Key to Conflict

by Talia Gryphon

  It bothered him that he heard the notes of protective anger in his brother’s voice, but there was nothing he could do to help him. It would be a long year for Aleksei to ponder his feelings. Being trapped in this situation with Gillian wasn’t helping, but he would deal with it. Tanis didn’t know what he wanted to do either. He could hardly blame his brother for being confused or for being very attracted to Gillian.

  Once Gillian finished her shower, she returned to her room in a blue silken robe the management had evidently provided for her, since it had a large R embroidered on the lapel and was about thirteen sizes too big for her. She found a sandwich, soda, and Tanis waiting for her. He reclined on the bed while she ate, watching her with interest. When she’d finished, he was still watching her, golden eyes unreadable.

  “What?” she said, exasperated. “You keep staring at me.”

  “I am wondering what propriety would dictate at the moment.” The heat of his gaze was warming her from the inside out. Clearly he wasn’t happy with her either. She wasn’t in the mood for another lecture and cocked a bronze eyebrow at him expectantly.

  “Propriety?” she echoed.

  “I do not want to assume that you would want me in your bed, piccola. So I am thinking about how to ask you if I may stay, without sounding crass.” Golden eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners as his mouth curved in a sensual grin.

  Goddess, he had a magnificent smile. He hadn’t touched her, but his voice was making her toes curl.

  “Tanis, relationships don’t work that way. You are welcome unless I tell you specifically that I want to be alone.”

  “And do you?”

  “Do I what?” Gillian was getting tired of this. She did want his company, but wasn’t sure how to ask. Tanis wasn’t the only one with communication problems in Vampiric love situations.

  “Want me, piccola. Do you want me tonight?” His voice had dropped an octave to a deep fuck-me-now purr. Watching her, sensing her desire for him, he waited.

  Gillian was rooted where she was. Just seeing him lounging on her bed, listening to him, admiring his otherworldly beauty, caught her breath and made her pulse leap. Yes, she wanted him. And just for tonight, she would allow herself to need him a little. Nodding, unable to verbalize what she was feeling, she went to him. Tanis opened his arms and she fell gratefully into his embrace.

  When his mouth took hers, he dropped whatever shielding he’d had, letting his emotions roll over her. She felt his worry, his anger, and something else. Jealousy? Tanis? No, not possible. Rolling her under him, blanketing her with his much larger frame, he kissed her deeply, his hands stoking the fire between them. Needing to hold her close, needing to feel her safe and alive beneath him. Gillian needed him too. She needed to feel safe for the moment and in his arms; for a brief time, she could feel as if the rest of the world had fallen away.

  Soon the silky robe joined his clothing, littered on the floor in their haste. Hard and aching, he pressed her back into the feather mattress. Gillian moaned as he roamed down her body, leaving no part of her unkissed, untouched. Reaching her navel, his tongue swirled, making her giggle and curl up. Grinning wickedly, he slid a hand between her knees, pressing her thighs apart, then dipped his dark head to her golden bronze curls. Wedging his broad shoulders against her thighs, he pressed her back and open to his investigation. She gasped as his tongue lapped at her, arching up against his mouth.

  Encouraged, Tanis slid two fingers inside, hardening to the point of pain from the slick, hot feel of her tight canal. Giving his attention to her every fold and valley, he enjoyed hearing the soft keening noises she made. Pulling back just a little, he whispered to her, “Let go, cara mia. I am here to catch you.”

  Continuing his ministrations, he felt the spiraling of her climax beginning. Wrapping his arm over her hips, holding her tight to his teasing mouth, he groaned audibly when she shattered for him, tasting the tangy salt of her orgasm, loving her crying out his name.

  Fingers tightening in his hair, Gillian pulled him up. Still clenching and releasing from the first orgasm, she needed him inside her. “Come up here, Tanis. I want you in me.”

  Tanis made his way up her body, kissing and laving her breasts, her neck. His velvety-hard arousal brushed her thigh and urged her legs further apart. Gillian’s head was back; he was gently nibbling her neck, his erect sex probing gently at her opening. He paused, raising his head to look down at her. “Open your eyes, piccola. Look at me as I fill you.”

