The Red Lily (Vampire Blood)

by Juliette Cross

  Confused, he marched forward and took her hand in his to guide her back through the tunnel. Perhaps she feared living in a populated town again, having been on her own for so long. Did something happen to her in Dale’s Peak to make her fear the company of others? A flash of anger lit through his veins at the thought of someone hurting her.

  One thing he knew for certain. When this was all over, he would not, could not forsake her to her own fate, letting her live alone so close to the Glass Tower. Too close to the evil lurking there.

  Chapter Four

  They sat on opposite sides of the small fire, neither having spoken for nearly thirty minutes. Sienna finished her meal of bread and cheese and brushed the crumbs from her skirt while she watched him. Nikolai busied himself sharpening one of the many knives he kept hidden in sheaths on his person. This dagger seemed to be his favorite—twelve inches long, two inches wide, and serrated on one side with wickedly sharp teeth. It was a beast of a blade. She marveled at the deft move of his muscular forearms and skilled hands working the knife against the whetstone.

  Duchess had settled beside her on her belly, chin resting on her paws. Her mate, Luca, rested outside their circle, but Sienna saw his eyes glowing in the dark, blinking lazily. And she heard the brothers, Kai and Hugo, crisscrossing in the woods here and there. The four had been waiting for her when she stepped back into the Silvane Forest, as if they knew she would be leaving them for a while.

  The thought of leaving the wood for longer than a few hours struck a cold fear through her body. As if parting from this place would be like losing a limb. And yet, Arabelle needed her. The Black Lily needed her. She couldn’t allow her own fears to guide her in this matter. Her destiny lay beyond the safe haven of her home.

  “Tonight will be your first speech in front of potential recruits,” said Nikolai, still stroking the blade of his knife along the whetstone in a steady rhythm. “Have you considered what you will say?”

  “Aye,” she said, wrapping the bread loaf in paper and stuffing it into her bag. She glanced at him, wondering when he had fed last. Vampires needed to feed on average once a week, so she was told. Her gaze slid to his lips, wondering what his bite would feel like. She wondered what his elixir would feel like as well.

  “Is it true that every vampire’s elixir has a different effect on the bleeder?”

  He stopped sliding his knife across the stone, his sharp gaze capturing her. The tension in his posture put her on alert, like the lamb catching the scent of the wolf on the wind.

  “And why are you curious about such a thing?” he finally asked.

  She shrugged and turned her attention to Duchess in an attempt at nonchalance, stroking a hand over her broad brow. The she-wolf blinked her golden eyes open, then closed them again. “No reason really. It was just something that Sergeant Volkov said. About his elixir being different.”

  “I know what Volkov said. I heard him.” His voice was clipped and harsh.

  “You were very far away. The sergeant didn’t hear you hiding there. I’m surprised you could hear—”

  “The older the vampire, the stronger he is, the more potent his power.” He held her with his electric blue gaze. “In every possible way.”

  The rough timbre of his voice made her stomach flip-flop. She returned her attention to him across the fire. “And how old are you, if I may ask?”

  “You may,” he replied with a tilted smile. “I am one hundred twenty-four.”

  The idea of being in the presence of a being over a hundred years older than her quickened her pulse. She had no idea. Compared to a human man, he looked no older than thirty. Though there was something about his eyes that spoke of intelligence and wisdom, the kind one acquired from long years of experience.

  Gaze narrowing, he spoke in a low rumble. “Are you asking me about the elixir because you’re curious what Volkov’s would be like?”

  She wondered what she said to make him so angry. “No! That man was detestable.”

  “More than that. His name means ‘wolf’ and my guess is it suits him rather well.”

  Duchess let out a huff, raising her head. “Wolves are lovely creatures,” Sienna protested with a soft pat behind Duchess’s ear.

