrow. Fashioned of air and fire, it flamed toward him. As Blaize ducked, the weapon skimmed past his cheek, leaving a searing line of pain behind.
From his position down low, he sent a returning bolt. Not as elegant, perhaps, but more effective, since Kentmere had obviously expected his arrow to take Blaize down. This time the compressed force had its effect. It struck Kentmere in the centre of his forehead and the man fell.
“Impressive.” D’Argento had his arm around Aurelia, preventing her from racing forward. At the same time the door to the breakfast room was flung open yet again, only this time to admit a servant.
Kentmere had keeled backwards, his full length now splayed against the polished parquet floor.
“He’s not dead.” Blaize glanced at the appalled footman. “Have him taken upstairs and put into a guest bedroom.” The footman bowed with a perfunctory gesture Blaize didn’t usually encourage and left the room.
“I’ll attend to him,” d’Argento said. After all, he was a physician. The god of physicians. “You struck him rather hard. Maybe too hard.”
“He offered violence. Aurelia could have been hurt.” While not an explanation, at least it was a reason. Blaize had reacted from instinct rather than rational thought. The man had threatened to take his wife from him, then he’d attacked him with a weapon Aurelia shouldn’t have seen.
At least he knew who Kentmere was. “I think we’ve discovered our Cupid,” he said thoughtfully. “One with quite a temper.” He straightened his sleeves, tugged his neckcloth to restore it to order.
Aurelia had tears in her eyes and he hated to see her distressed. Again. After he’d offered rest for a few days, now they were plunged into this.
D’Argento bent and ran his hands over Kentmere’s face and forehead. “He’s completely unconscious. We must hope he recovers soon.”
“Not for some time, I fear. I loaded it with everything I had, short of a killing strike.”
D’Argento grimaced and glared at Blaize, disapproval in his eyes. “I took great care of him, transported him here to meet you and what did he meet with? Your damnable temper. That has set our plans back, because we need this man aware and with us. I agree, and I suspected his identity but the arrows confirm it. But that won’t help us if you’ve rendered him like this for weeks.”
Aurelia cried out, and immediately Blaize went to her side, putting his arm around her shoulders as tenderly as he could. “I’ll take you upstairs. Aurelia, I—” but he stopped. He didn’t know what to say.
Shocked and horrified, Aurelia had witnessed the raw display of strength feeling helpless. The two men unleashed sheer power on each other, and in the space of a minute one lay on the floor.
For a moment she’d feared that Edmund would kill Blaize. Then that the reverse would happen. How could she forgive someone who’d killed the man she loved, however dear that person was to her? Nothing would compensate for that.
When Blaize said Edmund lived, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, but before she could go to her brother, d’Argento was there, examining him.
The gods had their own ways, she was learning. Not something she was privy to. That Edmund could even do such a thing jolted her out of her mood, straight into terror. Despite the five years between them, she had always been close to Edmund. They’d played together in their innocent childhood, and Edmund had always proved her first champion.
She didn’t shake Blaize away when he put a tentative arm around her. How could she? He’d hurt her yesterday, even more today when he’d attacked Edmund, but in fairness she had to admit that Edmund had been the aggressor. Blaize had defended himself, and then he’d struck Edmund down, but not killed him. That alone would earn her thanks.
She let him lead her upstairs only after she’d supervised the moving of Edmund’s unconscious form to one of the guest bedrooms. He might be surprised to discover himself in a room decorated in pink silk, but he’d have to bear with it. As long as he did wake up, and soon.
In her own room, Blaize released her, but faced her and took her hands. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She had to be fair. “You couldn’t help it. He attacked you first. I would have killed him if he’d hurt you.”
A wry smile turned up one side of his mouth. “I’d have done the same. Killed him if he’d hurt you. My concern was for you. He lashed out, and you could have been caught.”
“Edmund always did have a temper.” She smiled. “He never hurt me, or any other woman that I know of, but he does attack rather too quickly when he feels he is in the wrong.”
“He generally did,” Blaize said. “Or the person who owned his attributes before did. You heard me?”
“That my brother is Eros? Cupid? Forgive me, but anyone less like a cherub with a bow and arrow you couldn’t hope to find.”
“Cupid grew up. And he fell in love, if you recall, with a beautiful woman.”
“Yes, I remember the stories.” She still couldn’t imagine her brother, even when he was young, as a cupid. The Cupid. Even as a boy Edmund had been all angles, thin and wiry. He’d grown into a powerful man, but his shape was still athletic rather than bulky. And never, ever plump. No hint of roundness marked his face or figure. Austerely handsome, she’d always considered him. “How could that be? How could he hide that from me?”
“He probably did it to protect you. You didn’t know who he was, or that your mother was a Titan.”
“How could I not have known?” Was she stupid, or just lacking in acuity?
