by Sue Wilder
He sent the images into her mind, and felt her hands grip his arms as he carried her toward the darkened bedroom.
“Can you make it snow again?” she asked, nuzzling against his throat.
“Snow, cara?” Christan flicked small flames into the fireplace before he stood her on her feet, not trusting her to do it when she trembled as she did.
“The silver sparkles, the fireflies in the dark.”
“These?” Tiny points of light flickered into reality as he slid the shirt from her body, pushed the silky shorts down her legs. Lexi’s hands were not idle as she worked as hard as he at this new touching thing.
When they were both naked, she slid her foot along his leg. “I want to be happy, Christan.”
She claimed his mouth, he claimed her body, and when he laid her on the bed draped in white linen they both claimed each other’s heart. Her soft cries grew against his whispered words, and when he felt her hands against his back, knew she shattered in his arms, he thought maybe, just maybe he made her happy.
CHAPTER 7
Florence, Italy
“We’re here. Are you ready?”
Lexi looked up from the seatbelt clasped in her hands. The private jet that carried them from Portland to Florence taxied toward the terminal at the Aeroporto di Firenze. It had been a long, sad journey to bring Elene Santori home, and with all the somber males on board they looked like a diplomatic delegation.
Elene Santori had deep links to Florence, which surprised no one. When Ethan discovered the attorney representing next of kin, travel arrangements had been finalized. They weren’t here just to return Elene’s remains, though. Demands had been made for an inquiry into Christan’s destruction in Zurich, and the retribution taken in Florence where he systematically found and eliminated those who attacked the villa. The caretakers had been killed and two blood debts had been collected. Perfectly legal, according to Phillipe.
Even so, the Calata was alarmed. Christan, Arsen and Darius had been ordered to return and justify their actions or risk a diplomatic crisis. Official proceedings were expected, and Phillipe was along as Three’s legal representative. Lexi was required as a witness, not that she would have remained behind. She had issues with Zurich, too.
“What are the formalities?” Somewhere over the Swiss Alps, Lexi had changed into a black dress and flat shoes. Her hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head. Christan stood aside as she stepped into the aisle.
He was holding the polished wood box that held Elene Santori’s cremated remains. When Lexi took it from him, her hands trembled slightly. It was lighter than she’d expected. The suggestion that Lexi carry the box had been hers, although the men agreed. They wanted their hands free.
“We’ll meet in a private room,” Christan explained. “An official from One’s court will be there. Do you remember Luca? He’s one of Three’s warriors, but he lives in Italy as her representative. He’ll have his security team with him.”
“I thought we were escorting Elene Santori and the official stuff was planned for tomorrow.”
“It is, but when Calata politics are involved, you can’t be too cautious.” Christan followed her down the exit stairs to the hot tarmac, his presence dark but protective. “After the informal meet and greet, we turn over the remains and then leave for Luca’s compound.”
“That sounds clinical.”
“We don’t have official jurisdiction here. Councilor One controls what we do.”
Phillipe had explained something similar. Centuries ago, the Calata divided the world into a system resembling medieval feudalism. There were no castles, but peace was maintained through archaic rules and power alliances, ruthlessly kept in check by the Calata through their enforcers. Lexi shivered.
Christan reached out and touched her face. “Are you worried, cara?”
“I wasn’t before, but now we’re back and I keep thinking about that night at the villa. I keep hearing the screams.”
“No screams, cara. But there will be questions.”
“The accusations about Zurich?”
“Those will come later.”
“And you aren’t concerned about it?”
Christan shrugged, gave her a hard smile. A glimpse, maybe, of who he’d been all those centuries ago. “I knew they’d ask about Elene, and I’ve always known Six would complain about Zurich. I destroyed his building, after all.”
“You went to war,” Lexi corrected, surprised by the worry that kept her on edge. She hadn’t thought of him as being reckless. He never considered himself reckless. Yet she couldn’t shake the fear that there was something reckless in what they were doing now.
Christan’s hand pressed against the small of her back as he guided her. “Do not worry, cara,” he murmured, bending close. “I’ve gone to war many times before and I will again when necessary.”
“And the Calata?”
“Argue about it every time.”
Lexi leaned back against Christan’s hand, needing his reassuring warmth. Her nerves were brittle. They approached the nondescript building at the far end of the airport, and Christan held open the smoked-glass door. Inside, the hall was sleek and modern, with white marble floors veined in gold. Arsen and Darius had walked ahead, disappearing into the private meeting room. Phillipe followed a few steps behind Christan. Luca was waiting. The dark-haired Italian nodded once to Lexi before he met Christan’s gaze.
“The welcoming committee is larger than expected,” Luca murmured as he opened the ornate black door.
Lexi could see Arsen and Darius, standing at attention. Dressed in black slacks and shirts, their posture was military with feet wide, hands clasped behind their backs, deferential but without a hint of submission. Lexi had the impression they were being challenged.
Her gaze traveled across Arsen’s expression and her nerves tightened.
“Be calm,” Christan murmured. His eyes had narrowed.
