by Caris Roane
Her heart picked up its cadence. She blinked a couple of times because Stone had never looked more handsome in his life, though she couldn’t say why. A sudden and very powerful desire began to rise within her. She’d always liked and admired Stone, but she’d never experienced a romantic interest in him like she did now.
She also felt his chronic blood starvation like a pressure against her breastbone. She wanted to feed him. Needed to. And she needed to do it now.
At about the same time, she felt something very strange flow through Ian, a vibration unfamiliar to Regan. The muscles of his back flexed and released only to tighten again.
A strange chuffing sound came out of his throat. She looked up at him, shocked to see that his fangs had settled low on his lips. “Ian?”
A low growl came from his throat as he slowly slid his arm from around her then eased her away from him. At the last moment, he pushed her behind him.
“Get in the house. Now.” His voice was low, almost unrecognizable.
Regan didn’t understand until she heard Stone growl as well. He stared at her, a hungry glint in his eye, nostrils flared, fangs on his lips.
Oh, no.
It was all so new she’d forgotten: she was a blood rose. And Stone was one of the most powerful of all the ruling mastyrs.
Her heart set up a heavy racket, the pulse sounding in her ears. The blood rose part of her felt ramped up and excited beyond words for what was about to happen. The other part, the sensible, womanly fae part knew these men were in deep trouble since each had quickly devolved into a primordial state.
She trembled from both excitement and horror. She needed to do something, yet she was unable to move; she wanted to see the men fight for her.
Ian charged first, levitating and flying at Stone so fast he was only a blur. Using his head, he caught Stone in the chest, forcing him backward several yards. He landed on top of Stone at the foot of a large boulder not eight feet from the cliff edge.
When Ian rose up, Stone flew upward with a combination of levitation and sheer strength, catching Ian’s chin with his fist.
As Ian’s head jerked back, he flew in an arc through the air, then came to earth with a dull thud, landing on his back not far from where she stood. But by the time Stone moved in again, Ian was already on his feet and the battle was on.
Fists flew, the men grunted when struck and at times howled with a kind of fury Regan had never heard before.
They were equally matched and as they struck each other, they neared the cliff edge. Regan’s excitement began to wear off, replaced by an almost paralyzing dread.
She began to shake as the nature of the battle settled in hard. This would be a fight to the death over possession of her.
And she couldn’t let it happen. She couldn’t be the cause of the Nine Realms losing one of their most powerful mastyrs at a time when their world was on the brink of a civilization-ending war.
She sank to her knees.
She had to look away from the battling pair and close her ears to their terrible guttural sounds.
She had to reach Vojalie and she had to do it now.
There was one thing she did understand about her blood rose state. All the women who for whatever reason launched into this new state of being also gained power.
She took deep breaths and let her blood rose ability add new strength to her telepathic skill. The resulting vibration stunned her, but she made quick work and summoned the one woman who could help her.
Vojalie, she pathed. I’m in trouble. Please hear me. Vojalie, I learned early this morning I’m a blood rose and right now Mastyrs Stone and Ian are battling, but neither is in possession of a rational mind. They will fight to the death if something isn’t done. Can you help me?
For a moment, nothing returned, but it wasn’t Vojalie who responded. Instead Davido, her husband, a very ancient and powerful troll, pathed, We’ll be with you in a matter of seconds. Stay out of harm’s way and we’ll join you at your location.
Thank the Goddess, was all she could think to respond.
Tears streaked down her cheeks as she rose to her feet, her knees shaking. She stayed put, hating the sounds of the men roaring at each other, these men who had always been such excellent friends. Each had blood pouring off his body and so many bruises.
They were within two feet of the cliff edge. Regan shouted, “Ian. Stone. Look where you are!” If either tumbled off without engaging their levitation skills, they could hit the cliff wall and be knocked unconscious. With five hundred feet to go, serious injury and possibly death could follow.
But she might as well have whispered for all the good it did.
The next moment, she felt the arrival of Vojalie and Davido. She turned to them. “I’m so grateful you’ve come. I didn’t know what else to do. I can’t stop them.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Davido said. No one knew his exact age, only that he’d lived a very long time and was as wise as he was old. He also had a tremendous amount of power.
And as the two men took their battle over the cliff, Davido levitated a few feet off the ground, something most trolls couldn’t do. He then headed after them and disappeared into the gorge as well.
Regan put a hand to her chest. Anything could happen in a situation like this.
Don’t worry, the powerful fae pathed. Davido will take care of this. You’ll see.
Regan began counting her breaths. She wanted to go to the edge of the cliff to see what had happened, but couldn’t make her feet move.
The next moment, all three men returned, levitating above the edge of the gorge, Davido between and holding each by the arm.
Both Ian and Stone appeared confused as though they didn’t know what had happened.
Vojalie urged Regan to return to the house with her. “Let the men figure this out first.”
“Absolutely.”
Now that the terrifying situation had been brought to an end, Regan shook worse than ever. Her legs felt rubbery as she made her way back into the foyer.
