by Chloe Hart
After a while Jessica reached out a hand and started touching him, too, trailing her fingers over his bare chest. Exquisite sensation surged through him as he breathed in her scent.
She was the first to break the silence. “Before…when things were getting intense and we were close to…you know. You had this look on your face like you were in pain, or like you were holding something back. Were you afraid of hurting me?”
He stroked her hair away from her face. “I was trying not to claim you.”
She stilled. “You don’t want to claim me?”
He couldn’t stand the sudden hurt in her eyes. He rolled them over so he lay on top of her. “I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But I can’t do that to you now. You don’t need to be distracted right before your duel. The claim creates an intense bond, and in the beginning it’s hard to think about anything but your mate. You don’t need something pulling your focus like that.”
Jessica shifted her legs so she was cradling him between her thighs. He groaned, and let himself push against her just a little as he dropped his head down to her shoulder.
“What happens if your mate dies?”
It was his turn to go still. Then he pulled back so he could look into her eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”
She didn’t answer him directly. “It would be easier for you to move on if you don’t claim me, right? I mean…if I die. If you didn’t create that bond you’d be able to—”
He was gripping her shoulders now. Too hard, because she winced in pain.
“If you think anything could make it easier for me if you died…”
He took a deep breath and forced himself to let her go. “Why did you ask me that?” he asked again, his eyes searching hers.
“Because if the only reason you won’t claim me is that you’re afraid it wouldn’t be good for me…” she shook her head. “That’s my decision to make, not yours, and I wouldn’t accept that as a reason. But if there’s another reason, something that affects you, then…” She paused.
“Then what?” he prompted her.
“Then I’d let it go.”
They stared at each other in silence. Then Hawk rolled to his side and pulled Jessica against him, wrapping his arms around her.
“When I retired ten years ago, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. Do you want to know what I did with that time?”
She nuzzled his bare chest. “Will this eventually tie into what we’re actually talking about?”
He smiled into her hair. “Yes.”
“Then tell me what you did with your time.”
“I studied. Languages, music, fighting techniques and weapons. I read anything and everything. And I traveled. One of the places I traveled to was Japan. Kyoto, to be exact.”
“I’ve been to Kyoto. It’s beautiful.”
Hawk nodded. “It is. I stayed there for a year and a half. I studied archery and sword-making and the art of meditation, among other things. And I read Japanese poetry. Some of it I understood—or I thought I did—and some I knew I wasn’t getting, even if I thought it was beautiful.”
“I sense a poem coming on. Are you going to quote poetry to me? That’s very romantic.”
He kissed the spot just below her ear, making her shiver. “Smartass,” he said softly. “And yes, I’m going to quote poetry. A haiku by Basho.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then,
“Even in Kyoto—
Hearing the cuckoo sing—
I long for Kyoto.”
Jessica looked at him. “I don’t think I get it,” she said finally. “What does it mean?”
“It didn’t mean anything to me when I first heard it. But it felt…important, somehow. Like it would mean something someday. But I forgot all about it until I talked with Evan the other night.”
“You mentioned Evan before. You said he said something to you.”
“Several things, actually. All on the theme of what it means to love a Faery woman. Basically, he was trying to tell me that being with you…if I ever got that lucky…wouldn’t be anything like what I’d been imagining. You weren’t going to turn into a damsel in distress, letting me rescue you and protect you and take care of you. You were still going to be you. A warrior. And he was right—that wasn’t at all what I’d been imagining.”
“What did you imagine?”
“I imagined throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you to my cave. I wanted to own you, to mark you as mine for the world to see. Those are the words of the claiming ritual, you know. You’re mine. Vampire males are so fucking possessive…I never knew how much, until I fell in love.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “The legend about our origin is that the first vampire gave up his soul for immortality. The thing is, when the certainty of death is no longer a certainty, it changes you. You begin to feel that you own the world. That you can possess anything you desire. You want everything to be permanent. You no longer embrace change, or mutability, or growth. You begin to feel you’re the center of the universe.”
“Some humans and Fae feel like that, too. Without the benefit of immortality.”
“Yeah, but it’s a vampire’s nature to feel that way. To feel that we’re entitled to anything we want. We have to make an effort to act against that nature. Like Jack and Evan, deciding to ally themselves with the Green Fae and protect humanity rather than simply pursue their own power and pleasure.”
“But Jack and Evan act on their instincts, too. They were drawn to their mates by instinct.”
“Some instinct is good. Evan said that for vampires, love is a balance between instinct and will. A very delicate balance.”
He bent his head to kiss her. “And now I finally understand what he meant—and what that poem means. Because even when I’m deep inside you, I long for you. I can never truly possess you. All I can do is love you.”
Jessica’s eyes were suddenly bright. “Is that why you don’t want to claim me? Because you think you’d be trying to possess me?”
“I do want to claim you. Because it’s not just an act of possession—it’s an act of love. The deepest promise a vampire can make. I’ve already made that promise to you in my heart, and I want to make it with my body, too. But not if it hurts you. If I claimed you for the wrong reasons, out of fear or greed or selfishness, then it wouldn’t be a bond of love. It would be a badge of ownership.”