“You are you. Trusting, normal. Why would you expect anything like this? People tend to explain anomalies away as something else, what they expect it to be. They will talk about reason and land on an explanation that could be more outlandish than the truth. They’ve been doing it for centuries. Confronted with proof of an Ancient’s power, they’ll talk about freak storms and the force of nature rather than a deliberate attempt by an immortal to prove his existence. Remember those storms last year?” She nodded. “They were Jupiter trying out his new powers.”
Instinctively she swayed closer to him. “It seems extraordinary. Fabulous, even, something from myth coming to life.”
She didn’t miss the slight hesitation before he spoke. “It was like that. A force that is beyond us. Even we, who possess such powers, find it hard to explain. We don’t know who originated the attributes or why we have them. Why the spirit would choose one person over another or how we learn to use them. They’re as much part of us as anything else.”
“Did you drink wine as a child?”
“As all children do,” he said. “Watered down, but it was enough.”
A sense of helplessness swamped her, and she decided what she must do. She couldn’t let him face these enemies alone. If she didn’t fight at his side, as his partner, she’d dwindle into a burden, a responsibility rather than a partner. “How much time do we have before Edmund awakes?”
“At least half a day,” he told her, his hand stroking her skin through the barrier of her gown. It played idly on her shoulder. She liked it.
“Teach me, Blaize. Show me what you know.” She hadn’t noticed anything different, but she’d ducked her head to fight the tears that sprang to her eyes. She needed bravado, not weakness at a time like this. And honesty. She desperately nee
ded honesty. If he thought she’d become too upset, he wouldn’t tell her what she needed to know.
No, she would not cry. Not now, not in front of him. But she wanted him to hold her. She wanted his arms around her, comforting her. As if he’d heard her, he urged her around and cradled her in his arms, holding her as gently as if she were a baby. “I’m sorry. One of the reasons I attacked your brother was because he threatened to take you away from me. I can’t bear that happening.”
“But you were willing to let me go last night.”
“If you chose to go, I wouldn’t have stopped you, but I would have protected you, even if you didn’t know it. Aurelia, I know I’m beyond forgiveness now. I could have killed him.”
“He could have killed you.”
He chuckled. “No, he couldn’t. I have too much to live for. But when he raised his hand, I thought he was going to hurt you. I couldn’t allow that.”
Her heart melted. He’d done it for her. After taking everything else into consideration they had this, the simple human connection between them. The link of love. And that, she knew, would never die. She rested her forehead against his chest. “Convert me, Blaize.”
The world ground to a halt. It felt like that, his sudden stillness, the tension invading his muscles, hardening against her where they touched. “You mean it? You’ve thought about it?”
“Yes. I don’t want you to go through what you did before. With your wives.” Now she’d recovered from the shock of knowing she wasn’t his first love, she saw what it would have been like for him. To watch someone he loved age and die, and know he couldn’t help. Or in the second case, know he killed her, however inadvertently. She couldn’t let that happen to him again. “I’ll do the test, and I won’t cheat.”
“I know. I wouldn’t let you. You’re too precious to me for me to make that mistake. Are you sure, my love? Truly?”
She had another reason, especially for doing this now, but she’d tell him that later. “Yes.” She tried to sound as positive as she could.
“There’s another thing,” he said. I haven’t spoken to you like this before, he murmured. It means a deeper connection. But now you need to know.
“What?”
Look at me. Lifting her head at his sudden, sharper command, she stared into his eyes. The golden flecks glistened in an intense sea of green. We won’t do this unless you are fully in agreement.
Her mouth fell open. “How do you do that?” When he spoke, his mouth didn’t move. Not at all, nor did his throat work as if he was speaking. Nothing.
It’s a mental communication we can all use, mortal and immortal. But we immortals are born knowing how to do it. It means linking mind-to-mind. We need to do this while danger is upon us, while your mother brings her wrath down on us, whatever form that might take. But it also means you’ll see deeper into me, and I you. Try it. Try to speak the way I’m doing.
Like this? Aurelia clapped her hand to her mouth. How had she done that?
Don’t think about it. Just do it.
Why? Yes, he was right. All she had to do was relax and think the words. The rest just happened.
I’m doing some of it for you, letting you in to my mind. But you’ll have to learn how to initiate it too. We need this so I can keep you safe. Your mother will try to get to me through you, and I want you protected. This way I’ll be with you always, wherever you are.
Despite what he’d told her, warmth spread through her, together with a cautious note. Does this mean you can know what I’m thinking?
He smiled. No. Not unless you want me to. I can pick up thoughts as they bubble up, just before you speak. You can open up further to me if you wish. And one more thing—this doesn’t work if we’re far apart.
Why not?
How should I know?
But it did when you were in the maze.
A miracle, sweetheart.
She appreciated the touch of irritation in his inner voice. It persisted in his thoughts. She knew that reaction so well. She’d seen it when he’d been talking to someone he found tedious or during an ordeal like a badly played musical piece. Occasionally it affected his otherwise-perfect manner. She liked it. Because you’re a god.
