by Naima Simone
“Bastien Sarris, I assume.”
Her lashes lowered and Sinéad continued the demure pretense even as her scrutiny swung over the clusters of vampires on either side of the cavernous room. Her gaze finally settled on a regal beauty who slowly straightened from a sensuous lounge on a backless chaise.
The female looked the part of regina, matriarchal ruler of her blood tribe. Her sleek fall of mahogany hair gleamed under another chandelier. Skin like pure honey flowed over a lithe, curvaceous body that epitomized sex.
Bastien and Sinéad followed Faolan to the foot of the slightly raised dais where the regina waited like the monarch she was. There Sinéad was treated to an intimate view of the female’s full red lips, her patrician features and long-lashed, bottomless eyes—eyes that traced over Sinéad’s skin in a visual caress she fought not to flinch away from. Those black orbs contained too much knowledge. In them swirled centuries of pleasure, experience…pain.
Sinéad lowered her gaze to the floor.
Then she saw him.
Funny how she’d missed the male. Chalk it up to the enthrallment the Cardei ruler cast because in a room full of beautiful creatures, this male was the most sensual, the most alluring. Even sprawled on the shallow bottom step of the platform, he eclipsed the splendor of his matriarch.
Though he and Faolan shared the same auburn hair, this male’s strands contained pure fire in their rich depths. She imagined if she touched the long, fiery braid over his shoulder, it would burn her fingers. Liquid black eyes glittered like jewels in a face capable of making angels weep.
Ryn.
The certainty of his identity flared in her soul, flashed in a blaze of hatred. This was the vampire who had betrayed Cyra, enslaved her sisters to the female behind him. And for what? A seat at her feet? Favor? Sex?
As if he sensed her attention, the vampire shifted his gaze toward her. His blank features revealed none of his thoughts about the unlikely pair a scarred hippogryph and human presented. But in his eyes… Sinéad sucked in a silent, hard breath. In his eyes, she glimpsed a loathing rivaling her own. It seethed in flickers of red and black, reached out to her like hungry flames…
Then he blinked and the hatred was gone. As if it’d never been.
Maybe she was mistaken.
No. She hadn’t imagined the venom. Not the heat or power of it.
“I see your,” a delicate pause, “friend—Sinéad, is it?—has noticed our Ryn.” The regina rose from the settee in a whisper of cloth. The form-fitting gown slithered over her body like a living flame. The red silk, the same color of her ruby lips, ended at her feet, but Sinéad caught flashes of black leather beneath the deep side slits.
The female descended the steps and paused next to the male. She smoothed a caress over his head as if the vampire were a lover—or pet. “He has that effect on women,” she purred.
Sinéad barely managed to keep her lip from curling in disgust. The cruxim race had discovered and was paying for his effect on women. The humans had a name for males like him.
Man whore.
“But you have come to me for a different reason.”
“Yes.” Bastien inclined his head. “Thank you for agreeing to see us, Regina.”
“Please. Call me Lara.” She glided closer to them, her fingers trailing down Ryn’s face and under his chin before dropping to her side. “Faolan’s tale of a hippogryph and his human companion seeking a favor stirred my curiosity.”
Lara’s midnight gaze skimmed over Bastien, touching on his pale hair, the scars, down to his wide chest, narrow hips and long legs. The return trip was slower, more intimate. Sinéad gritted her teeth. She might be new to this jealousy thing, but she was an old pro at snatching off limbs. The female had one time to stare at him as if he were a hemophiliac’s neck…
“So tell me, Bastien. What brings you to me?”
He surveyed the room, taking in the vampires who had grown silent and obviously hung on every word they uttered. He brought his unblinking perusal back to Lara.
“Would you mind if we spoke in private, Regina?”
She studied Bastien, and Sinéad waited, her heart pounding in her chest and echoing in her ears like a bass drum.
Finally, the female nodded. “I’ll entertain your request, hippogryph,” she said silkily. Translation, I’ll give you this, but you’d better make it worth my while. She nodded and, behind them, the vampires filed out of the room. Ryn rose to his feet. “Not you,” Lara snapped then smiled. Yet the slash of her mouth emanated no warmth or amusement. Instead it resembled the sharp edge of a blade. “After all, without your particular skill set, we wouldn’t have the pleasure of their company, would we?”