  She did as he asked, watching the amber in his eyes glow gold as he pressed inside, slowly and inexorably. “Hurry, Tanis,” she gasped, gritting her teeth against his slow penetration. Chuckling, he flexed his hips, filling her and seating himself completely.

  “Better, piccola?” His voice was amused black velvet. When he began to move, a slow, deep, sexy rhythm, she breathed, “Yes,” then pulled his head down to kiss him, their tongues dueling as their bodies merged.

  Arching into him, her legs wrapped around him, holding him tightly, meeting each thrust. Tanis took his time, enjoying the tight velvet bands of slick roughness stroking over him, feeling how well he fit inside her. Gillian was writhing beneath him, needing him to hurry.

  Letting her set the pace, Tanis moved with her. Soon both of them were covered in a light sheen of sweat, trembling from holding back. Wrapping his arm under her hips, he lifted her, increasing the depth of his strokes, lengthening her line, burying himself over and over. Begging him for release, Gillian dropped her hand between them, but Tanis got there first, shackling her wrists gently, pushing her arms above her head, his hips moving harder and faster, driving her to a burning ache.

  Feeling her begin to crest, the deep ripple of her climax beginning, he breathed, “Now, piccola…together. Come, mi amore.”

  She bucked beneath him, drenching him with her liquid heat, her body tightening around him, milking him. Pressing deep at the apex of a thrust, he exploded in hot, thick jets against her core. A feral growl tore from deep in his chest. Gillian nipped his chest, prolonging his own shattering release.

  Gathering her in his arms, he rolled them so their bodies stayed locked together but he wouldn’t crush her with his weight. Passion was still in his kiss as he cradled her, stroking her hair.

  “God, Tanis, that was incredible,” she managed, when she got her breath back and their heartbeats slowed.

  Male amusement filled his voice, “Only incredible? Then we need more practice.”

  Watching his eyes, she marveled at his sheer beauty. “Thank you for getting my mind off things.” She snuggled against his hard chest. “This is still all a little unreal.”

  “I know, piccola. It is for me too.” Beginning to harden again inside her but feeling her weariness, he tamped down his own needs and just held her. “Sleep, cara. I will stay with you until you sleep.”

  Too tired to argue, Gillian let him hold her and let herself be comforted. She had dreams that night. Dimly she realized Tanis had withdrawn from her and had gone, but her dreams were erotic, hot. It seemed that she made love over and over all night long. Once she thought she had a glimpse of light-colored eyes. Whether blue, green or gray, she couldn’t tell, nor would she fully remember.

  Awakening late in the day, she was amazed that the bed looked as though a hurricane had ravaged it. Looking in the mirror, her hair was tousled, her lips swollen. She looked like she’d done the entire Carpathian Olympic Team. After a shower to loosen her sore muscles, she headed off to visit Dante, leaving a note that if it got too late, she’d stay at the inn in Sacele or at the castle of her client. It was all she could do for now.

  The next few weeks passed in much the same manner. Gillian continued to see Dante daily, always timing her visits so she could leave well before sunset. The Ghost was getting better. There had been no more incidents of frightened tourists and Arkady was pleased. Gillian told him Dante’s prognosis was good and planned on discharging him soon.

  More news came from the IPPA: the Param
ortal operative in India was dead, the one in Hungary was missing, and the one in Italy, missing and presumed dead—her office had been found splashed with blood. A lot of blood. A dozen or more individuals who had dealings with Vampires and other Paramortal businesses or who administered services to the non-Humans were also dead or missing worldwide.

  She hadn’t shared the gloomy news with the Vampires. No sense in alarming everyone. Being edgy and paranoid herself was plenty. Getting to know the Egyptians was interesting. Anubis and Sekhmet were—dare she say it?—adorable. They set the stage for each evening’s inevitable discussions, sharing humor, ancient intrigue, all while managing to remain close, always touching, clearly hopelessly in love even after centuries. It would have made Gillian gag if they weren’t so completely sincere. She felt no deception from them; their love was real.