He cinched her closer, giving her a tight hug and spoke aloud. “I am nothing of the kind. I hold the attributes of one, that’s all.”
That melancholy she’d noticed before permeated him and now that he’d let her skim his thoughts, she could sense it more than ever. But this was no time to question it. She was still coping with her own dilemma.
“If the test doesn’t work, will you love me after I die?” As he had his previous two wives?
“I will never forget you, never stop loving you. If you allow me to convert you, you won’t die. At least, not for a long time.” He gazed at her. “Don’t let this deter you from the conversion. Whatever you decide about me, I still want that for you.”
Honestly, so did she. She’d have been an idiot not to want longevity and resistance against disease. The extra strength would come in useful, too. But could she take it from this man? “Could someone else do it?”
“No!” His initial response was instinctive, she could tell, because he snapped it immediately after she’d finished asking. Then he sighed. “Yes. I wanted very much to give it to you, for me to bring you into our world, but if you wish otherwise, then I won’t object.”
“Much.”
That forced a smile from him. “You know me, don’t you? Better than anyone alive.”
That shocked her. “What about d’Argento?”
He shook his head. “Not even he knows me as you do.”
“Does that mean your lovers are all dead?”
His response was immediate. “No more than any other man of fashion.” That made sense. She wouldn’t have expected him to be celibate on their wedding had he been the mortal Marquis of Stretton, so why should she expect that now? Plenty of women married widowers and had to be second or third in their husband’s life. What did it matter if he loved her alone now?
Her initial feelings dissipated. Probably the result of shock at hearing his news. “Tell me how you feel about me.”
“Fathoms deep in love,” he said softly. “I always will be. I know myself and I know you. I want nothing more.”
That part she could hold on to, her constant in a shifting world. “Then do it. Do it now.” She held on tight, refused to let go. In this lovely room where she could feel alive, she wanted it to happen here.
Staring at her, he gripped her chin in one strong hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes. Whatever you’ve been, Blaize, I love you. And if we’re doing this, then why wait?”
“It will leave you weak for a few days. But in the long run it will protect you, especially if we don’t tell anyone. Except d’Argento,” he added.
“And my brother?”
“Perhaps. You’ve made me very happy, my love. Trusting me with this.”
Still lost, she thought if she made all her changes at once, the alterations might make more sense, might work better for her. Once she recovered she’d be stronger, and she’d be truly with the man on whom she’d bestowed her heart. “Do you know how weak?”
“You’ll tire easily, need much sleep. You might feel sick.”
She nodded. She could cope with that.
“Shall we do the test?” he asked.
Oh yes, the test. He wouldn’t convert her without it, especially considering what happened with his last wife. His last wife! It stuck in her craw to imagine him this intimate with someone else, calling someone else his love. But after the initial shock she realised she would have to learn to live with it. He hadn’t known her, didn’t know she’d come along, so how could she blame him?
That was what her reason told her, but her emotions said something else. They declared he was hers, that he shouldn’t want anybody else. Ever.
He led her to the bed and sat her down on the edge, but didn’t join he
r. Not until he’d found a clean glass and poured some water in it. Then he dug in his breeches’ pocket and produced a knife.
He held out his hand. She put her hand in his, palm up. He lifted it gently, then cut into the pad of her first finger, wincing as he did so. She started, but her trust in him held.
He hissed through his teeth. “The second time I’ve hurt you, and I promised never to do it again. I’m sorry, my love.”
“Necessary.” She wet her dry lips as he brought the glass to her and tipped her hand so the accumulated blood dripped in. Only a few drops. It dissolved into the water, barely changing the colour, feathering down and then disappearing, not enough to make an impression.
Watching her all the time, he held one of his hands over the glass and drew the knife over the thick pad at the base of his thumb. She gasped, the only sound in the silence. Not even the sound of blood dripping into the water broke it.
Together, they watched, barely breathing. She heard the plink as the first fat, red drop fell into the water. Then another, and another. “If you’re compatible, they’ll blend. If not, we’ll see your blood separate out.” His thumb was healing already, the red line sealing over, then the skin smoothing over the surface.
Although she shouldn’t be surprised, actually seeing the accelerated healing at work made her start.
“Isn’t ichor clear?” Even as she said it, the water cleared, became—just water. No trace of redness remained.
“It’s a mental trick, almost instinctive to immortals. Yes, it’s clear, but it appears red at first, and people who see it think it’s always red. They see it as red. You, because you know what I am and who I am, you’ll see it for what it is eventually.” He lifted his gaze, looked at her, and his face shone. “You’re compatible.”
The water just looked like water now. No blood. He lifted her finger to his lips and sucked the small wound, stroking his tongue over the mark. She shuddered. “I want to do this naked,” she said.
He released her finger but kept hold of her hand. “Why?”
“Everything important in our lives has to be done naked.”
Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 20