The thrust of the verbal strike was a direct hit. Sinéad risked another peek at Ryn and, though his face maintained the same carefully blank mask, once more heat flickered in the black depths of his eyes before his thick lashes dipped, hiding his emotions.
“I appreciate your discretion and patience.” Bastien’s brows lowered and, coupled with the scars, his affable demeanor vanished, replaced by a menacing male with a beast barely leashed beneath the surface. “I want revenge. And I came to you to get it.”
* * * * *
Surprise flickered across Lara’s features before delight chased it away. He wouldn’t have been shocked if she’d clapped her hands and bounced on the toes of her stiletto boots. Her glee sickened him and he had to swallow his disgust to continue the necessary charade.
“About fifty vampires are headed out, Nico,” he sent along the telepathic link connecting him to the former Dimios and the krinos. “That makes almost one hundred in the house, not counting the regina and one male left in here with Sinéad and me.”
“Got it,” came his friend’s deep voice. “Can you two handle them?”
“We have it covered. I’ll let you know when.”
“We’ll wait for your signal.”
“Do tell,” Lara climbed the three shallow steps to the dais again and settled on the chaise like a little girl anticipating a bedtime story. She crossed her legs and reclined on one elbow like a fanged, bloodthirsty Cleopatra, her avid black gaze fixed on him.
“I want revenge on the one who did this.” He touched the bottom of the disfiguring scar on his chin. “I want him dead—a painful death.” Bastien smiled, pouring every bit of hatred the memory of Evander evoked into the gesture. “But I can’t have it traced back to me.”
“Who was it?”
He paused. “The Dimios of the hippogryphs.”
Silence met his answer. The regina’s eyes widened slightly, but not in shock or fear. Fascination lit her from within and she painted her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue as if she could already taste spilled blood.
“What did you do to incur the wrath of your race’s executioner?” she asked, awe and admiration lowering her voice to a stage whisper.
“I fell in love with the wrong woman.” He wrapped an arm around Sinéad’s shoulders, drew her closer to his side. “Having sex with a human is frowned upon. But mating one?” He smirked. “I was labeled an abomination and traitor to our race. And became the target of our peace keeper.” He injected enough sarcasm into the last two words, Lara would have no illusions about where his loyalties lay.
“Which begs the question,” she rose with a gleam in her midnight eyes, “if the Dimios came after you, how are you alive?”
“Nicolai Abioud thought I was dead,” he said flatly. “He did this,” Bastien waved at his face, “and this.” He lifted the tail of his shirt and revealed the scars covering his chest and abdomen. “The Dimios believed he killed me and I didn’t disabuse him of the notion.”
“All for love.” Lara smiled. “How lovely. You, Sinéad, are a lucky woman to have a male who would die for you.” The female’s gaze turned to Sinéad with an unblinking, unnerving stare. It was hungry. Almost…feral. He shifted slightly, blocking her from the regina’s view. The vampire’s smile widened. “While I admire your passion, Bast
ien, why would I assume the risk of not only attacking the law of the hippogryphs, but declaring war on your king? It would be foolish.”
Bastien crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. He studied her in silence several moments before his mouth curved, tilting at the corner. “Ah, but we both know you wouldn’t be assuming the risk.” He narrowed his eyes. “The cruxim would.”
The smile didn’t drop from her face, but instead froze and sharpened into a slash of scarlet. Sinéad’s fingernails pinched his skin as she fisted the back of his shirt in warning. “Careful, hippogryph,” Lara said, her voice as soft as dark silk.
“I mean no disrespect, regina.” He dipped his head. “I only meant to point out you would be free of blame, the cruxim being the perfect cover for your involvement. And mine.”
All hint of warmth fled her lovely face, leaving behind the stark, bare features of the animal beneath the civilized façade. Her eyes were black chips of ice, skin stretched tight over prominent cheekbones. Large, long incisors pressed hard against her lips.
