by Kita Bell
Nikandria gave a tiny smile and plucked another maraschino cherry from the jar she cradled against her chest; Eva watched her retract her claw with a bit of jealousy. “Just you wait and see,” Nikandria promised. “One of these days I’ll be right. I’ve been watching shows longer than either of you have been alive.”
Alexia snorted. “Yeah, way to pull the age card. Like that has any relevance.”
Nikandria grinned. “It’s a good card. Accepted everywhere since 1708.”
Eva choked on popcorn as her world reoriented.
Brand had told her he was a few centuries older than his sister. So that made Brand at least 500 years old. Not two-hundred. Or three-hundred.
Five hundred. A cool half-millennium.
Eva stared at the screen but didn’t see it. She felt sick, disoriented.
Brand was older than anyone in her Gens. He was older than her mother, or her uncle. Combined.
Suddenly, the couch didn’t seem comfortable at all. Eva pushed the popcorn away and pulled her legs up. I should be fine with this. I really should. Because what she had with Brand…it was a fling. Soon enough, she would go back to her Gens. And she really shouldn’t have any problems with his age.
Because Kaspian were immortal. Because Eva was immortal.
They would both live forever. Just because Brand was a little older…
Okay. Not a little older. He was a lot older.
But just because Brand was centuries older was no reason to freak out. Or feel weirdly inadequate. Okay, so he really has been with thousands of women. Maybe more…Eva’s stomach constricted, her arms tightening around her knees as she thought about how handsome he was. Definitely more.
Eva could count the men she’d been with on one hand. She wasn’t great in bed. She usually didn’t bother to try. And those men hadn’t been great in bed. They’d just met each other’s needs and parted ways. That was it, nothing more.
But Brand was great in bed. More than great. He was…Eva shivered. It’s probably the age thing, she thought, the thousands of women. Burning jealousy and a strange sense of anger surged through Eva. Anger with Brand.
What was Brand even doing with her? He’d had great sex before. Tons of it. With tons of women. Of which Eva was just another woman in a long line.
She wasn’t anything special. She wasn’t even a blip on the map with it came to Brand’s sex life.
Great. Eva clenched her fingers. She didn’t even know why that should hurt so much.
“Eva,” a touch on her arm, and Eva jumped, turning to meet a pair of concerned purple eyes. Nikandria. “What’s wrong?”
Immediate irritation and violation surged through Eva, which she tried to force down. Nikandria can’t help knowing. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing.”
Nikandria gave Eva a long look, then glanced around the room at the TV watchers. “Brand should be here soon,” she said, and Eva shrugged… then realized that Nikandria had been gauging her reaction.
“Okay. Good,” Eva said awkwardly, trying to cover the fact that she wasn’t sure how to face Brand at the moment.
Nikandria shook her head and sighed. “Eva…let’s go to the kitchen. I need some more maraschinos.” Brand’s sister picked up the empty jar, then set off across the lounge as if she just expected Eva to follow her all the way down to the first floor of the Nave.
Rainey did the same thing. Expected people to follow her. It was annoying.
“I’m fine,” Eva said again, as she entered the kitchen behind Nikandria. “It’s nothing.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Nikandria moved to kneel beside a low cupboard near the fridge, then leaned partway into it as she felt blindly around behind a large stack of steel pans into the back of the deep shadowed space. “That’s what everyone always tells me. Maybe you’re irritated right now, but do you have any idea how annoying it is when people are constantly lying to you?”
Eva opened her mouth to retort – thought of the closed expression on Brand’s face, the expression he got when she knew he was withholding something – and felt something inside unexpectedly crumble. It was her anger.
It wasn’t just irritating. It was painful.
“Oh Eva,” Nikandria sighed, shooting her a sympathetic look. Eva dropped into the kitchen chair as, bizarrely enough, Nikandria pulled a small dark jar from the cupboard. Nikandria closed the cupboard, settled herself on top of the counter and popped the lid off. “Want one?” She deftly plucked a maraschino out with an exacting claw.
