by Terry Spear
“Only kissing?” Tezra raised a brow in question. “Seems the tips of your ears are too red for just having kissed the girl.”
He grinned, amused every time Tezra showed a jealous streak over him, despite her denial.
“Dressed or undressed?” She tilted her head slightly to the side, her tone amused.
“I don’t remember.” He rested his hands behind his head.
This time both brows rose. “If you can’t remember, I venture to say you weren’t dressed. So what happened?”
“She was, well, an amorous type. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Mary had been with several before me. She was just very…”
“Promiscuous?”
“You could say that. Anyway, I was kissing her—”
“Among other things.”
He couldn’t help smiling, amused at Tezra’s take on the story, though her perceived version was closer to the truth than he was willing to admit. “Her father arrived home from a tourney and heard us—”
“Just kissing?” Dimples punctuated her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with mirth.
He cleared his throat. “And—”
“You were doing it in her home?”
“The stables,” he admitted. “Anyway, he stormed into the stall, and I knew my life was at an immediate end, particularly when I saw the bastard sword he was carrying.”
“But you shape-shifted?”
“Vanished. One minute I was with her, and the next I was in Maison’s father’s castle. I had wished I could be in…” He paused, figuring he’d get himself into more hot water. “Anyway, so I got out of the knight’s path and his sword with just a very fervent wish.”
“What place had you been thinking of? Where did you end up?”
“I told you. Maison’s father’s castle.” He knew that wasn’t going to satisfy her from the look of curiosity on her face.
“Where, exactly?”
Daemon shook his head. So much for protecting her fine sensibilities. “His sister’s bedchamber. I thought I’d so much rather be there than in the stall where the knight was about to cut off my head. Maison’s sister was betrothed to a duke, and despite all my romantic notions to the contrary, she harbored no interest in me.”
“But you were a prince.”
“Seems that wasn’t enough. Though, I believe it had something to do with my vampiric abilities.”
“But Maison had been changed too.”
“Which is probably another reason why his sister didn’t want much to do with me. She knew better. Anyway, I’d never appeared out of thin air like that, though both Maison and I’d been affected by the plague a good two years earlier when we were prisoners of the Turks.”
“And her reaction?”
“She was taking a bath, and I was—”
“Naked.”
“Ahem. So she screamed and I vanished again, this time reappearing in Maison’s bedchamber. He was astounded to see what I could do. And even more so when he discovered he had the same ability. That night we both visited several different places to explore our newfound gift and much later, exhausted, we returned to his castle.”
Tezra took a seat on the chair. “Had you been in any situation where you wished to go someplace before this?”
“Not that I specifically recall, but I’m sure at some time or another in the two years since I’d been changed and before I’d actually shifted I might have wished it, but nothing came of it.”
Her brow furrowed, and she stared at the floor.
“Tezra?”
She waved a hand to silence him. He ground his teeth and fought pulling her into the bed and showing her what else she could do with her newfound talents.
She stared at the wall and spoke silently to herself. Was she trying to vanish?
Finally she looked up at him and shook her head. “I guess you’re right. I can’t do it right away. Or maybe it has to be a death-defying situation first.”
Tezra seemed more hopeful than she’d had since she’d been turned, and he relaxed a little, thinking she might be all right after all. But when he saw her pinching her brows together in concentration again, he reconsidered.
***
Half an hour before Daemon’s vampire bash was to begin, he left Patrico’s house to check on the final arrangements. Katie was busy getting dressed for the big occasion, after one of the female vampires loyal to Daemon had gone shopping for the ladies and bought them new gowns.
Patrico and Voltan were talking on the back porch about—fishing?—while Atreides was serving himself a cup of hot chocolate. “Want one?” he asked, raising the steaming mug to Tezra.
“No, thank you.” She didn’t believe for one minute that Daemon would give her away to some other vampire now that she was his ward, yet the notion kept nagging at her. Surely, Atreides knew his twin brother better than anyone. Wouldn’t he know?