“It’s a sweet love story, and if I agree to your request, what will you give in return?” Her eyes flicked over his shoulder and tension pulsed through his muscles. “Unfortunately, I’m not a romantic, but a pragmatist. What does granting this request gain me?”
“Me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sinéad barked in his head even as Lara leaned farther forward, elbows propped on her thighs.
“Trust me.” Aloud, he said, “In exchange for your help, I’ll pledge myself to you for five years.”
“A hippogryph in my service? Hmmm. Interesting. In what capacity?”
Relief winged through him. So close. They were so close.
“To serve at your will. Spy, assassin. Whatever you need.” Bastien paused. “Except lover. I am not a whore.” He dipped his head. “With all due respect, Regina.”
She drummed her fingers against her knee. Stopped. Grinned. “In my experience when people say ‘with all due respect’, it means they are disrespecting you.” She chuckled, not appearing offended by Bastien’s condition…or implication…behind the agreement. “But I am impressed, Bastien.” Her gaze bore into him. “And as tantalizing as the thought of you in my bed is, I’d much rather have your power then your cock at my disposal. I accept your offer.”
She rose, a fluid column of flame burning bright with the promise of death and destruction. Crooking a finger in Ryn’s direction, she moved down the steps. Excitement flushed her cheekbones, pushed short puffs of breath through her parted lips. “Bring the—”
A deafening boom exploded seconds before the floor rocked beneath his feet.
“Shit!” He reached behind him, grabbed Sinéad to steady her. “Nico, what’s going on?”
“Sorry, Bastien,” Nicolai replied immediately. “The timetable just sped up. They spotted us so we’re coming in. Hard.”
Bastien ground his teeth together. “We’re on, sweetheart,” he warned Sinéad as another blast shook the building. Orange and red blazed outside one of the narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. Adon had unleashed his fiery gift on the castel. The eerie glow stretched across the floor, flickered over the regina’s chest and pale face. Horror and a dawning rage shimmered in her eyes, drew her lips back from her teeth.
A crash behind him.
“Regina! We are under att—”
A cough. Wet gurgling. Bastien whirled around. A vampire stood inside the open doorway, fingers scrabbling at the dagger buried in his throat.
Sinéad was already reaching for a second knife stashed in her boot, which was miraculously missed when they entered. Grim determination steeled her features as she shrugged out of the long leather duster and tossed it aside. Sliding another weapon free of her boot, she palmed the handles of two daggers and sank into a crouch as four more vampires poured into the room.
Fear clawed at his chest, climbed up his throat. Male and hippogryph roared at the sight of their human mate facing off against the faster, stronger immortal predators …but damn, not as skilled.
Sinéad charged forward, her braid flying behind her, silver blades flashing. Bastien growled. His talons ripped free and fangs burst inside his mouth. Though a red mist dropped over his vision, it didn’t hamper his sight.
“Traitors!” Lara screamed. “Ryn!”
Bastien spun on his heel to meet the threat of the vampire. The male’s eyes flared in surprise then narrowed into menacing slits. Ryn hissed, his incisors lengthening until the lethal points dropped over his bottom lip. Heat ignited the black depths of his eyes and he lowered until his fingertips glanced the floor, his knee hovering several inches above the white marble, Twilight’s version of a football player.
Bastien snarled, talons curled. Ready.
The vampire rushed him…tore past him.
With a growl that vibrated with fury, Ryn leaped, soared. Pounced on a vampire darting through the open door. A pain-filled scream bounced off the walls before blood spurted from the bloodsucker, painting Ryn in arterial spray.
On one side of Bastien, his woman slashed and stabbed, a feral grin curving her crimson-splattered face. On the other side, a traitorous vampire eviscerated and beheaded. With a roar, Bastien charged into the melee.
* * * * *
Sinéad ducked. Air whined as the male’s claws sliced the space where her head used to be. Triumph surged through her. With an abrupt upward jab of her sgian, she punctured the soft skin under the vampire’s chin. Followed it with a quick stab to the jugular. She left the small dagger embedded in her enemy’s flesh as she sprang backward and slid her gladius free from her back scabbard. With a battle cry, she excused his head from his shoulders with a single slash.