The room held at least twenty people. Luca’s contingent of eight warriors were positioned on each side of the door. A larger group of warriors stood flanking a woman who was dressed in a knee length green silk suit that flattered her feminine frame. A red scarf flashed like an ancient battle flag. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders and Lexi realized that Christan knew her, knew that irritated glint in her eyes. What Lexi hadn’t expected was the girl standing beside the woman.
“Councilor,” Christan said, using the formal title as he nodded in acknowledgment. “Good to see you again.”
“Christan.” There was no welcome in her icy tone. “I believe you know Katerina Varga and you have something for her.”
✽✽✽
Lexi shifted closer to Christan, uneasy as she gripped the polished box in her hands. The energy in the room was heavy with aggression. This woman radiated power, but it was her hostility toward Christan that stretched Lexi’s nerves. Elene Santori and the inquiry into Zurich might have brought them back to Italy, but those reasons were covering a hidden trap. A trap on the verge of being sprung.
And Christan had known.
Lexi watched as Phillipe entered the room, glanced around and moved to stand in front of Christan. There was steel in the immortal’s back and his expression held an ominous cast.
Phillipe had known, too.
The sins of omission disguised as protection. Christan hadn’t wanted her to come. When she’d insisted, he hadn’t protested, and Lexi assumed it was because Marge told him not to argue. Now Lexi realized it didn’t matter where she was, there would always be danger. His world, she thought. Her world. As calmly as possible Lexi moved to stand at Christan’s side. Phillipe was taking charge.
“You surprise me, Councilor One,” he said, so immaculate in his accusation Lexi felt it move around the room. “With this show of force, we might mistake your security detail as a confrontation and not a welcome.”
“Phillipe,” One acknowledged, “your presence can be seen as a similar provocation.”
“Three wi
shes to send her personal condolences. Surely you expected nothing less.”
“And her enforcer isn’t sufficient as her representative?”
“The death of Elene Santori occurred while under our protection,” Phillipe said. “I am here as her… servant.”
The Calata member seemed to flinch at the word “servant,” and Lexi realized Phillipe had not been expected to accompany Elene Santori’s remains. Later, perhaps, during the inquiry, the academic would have put in an appearance, but certainly not now. The air in the room seemed to expand, then contract like reforming ice while the heavy drapes covering the single window rippled as if caught in a storm.
A second wave of aggression moved around the room, this time from Phillipe. Lexi noticed how Christan stood without moving, assuming the same stance as Arsen and Darius. None of them appeared concerned.
“You’re fine,” Christan murmured.
“She doesn’t look friendly.”
“This threat is not against you, cara. You are safe.”
It was what he always said, that she was safe, and Lexi wanted to believe him. But adrenaline shot through her veins. She had no defense against a woman dressed in green who could shift the air like ice floes and crush her.
“You have a personal interest in Elene Santori?” Phillipe was asking, and the woman known as One shrugged.
“The girl is mated to one of my warriors.”
“And where is this warrior?”
“His location is unknown.”
Phillipe arched one dark eyebrow. “He is… missing?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re doing all in your power to locate him?”
“Leander has men searching.” One gestured toward her enforcer. Phillipe glanced at the security detail beside Leander. Lexi noticed the warriors were armed with modern weapons, and when Phillipe glanced back at One, no one misinterpreted the threat or the possibility of blood on the floor. Just thinking about it made Lexi’s skin damp.
Phillipe said, “I offer Christan if you need help. Three understands the attack on Elene Santori was against your authority as well as hers.”
“Leander has it controlled.”
“Control is not your strength, Councilor.”
“And I don’t need your lectures, Phillipe.”
“But you meet us at the airport as if we were an enemy you must contain?”
“Three knows my loyalties.” The Calata member’s lips had thinned. “And I’m more than pleased to discuss the indiscretions of your enforcer and the subsequent laws that might have been broken.”
“As are we,” Phillipe agreed, “but not while Miss Varga must stand here listening to our petty squabbling. It’s clear she is overcome with grief.”
Phillipe walked toward the girl who stood with stiff resolve, her face pale and the sheen of tears in her blue eyes. He took her hand, which trembled in his cool grasp.
“Miss Varga,” he said while bowing his head in acknowledgment, “Councilor Three sends her deepest condolences for your loss. She understands words cannot ease your grief.”
The girl nodded. Phillipe gestured to Christan, with Lexi at his side. They walked forward together, and it was Christan’s turn to take the hand of the girl who was his second’s estranged mate. Lexi watched as he brushed his thumb across the burnished gold line visible on the girl’s wrist. He was offering comfort as only a warrior could, the sense of touch, the flow of energy. Lexi’s memory lines curled in sympathy.
“I regret I did not prevent the death of Elene Santori,” Christan said, his deep voice gentle and yet strong enough to be heard throughout the room. “But Elene has been handled with care while she’s been our responsibility. This doesn’t end here.”
Words of comfort, meaning as promise. Outcome as threat.
Lexi moved forward to transfer the polished box to Katerina. One’s energy spiked, and Lexi felt the unfamiliar pressure circling down to trace a memory line that edged her forefinger. Lexi willed herself to remain steady while the sensations lingered and grew in intensity. Christan looked at One, and the probing touch turned to a flash of irritation, scraping across Lexi’s skin like a cat’s claw.
