by Jen Colly
Steffen’s eyebrows shot upward, his curiosity clearly piqued.
“Is there something you want to say?” Soren challenged.
“No, sir, absolutely not,” Steffen said, but his gaze remained on her.
“Wise choice, but if you do not stop looking at the human, I’ll correct the problem for you,” Soren ground out, low and deadly.
Steffen immediately shifted his attention back to Soren.
His angry words made her shake involuntarily with a sudden chilling fear. This was real. There were two vampires next to her, and she could only guess how many more were inside. Despair grew inside her, icy and unsettling.
“I need a cross,” she mumbled, but after her words drew the questioning attention of both vampires, took a step back. At least, she stepped as far as Soren’s rather solid arm allowed.
“Steffen,” he said, holding his hand out to the other vampire, who drew a rosary from beneath his shirt, passed it quickly to him. Both men faced her, seeming truly concerned.
In his hand was the very same rosary that had lain around Steffen’s neck. She opened and closed her mouth several times before deciding on the question least likely to get her killed.
“Isn’t that supposed to hurt you?” she asked Steffen.
“Want to see the scar?” he answered in a bland, bored tone.
“Enough,” Soren warned.
Steffen snatched the rosary from him with a snort. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“But…but I thought vampires would, well…”
When she couldn’t finish her sentence, Soren supplied the answer. “It’s a myth, the same as holy water and garlic. We invented them to make humans feel safe. Not one of them works.”
“Crap,” she said.
“Scheming to kill me with a cross, were you?”
“Thought about it,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry I spoiled your plans. The attempt would have been…interesting.” His eyebrow jumped slightly, and unmasked curiosity flashed on his face and in his twitching smile.
Goodness, the man was a magnet. She didn’t have any interest in peeling her gaze from him.
“Personally, I love garlic.” Steffen tucked the rosary under his shirt.
“That explains a lot,” Soren said as he opened the door and guided her through it, away from Steffen and further into the chateau.
“Real nice! Pick on the guy with no social life,” he called after them.
In the dim light within, she made out the comfortable furnishings and a large fireplace, but beyond that, the room felt eerily quiet and abandoned. After Soren took her by the arm and steered her sharply to the left, she understood why. That grand room was apparently not traveled.
He opened a tall door, the wood thick and heavy on its well-oiled hinges. Beyond the door was a kitchen with a pale stone floor and walls reflecting the moonlight from the window. Each step echoed off the stones as they walked through the room. It felt empty in here, too.
He opened a door on the other side of the kitchen, revealing stairs that likely led to a cellar. He’d saved her life earlier; she’d have to trust he’d keep her safe now, too. She’d stick close to him.
Soren led her down the stairway. It turned sharply to the right once, twice. On the far wall a torch hung, shedding light over old, dusty barrels and bottles that likely hadn’t been touched in years.
“Through here,” he said, opening another wooden door, this one with wrought iron hinges and handles.
He gently pushed her through and guided her to the right, down a long corridor. Gray, bare walls seemed to continue on forever, interrupted by evenly spaced sconces. After only a dozen feet or so, he steered her sharply to his left into a corridor she hadn’t realized existed.
Her steps stuttered to a halt. Thick, richly colored tapestries bordered in red lined the walls, covering the stones. The scenes depicted battles, coronations, graceful ladies on horses, and knights jousting before castles. Soren urged her to move again, and she did, but slowly. There was too much to absorb.
She reached out, touched the tapestries. Soft, beneath her fingertips. Someone had taken very good care of them. The detail of the nearly eight foot tall masterpieces was impressive. She dropped her hand to avoid the narrow black and gold table between the tapestries, only to become lost in the rich red carpet covered in wispy, elegant white vines and buds. It was beautiful, like walking through a cozy castle.
Never would she have guessed a species only wakeful at night would appreciate such beauty and color. Of course, she hadn’t expected Soren to have an aversion to cars either. He wasn’t the vampire she’d assumed, but common sense told her she should fear him. He’d killed three men since she’d first seen him, and he was technically the only one who’d succeeded in harming her tonight. Somehow, that didn’t matter.
He cupped the back of her neck, his fingers gently climbing higher until they grazed her pulse. Gaze straight ahead, he matched his pace to her shorter stride.
His touch drifted over the spot where he’d bitten her, but it no longer hurt. In part she’d worn the turtleneck to cover what she’d assumed would be an obvious vampire bite, but there hadn’t been one. When she’d checked her neck in the crooked mirror hanging in Gustav’s bathroom, the wound had already healed. He hadn’t truly harmed her. Maybe that’s why she didn’t fear him.
The hallway ended, opening to a balcony rimmed with black, wrought iron fencing. A mass of thriving vegetation drew her closer, but the vision of clean blue water rippling gently beyond enthralled her.
“This is beautiful,” she sighed, headed for the railing.
“You have a lifetime to look at water. I have more important things to do right now.” He took her arm and steered her down yet another corridor, this one blue, royal, and plush.
Ahead of them a door opened, and a giant of a man stepped into the hallway. She moved back against Soren, allowing and expecting him to shelter her.
“Bareth,” Soren called.