She sat at the bar’s counter and watched Atreides pull out a container of fudge sticks. “So, Atreides, what does a vampire expect of his ward?”
Atreides stared at her for a minute, then frowned. “Where did you hear that term?”
So, Daemon hadn’t told his own brother that he’d taken her as his ward?
“I…I just wondered.” And wished like hell she hadn’t mentioned it.
Atreides dipped his fudge stick in his hot chocolate. “Years ago, and I mean when we were the ruling class in Scotland, those who had vassal lords could take any number of their daughters as their wards, then offer them to one of their loyal lords in payment for services rendered. It hasn’t been done in centuries.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?”
Atreides was too smart and too inquisitive for his own good.
“I was just curious.”
Atreides’s eyes sparkled with dark humor.
“What?”
He lifted a shoulder. “If you wished to be honest with me…” He let his conversation trail without end, waiting for her to come out with the whole story.
Then it would get straight back to Daemon. But now she wondered what was going on. Thinking it over, she figured Daemon probably hadn’t taken a ward in centuries, so no mystery there. Though the way Atreides responded to her mystified her thoroughly. She was certain Daemon would have told his brother what arrangements he’d made with her.
When she didn’t enlighten him further, Atreides’s finally set his mug on the countertop and asked, “He’s made you his ward?”
Well, it was either that or she was an outsider, since she wasn’t Daemon’s mate. This time she shrugged, noncommittal-like.
He smiled, his look pure wickedness.
“What?” she asked, annoyed.
“I wonder if he’s told anyone else, or he’s keeping the news a secret.”
“Why the hell would he?” Wouldn’t they think she was an outsider then?
“Well, if he decides to give you up, unless I’m mated by then, I’m the first in line to receive the generosity of our prince. Putting it plainly, you’d be mine. But you would be my mate, not my ward.”
“Daemon won’t give me away to anyone.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t permit it.”
Atreides gave her another conceited smile. “I warned him not to turn you.”
Tezra opened her mouth to retort but heard her name spoken in a conversation nearby and she looked at the floor and tried to pick up more of the exchange.
“She’s at four-oh-five Seabreeze, Seaside? Are you sure?” Bernard asked.
Someone knew they were staying at Patrico’s house. Atreides must have overheard Bernard speaking and suddenly vanished. Tezra dashed down the hall to the guest room Bernard was in and yanked the door open. He was speaking on the phone and waved for her to be silent.
Atreides was standing beside him, listening in on the dialogue.
“We’re on our way there, just about a mile south now. Meet us there. She’ll probably be more cooperative if you come
for her once we have her in custody,” the man said over the phone.
“Yes, yes, all right. I’ll get there as quickly as I can.” Bernard closed up the cell phone and swore under his breath. “The hunter says you’re dangerous and must be apprehended at all costs. The word has gone out that you’ve been turned and you, Patrico and Katie are here.”
Damn them!
Three black SUVs skidded to a stop outside of Patrico’s house, and several men dashed toward the house, their swords raised.
“Their grim faces look like some of the warriors of opposing clans we faced in Scotland long ago,” Atreides remarked, while Voltan secured Katie and Maison took hold of Patrico. Three other vampires who were guarding out back ran into the house and one grabbed Bernard’s arm.
Atreides wrapped his arm around Tezra’s waist, and she felt in that instant he was more interested in her than he was in Katie. Why? Because Daemon may tire of her and give her to Atreides as his ward—pardon, to be his mate?
“Daemon’s ward, eh?” he said, humor coating his words.
And then the hunters crashed through the front door.
***
Daemon hurried to greet Tezra and the others narrowly escaping from the SCU hunters. Daemon and Tezra arrived at his home a few minutes before the vampire bash began. He quickly took hold of Tezra’s hand as if to assure himself she was safe.
Atreides gave him a bigheaded smirk. “I will be happy to take the huntress as my mate, if you so choose.”