  “Not all of them.” He leaned forward, the flames flickering on his grave features. “Some are vicious, cruel, and bloodthirsty.” He glanced at Duchess. “Excepting your hart wolves, of course.” He pocketed the whetstone in his satchel and sheathed the knife in a harness that crossed his chest over his shirt. “So, if you think the man ‘detestable,’ why ask about his elixir?” He pulled on his long coat, which covered the harness.

  “You don’t listen very well, lieutenant. I asked about vampire elixir, not Volkov.” She shoved her canteen in her own small sack and stood, readying to go.

  “Yes, it’s true,” he said with a sidelong glance. “Every elixir has a unique effect on the bleeder. Some experience euphoria or ecstasy, others numbness, or even fear.”

  Duchess had stood at her side, so Sienna stroked her casually along the neck, which was at eye level. “And what do your bleeders experience?”

  Silence. Nothing. She felt him behind her before she turned.

  “Would you care to find out, sweetheart?” he asked. His expression wasn’t his usual arrogant, hard facade. Rather the opposite. Temptation swirled around her like a net, binding her till she was breathless. He kept an arm’s length between them, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be leagues away, with a sea between, for his powerful presence to have no effect on her. Even then, she wasn’t sure it would be enough.

  “No,” she finally said. “That is…I think it is time to go.”

  Unmoving, he openly stared, examining her in minute detail, his intense study escalating her heartrate even further. “I agree,” he said, the heat of a moment before vanishing behind his frosty exterior he wore so well. He stomped the fire down with his boot. “Best to keep moving.”

  Sienna felt the coldness seep in as she followed in his wake. He was right. Best to get on with this mission, so they could go their separate ways. She could return home to her cottage where she belonged, and Nikolai could rejoin the army of the Black Lily. And all would be right as before.

  Except a niggling notion deep inside her gut told her things would never be as they were before. Something had changed the moment she saw him leaning against the old oak tree and he’d followed her home. Something indefinable and yet unmovable.

  She focused on breathing evenly and listening to the night sounds of the forest. Her forest. Sorrow swept over her, thinking of the days ahead where she would miss her haven. A sable owl cooed out its sorrowful call as if it sensed her melancholy. She glanced up and caught the glow of its golden eyes in the branches, loving that it was one of the many creatures that lived solely within Silvane Forest.

  “Thank you, kind owl,” she murmured.

  Nikolai slowed his gait. When she was even with him, he asked, “I’m not quite sure, but I thought I heard you speaking to an owl.”

  She laughed, knowing she must appear odd. “Yes. I was.”

  “And do you often speak to all the animals?” He walked so close, his arm brushed hers on one stride.

  “I do,” she admitted. “I suppose it’s a hazard from living alone. Well, not alone. But without the companionship of another person.”

  “Mmm. Why don’t you leave this place and return home to Dale’s Peak?”

  She glanced sharply up at him, unable to see little but his silhouette by the moonlight. “How did you know I was from Dale’s Peak?”

  Silence. She was about to prompt him again when he answered, “I asked Arabelle.”

  “Oh.” Sienna felt a twinge of uneasiness, not comfortable with someone else relaying her past. “And what else did she tell you?”

  “Nothing. She only warned me of Dale’s Peak, as that is where your mother lives, and said we must use extra caution on our rendezvous there.”

  “Lived.” Sienna corrected him,
feeling a sense of relief that Arabelle hadn’t betrayed her at all, but rather told him only what he needed to know to ensure her safety.

  “Pardon?” She felt his gaze swivel toward her more than could see it.

  “My mother moved away long ago.” Though Sienna hadn’t spoken to or had correspondence with her mother since she left her northern home, she knew her mother well enough that she couldn’t abide the gossip that her daughter running away would’ve left behind. “There’s an old apothecary in Dale’s Peak. He was friend of my grandmother’s and they’d kept up correspondence over the years as he has such a wealth of knowledge of healing plants. That’s how we both knew she remarried a man in the east and left Dale’s Peak.”

  “I see.” Silence fell heavy between them, but his curiosity seemed to finally get the better of him. “And why have you decided to live in seclusion in the solitary woods of the Silvane Forest? Why did you leave in the first place?”