“Then do it for the right reasons.”
“Jess…”
“Hawk, I love you. And because life can be short, even for us, I want to feel as connected to you as I can. I want to promise myself to you. You can’t own my heart, but I can give it to you freely. And that’s what I want to do. I want to claim you, and be claimed by you. I want us to belong to each other.”
He was shaken. “Jessica…God. I want that too. But…”
“More buts?” she chided.
“It’s just…I talked a good game, just now, about not possessing you. But I’m a vampire, and the truth is…I’ll probably never stop trying. And I can’t guarantee I’ll always listen to my better angels. There’s a demon inside me, too.”
“I can handle you, Hawk. And we’ll figure it out. Together.”
A slow tingle started behind his breastbone, spreading though his body. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
He rolled them over again, covering her body with his. The scent of her, the beat of her pulse, called to his demon until his fangs burst from his gums.
And still he hesitated. “You know I have to leave soon. You need rest before the battle, and I need to tell the others what’s happening. Liz and I have to find a way to be at the duel tomorrow—with some of the other Green Fae if Jack managed to convince any of them to join our side.”
Jessica shook her head. “They won’t go against my mother.”
“If not, then it’ll be just Liz and me—and maybe Jack and Evan, too. We’ll stay hidden unless you need us. If all goes well, you won’
t see us all. We’ll wait until Navril sends Mary home and then we’ll find a way to get to you. If anything goes wrong—”
He couldn’t go on. Jessica reached up both hands and framed his face. “We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but we’ll deal with it when it comes. Right now, we have this moment…and each other.”
He turned his head into her palm and kissed it. Then he traced his fingers over her throat, causing her to sigh as she arched her head back.
Every cell in his body yearned for her. “You’re mine,” he whispered.
A tremor passed through her body. “You’re mine.”
When she spoke the words of the ritual he couldn’t hold back anymore. He pinned her arms to the bed and sank his teeth into her throat, and then he drank.
He grew hard instantly, and she wrapped her legs around him. She was so wet he slid inside with one push, and it only took a few strokes before she came, her body pulsing around his as he drank in her essence. And then he exploded inside her as he pressed his mouth to her throat, licking the marks he’d made until they closed.
When their bodies had stilled he rose up on his forearms. “We belong to each other now,” he told her.
She looked like an angel as she gazed up at him.
“Now and forever.”
Chapter Thirteen
The arena was in a sunken courtyard, with tiered seats rising out of it. A hundred or more Fae were already there.
The terrace even with the highest row of seats was dotted with statuary, trees, and gracefully fluted columns, and surrounded on three sides by roofed porticos. As Jessica walked across it, she was glad to see so many hiding places. Maybe Hawk really would be able to…
And then, as she reached the stone steps that led down into the arena, a tingling at her throat sent a bolt of sensation through her.
She didn’t look up or halt her steps, but it was hard not to let her sudden joy show in her face.
Hawk was here.
A cold breeze fluttered the flags on the battlements above them. As Jessica walked down the stairs, she saw Mary standing on one side of the arena between two armed guards.
The eyes of the two women met. Did Mary sense that her brother was here? If so, she had the brains not to show it.
Then Jessica cast another glance at the crowd around them, and her heart sank. Hawk couldn’t fight a hundred Fae.
Which meant that saving his sister was up to her.
Kel and Navril were sitting in elegant chairs at the base of the steps. Courtside seats, Jessica thought whimsically, thinking of the Boston Celtics basketball game Liz had taken her to a few weeks ago. They both looked cool and composed, although she could sense the tension behind Kel’s façade.
The guards escorting her paused in front of the royal seats. Jessica bowed low, and then they led her to a table that held a dozen deadly looking knives, glinting in the bright sunlight on a cloth of red silk.
Edrik was there before her and he chose first, selecting an ancient looking blade of black steel. Then he took two steps back and fixed his eyes on her.
She felt the burn of his gaze as she reached out to select the smallest weapon before her, a slender thing that shone like platinum, with a hilt of delicately wrought silver. She hefted it in her hand to test its balance and knew she’d made the right choice.
“You look different today,” Edrik said abruptly.
She looked up and saw that he was frowning, a look of uncertainty and frustration in his eyes.
Jessica allowed her lips to curve upwards in a secret smile, knowing it would unsettle Edrik even more.
She didn’t just look different. She felt different. Fiercely alive and radiating power.
A shiver went through her as she thought of the marks on her neck, invisible to anyone who didn’t know what to look for. Edrik saw the shiver and his frown deepened.
Yesterday, he thought he’d taken her measure. Today, he wasn’t so sure.
Queen Navril stood, and the crowd fell silent. Dressed in a gown of white velvet with an over tunic of gold, she was almost blinding.
“By the ancient laws of our people, the accuser and the accused’s champion shall do battle until one of you yields or kills the other. If you yield, the victor still has a right to a kill, and may grant mercy or not, as he or she chooses.” She turned to Jessica. “By custom, the accused has an opportunity to thank her champion. You may speak to the vampire now.”
