by Jen Colly
“Yes, and you don’t need to worry about them.”
Her eyebrows pulled together as she processed his words, then she nodded slowly. “I need you to answer a question,” she said, projecting a steady resolve.
Sitting straight in his chair, he rubbed his hands over his face, hoping his brain would wake up enough to function. “What do you want to know?”
“Are you the only one who can, um, bite me?” she asked as she tucked her chin under the blanket.
He blinked at her for a moment. “I won’t allow another to touch you.”
Her shoulders dropped, and she no longer looked directly at him. He didn’t know her well enough yet, and had difficulty interpreting her actions. Had his words brought her disappointment, or relief?
“It’s freezing in here,” she said, a lame attempt at moving past the topic of biting.
He’d turned down the heat when he’d gone above. Feeding always left him warm, and he hadn’t noticed the chill. “The thermostat is there on the wall.” He pointed at it, then stretched in the chair. “Turn the heat up to wherever you like. We’ll be heading out soon. The shower is all yours. By the time you get out, the room should be comfortable.”
Faith got out of bed, her clothes rumpled and wrinkled. Her first stop, the thermostat. She didn’t waste any time pulling specific items from her suitcase. Instead, she dragged the whole thing into the bathroom.
Soren waited patiently for the door to latch, then he pulled his clothes from the dresser. After he’d changed, he went back to the dresser and kept pulling out his clothes. He stacked the bottom two drawers full, leaving the top two empty for her. The clothes that rebelled against being shoved into their new home would be tossed in the laundry basket and dealt with later.
He didn’t have any experience with someone else living in his home and didn’t know what would make her comfortable. Clearing some of his space seemed like a good first compromise. He pulled the empty drawer out slightly for her to find it herself.
Faith finally came from the bathroom, and he called out from where he waited in the living room, “I’m in here.”
She fluffed her hair as she walked into the room.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“Not bad. The dizziness stopped, and today I just have a dull headache.” She sat across from him, trailing her fingers over the burgundy crushed velvet loveseat. “This is beautiful.”
“Thank you. It belonged to my mother. She had a ridiculous weakness for settees, and my father happily indulged her. Every few months I switch this one out for another in storage.” What should he make of her pleasant attitude? She’d been attacked, abducted, and now permanently kept. That she was so calm was odd.
“I can’t wait to see what the next one looks like,” she said, a quick smile crossing her face.
“You seem rather at ease with your captivity, especially after your attempted escape.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and awaited her explanation. She was acting strange, and he made a mental note to watch her closely.
“I still don’t agree with you. I’m not yours. But I do accept that I’m stuck here with you.”
“What makes you give up easily? Have you no backbone?” She flinched at his words, and he regretted them, but not enough to retract them.
“My backbone shows up when I need it, and right now, I don’t. I can’t leave. Why try? I’d rather make the best of what I have.”
“No family?”
She shrugged, leaving his question unanswered.
“Then why run?”
“You left me alone with that big scary man,” she said, pointing at him. “I saw his teeth, and he’s the same as you. He could have easily killed me before you came back.”
“He’d never hurt you. I forgot how intimidating he could be.” Damn. He should have considered she might fear Bareth. Her courage, though, made him smile. “I’m sorry he frightened you, but honestly, you did better than most when they first meet Bareth.”
“Really? Why? Is it because he’s so large?”
“In part, but mostly because he’s an excellent swordsman with the brute strength to back his blade. He’s also Viking, a heritage that tends to make even vampires fear him.”
“I didn’t think Vikings could be vampires,” she said, shaking her head.
“There are more of us than you’d expect.” Eyes wide with wonder, tempting lips parted, amazement looked good on her.
“You’re a Viking?”
He nodded. “A descendant.”
“Well, that explains the…” She pointed at him, then brought her hands to her shoulders and spread them wide.
“Genetically speaking, that has more to do with my father being on the large side, but thank you for noticing,” he said with a teasing wink. “Bareth and his wife have been friends of mine for a long time.”
“Someone married him? Brave woman.”
He shook his head. “Lucky woman. Bareth is a good man, a good protector, and a great father.”
Soren opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped him. A glance at the clock, and he had a good guess who would be here this early in the night. He popped open the door.
“Elin, how are you?” he asked the willowy vampire. Long wavy hair tumbled over her shoulders, framing her angelic face and hiding the beading over the top of her frothy blue gown.
Like always, she refused to answer. “You’re back.”
“It’s nice to be home,” he said with a short nod.
“Is tomorrow too soon?” she asked.
“No. Tomorrow is fine. Wait,” he said, stopping her as she began to turn away. “Elin, can I ask a favor?”
“Anything.” She sounded pleased he’d asked, and eager to help.
Soren cleared his throat. “I need a gown.”
Her eyes opened wide and she leaned in. “Why?” she whispered.
He stepped aside, giving Elin a clear view of Faith sitting comfortably in his home. Elin’s expression changed from curiosity to surprise.