It looked like her plan to return to Swanicott wouldn’t be as simple as she’d imagined. There were other mastyr vampires in each of the realms. If she left Ian’s side and one of them came after her, she knew by the strength of her reaction to Stone, she wouldn’t be able to resist bonding with the first one to gain her attention.
Better to stick close to the devil she knew, especially since Ian would resist completing the blood rose bond with her. In that sense, she could buy a lot of time here in Camberlaune.
Anywhere else, she’d be at risk.
CHAPTER THREE
A few minutes later, with Regan safely ensconced in his library, Ian sat opposite Stone in his living room. Stone held an ice pack to his face and kept moving his jaw back and forth. He sat on an ottoman, his body angled forward with one elbow supported on his thigh.
Ian leaned back on the sofa, a pack of frozen peas pressed to the bridge of his nose. Stone had gotten in several major hits, but this one had practically slammed his nose into his brain. Davido had done him a solid and set the bone.
Oh, shit had it hurt.
Davido’s blue eyes glittered as he glanced from one man to the other. “Sorry I missed the first part of the brawl. Must have been a sight to see.” He rubbed his hands together.
Stone glanced at Ian, and offered a crooked smile. His lip was bleeding. “It was a sight to hurt, I’ll say that.”
Ian chuckled. “It was.”
“And Ian, those rings of yours … brutal.”
“What were we thinking?”
At that, a shard of concern passed through Stone’s swollen eyes. “I didn’t think. I saw Regan and I was done for. Why didn’t you warn me she was a blood rose?”
“Zane was supposed to head you off. Didn’t he call?”
Stone shook his head. “My phone rang, but I was already in flight. And he might have tried pathing, but lately my telepathic frequency has been hit-and-miss.”
Ian nodded. “
It happens.”
Stone narrowed his eyes. “But were you actually going to let her out of your sight?”
Ian shook his head, shifting his gaze to the floor, working to think it all through. “I don’t know what to tell you. I knew what the other mastyrs had said on the loop. Guess I hadn’t thought it out, or not as far as I needed to.”
Davido brought him a scotch neat. Ian drank it quickly, but came up sputtering. Even his throat felt swollen from the fight.
Finally, he answered Stone’s question. “It was all too new and we’d been quarreling as we do when we spend more than a few minutes in each other’s company. I needed her to leave and she wanted to go.” He shook his head several times. “I can’t believe I was going to take her to Swanicott and leave her there.”
The horror of what he’d almost done and how he would have essentially left her wide open to other mastyrs, made every bruise on his body throb. His nose started bleeding again.
Davido brought him a couple of tissues and refilled his tumbler.
Ian plugged up both nostrils. He then leaned his head onto the cushion, removed the bag of peas and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a minute, he gently pushed the tissue aside and slowly sipped the scotch. The burn did him some good.
He’d engaged his healing power, most of it focused on his smashed nose. But sweet Goddess, he hurt in so many places, he was afraid to move.
“So, tell me about the fortress,” Stone said.
Ian related everything Regan had told him, adding that because of the mist, he’d only seen a small portion of one of the south-facing stone walls. “But the army size, according to Regan, would indicate we would need to join forces to accomplish much of anything.”
Stone nodded, shifting his ice pack to his opposite cheek. Davido offered him a tumbler as well and Stone took it, throwing it back, then wincing. “Shouldn’t have done that. Ian, what the hell did you do to my neck?”
Ian could only laugh, but he groaned afterward since his ribs ached. “Not sure. But if it makes you feel any better, I think you broke a couple of my ribs.”
“No, it doesn’t help at all.” But Stone smiled as he slowly blew air from his cheeks then took another gulp of whisky.
Ian’s thoughts took a turn as he considered Regan’s blood rose state. How naïve he’d been, or maybe just ignorant, to think he could drop her off in Swanicott and not think twice about it.
But even these few thoughts brought his fangs descending. He knew there were several lesser mastyr vampires in Swanicott who would have been equally drawn to Regan as either he or Stone were.
A growl escaped his throat before he could prevent it.
“So,” Davido drawled. “What’s going on now? Are you planning to attack Mastyr Stone again? Do I need to prepare myself to intervene once more?”
Ian glanced at Davido, wondering what the hell he was talking about, then came to a sudden awareness of his fang-state. He covered his mouth with his hand. “Shit, sorry. I was thinking about what could have happened if I’d actually taken Regan back to her realm.” He worked at retracting his fangs.
Davido stared at him, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
He was one of the ugliest trolls Ian had ever known. His skin was heavily wrinkled, and his three forehead ridge rolls sprouted hair in a few places.
Despite his lack of looks, women flocked to the short man because of his abundant charisma. That he’d wooed and won the beautiful Vojalie spoke to his nature more than anything else. He was a good man, an excellent father, and made a strong habit of not taking life too seriously. In fact, all he did at present was serve two mastyr vampires a healthy dose of scotch; he didn’t even dispense advice.
“What am I supposed to do, Davido? You know my history with Regan.”
The three rolls of Davido’s forehead squinched up. “Now, how am I supposed to have an answer to such a question? I’m not a vampire for one thing nor do I have the smallest idea what it feels like to suddenly be obsessed with a blood rose. Sorry, my boy, but I can’t help you at all.” He jerked his thumb in Stone’s direction. “Though you might want to think about sending this one packing.”