Jessica was very grateful to have a minute with Mary—even if it was under a hundred pairs of eyes.
Mary looked strained to the point of exhaustion as Jessica approached her. Then Jessica raised her hand as though adjusting the neck of her blue tunic and casually drew her fingertips across the mark of Hawk’s fangs.
Mary’s eyes widened. Then she spoke in a voice too low for the guards to hear.
“I thought I felt his presence, but I didn’t dare believe it. He’s here now?”
“Close by,” Jessica reassured her softly. “He’ll be here if you need him. If I fail.”
Mary seized her hands. “You won’t fail. You can’t. You’re my sister now. Oh, Jessica—I’m so glad. For both of you. And you can’t die before I have a chance to know you. Promise me.”
“I promise,” Jessica said gently, as tears gathered in Mary’s eyes.
“Time!” Queen Navril called.
Jessica went to the center of the arena and faced Edrik. She was wearing soft pants and a simple tunic, dark blue and close-fitting. Her feet were bare. Edrik was dressed in black and silver and his feet were bare, too.
The two combatants faced each other.
“Let the duel commence!”
“There will be no mercy from me, Your Highness.”
Jessica ignored his words, focusing instead on the man. She wasn’t interested in trading barbs with her opponent. She let her knife roll from her palm to the ends of her fingers, feeling its weight, its motion. A weapon is an extension of your power.
Edrik moved to one side and Jessica moved with him, the two of them circling each other slowly. Jessica reached out with her senses, letting past and future fall away until only the present moment existed.
Her world was balanced on a knife’s edge. She was no longer thinking about Hawk, or Mary, or anything except the feel of the stone beneath her bare feet, the cold weight of the blade in her hand, the scent of death on the air.
She feinted forward, and his slight hesitation in blocking her meant she actually grazed his arm with the point of her knife, when she had meant only to test his speed and reflexes on defense.
She backed away again, every nerve ending on alert, watching him wince slightly as he wiped the trickle of blood on his tunic.
She frowned. Something was wrong. It had been too easy, as if—
A trick. He knew she was gauging his responses, as he was gauging hers, and he had deliberately slowed his defensive reactions.
Defense was almost purely instinctual. If he had enough self-control to alter his response to an attack…
Unless she was wrong, and he simply lacked skill or quickness…
She snaked forward and he met her, and then their knife hands were tangling, the hilts of their blades locked together. A spark flew. All Jessica’s strength was concentrated there, in the point of contact, and she wasn’t ready for the blow to her stomach that knocked the breath out of her. She doubled over, and used her position to head butt him in the gut, returning the favor. She danced back out of reach as he fought to recover his breath.
She might have gone in for the kill there, but she didn’t trust him, didn’t trust his reactions. He could easily be exaggerating his loss of breath. She sidestepped slowly, waiting and watching.
A moment later Edrik was upright again, mirroring her movements, and for long seconds they circled warily, silently, both of them with bare feet on the cold stone.
Edrik began closing the space between them, his knife held low, casually, and when he darted in it was with blinding
speed. Jessica spun away from the hand that held the knife only to meet the knife itself, which Edrik had tossed to his other hand as he attacked. It got a taste of her shoulder, cleaving an inch or more into her flesh, and the shock of pain made her dizzy for just a moment even as she dodged out his reach and fell back into her crouch.
She didn’t bother to wipe away the blood that dripped down her arm. At least it’s not my knife hand, she thought grimly, and in the instant the thought was formed she knew how she was going to win this fight.
Again they circled, probing for weakness, and again Edrik leaped forward, attacking in a blur of speed. Jessica parried, fell back, and let herself falter slightly as he had done, as though her own reactions were dulled by pain or fear.
And now he pressed the attack as he scented victory, and Jessica fell back, and back, waiting with every muscle ready until she saw an opening. Then it was her turn to switch knife hands, from her dominant arm to the wounded arm, where he would never expect danger.
He saw it happen, but it was too late. His momentum was carrying him towards the victory he had been assured was his, and his right side was exposed. He couldn’t stop himself as she drove forward, burying her knife in his side, below the ribs.
In a frozen moment of time she saw his look of surprise, and then his knees crumpled and he fell, his hand to the hurt place at his side.
She took a step back.
He was on his knees, upright. She hadn’t killed him. But how badly was he injured? Would he continue the fight with her knife in his side?
She heard the rasp of his breath, watched as he pulled the knife out, slowly and carefully, a brief gush of blood following the blade from his body. He handed it to her hilt first.
“Finish it,” he said.
She stared down at him. “You want me to kill you?”
“If I yielded, you would kill me just the same.”
Thoughts whirled in her mind. She’d never killed a Fae before, and she’d never killed an unarmed opponent like this, in cold blood.
She reminded herself that if anyone deserved such a death, it was Edrik. If she left him alive, he would go back to plotting and conniving against Kel, or anyone he envied or hated.