“Just for tonight. I don’t have time to find something suitable for her,” he said.
“All right. I’ll leave one here while you’re out.” She looked between them suspiciously before turning away.
“Elin solved one problem for me,” he said to Faith, clapping his hands. “The second problem is you. I have things to do today, and since I need to be certain you won’t run again, you’ll go with me.”
* * * *
“I said I wouldn’t run, and I meant it.” For him to think she made a habit of lying really got under her skin. Faith took a deep breath.
“I’m in the business of not trusting people. Forgive me if it takes me some time to trust you.” Soren opened the door, waiting for her to join him.
She swept past him, and walked beside him through the red corridor. Could she blame him for being suspicious? Not really. They were practically strangers. “What exactly is it you do? And come to think of it, what is your name?”
“Soren Rayner. I train young men in the art of combat and defense,” he said, steering her right when she would have continued straight.
She studied his profile. What sort of man took on such a thing as a day to day job? “I can honestly say you’re the first I’ve met in the profession.”
“I’m certain I am.” He smiled, stopping at a door and holding it open.
She brushed past him and paused to take in the size of the training facility. The door on the left looked like an entrance from a locker room, and the gym equipment on the right side of the room had been arranged in a maze. Thick mats lined three walls, and a wide variety of weapons hung on the fourth.
“Gawk and sit, please. My students will arrive shortly,” Soren said, pointing out a short bench.
She hadn’t realized she’d stopped until his voi
ce prompted her to move. Collecting herself, she sat as Soren headed for the next room.
Head resting against the padded wall, she took in the medieval weapons. The variety ranged from broadswords to crossbows, and above them, lances hung like trophies. Did Soren know how to use these?
He walked past her without checking on her, or if he had, she’d missed it completely. He’d changed into a white T-shirt and loose, black pants with two stripes running down the outsides of his legs. He looked more human this way, like a regular guy going to work out at the gym.
Several young men entered from the adjoining room, acting every bit like wild teenagers. Laughing and pushing each other across the room, calming once they stood before Soren.
“Are you ready to begin?” he asked.
“Yes,” the seven boys said in unison.
“Good. Today I’m teaching you to use your eyes. Keeping them open and being aware of your surroundings will save your life,” he said, his gaze moving to rest on each boy. “All eyes stay on me. Another man is in the room. What color is his shirt?”
The boys shifted their weight from foot to foot, but no one spoke.
“Am I telling the truth? Is a man in here? You don’t know, and if you don’t know, how can you be certain there is no threat on your life? Not one of you can give me any description. If it were a demon, you’d all be dead.” Faith held her breath as Soren pointed at her. Seven heads turned her way, their displeased teacher behind them. Gearing up for a lecture, by his expression. “You’ve completely missed the fact that you walked past a woman.”
She lifted her hand, waving her fingers at them, though she didn’t smile. She’d landed them in trouble, but understood the importance of this lesson. Maybe if Soren had trained her to pay attention better, she wouldn’t be here now.
She hadn’t expected awareness to be the lesson of the day, but it made sense. Soren excelled at catching details. She’d seen him fight above, witnessed him track the demon outside Gustav’s home.
Those poor boys still looked startled to see her alone on the bench, but as Soren barked out directions, they scrambled for their swords, eager to begin practice.
For over an hour she sat in this same spot, watching him wield a great deal of patience with the boys. The gangly youths took uncoordinated swings at their partners, and a time or two, she bit her lip to keep from giggling.
They got an A for effort, but clearly some weren’t cut out for this kind of thing. Talented or not, Soren worked with each of them.
After their practice ended and the boys left the room, he approached her, a smile tugging at his lips. “I thank you for controlling yourself. A woman’s laughter would crush their fragile egos.”
“Were they some of your better students?” she teased.
He gave her a brief smile. “They’ve only been training a week, and they’re still green. It’s what happens when aristocrats want to play at being Guardians. The next group, however, are seriously training.”
“I see,” she said, more an automatic response than one of understanding. She guessed every culture had military or police, and it only made sense for vampires to have their version.
“Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” Stifling a yawn, she stretched. He nodded, leaving her to prepare for his next class.
Vampires, as a species, were born with strength. She’d assumed the ability to fight would have come naturally. Though after observing the first set of trainees, she’d quickly changed her mind. They desperately needed a teacher, even for those unable to join the Guardians. Directing their strength was a necessary lesson.
Male laughter sounded, and five young men came through the door, not much older than twenty. This group seemed more confident than the first, and the three in front strode in with their chests puffed out. Shaking her head, she smiled. Men were the same everywhere. When in front of their friends, they all acted cock-of-the-walk.
The two trailing the main group, however, remained separate. Their quiet and reserved behavior didn’t hide their friendship. Both men glanced at her in a head to toe sweep. A tremor shook her shoulders. She’d just been studied and judged, she felt it in her bones. After they turned to Soren and she was no longer on their radar, she sank back against the wall, the tension easing from her gut. She crossed her legs, settling in for another long training exercise.
