by Tessa Dawn
“Where is Ramsey?” he finally asked, peeking over her shoulder.
Kristina turned her head to look out toward the car, careful to remain centered in the doorway in order to block Kagen’s view. “He’s out in the car, waiting—didn’t want to come in.” She felt a sudden stir in the air around them, and knew that Kagen was about to reach out telepathically to the steadfast sentinel in order to verify her statement. “Kagen!” she exclaimed impatiently, “damn—are you ever going to let up? Can I at least plan my own girl’s night out with Deanna, or do you plan on micromanaging that, too?” She glanced at Deanna and frowned. “I swear they think females are nothing but weak and incompetent.” And then she glared back at Kagen. “And it gets very old…very fast.”
Kagen redirected his attention toward Kristina, releasing the telepathic bandwidth—thank god. “Not a minute past twelve-thirty,” he said in an authoritarian voice.
“See?” Kristina said, rolling her eyes. “You would think we were twelve years old.” She pointed at Kagen. “And he was our father instead of our brother.”
Deanna chuckled, apparently finding the whole situation amusing. She held both hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, my dog’s not in this fight. You two figure out what you want to do; I’m just along for the ride.”
Kristina smoothed her skirt. “No fight; it’s all good—right, Kagen?”
Kagen looked back and forth between the two women. “Not that Ramsey needs to be told, but make sure he stays with you the entire night…direct line of sight, got it?”
Kristina nodded in agreement. “Of course.” She did feel a bit guilty for lying about where they were going, not to mention the fact that Ramsey wasn’t actually in the car—he was meeting them at the hot springs—but all in all, it really wasn’t that dishonest. Ramsey Olaru was one of Napolean Mondragon’s bad-ass sentinels, and he would be with them all night—direct line of sight. Kristina might be rebellious, and even a bit too independent, but she would never take an unnecessary risk with her safety…or Deanna’s. She knew what was up. She had been through a Blood Moon from start to finish, and she knew quite well who the Dark Ones were—and the kind of shit they liked to pull. So, she didn’t care to have her first real evening out with Ramsey and Deanna spoiled by Nathaniel’s inquisitive eyes and Marquis’s inexcusable rudeness. Sue her.
They were safe.
And that was all that really mattered.
She turned to Kagen and grinned. “So, what’s the word, bro? Do we have a hall pass or not?”
Kagen ignored the familiar sarcasm and turned to Deanna instead. “You have my number programmed in your phone?”
Deanna nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“And Marquis’s and Nathaniel’s as well? Jocelyn’s?”
Deanna laughed. “Everyone’s, I think.”
Kristina couldn’t help but chime in then. “And it’s not like she can’t just call you guys telepathically if she needs you…right?”
Kagen flashed a gentle smile and placed his hand lovingly on Deanna’s arm. “These things take time to learn, Kristina. You know that.”
“Yeah,” Kristina replied sarcastically, “and it’s not like I’m going to be right there with her or anything.” She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Can we go now, Daddy?” She added a note of pleading to her voice: “Before Ramsey gets out of the car and comes in here to get us?”
That seemed to put Kagen at ease. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Just be back by curfew…daughter.” He chuckled then. Turning to glance at Deanna, he added, “And you call if you need anything, okay? Anything.”
Deanna nodded. “Will do.” As she followed Kristina out the door, she slung her bag over her shoulder, raised her eyebrows, and whispered, “You sure that was wise? Lying to him like that?”
As the door slammed shut behind them, Kristina snickered and blew out a long breath. “I’m surprised I got away with it.” Gesturing with her hands, she added, “All he had to do was dip into my mind, or worse—step out the door and look inside the car.”
“Look inside the car?” Deanna’s frown betrayed her confusion.
“Oh, yeah,” Kristina said. “Ramsey isn’t actually riding with us; he’s meeting us at the hot springs.”
Deanna stopped dead in her tracks and squared her shoulders to Kristina. “And what else aren’t you telling me?”