“Behind you!”
Bastien’s bellow came an instant before footsteps pounded behind her. Her shoulder fell forward, her body rolling down and out of the way even as her brain shouted the command. She came to a halt on her knees and jerked her head up just as Bastien went airborne. His massive form soared above her in a beautiful, deadly bow, his razor-sharp talons outstretched. He slammed into the vampire with a deafening roar and landed as the two halves of the bloodsucker—split in half from head to groin—continued their path forward.
She grinned. Damn, that was hot.
“Cruxim.”
The snarl made the word sound like a filthy curse. Sinéad slowly rose. Her breath huffed past her lips in labored pants. Her arms ached, legs trembled with the strain of battle. Yet as Lara shot toward her, whistling through the air in a blur of crimson and midnight, Sinéad ignored her mortal body’s protests and fell into a position as familiar as a friend.
Sword next to her ear, elbow and leg extended, she waited.
Hold. Hold. Hold… Now!
She sliced outward and up, meeting the regina’s thrust of razor-sharp claws. Tremors shuddered down Sinéad’s arms and fear raced through her veins. If the males she’d just fought had been strong, their matriarch put them to shame. Gritting her teeth, she steeled her resolve. Failure wasn’t an option. The future of her sisters—of their race—was at stake. She couldn’t go down, at least not without taking the vampire bitch with her.
They danced.
Thrust. Block. Stab.
Backpedal. Backpedal.
Clash.
She waltzed with death, parrying, whirling. Her strength flagged. A dozen tiny cuts sullenly oozed blood. Yet she still she kept the beat of their match.
Lara swiped at her chest. Sinéad blocked the blow.
A blood-red smile stretched the other female’s lips.
Death’s grin.
Sinéad read it in the regina’s triumphant expression as Lara drew her free arm back and plunged her dagger-sharp nails deep into Sinéad’s stomach.
Searing agony. Numbing ice.
Her breath expelled from her lungs and her heart sped as if in the desperate last leg of a race. She refused to look down. Afraid if she saw the lethal wound she would freeze. Afraid the pain w
ould swallow her whole.
Not yet. Not just fucking yet.
Fighting the lethargy already creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, Sinéad planted her boot in Lara’s abdomen and shoved.
Fresh pain exploded as she unskewered herself from the vampire’s claws. A primal scream rose in her throat and burst past her lips. Strength borne of desperation, fury and love propelled Sinéad forward into the other female’s space. Sinéad spun, slashing her arms down.
The regina didn’t utter a sound as her head and left shoulder slid to the floor. Followed by the rest of her body.
Silence drowned the room right before her sword clattered to the floor.
Triumph and a crushing sadness brought her to her knees, her life’s blood flowing from her wound, drenching her.
They’d done it. They’d won.
A wail rose inside her, but didn’t get past her throat. The muscles spasmed in a last-ditch effort to drag air into her chest.
Bastien.
She forced her eyes open, needing her last glimpse to be his beautiful warrior face.
As the dark drank her down with greedy gulps, she smiled, taking his image with her.
* * * * *
“Sinéad.”
In his head, her name was a thunderous roar. But it came out a hoarse whisper.
A plea.
“Baby.” He dropped next to her crumpled figure, disregarding Lara’s blood as it seeped into the knees of his pants. Grief—crushing, caving grief—strangled him. Gently, he lifted her, cradled her against his chest. “Baby,” he whispered. Placing his lips to her forehead stained with rusty streaks, he rocked her. Breathed her in.
The howl slammed against the walls, bounced off the high ceiling. It clawed from the depths of his soul, razed a path up his throat and left him raw, hurting. Tears scalded his eyes and cheeks as he brushed a knuckle down her still-warm cheek.
Warm.
Still. Fucking. Warm.
He shot to his feet, Sinéad in his arms. Frantic, he scanned the room. Lit on Ryn.
“Where is it?” he barked, charging toward the vampire. “The Blood Cross? Where is it?”