  The male guards, Montu and Noph, held themselves a little apart. Eons of keeping themselves more separate was an ingrained habit. As personal guards to Osiris, they tended to use whatever leisure time they had more intensely. They worked hard but they relaxed and played hard as well. Availing themselves of Aleksei’s vast library when they weren’t patrolling the estate, keeping their agile minds stimulated and curious, they also made a trip or two into the surrounding villages for inspiring female companionship. Gillian made an effort to get to know the female, Maeti, better. The woman was cultured, poised, wise and, to Gillian’s delight, hysterically funny.

  Maeti shared her background with her. She’d been born in Egypt two thousand years prior to an Egyptian lord and a Greek mother. Falling in mutual love with a Vampire from Osiris’s court, she’d been reborn and was happy until her mate had been killed after only a century together. Isis, whom Gillian hadn’t met but who was Osiris’s coruler and mate, had heard of the young female’s plight before she could Face The Sun in her grief. Isis took her under her watchful eye, made her one of her own guard, restored her interest in life and her hope.

  Maeti had grieved but knew her mate would have wanted her to continue. With Isis’s help, she’d developed new interests and looked forward to each passing decade. The Vampiress had a quirky sense of humor that strayed into the bawdy range quite often and Gillian found her a wonderful friend and confidante.

  Tanis and Aleksei both made short trips into the countryside, meeting with various leaders of the Lycanthrope, Vampire, and Sidhe communities who were either known affiliates of Osiris and Dionysus or definitely in opposition to Dracula. The Rachlavs hoped to strengthen their alliances and close their borders, keeping this section of Romania completely safe.

  Dionysus sent a mated pair: a male Lycanthrope and a female Vampire, both of whom were calm and lovely, radiating none of the wildness that Aleksei said normally came with his Line. At first Aleksei was furious that he had not sent the guards promised by Osiris, but after learning they were specifically for spying in Immigration, he relented and sent thanks to the Greek lord for his generous help. Dionysus responded with a guarantee of safe passage anywhere he or his allied cells held sway and promising a visit to Romania soon.

  Gillian was curious about how a Werewolf and a Vamp could be mated; Aleksei explained that it wasn’t necessary to “turn” a Human or any other. Rebirth into a Vampire was not necessary for them to have a centuries-long relationship. The exchange of blood four times, in quantity, was required to create a Vampire. If lovers wanted to remain together but one did not wish the loss of their Humanity, three limited exchanges created a condition where the non-Vampire enjoyed the aspects of longevity, fast healing, resistance to diseases, heightened senses and a telepathic connection with their lover. According to Aleksei, it was actually a greater statement of love than merely turning the non-Vamp. More than a marriage, it was an eternal bond—or for as long as the Vampire survived.

  Spending as much time as she was with Vampires on a casual level was affording her a monumental opportunity. Asking and receiving written consent from all of the immortals, Gillian took copious notes, intending to write a paper that would update the IPPA’s and the Corps’ information base on Vampires. Not only would it help other Paramortal psychologists, operatives and therapists, but it would ensure Vampire clients were treated based on knowledge from the most accurate information available.

  The Lycanthrope pack made friends with her quickly. Cezar Jarek, the alpha male, impressed her with his ability to morph from man to wolf at will. He explained that it was what distinguished him from his pack. Astronomical control was required as well as stamina. Shifting was draining if done more than once a night. Contrary to popular belief, the full moon was not necessary for a Lycanthrope to shift. Need of any kind—hunger, sex, defense—was sufficient to allow the change.

  During the weeks of waiting, Cezar introduced her to one of his dominant males. Pavel Miroslav was a mess. A young male in top form, his coat was a color Gillian had never seen on a wolf: Golden underfur, the heavy guard hairs of his pelt were a rich coppery color, shot with charcoal. It gave him a curious dimensional quality, and he could melt into the shadows or surrounding landscape unnervingly fast. Problem was, Pavel had developed a terrible allergy. Alone or around his packmates while in wolf form, his eyes streamed, his fur fell out in clumps, his nose ran and he had a hacking cough that Gillian didn’t like the sound of.