Kristina reached out for Deanna’s arm and gave it a firm tug, urging her forward. Laughing, she whispered, “Okay, so it’s like this: Ramsey and I are kind of seeing each other, if you know what I mean.” Her next words were rushed. “Well, we haven’t been hanging out that long, but we’re kind of trying it out, and I just don’t need a bunch of overprotective brothers giving him—or me—the third degree right now; feel me?”
“Ohhh,” Deanna sighed, her eyes alighting with sudden understanding. “So, then, why did you invite me on this…date? Won’t I be a third wheel?”
Kristina shook her head adamantly. “No! Not at all. I really want to get to know you. In fact, I’m hoping we can be friends, and I know you could really use a break from all the intensity. Besides, I think it would be good to spend some social time with Ramsey—you know, not always just the two of us alone—I just don’t want to do it with the Silivasi clan. So in a way, you’re doing me a huge favor by coming.”
Deanna looked as if she had a dozen questions, each one just dying to leap off her tongue, but to her credit, she held them back and shrugged. “Well,” she said, “it’s your world, and I’m just the new girl—so I’ll have to trust your judgment. Just so long as it’s safe.”
Kristina couldn’t believe how cool Deanna was; maybe they really would become good friends. She gestured toward her pink Corvette and smiled. “No worries, Dee—we’re gonna have a great time. And trust me, we’re perfectly safe.”
Braden Bratianu stood outside Napolean’s manse pacing back and forth on the lawn, mulling the problem—and his dilemma—over for the umpteenth time: To tell or not to tell. That was the question.
To risk Kristina’s anger—or see to her safety?
To risk Marquis’s disappointment or provoke his wrath?
To betray a friend or honor the house of Jadon?
He stared at the front door and steadied his resolve: He had to say something. He just had to. What he had read in that diary was wrong, and Napolean needed to know about it. He was just about to approach the front door when he felt the distinct presence of another vampire’s energy close by; and by the size and intensity of the vibration, he knew it was someone fairly formidable.
Spinning around on his heels, he found himself face-to-face with Ramsey Olaru. The warrior was standing less than two feet away, clad in a pair of dark blue jeans and a hunter-green shirt, with a characteristic scowl on his GQ face and a thin reed of grass protruding from his teeth. Braden had never even heard him approach. “Oh…uh,” he stuttered, “Ramsey…I didn’t hear you—”
“You got some business with Napolean?” Ramsey asked, his penetrating hazel eyes taking the kid’s measure in the space of a second.
“Yeah, well…sort of.” He tried to stand tall and puff out his chest. “I guess I kind of have some business with you.”
Ramsey’s perfectly arched brows shot up in curiosity. “With me?”
“Yeah,” Braden mumbled in a shaky voice. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Yeah—with you.”
Ramsey shrugged, seemingly indifferent. “All right.”
“I wanna know what’s going on,” he said, practically forcing the words out of his mouth. Ramsey Olaru was nobody’s punk—the guy could swallow you whole and spit you out just as easily as look at you. He was notorious for being both ruthless and cruel—just for the hell of it—and no one, but no one, took him on unless they had to. Or questioned him. Yet here Braden was, a fifteen-year-old, once-human-turned-vampire kid, squaring off with the legendary warrior over a silly redheaded girl who was being played like a fiddle by the much older, much more experi
enced sentinel. Braden drew courage from the knowledge that Kristina was in jeopardy, Ramsey was simply wrong in what he was doing, and Napolean was hopefully not that far away. “With Kristina Riley,” he added.
Ramsey spit the reed out of his mouth and took a lazy step backward, crossing his massive arms over his iron chest. He looked the kid over but said nothing.
Okay. What now? Braden wondered. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Ramsey said, his gravelly voice growing short with impatience.
Braden sighed. “Well, what the hell is going on with you and Kristina?” The moment the curse word left his mouth, he regretted it; but it was too late to take it back now. Shaking a bit in his boots, he struggled to maintain eye contact.