“Perhaps there’s a quiet room where the girls can regain their composure?” Christan didn’t add the honorary title as he had before, and the Calata member hadn’t expected it. Their animosity seemed mutual.
“They may leave with escorts.” The woman gestured toward one of the dark-suited men behind her. He nodded once, stepped forward, waiting for the women to walk toward the indicated door.
Lexi sighed but complied. She was reluctant to leave Christan’s side, but he reached out and touched her cheek
“Go,” he said. “We may be here for some length of time, and you’re exhausted from the long flight.” Don’t worry. Even now he was trying to calm her. With a last glance around the room, she followed Katerina Varga through the door.
CHAPTER 8
Once the two women were through the door, Christan turned toward the Calata member known as One. His expression was not friendly, and One moved the official reception to a smaller, more secure room in the airport building, pausing long enough to instruct the warriors to wait in the hall. In times of crisis, the Calata member preferred privacy. Christan cooperated; he preferred privacy as well.
There were just the four of them—One and Leander, Phillipe and Christan. The room was unremarkable. A single metal chair, ship-yard gray and dented, was bolted to the floor behind a metal desk, also bolted. Books had been stacked on the desk, perhaps left from some other occupant, but there were no windows. The concrete walls were thick with an equally thick concrete floor and a drain because interrogations could get messy. Droning white noise hummed through speakers. The noise thwarted listening devices capable of breaking through anything these days, and although the sound got on Christan’s nerves he tolerated it because no one wanted to defend what was said in this room.
“Why the armed reception?” Christan stood across from the desk, arms crossed and feet braced. Phillipe closed the door and stood against the wall while Leander, always formally dressed, lounged against the opposite wall. The woman in green held center court.
“Why do you think?” Air shimmered with One’s telekinetic power. The stack of books went flying, missing Christan by inches. “One simple thing I asked of you, Christan, and you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”
Christan pretended surprise but no one was fooled. “Are you referring to Lexi?”
“Why did you bring her here?”
“The Calata ordered her to come.”
“You knew that order held no real teeth.”
“She wishes to defend me.”
“How… cute.” The immortal made another irritated movement with her hand; books slid into a pile in the corner. “She wouldn’t be where Six can get his hands on her if she’d stayed where she was at your compound.”
“I wanted her safe and that meant with me.”
“No, you had to use that famous cock of yours.” At the look on his face her eyes widened while she feigned innocence. “What? She didn’t expect you to remain celibate all those centuries, did she? That’s such a human thing to do.”
“Have a care, One,” Phillipe said softly. “We’re trying to be tolerant here.”
“Why?” One turned on him. “That’s exactly what he did, Phillipe, what he always does. He screwed her crazy until she ran out into the middle of that battle and tried to be heroic.” One swung back toward Christan, her eyes narrowed. “She did it, didn’t she? Used the magic.”
There was silence all around. Every face was implacable, Christan thought, worthy of the secret keepers. Brothers.
“Oh, never mind. As soon as I touched her memory lines, I had my explanation for Zurich.” One paced, her black heels clicking against the hard floor, the soles flashing blood-red. The lighting in the room made the green of her suit fade to a dull gray. “Does Six know?”
“We certainly hope not,” said
Phillipe.
“When he sees her alive and in one piece, he’ll know if he hasn’t figured it out already. Three has been trying to get her to perform that blood bond for several lifetimes. We all knew it. She almost gave up on Gemma. I told her to compel the girl, but she refused, said it had to be voluntary.”
“Generous of you to notice,” Christan remarked softly. One was oblivious to the threat.
“It was hard not to,” she said unkindly. “Everyone saw what Kace was doing, but no one stopped him. Not even you when you had the chance. Then Three became obsessed with that disgusting matter in the jungle, and—how did you crawl out of that sane?” One gestured again and Phillipe ducked as a book hit the wall. “Now you magnify all that penchant for vengeance with a blood bond.”
“A myth, Councilor,” said Phillipe, his voice cool. “The blood bond has no more power than the mate bond, other than a slight ability at telekinesis on Lexi’s part. Nothing more.”
“Then why did Two create it?” One looked at Christan. “Did you expect anyone to believe Zurich was a gas leak?”
“Old buildings are prone to disasters.”
“And what of that mess in the Piedmont?”
“What of it?”
“You obliterated his brain stem, Christan, every organ inside his body turned into mush. An immortal, thousands of years old, lying naked and frozen in his own bed. You humiliated him even in death. And you dragged Leander into it.”
“It was my obligation,” Leander said from where he leaned against the wall, although he was no longer relaxed. “The crime was against you, One. It was my duty to handle the execution.”
“And I could have explained his disappearance, too, if you’d dropped him in one of the holes you usually use.” One aimed the accusation at Christan. “You had to display him like a trophy.”
“We sent a message,” Leander said. “I’m the one who told Christan to leave him as he was.”
One stopped her furious pacing and turned on Leander. “Why?” she said between her teeth.