The broad shouldered man only grunted as he strode heavily toward them.
Soren blocked Bareth’s escape. “I need a favor from you.”
“Oh, come on,” he protested.
“Five minutes. Just watch her,” Soren said, and then ducked through the doorway Bareth had exited.
“You suck,” the man grumbled, plopping down on a bench.
He’d left her. What the hell? She was alone in a strange place with a mountain of a man. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was larger than Soren, and probably stronger. That he’d sat down should have made him less intimidating. It did not.
Bareth lifted his arm, and she flinched. He merely rubbed his belly. Her nerves settled, but the simple movement had already kicked her heart rate up a notch, making her jumpy.
He studied her as well, and she took a step back. Suddenly, almost as if the man couldn’t think of anything else to do, he smiled. A lopsided, hesitant smile that showed his front teeth, including fangs.
“I…I think I need to sit down,” she said, her voice barely a whisper as she sank onto a long bench. It strangely resembled a church pew. How appropriate. She felt like praying.
Vampires. The word hadn’t really bothered her until Soren had left her alone with a man who might be a fair match for The Hulk. Now she had questions, and more than a few concerns. Were humans their only food source? Would she be passed to whoever needed blood? What if Soren let this man have her? How much blood would he need? Would someone always be sucking at her neck? No, that was ridiculous. Eventually she would be out of blood. Then she would be dead.
Despite the panic rising to choke her, the tears stinging her eyes, she held in her terror. She might not have anything or anyone to live for at the moment, but she certainly wasn’t ready to die.
Bareth sat in the pew opposite her, hands folded over his belly, head resting o
n the wall. He might be large and strong, but he didn’t look like he’d run far without becoming winded.
This could be her only opportunity to escape. Taking a deep breath, she stood, her legs shaking slightly beneath her. All she had to do was reach the entrance without meeting anyone along the way. She pretended to look at the tapestries and turned her back to the vampire.
He slouched deeper into the pew, and she sprinted down the corridor, not looking back. She rounded the corner, came out onto the balcony, and bolted up the red corridor. No footsteps fell behind her.
She dashed through the heavy door and closed it quietly behind her. Through the wine cellar and up the stairs she ran, past the kitchen. There she stopped to catch her breath, but only for a few seconds.
Edging closer to the wall, she walked slowly. Since Soren had broken down and taken the car from Gustav, aversion to sunlight was a true weakness for vampires. It should be near morning now. Would the guard they’d met on their way in be seeking shelter? She hadn’t passed him. He was either gone already, or still at the gate.
She peeked out into the foyer. It was quiet. Nothing moved ahead of her. Slowly, she opened the door to the alcove where the guard had been posted. Nothing.
A sweet, cool breeze touched her heated face, adding to the surreal feeling of her escape. She took one step, two steps. When she wasn’t stopped, she ran again, the forest and her freedom getting closer.
* * * *
Soren shook his head. Navarre was the only lord he’d heard of who did not conceal his rooms in some obscure corner of his city. Oh, no. It was quite obvious the lord of the city lived here, by the royal blue colors covering this hall and the frequent visitors who came to his ever-open door. Were he a poor ruler, the blatant advertising would be a bodyguard’s nightmare.
Lord Navarre Casteel, however, was a great ruler. He saw Balinese as his child, nurturing her, watching her grow and prosper. Once the lord knew of the danger to Balinese, as any father would, he’d protect her fiercely.
He’d known Navarre for centuries, and they had the best kind of friendship. Informal. Soren closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. The captain of the Guardians had lectured Navarre dozens of times about the dangerous habit, and he had yet to listen. His confidence bordered on arrogance. Then again, that was part of what made him great.
Moving through the large foyer lined with white columns, Soren made his way to the next room. More often than not, Navarre could be found in his personal library. The walls on the left side of the room were lined with inset shelves holding hundreds of books, caged in by doors decorated with a golden crosshatch design. A desk and study table stood in the midst of the books, currently unused.
“Soren,” Navarre greeted him then dropped his gaze to his work, his overly long hair falling forward.
“My lord,” he replied, stepping into the library.
“What is it today? Rats in the wine cellar, problem with a student, or have you come for a game of chess?”
Navarre sat as usual beside the fireplace with a book in hand. It would never be leisurely reading, but something of vampire history. His friend was always studying his own people. Once, he’d caught Navarre searching for any loopholes in their judicial system. Even now, his lord remained glued to the oversized book.
“I fear this is a great deal more serious than rats.” Soren sat in the chair opposite and waited for him to finish reading.
Navarre looked up at him, brows knitted in thought, then put the book aside. “You don’t look well. Go above, find a soft woman to sink your teeth into,” he suggested firmly.
“That was the plan. But I encountered a bit of…difficulty.”
“Difficulty?” Concern stretched across his features. “That is not a word that should be in your vocabulary, Soren.”
“I wish very much that it wasn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sucked in a deep breath. “I found two demons attacking a woman in the streets of Paris.”
Navarre simply sat in the same relaxed pose. Slouched, his knees spread and elbows on the arms of the royal blue chair, he remained still.
“Another attacked me as I made my way back. Three total,” Soren said.