  She laughed. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”

  “Were you now?”

  “It is usually the first thing people ask me. Well, those who are brave enough.”

  “Brave enough? And why would anyone be frightened to ask you such a simple thing?”

  “Now, lieutenant. Don’t be coy with me.” Once more, she could feel his eyes on her in the dark. He was staring intently, she was certain. She continued on. “Don’t tell me that you’ve not heard what they call me.”

  “And what, pray tell, is that?”

  “The Witch of the Wood. Lord knows I’ve heard them whisper it often enough. Sometimes the Red Witch. They all think the only reason I am able to live alone in these woods is because I hold magic. You mean you’ve really never heard such rumors from those at the Glass Tower?”

  He laughed low and deep, the sound traveling through her with a delightful shiver. “First, I must tell you that I don’t talk to people. I despise most people, so I avoid them as often as I can.”

  “So you’re not fond of chit-chat.”

  “Bloody hell, no.”

  She couldn’t suppress her laughter. “And do you dislike the vampire soldiers you used to command? Or is it the aristocrats and royalty that bother you? Or perhaps the peasants?”

  “I hate them all equally. I prefer to be alone.”

  “But now you’re training all those men. You must never be alone.”

  “That’s different. When I’m at work, I’m employed in something useful.”

  “So you mean to tell me that you never enjoyed the grand balls at the Glass Tower?”

  “I’d rather have slit my throat than attend any of them. But as Marius’s personal guard at such events, I had to.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “What is?” They passed through a clearing, the sky opening up and shining more light on his grave brow.

  “Only that I think you would probably look rather dashing in your formal attire. I’m sure you disappointed many a young lady,” she teased, uncertain why she chose to spill her thoughts as they popped into her head. Something about Nikolai was so easy. And yet so hard, at the same time.

  Their hands touched on the next stride, giving her a quick shock. She swallowed her sudden gasp. If he heard, which surely he did, he made no note of it. Once more, her pulse quickened at his nearness.

  “You know, I once had a little boy in Hiddleston come up to me and ask if I conjured up the hartstone.”

  He gripped her arm. “Watch that fallen branch.”

  While helping her over, he let go of her arm, his hand ghosting to the small of her back where he applied slight pressure. The small touch scrambled her wits to the wind.

  “And what did you tell him?” he asked.

  “What? Tell who?”

  He chuckled. “The boy.”

  “Oh.” Inhaling a deep breath, she focused her gaze ahead, the path barely discernible. “What else could I tell him?” She spoke in her scratchy, witchy voice, “Why of course I do. Every full moon, my boy. And the wolves howl. And the fairies rise from their bowers, then we dance in a round, breathing in the powerful magic of the hartstone.”

  She could hear him smiling when he said, “I imagine he was quite frightened by your reply.”

  “Terrified. Precious little boy. Though I never saw him again.”

  “I wonder why ever not?”

  The woods opened up to the connecting field leading into Hiddleston. Sienna paused at the edge while Nikolai walked on. He stopped and returned to her.

  “What is wrong?”

  She glanced back, then toward the golden lights of the village. “The truth is, I am not a witch.”

  “Of course not.”

  “But I do feel these woods are a part of me. There is…protection for me here.”

  Nikolai stepped close, unclasped her cloak and flipped it inside out so that the black lining was on the outside. Apparently, he hadn’t missed anything between her and Volkov. He then placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his thumb pressing along the side of her neck where he brushed against her pulse gently. A warm comfort. “I am your protector while you are away from your home. I will not let any harm come to you.”

  Laden with heavy sincerity, his voice reached inside of Sienna and gripped her heart with a tight embrace. How these simple words—which meant nothing more than he was doing his job for the Black Lily—could compel her to want to step into his arms and burrow into his chest, she couldn’t explain. Swallowing her sudden urge to be near him, intimately near him, she gave him a stiff nod.