Daemon glanced at Tezra, and she folded her arms. It wasn’t her fault he hadn’t wanted the vampire world to know she was his ward.
“We’ll speak later about the matter,” he told Atreides, and he didn’t seem happy about it.
Atreides bowed, but the smile remained fixed on his face as he vanished.
“When were you going to tell everyone that I’m your ward?” she asked Daemon, irritated to the nth degree. “Or did you want them to think I’m an outsider?”
“Later,” he growled.
She scowled back at him, every muscle tense in anticipation of the bash—the worry Katie would be safe, concern for Daemon if Krustalus got the best of him, that his people would not accept her because she was a huntress.
She forced herself to concentrate on the partygoers, to keep her senses attuned to danger. Daemon’s house looked like a Christmas open house with every light on in the place, and Tezra figured though the vampires could see in the dark, he wanted to ensure Patrico and Katie could see well enough too.
Daemon opened his mouth to speak to her, but before he could have a private word with her, vampires began to appear.
Bloody cocktails flowed in abundance while the vamps in their designer black satin or sequined gowns floated through the greatroom like black winged butterflies, simpering smiles pasted across their faces.
When Tezra disdainfully considered the crystal wine glasses filled with blood, Daemon pulled her into the kitchen and motioned for several lingering there to leave. Kissing her cheek, Daemon explained, “At normal bashes some vampires get…frisky with one another, and the next thing you know, they’re finding secluded places and sometimes not-so-private places to fulfill their blood and sexual lust. There’s to be none of that here tonight. That’s the reason for the bloody cocktails.”
Tezra made a face. “Your people will despise me because you’re changing the rules.”
“I wouldn’t do it any other way, not for your first time, nor while your sister and Patrico are here.”
“Will that satisfy your guests?”
He kissed her throat and took her hand in his. “It will have to.”
But Tezra imagined his people wouldn’t like it, just like she figured they wouldn’t be pleased that he’d turned a huntress and made her his ward—if he ever planned to tell them.
“Atreides warned me the hunters had found Patrico’s place and wished to put you under arrest.”
“Yeah, for taking my sister hostage.” She hmpfed under her breath. “Even if I told them the truth, they wouldn’t believe me because of the condition I’m now in. They’ll assume they were right all along—that you influenced me to be turned.”
Daemon shook his head.
Atreides announced aloud to everyone in the greatroom, “Adrik, leader of Texas, and Ruric, leader of Idaho, are here.”
“Come, we must meet our guests.” Daemon pulled Tezra into the greatroom where elegant fluted glasses filled with blood sat on white cloth-covered tables along one wall. Overhead soft classical musical played.
So many fragrant perfumes and men’s colognes scented the air, she felt she was in a garden filled with flowers. Unfortunately because of it, she couldn’t recognize Krustalus’s scent unless he was close enough for his teeth to graze her neck.
Male vampires dressed in tuxes, some with ladies clinging to their arms, others single, drifted in from the back patio to pay their respects to Daemon. Except for cursory glances at Tezra, most ignored her.
She imagined Daemon would need a good neck rub later with all the bowing he had to endure. While he talked with some of his people, Tezra moved away from him, intent on locating Krustalus. Staying beside Daemon took too much of her concentration, the impolite stares, the condescending slights. His people for the most part did not like her and had no intention of welcoming her.
Bernard, dressed uncharacteristically in a tux that looked a size too small, probably worn at the last SCU ball he was required to attend four years ago, lifted a couple of fingers to acknowledge he was watching her. He’d worn the suit to appease her, to blend in with the others as much as possible. She smiled, and he immediately tugged at the bowtie strangling his thick neck and glowered at her.
Tezra heard a vampiress announce telepathically, “Lichorus, I didn’t think you’d be here since Daemon sent out word he wanted you in custody.”