The corner of Ramsey’s sarcastic mouth turned up in a parody of a smile. “I think you better watch your tone, boy.”
Braden squared his jaw. “And I think you better watch who you’re effin’ around with.” He gulped at his own audacity.
Ramsey ran a huge hand through his hair, causing Braden to flinch in response to the sudden motion. He chuckled at the kid’s reaction. “Little nervous?”
Braden shook his head defiantly. “No. Are you?”
“Not in the least,” Ramsey drawled lazily.
Braden took a bold step forward. “Well, maybe you should be.”
At that, Ramsey laughed.
Laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Braden demanded.
Ramsey shrugged and swept his hand in a gentle arc. “This. You. What the heck’s going on, kid?”
Braden felt his eyes dampen with moisture, and more than anything, that made him even angrier. Bolder. “You know damn well what’s going on.” His hands shot to his hips and he leaned forward in a threatening manner, unable to stop his smaller body from moving. “And you better start talking!” As if possessed by someone else, he felt his arm raise, his index finger extend, and his hand move toward the massive giant’s chest. To his utter horror, he poked Ramsey Olaru squarely in the bread-basket. “Now,” he growled. Apparently, his voice had been hijacked as well.
Ramsey Olaru didn’t flinch. And to Braden’s great relief, he didn’t eat the kid in one bite, either. He simply stared down his nose at the finger affixed to his chest and frowned. And then he sent Braden a clear, unmistakable warning. It happened so quickly it was barely discernible, but his eyes flashed red, and a deep, menacing growl rumbled beneath the pad of Braden’s finger before Ramsey’s calm, cool demeanor settled back upon him. “Move your finger,” he whispered.
Braden tried to withdraw the digit, but it wouldn’t budge. “No.” His wayward mouth was at it again.
Ramsey cocked his head to the side in a gesture of both amusement and surprise, and then he smiled. “How long have you been Vampyr?” Before Braden could answer, Ramsey continued, “I’ve been Nosferatu for seven hundred years; and unlike you, I put in four hundred years at the University to become a Master Warrior.” His pectoral muscles flexed, pushing back against the small finger still resting upon them. “I’m your elder and your sentinel, and that means you’re going to show me some respect.” His last words lingered in the air. “Move your finger.”
“Fine,” Braden yielded, at last withdrawing his wayward hand, “I’ll move my finger. But I won’t show you any respect—because you don’t deserve any.”
Ramsey’s brow curved into a deep frown as if to say what the hell, and he slowly licked his lips. “Boy, have you lost your mind?” He measured him sideways. “What’s this about? A girl? That silly redheaded female? Marquis’s progeny?”
Now that really ticked Braden off. “Watch your mouth.”
At that, Ramsey threw his hands up in the air, turned around, and began to walk away.
“I’m not through!” Braden shouted, his voice cracking a bit.
Ramsey glanced over his shoulder and sneered. “I am.”
Braden stood there stunned, watching the Master Warrior retreat as if nothing he had to say was of any consequence, as if he was as easily dismissed as a fly at a picnic. He might not be a warrior yet—or a 700-year-old sentinel—but he wasn’t…nothing. And frankly, Ramsey was just full of it.
Scanning the ground beneath him, Braden reached down, picked up a good-sized rock, and hurled it at the warrior’s back, putting all the speed and agility he had as a vampire into the throw.
His back still turned to the younger vampire, Ramsey sidestepped so fast that the motion appeared blurry, and as the stone missed him by a country mile, he turned on his heels and began prowling back toward Braden, his eyes locked fiercely on the young boy’s gaze. “You want to play games, kid?”
Braden tapped both hands hard against his own chest, not unlike a dominant ape demonstrating power to an underling, and held his ground: He figured there was no getting away at this point—and he could at least put on a good show before he died. Try to go out like a man, defending Kristina’s honor. “I’m not scared of you,” he snarled, forcing his feet to stay in place, his legs not to turn tail and run. “Bring it, then.”