  “Good,” he said, lifting his hand away but not before brushing his thumb along her collarbone. “Then let us get you to your first recruit rally. The Black Lily needs you.”

  With a nod, she stepped in line beside him, relieved to have avoided answering his question about why she’d left Dale’s Peak.

  Chapter Five

  The Bull’s Head tavern was on the farthest tip of Hiddleston, where a rougher lot milled about well past midnight. Scantily clad women cackled on the corner. One of them, who bared her leg clear up to her thigh through a slit in her dress, tipped her ample bosom forward as they walked by.

  “Oy, there, love. Want somethin’ a bit juicier to play with tonight?”

  Nikolai took Sienna’s hand, pulling her closer, and tossed a sovereign at the prostitute. “Not tonight, dear lady.”

  She cackled heartily. “Ye ’erd that, Mable? I’m a lady t’night.” More laughter.

  Heat flamed up Sienna’s chest and neck. She’d seen women selling themselves in the streets of Dale’s Peak before, but something about walking past them with Nikolai at her side and him receiving a brazen offer tied her stomach into knots. She whispered to Nikolai as they approached the door to the tavern, “Do you partake of women like that?”

  He glanced over his shoulder with a baffled expression and shook his head before pushing open the door. Sienna didn’t know if that meant no, he did not partake of such women or that he thought her question ridiculous. Either way, he didn’t answer her.

  The pub rumbled with boisterous laughter, filled with mostly men. A round table of five gruff card players sat at the center. None looked up as they entered. Booths along the wall were full of working men spending their meager wages on ale and a pot of tavern stew. One or two eyed Sienna. She tucked herself behind Nikolai, keeping the hood of her cloak pulled forward, no longer with the telltale red exterior showing. Two waitresses bustled between the table tops, refilling tankards and serving bowls of hot stew.

  A giant stuffed head of a black bull hung over the bar. His nose ring and black eyes gave the beast a fierce look. Sienna thought it an appropriate mascot for the place. The barkeep was a brawny middle-aged man, drying glasses with a rag and watching the newcomers as they approached.

  Nikolai didn’t slow his pace as he rounded the side of the bar and tossed a sovereign down. “The Barrow brothers.”

  The barkeep gave a stiff nod over his shoulder. Nikolai tugged her down the corridor, releasi
ng her hand when they reached a door that opened to a narrow staircase leading down. There were murmurs of voices from below but not nearly equaling the raucous noise from above. Nikolai placed a gentle hand on her back to usher her ahead of him, then they made their way down to the basement. Sconces along the wall lit the chamber lined with barrels of ale along two walls. A group of nearly thirty men and women milled about the room.

  “I’ll be damned, he finally showed.” Sienna recognized the merry countenance of Ivan Barrow, all broad chest and beefy arms as he clasped Nikolai’s hand.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “Of course not. Our lieutenant never fails,” said Evan, stepping forward, Ivan’s twin brother. Evan handed Ivan a tankard of ale. A serving wench carried a tray of tankards from man to man, tucking the coin in her pocket as she went along.

  Ivan gulped his beer, then said, “Aye. Just thought you might have trouble getting to your cousin.”

  “Not with Sienna’s help,” said Nikolai, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back where he let it remain.

  “Ah, we welcome your aid once again, my lady,” said Ivan with a bow and a bright smile.

  “I will do all that I can,” she assured them.

  Last time she came to their aid, she was in the company of Duchess and Luca. Without her steady guardians, she felt more vulnerable. Nikolai slid his hand to her opposite hip and squeezed reassuringly, which eased some of her insecurity but also stirred a small tempest low in her belly.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he leaned in and asked low, “Did the goods come through from the duke?”

  “Aye,” replied Evan, also keeping his voice low, though there was no one too close to overhear. “Not just goods. That man bought a sloop here in Hiddleston’s harbor and had it stocked with food, clothes, and blankets. Even some livestock. Chickens and goats. It was waiting when we got here.”