Tezra strode toward the open patio doors where she sensed the communication was coming from. She wished she could have worn her leather pants and turtleneck, easier to fight in than a silky gown split up the side. But Daemon had insisted she wear the gown…to fit in. He wouldn’t permit her to attach wrist blades either—too offensive to the vampires. Though she had stashed her swords for easy retrieval—one on the patio and one in the greatroom.
Several females stood on the patio in the soft light, all dressed in their best finery, some cocktail length, one wore a mini-skirt. Some of their gowns fluttered in the night breeze, wisps of black sheers, while others wore clinging satin. Which was Lichorus?
Moving outside, Tezra drew closer to where an evergreen shrub bordering the patio concealed her sword. She remembered Daemon had said Lichorus looked remarkably like Ionia and that he’d almost mixed them up before. Tezra stopped next to the shrubs. Her gaze searched for an ebony-haired, tall, thin woman, while she listened for Lichorus’s response to the other vampiress.
“Why, dear Anatola, Daemon invited me,” Lichorus finally remarked. “The rumor he wanted to take me into custody is a mistake. He wanted me to be his lover again. A huntress could never sate his sexual prowess like a centuries-old vamp.” Lichorus laughed at her own words and the other vampiress followed suit. “Besides, he knows the trouble he got into the last time he mixed it up with a huntress—almost cost him his life.”
Tezra turned her head toward the southeastern part of the patio where Lichorus was telepathically speaking with Anatola.
“Tezra?” Daemon called out, alarm in his communication.
Her stomach clenched, and she felt she was a cat trying to sneak up on a blackbird, and her master caught her in the act. “I am fine. Enjoy your party,” she replied, trying to sound as though she hadn’t a care in the world. This battle was hers, and if she were ever to fit into Daemon’s world, she had to face the vamp herself.
She leaned down and pulled her sword from the shrubs, then belted it, twisting the leather until the sword rested at her back, a little less obtrusive.
“I want you by my side. Now,” Daemo
n communicated to her, his tone a command.
“Demanding, aren’t we?” He had to know ordering her about would not work. Tezra drifted farther into the crowd of vampires, sensing the women nearby. Why didn’t anyone arrest the vamp? Surely if they backed their prince, they would take Lichorus into custody like he had ordered. Though she tried to maintain her calm composure, her heart hammered against her ribs. She stretched her fingers, preparing to unsheathe her sword.
“She is coming,” Lichorus hissed.
Sure it was a trap, Tezra fought extending her fangs, the teeth itching to appear. But the vamp’s goading wasn’t the only reason for Tezra’s rising temper. Daemon’s people’s complicity added to the anger she attempted to keep under control. Her teachers’ words came back to haunt her. “Keep your emotions in check,” they had invariably warned her. “When facing a vampire threat, if you give in to your feelings, you set yourself up to die.”
Anatola sighed. “You play with fire, Lichorus. Kill her if you must, but I stand by Daemon, no matter the outcome.”
A woman moved out of the shadows, platinum-blonde, curvaceous. She brushed into Tezra, her icy blue eyes trailing over her, then she headed for the house.
“He will not like that you set me up so that Lichorus could murder me,” Tezra calmly threatened.
The blonde glanced back at Tezra, her eyes wide.
Pleased at the vamp’s reaction, Tezra smiled.
“You will not live long enough to tell him.” Anatola offered a haughty smile of her own.
“He already knows.” Tezra got the distinct impression no one else knew Daemon had turned her. If she was to be the bait, she wanted to be the best damned bait she could be. She was certain Lichorus’s actions were not part of Krustalus’s plan, however.
Tezra moved again, her high heels clicking against the stone patio, the cool breeze tickling a strand that had loosened from the mass of curls piled atop her head. The women and a few men glanced her way. Then she saw Lichorus—bewitchingly beautiful, extremely anorexic, runway model material—but her dark eyes were absolutely entrancing while she stood in the shadows several feet from the house near the end of the patio. She did look like Ionia. And like Tezra, the vamp was armed with a sword.