Ramsey took another step toward him, his eyes fixed narrowly on his prey like a dangerous assassin. “Bring what, boy?”
Braden made two fists and held them out in front of him. “It,” he snapped, knowing he sounded as stupid as he felt. For a moment, he thought about calling out to Marquis to save him, and then he remembered what the Master Warrior had taught him: When a confrontation is imminent, always fight to win. Strike first, and try to take your enemy down with the first blow before he has a chance to harm you. As Ramsey took another step forward, Braden released his fangs, rotated from the balls of his feet to his toes, and sprang at the sentinel’s neck. A vicious snarl emanated from his throat as he prepared to latch onto the sentinel’s jugular.
Ramsey swatted him away like a mosquito, sending him sprawling across the front yard in a series of violent rolls, but Braden sprang to his feet and faced him again. Crouching low toward the ground, he released his talons and prepared to swipe at anything that came his way.
Ramsey shook his head in bewilderment. “Calm down, Braden,” he cautioned. “You need to stop before you get hurt.”
Braden snarled low and deep, impressed by the feral sound that came out of his throat. “And you need to stop trying to get into Kristina Riley’s pants!”
Ramsey crinkled his brow and shook his head. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this bullshit game you’re playing with Kristina’s head! Sneaking around with her behind everyone’s back, trying to get her to give you some just because she’s the only female vampire in the house of Jadon. You think you can use her like a widow, without having to mate her, and it’s wrong! I’m talking about you pressuring her. Nearly forcing her. Taking advantage of her when you know damn well that you have a destiny somewhere out there. You’ve totally messed up her head; she’s completely afraid of you; and you’re still trying to screw her anyways!” His voice cracked from the force of his emotion. “That shit is so wrong, Ramsey.” He slammed his fist against his palm. “And I’m not gonna let you do it anymore. I’m not!” With that, he sprang at the powerful warrior again.
This time, Ramsey caught Braden in midair, twisted his body around until his back was arched forward beneath Ramsey’s broad chest, and forced him to the ground on his knees. “Be still,” he commanded. He locked his arms around Braden’s chest to restrain him.
Braden struggled valiantly. “Let me go! Let me go!”
“Be quiet,” Ramsey snarled. “Be quiet…and listen.”
Braden’s ears perked up. Was Ramsey going to respond to his accusations at last? Was he finally going to explain himself? Apologize? Promise to stop using Kristina?
“Boy, I haven’t touched that girl,” he said plainly. “Are you insane?” He lowered his voice to a deep, soothing tone. “She came onto me, once, right here at Napolean’s, and I sent her home. I have no idea what you’re talking about, but rest assured, I would never dis
honor or hurt any female in the house of Jadon. And if I was looking for a woman just to…screw, as you so crudely put it, I would pick someone other than Marquis’s ward.”
Braden struggled to understand the words he had just heard. “But…but…that’s not true.” He relaxed his shoulders, and Ramsey loosened his hold.
“It is true,” the sentinel assured him.
Braden shook his head adamantly. “But I saw it…in her diary. Everything you’ve been doing to her.”
Ramsey let go of him, settled on one knee in the grass in front of him, and looked off into the distance. “You saw this in her diary?”
“Yes,” Braden snorted.
“And you’re sure it was me—my name in the book?”
“Yes,” Braden repeated. “Plus, I know something’s going on because she sneaks around on the phone and hides things. I’ve caught her crying, and she’s all confused in the head now.” He took a deep breath, embarrassed at sharing Kristina’s secrets, but… “In her diary, she said that you were trying to force her, and she was thinking about giving in, even though she knew you were just using her.”
Ramsey scowled, his face a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “What the hell…” He looked away, and then all at once, a light came on in his eyes. “Oh, damn,” he murmured.
“What?” Braden asked.
Ramsey grabbed the kid by the arm and sprang to his feet, lugging Braden’s body up, along with his own, effortlessly. “We need to take this to Napolean.”