Eva shook her head. “No. I wish I could do that.”
Nikandria glanced down to examine her fingertips. She suddenly smiled, her exotic face warming. “I can show you if you’d like, but Brand’s a better teacher. Or Khael. They took an entire week once and came to visit me at Iah’s. The three of them showed me how. After that Iah always joked he was afraid I would scratch his eyes out the next time I lost my temper with him.”
“Iah?”
Nikandria’s face shuttered, and Eva had the abrupt sense of having crossed a dangerous personal boundary.
“Never mind,” she said hastily.
Nikandria stared at the maraschino balanced on the tip of her claw, then quietly, almost viciously sliced it in half before sucking it from her fingertip. She looked up at Eva again, eyes dark. “Iah was my brother. He raised me. He’s dead now.”
“I’m sorry,” Eva said, tucking her fingers between her knees, not sure if she should reach out and comfort Brand’s sister, or if she should just sit where she was. Nikandria was an empath. Eva had no idea how to act around her. She wasn’t used to her insecurities being so exposed. Not to a stranger.
Eva glanced at her own fingertips. She tried to imagine slender black claws there. Nikandria had wanted to know what was bothering her. Eva couldn’t tell Brand’s sister about her uncertainty regarding Brand’s age. Or his sex life.
“I have a sister. Rainey,” she said, not aware of what she was about to say until it came out. Nikandria’s eyes settled on her. “I’ve been calling her but she doesn’t answer. Though,” Eva said after a moment, “she wouldn’t recognize this number. And she doesn’t have voicemail. I’ve been sending her emails, but she hasn’t replied yet.”
“You think something happened to her?”
Pure alarm jolted through Eva and settled like ice in her chest. She shot Nikandria a look, then quickly shook her head. It was more shudder than anything else. “No. I think she’s mad at me.”
“She’s angry?” Nikandria plucked another maraschino from the jar before tightening the lid. She settled back onto the counter cross-legged, and Eva eyed her sleek designer jeans with a bit of envy. “Didn’t you explain in your emails?”
“She doesn’t always read her email right away. She forgets to charge her laptop like she forgets to charge her phone. She’s not really good with technology.”
Nikandria was quiet, examining her claws. When she looked up her dark purple eyes pierced through Eva. “If I had a sister…” she shook her head and gave a sad, wry smile, “well I did have a sister. Ailuros. She died a thousand years before I was born. Khael, Seth and mother are the only ones who remember her. She had Seth’s hair and my eyes, and she could bring someone back from the edge of death with a touch.”
Eva found herself fascinated. “A healer. Better than Brand?”
Nikandria rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Much better than Brand. I love my brother, but he’s not good at healing anything beyond skin damage, Eva. No, Ailuros was…she was brilliant. She was Iah’s twin.”
Eva watched the shadows settle over Nikandria’s face. Then Nikandria shook her head and slid off the counter, giving Eva an edged smile. “Eva, if you are worried about your sister, you need to contact her. You won’t be settled enough or happy enough, to know what to do – or what you truly want – until you talk to her. And you need to tell Brand exactly what you just told me.”
“You think so?” For the first time, it occurred to Eva that it might not be so bad having an empath arou
nd. Because if Eva couldn’t understand what she was feeling, at least Nikandria would.
“I know so.” Nikandria turned and left the kitchen.
Eva leaned back in her chair, dropping her fingers to trace the smooth grain in the table as she stared at the dark wood cabinets.
Tell Brand.
He wouldn’t take it well.
But she and Brand were temporary anyway. Temporary, Eva reminded herself, clenching her fingers against the pain. Of course they were temporary. Everything in life was temporary. Relationships, family, safety. All temporary. The only thing she had that was permanent was herself.
Herself and Rainey.
There was no way Eva would allow her relationship with her sister to be anything less than permanent. She needed Rainey in her life. And if the only way to get Rainey to speak to her was to march up to the small house they shared and pound on the door until her sister answered…then yes.