  Pavel had immigrated from Russia after being set upon by several mastiffs that belonged to a rural farmer. Said farmer had an attractive daughter whom Pavel had the hots for in Human form. Apparently he didn’t like the idea of having a Lycanthrope for a son-in-law and had forbade the two to continue their relationship. Naturally the young lady and the young Werewolf weren’t going to let dear old Dad spoil their fun. One bright night, Pavel had arrived to spirit her off so they could mate and marry, hopefully to raise little cubs together. The girl, Olga, unfortunately was a bit clumsy and made a clatter climbing out of her window.

  Her father had awoken, guessed what was going on and had loosed the massive dogs from the home. Trained to defend his livestock from wolves, bears and assorted Paramortal beasties, the dogs voiced their approach in deep baying cries. Pavel had fled but not fast enough. Without time to shift and no weapon, he didn’t have a chance. Built like a linebacker, standing six foot, four inches in his bare feet and weighing in at a lean, mean two hundred sixty-three pounds, Pavel was not a weakling. However, getting hit from all sides by five giant dogs that weighed between a hundred and fifty to two hundred pounds apiece would have felled an adult Kodiak bear. He went down under their rending jaws in chilling silence.

  Olga’s screaming had brought her father out to call them off. She swore she’d never see him again, only please, would he keep the dogs from killing him? Dad had complied; a sharp whistle and the huge canines dropped their prey. Only the good fortune of being a Lycanthrope had kept Pavel from bleeding to death in the field. Torn and aching, he had dragged himself into the forest and found a little cave where he could rest and heal. Lycanthrope healing is truly a miracle to behold. Shifters heal at a phenomenal rate—faster than Vampires, faster than anything known in the Human or non-Human world.

  Lying there in the mud created from his own blood, Pavel reflected on his options. Realizing that Russia might not be the place to be, he’d lain there until the bleeding stopped and new skin formed over the vicious wounds, then painfully made his way back to his home. There he’d rested another day before packing his few belongings and heading south to Romania, where he heard of free-ranging packs and fewer mastiffs.

  Now he’d joined Cezar’s pack, proved himself brave and stalwart, despite his allergies. Cezar liked him and wanted to advance him within the ranks, but Pavel’s constant coughing, shedding and sneezing made him useless for anything but an all-out fight. They had gone to Lycanthrope doctors and Human doctors; Pavel had endured dozens of shots, hundreds of pills, countless shampoos, ointments and salves. Nothing helped.

  Cezar had a suspicion it wasn’t a physical ailment and suggested gently that Pavel talk to Gillian, after
learning from Aleksei who and what she was. He hoped that she would be able to help his young friend. Gillian said that she would try but she needed him in Human form. Cezar dismissed Pavel from his duties until something could be discovered.

  Pavel slinked into the hall as a Human. He looked so sheepish that Gillian bit her lip not to giggle. Young and stunning, he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five in Human years. Long, blonde hair shot with black and copper strands crowned his head, falling in waves down his back. His eyes were an intriguing deep, dark blue.

  Handsome seemed to be a requirement for non-Humans and Pavel was no exception. Not as breathtaking as the Vampires, he and Cezar, who stood behind him, making sure that his young friend really stayed, were impressively attractive. Cezar was older, near fifty, Gillian guessed, but tall and heavily muscled. His hair, like his pelt, was charcoal with a pale cream under-coat. His eyes were brilliant green.

  “I will leave you with the doctor, Pavel. You have nothing to fear, young one. Your place in my pack is secure.” Cezar’s voice was deep and affectionate.

  He liked his packmembers and got along well with them. None wanted to be the wolf who tore out his throat when he grew too old and sick to run with them. He was a commanding presence, but Gillian stepped up and shook his hand anyway.

  “I’ll do my best, Cezar.”

  “I know you will, Doctor. His place is secure no matter what occurs.” At that he left, shifting on the run to join the others guarding the estate.

  Gillian took Pavel into the library where it was quiet and settled in for a full intake. Pavel turned out to be very sweet, very embarrassed, but very willing to try anything. He spoke in soft, low tones, explaining the beginning of his problem, which had been about four months after arrival, and the agony of having allergies tormenting his lupine senses. Shifters weren’t supposed to have allergies. Like most Paramortals, werewolves didn’t get sick from Human ailments or respond to Human medications. Gillian listened, took copious notes, then came up with an idea.