Ian met Stone’s amused gaze. “That was my first thought, but we need him here. How about you spend the night’s rotation with Ben until I get things with Regan figured out? My instincts tell me I’m going to need your battling support.”
Stone nodded, holding his tumbler out to Davido who in turn added another two fingers. “I agree. Besides, it seems to me we might have a chance to end this war for good now that we know where Margetta’s fortress is.”
Ian ran a hand through his hair. Somewhere in the battling, he’d lost his woven Guardsman’s clasp. Stone had as well.
A thought occurred to him. “Hold on. Malik said he did something to keep Zane from chasing Willow, but what was that?”
“I remember now,” Stone said. “It was all over the loop. Malik took some of Willow’s blood and spread it up his forearms in long streaks. Zane said it worked, that his obsessive drive toward Willow ended abruptly.”
“That’s what we’ll do, then.”
Davido cleared his throat.
Ian frowned at him. “What?”
“Won’t you need to ask Regan if she’s on board?”
“I don’t see her compliance as an issue.”
Davido shook his head. “You were always absurdly stubborn. But let us hope she’s as willing to oblige you as you think she is. You haven’t exactly given her reason to adore your sweet self.”
Ian’s lips quirked. “That last bit is very true, but Regan has a sensible side.” At least he hoped she’d be practical given their current predicament.
~ ~ ~
Regan sat on the black leather couch in the library. “I forgot what it was like with Ian on every front, the good parts and the bad. From the time I fed him at the bottom of the gorge, I’ve felt as though I’ve gotten stuck on a carnival ride with way too many sudden highs and lows. I’m ready to get off, as in now.”
Vojalie nodded several times in succession. “Are you still determined to return to Swanicott?”
“I want to make use of the significant resources at my fae retreat, and I intend to contact the Fae Council. It’s time we, as a fae community, stepped up together to confront Margetta. Surely, as a working unit we can uncover a spell to rid her encampment of the shielding mist.”
“Did you try to solve the spell while you were there?”
Regan thought back to the sequence of events since she didn’t see the wall of mist until she’d escaped from the tower. “Though I was able to detect a spell over a portion of the camp tents, the best I could do was to imprint the spell in my mind. I had no luck, however, dissecting the formula at all. And you have no idea how hard I tried. I think there might have been a blocking spell in place.
“As far as the mist goes, its presence came as a huge surprise. I’d had no idea there was even a spell along the southern edge of the property until I’d reached the catwalk. By then, I had very little time to escape. So, no, I was never near the mist long enough to take a reasonable stab at its composition.”
Vojalie’s brow grew pinched as though she was mulling the situation over. She sat in a leather, wing-back chair, and was somewhat swallowed up because it was built on Ian’s massive lines. Her right wrist dangled just over the armrest. With her free hand, she twirled a long, dark curl around her finger.
Regan kept expecting Vojalie to respond to her observation but she remained silent. She almost looked perplexed.
“What is it?” Regan asked. “Don’t you think my idea has merit? That we should involve the fae community?”
Vojalie huffed a small, almost frustrated sigh. “In some respects yes, though I have my reservations. But only you can determine the right path for yourself and for Ian.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Actually, I don’t. I’ve never excelled at spell-making, so I’m of no use to you in this si
tuation. But I have been close to several of the blood roses over the past few months. And I’ve observed that each one eventually had to alter her thinking in order to move forward, especially where the realm mastyr was concerned.” She looked almost pained, her hands now clasped tightly together, as she added, “If at all possible, make every effort to see Ian in a new light.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Vojalie appeared to hunt for words. “You don’t know him very well, Regan. We could start there.”
“You’re so wrong,” Regan answered quickly. “I know him extremely well. You forget, we were lovers once.”
Vojalie shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I strongly disagree. You were enamored of him many centuries ago, you had a terrible falling out, and you’ve barely exchanged an hour of conversation since. How can you possibly say you know him well? I would suggest, you don’t know him at all.”
Regan wanted to argue, but something in what Vojalie said struck a chord of truth within Regan’s fae nature. “Part of me wishes to argue the point, but maybe you’re right. In some ways, we were just getting to know each other, even to have the occasional argument, when Raven’s Overlook changed everything.”
Vojalie had been her mentor from the time she was a teenage girl nearly seven centuries ago. Regan had lived a long time and in turn had mentored dozens of fae women herself.
What she had never done well, however, was enjoy a long-term relationship with a man. She’d dated dozens of times since Ian, but most of her affairs only lasted a brief couple of years. After all this time, she wasn’t sure she’d ever have a real relationship.
Shifting her thoughts for a moment, she considered the lightning-and-thunder nature of her brief love affair with Ian. Was it possible she’d been part of the problem as Ian suggested, even if she’d never quite seen it before? Not the ‘enthralling’ part; Regan knew she’d hadn’t put Ian in any kind of trance. Yet, how many times had she begged Ian to stay with her just a few more minutes, sometimes extending his visit by an hour or two.
If she had guilt, it lay there. Maybe by letting him go sooner the night of the massacre, he might have been able to save his people.