That was exactly what Eva had to do.
“How old are you?”
Brand glanced at Eva in the mirror as she lounged in his bathroom door. Slowly he lowered his toothbrush, spat, and washed his mouth out before he turned to study her. Eva looked wary, as if she were afraid of what he might say – as if she were preparing herself for a blow.
Brand had the dark feeling that, where Eva was concerned, there might not be a good answer to that question.
“Why?” he countered, and watched her lips tighten. Brand sighed, running a hand through his hair. Okay. Try again. “I was born in 1291 in Aragon.”
Eva paled. “Aragon. Like ‘Lord of the Rings’ Aragon…”
“Spain,” Brand clarified. “The country.” Nor was he going to correct her mispronunciation. Eva swayed on her feet, eyes going wide, then abruptly turned and left. Brand caught her arm before she got halfway down the hall and pulled her around. “Eva.”
“Are you sure?” Her silver eyes were wide and she looked stunned. “I mean, I thought maybe a century, then I thought maybe two. I told myself that was fine, but then you called Nikandria your younger sister which meant five. I’m a little slow, but,” she wet her lips, “…is that…are you sure…”
“It’s the year my father wrote in the family records,” Brand said wryly, dim amusement making its way past his growing worry. His heart twisted at her expression. “And I don’t doubt his dates, any more than my own or my brothers’ memories.”
Eva flinched and drew back. Brand forced his fingers to relax, to let her go as she walked down the hall, retreating to the bedroom. Brand didn’t want to release Eva. He wanted to pull her close, to draw her scent into his lungs. He wanted Eva to stop and inhale his scent and know that it was still him. That he was still Brand. But he knew that if he pulled her close, she would resist.
My family is right. I need to tell her everything, Brand told himself stubbornly as he followed her down the hall. But if a little thing like my age throws her like this… He winced. If Eva rejected him, if she ran…the painful sensation that rose in Brand’s chest was edged with red-hot pain.
The thought of how long it might take to win her back, if she ran, was killing him.
Decades. It would be decades. Perhaps centuries.
Brand pinched the bridge of his nose. It would be bad. But it was nothing like Khael suffered. Khael didn’t even have memories to comfort him.
Though, Brand knew, if he had left Khael those memories, his brother would have found a way to kill himself. Eventually, it would have happened. Eventually, Khael would have succeeded.
Brand nudged the bedroom door open. He leaned against the frame and studied Eva as she stood staring at their bed. He wondered what was going through her mind.
Not his bed anymore, Brand realized. Their bed. It held both their scents, and god, he hoped those scents lingered a long time. Long enough.
“How many woman have you been with?” she asked abruptly.
Brand grimaced. “No good conversation ever started this way, Eva.” Her irritated silver glare flickered to him, and he sighed and gripped the back of his neck. He needed to have his hair trimmed. “Does it really matter?”
His age bothered her. The thought of his sex life apparently bothered her more.
That was another reason it was good to wait to tell her.
Except Brand had the unsettling sensation that time might be running out.
“I want a number,” she said flatly, crossing her arms as she turned to him, effectively blocking him away from her body.
Brand winced. “God, Eva. I have no idea. I’m not the sort to keep count.”
“You can’t keep count?” Her eyes widened, jaw momentarily dropping before it hardened again.
Brand swore and stepped toward her, stopping when she moved back. “That came out wrong. What I meant to say is that I don’t keep count, Eva. I’m not the sort to keep a score.”
Eva’s expression twisted, and she looked troubled and pained as she stood before him, her shoulders slumping beneath the too-large sweater she had stolen from his drawer. “You’re the fifth man I’ve ever been with.” She sounded lost.
Brand froze, then shook his head and stepped the rest of the way forward until he could run his hands down Eva’s shoulders and touch her hands. She was cold. “It makes no difference, Eva. How many I’ve been with, or how many you’ve been with…it doesn’t mean anything at all between us.” Because you’re my amati. “Though I admit I don’t like the thought of you with another man.” The last came as a growl.