Still Navarre did not move.
After a long moment, he finally spoke. “What does Gustav say?”
Soren hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he still spoke to Gustav. How much his lord knew about his city, his people, and the world above continued to amaze him. “Gustav hasn’t seen any demons in a full decade. He didn’t take their presence well. Needless to say, they are very dead.”
“Alert the Guardians and have several scouts sent to Paris.” His lord set aside his book.
“I’ll find Captain Savard immediately,” Soren said as he stood.
“The council will meet in one hour, and you will be there,” Navarre said, leaving him able to do nothing but nod.
Walking to the door, he forced his footsteps into a normal, even pace. He didn’t like this urgency he felt. The threat of demons must be setting him on edge. That, or Faith. He feared for her safety, but there was no reason to, not here. Yet he could not deny that he did.
Closing the door to Navarre’s rooms behind him, he looked down the hall. Bareth lounged on the pew. Alone.
“Where is she?” he asked, frantically looking around.
Bareth shrugged. “Running.”
“And you didn’t stop her?”
“That’s Steffen’s job.” He stood, stretching his arms over his head.
“You lazy, good-for-nothing…”
Soren sprinted down the hall, following the only path she would know to take.
Chapter 5
A shout rang out behind her, and her heart lurched but she didn’t turn. Soren chased after her. He would catch her, without a doubt. She had no illusions of outrunning him, but resisting the impulse to fight for her freedom had been impossible.
Soren’s thick arm caught her high around her waist, jolting her to a halt. He spun her around to face him. The anger seething from him gave her the urge to bolt, but he’d trapped her, and she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Guardians have full permission to kill on sight any human running from the city!” Soren roared.
The volume of his scolding kicked her courage into gear. “Stop shouting at me.”
“I can’t. I’m yelling at you. And it feels a lot better than thinking about what could have happened.”
Without another word, he took her arm and towed her back to the city. She gauged the distance between the city and where he’d caught her. She hadn’t gotten far, and her hopes of freedom died under his tight grasp.
As he pulled her through the entrance, fear tightened her gut, and she stumbled. Steffen stood off to the side, utterly still and watching them in silence, sword drawn and ready. He appeared more than willing to use his sword on her.
Soren took her back the way they’d come. They rushed through the red corridor, but this time he stopped and opened a door, ushering her inside. He closed the door, paced in front of it a few times, then stared at her.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“My home.”
Awkward. She stood in the middle of an angry vampire’s living room waiting for him to yell at her.
“Our world is peaceful,” he finally said, his voice deep, sounding as if he restrained himself from shouting at her. “Our world is simple. And yet somehow you manage to do one of the few things guaranteed to get you killed.”
“I could have made it to the woods.” She shrugged.
“On the very unlikely chance my Guardians had not seen you, what would you have done? Run to Paris?”
“No. Just to the car,” she said with a smug smile. “You left the keys in the ignition.”
“I hate that damn car,” he growled at t
he ceiling before turning on her. “Had you escaped, you would have been reported missing and hunted down. It’s not something I would have the power to stop. Too many lives are at stake. You will live here, or you will die. You are mine, Faith. And when you are with me, when you are here in Balinese, you are safe.”
Anger swelled, burning. Arms stiff by her sides, fists clenched, she marched to him, stood toe to toe. “I don’t belong to you. You might be forcing me to live here like a prisoner, but I am not yours.” She took great pride in her level voice.
“This is no game, Faith. You belong to me so that you may live,” he said as he studied her face. “I want you to live.”
Biting her bottom lip, she looked away. His reasons had been valid, but they made it difficult to get over her anger. “I wouldn’t tell anyone,” she said quietly.
He took several deep breaths before looking straight at her. “It wouldn’t matter. I can’t risk the lives of thousands. No vampire will. If you escape, you’ll be killed. Swear you’ll never run from me again.”
“I won’t, but I had to try. Wouldn’t you?” She wrapped her arms around herself.
He turned away from her and rubbed his jaw. “I can’t give you an answer. I have no notion what I would do if I were in your position. I never will.”
“So where do I live?”
“Here. My home is yours,” he said as he walked to the bedroom. Soren stopped as he reached the threshold, his gaze lingering on her as she stood in the middle of his home. “I’ll be gone for an hour or so. I have a meeting.”
He disappeared into the bedroom. She didn’t follow him, not wanting to invade his personal space. A laughable concept, she supposed, since she now lived smack in the middle of it.
She heard water run, but not the shower. Then hangers shifted. He stepped into the living room, and she was pleasantly surprised. He’d exchanged the black T-shirt for a dark blue collared shirt. If not for the harsh scowl on his face, she might have teased him on how nicely he’d cleaned up.
He glanced her way as he passed her, but didn’t pause. “Stay here.”
The door slammed shut, and she didn’t waste any time. She planted her butt in the nearest chair and rubbed her eyes, pulling her hair off her face. The attempt at refreshing herself helped, but only a little. Her tired body needed rest, and rightly so. It was morning, and the whole night had been a series of traumas, discoveries, and traveling. She pinched the bridge of her nose briefly, easing the tension that had settled there.