As soon as she moved, the largest in the group of three stopped and glared at her, dark hatred shining through his eyes. She shrank away from this menacing man’s glower, at least as far as the wretchedly solid wall allowed.
“You don’t belong here,” he sneered, revealing his fangs.
“But I—”
“Leave.” He reached for her, and she had nowhere to go.
Chapter 7
Faith opened her mouth to yell for help, but Soren was already there. He hooked his arm around the man’s neck from behind, and threw him to the floor, where he landed flat on his back with a heavy thud and a grunt.
She hadn’t truly been in danger here, but still his shoulders remained tense, his focus sharp. And she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He hadn’t acted like this the first time he’d saved her, or the second. This had nothing to do with protecting a woman. What he did now was pure male possessiveness.
Seeming disoriented, and looking angry, Tarmon scrambled for an escape. Soren gripped his shoulder and drove him back to the floor.
“You can’t do that to Tarmon. His father’s a nobleman,” his friend objected.
“Then the first lesson of the day is for you, Cutler. Not everyone fights fair.” Soren had no problem lecturing Cutler as he kept Tarmon pinned. “Meaning, few give a damn about noble blood, and won’t waste time verifying your lineage before spilling it from your veins.
“The second lesson.” He shifted his gaze from man to man, making certain he had their full attention. “When protecting your loved ones and family, don’t fight fair. Nothing matters except victory.”
Faith held her breath as he looked down on Tarmon and pressed his hand around the man’s throat, almost daring him to move.
“And the lesson to you, fledgling? Never touch another man’s woman,” Soren said, low and angrily.
“Sh-she’s not marked,” Tarmon stammered once he finally took in enough air to speak.
“Not marked?” He didn’t look away from Tarmon. “It matters not if a woman is marked. She always belongs to someone whether he is a lover, a mate, a father, or a brother. If a man perceives her as his, he’ll fight like the devil to defend her, to protect her and keep her. You would not survive such a fight. Have I made my point?”
“Yes,” Tarmon rasped.
Soren let go of his throat and left him to gain his footing by his own means.
“Enough talk. Draw swords!” Soren shouted.
His gaze swept over her from head to toe, no doubt making certain she hadn’t been hurt. She mouthed thank you. He gave her a nod then turned and shouted orders, once again occupied with training.
She leaned her rigid spine against the wall, waiting for her breaths to come evenly. She should have known she wouldn’t be welcome here at some point, and being in the middle of such a volatile confrontation made her want to stick to Soren’s side like glue.
The tension didn’t leave her, and from what she saw, he had no relief either. He looked wound tight. His previously smooth, patient gestures and movements now appeared choppy, as if he were irritated.
Soren left these men no room for errors. He was stern, this approach different from what she’d seen earlier, but it worked because these men fought well. They didn’t require direction, and battled continually for nearly an hour.
The fighting finally ended. Ready to drop with exhaustion, the young men dripped with sweat. Soren hadn’t even been easy on the two who had no part in attempting to eject her.
With
only five men, he had participated fully, sparring with each man at least once. He’d done everything with them and he merely breathed deeper. Could he truly be this remarkable, or did endurance come with the vampire package? She had a sneaking suspicion he worked hard on a daily basis.
“We’re done here. Get out of my sight. Titus. Dyre. Front and center.” Soren waited, and after the others moved from earshot, looked from one man to the other. “Neither of you confronted or questioned her, though women are not allowed in this room. Why?”
This would be interesting. If women weren’t allowed in here, no wonder they’d taken offense.
“You were already here. You saw her,” Titus answered.
“And therefore must have a good reason for allowing her to stay. It’s not our place to question you,” Dyre added.
“Right, and wrong. I did know she was here and I do have good reason, but you shouldn’t assume your elders are aware of what goes on around them. You have your own minds, use them,” Soren said.
“We did, and had no intention of speaking our minds in front of everyone,” Dyre said quietly.
“So say it now,” he pressed.
She leaned forward, hands wrapped around the edge of the bench. Turning her ear toward them, she strained to catch every word.
“We saw how you looked at her.” Titus had lowered his voice, following his friend’s lead.
“And how was that?”
Titus and Dyre shared an uneasy glance, reminding her of children, each one waiting for the other to take the fall.
“Forgive me, but what I saw left me with the distinct impression—” Dyre started to answer.
“You want her,” Titus interrupted. “The way you look at her is a pretty clear signal she’s yours. And she’s human. Two and two equal she just got here and you can’t, or won’t, leave her in your home alone.”
“End of discussion. To the showers, men,” Soren said, effectively dropping the subject and covering the glint of surprise that had crossed his face.
After numbly blinking several times, Faith pretended to inspect her fingernails. He hadn’t denied his attraction, but instead of trudging through an awkward conversation, she chose to feign ignorance.