Eva just shook her head, turning away. Brand swore. He stood by the bed and watched as she stared out the window at the snow-covered night. He’d forgotten. The young always kept score. He had, during his first century. But after that, there really had been no point.
Then, because she had brought it up, and because he had to know: “The other four men?”
“My high school boyfriend. Then, some men I would meet at the motel. They had condoms and weren’t looking for attachments,” Eva shrugged, staring out the window. “Neither was I. It took the edge off.”
Brand nodded down at his fists, and did his best to keep the snarl trapped in his throat.
If Eva left, she would go back to that motel. That job. To those men who “took the edge off.”
He would kill any such man. Slowly.
“I didn’t really care about them.” Eva’s soft voice floated through the twilit darkness to wrap around him. The moonlight reflected off the snow and made her face seem almost ghostly. “How about you? Did you…care about any of the women you were with?”
“Yes,” he rasped, watching her. “You.”
A faint smile traced those lips. “I bet you say that to all of them.”
“No. Just you.” It was true. He might have had fondness for some of the partners he had before, or friendship, but none of them were Eva.
Eva turned to study his expression…her face softened. She moved across the room until she stood before Brand. “I’m an idiot,” she said softly, her hands rising to settle almost tentatively on his shoulders, “to fall for a line like that. I’ve seen how these things work. I may not have been with that many men, but I know a line when I hear one.”
Brand gave Eva a thin smile that he knew was slightly feral – because it hadn’t been a line. It was the gods’ own truth. He ran his hands down her sleek spine, settling his palms on her soft hips. “Why do you always doubt me, Evita?”
“Because,” Eva rose on tip-toe to brush her lips over his, “you never tell me the truth.”
Brand’s hold tightened, keeping her off-balance. Eva’s eyes widened. She stared at him.
“I never tell you the truth,” Brand repeated flatly, scowling as his anger rose. And alarm. “When haven’t I told you the truth, Eva? Remind me. I’m afraid I don’t recall.”
Their gazes locked. Then she frowned. “Okay, half-truths. Evasions. Maybe you always tell me the truth, but it’s not the full truth, Brand. Or maybe you choose not to answer at all. You withhold things. I mig
ht not be good at the whole relationship thing, but even I know you are keeping things from me.”
Brand struggled with himself. On one hand, Eva considered them to be in "a relationship.” On the other, he knew Eva was right. He did withhold things. But there were some things Brand was reasonably sure she didn’t want to know.
He had a lifetime’s practice of “withholding.” Telling secrets, telling things, didn’t come easily.
“So you’re angry at me for keeping secrets from you,” he said finally, and felt Eva’s body tighten against his. “Are you angry with me for not telling you my age? That didn’t occur to me.” True. Most Kaspian didn’t bother discussing ages. The young were apparent for what they were, and the old didn’t care.
“And why didn’t it occur to you?” she asked sharply. “It would have been common courtesy to let me know that you weren’t…you weren’t a normal blood tiger.”
“I have no idea what you consider a normal blood tiger, Eva. Kaspians are Kaspians.”
Eva went quiet, studying his face. Then she sighed. “Okay, maybe not. But Brand, I don’t like surprises.”
Brand relaxed his grip, letting her drop down onto the heels of her feet. “I thought that was a mark of the very old. Not the very young.”
“And I don’t like being called ‘young.’ Not by you. It shouldn’t matter how old I am,” Eva snapped, gaze narrowing arbitrarily as she tugged away again. Instead, Brand sat on the bed, pulling her down onto his lap. Eva came unwillingly, her body stiff, but she did agree to settle across his thighs as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Finally, she turned her face toward him with a sharp, “What?”
“If it shouldn’t matter to me how old you are,” Brand said quietly, making sure he made his point, “then how old I am shouldn’t make any difference at all.”
Her silver eyes flickered, fell. She wet her lips and frowned. “It’s not that easy,” she responded, and an odd affection rose in Brand despite their conversation. Stubborn to the end; that was his Evita.
