Guardian's Faith

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Without further thought, she raised her hands to his face and ran her thumbs along the contours of his cheeks. She traced the full dark brows that hooded his expressive eyes; eyes that could look so stern one minute and so soft the next. She liked them best when he laughed. His long nose was slightly crooked with a small dent at the side that he unconsciously rubbed with the pad of his thumb when he pinched the bridge of his nose. That gesture was a sure sign he was thinking deeply or trying to regain his patience. His ears were set close to his head, perfect and even with long lobes, one of which she now sought with her lips and teeth, sucking one into her mouth and releasing it only to have the pleasure of doing it again.

  His short, sharp intake of breath told her that he took pleasure in it, too and when he turned with her still in his arms and walked her backwards to the bed, she didn't stop him. Still cradling her, he laid her back and, bracing himself on hands to either side, he eased himself down over her and began to rub his cheek across her tee shirt covered breasts.

  His beard was heavy and he shaved twice a day. He was clean shaven now, but Faith closed her eyes and tried to imagine what that bristled roughness would feel like against that tender skin. Her body arched as she reached for further contact. He sighed his pleasure and moved to the crook of her neck where he licked and nibbled gently and Faith was not afraid.

  This was not the fumbling awkwardness of her joining with Tommy Barrett, nor the slobbering and groping she was sometimes accosted with in the bars. This was definitely not the harsh brutality of her time with Tyn. This was gentle and knowing. This was special. This was Lucien.

  She would have held on to these warm and tender moments forever if she could, but it was not to be. A sharp knock on her door and the call of "Dinner!" was enough to break the spell as Lucien stood and reality returned.

  Feeling as she did, this one kiss would not be enough. This one step would lead to another and another and then the truth would be known and this precious kiss would be forever tainted with the sinful filth that scarred the rest of her. The warmth that filled her body suddenly fled, leaving behind the cold emptiness of fear.

  She'd felt terror before, abject terror, but this fear was different, more insidious. This was the fear of the exposure of all the things that had happened in her past. She could feel the panic rising and did nothing to stop it.

  Her scars would tell a story that she couldn't bring herself to tell; not to this man who lived by a code of duty and honorable behavior, not in this House where no one knew about her past, and not in this place where she had finally begun to heal and find purpose.

  Lucien's eyes were again boring into her, this time searching for her deepest, darkest secrets. She could feel him gripping her shoulders and calling her name. If she didn't get away, she would tell him everything and then she'd have to watch the look of longing in his eyes change to pity and disgust. She couldn't bear that. Better his hatred than his pity.

  Faith did what she always did when she was faced with more than she could bear. She retreated and ran to the depths of her mind.

  The door was closed and locked and she searched frantically for the key. She had to find it! She needed the refuge within that room where she saw, heard and felt nothing.

  "Help me. Please, please, help me," Faith cried out silently as she had so many times before and the door in her mind began to open.

  Lucien saw the change come over Faith. Her body froze and her face became a mask. Her eyes stared glassily at some vision of horror that no one else could see.

  It was the same look he'd seen in the hallway of Canaan's House when they'd laughed at her and made jokes about her frailty. He remembered how angry he'd been at their lack of compassion.

  It was the same look he saw when Álvaro grabbed her arm that first day here in his House.

  It was the same look he'd seen on his sister's face when he'd pulled her out from under the bed on that day of horror so long ago. He knew what put that look on Marisol's face. He, too, had seen the results of the bloodshed and heard the screams of the dying. That day had changed the course of his life and he was a seasoned combatant.

  What horror from her past had put that look on Faith's face and why hadn't he recognized it before? What had he done to trigger such a response?

  He'd meant only to tease her a little before he stole his first kiss. He thought she'd be ready, thought she wanted it as much as he did. She'd melted under his kisses and her response seemed filled with a sweet and blossoming passion that aroused him. How could he have been so mistaken?

  "Shhh, little hummingbird," he whispered running his fingers through her curls, "Don't go away. Stay here with me. I will do you no harm."

  When she didn't become agitated or withdraw from his touch, Lucien pulled her in closer and lifted her into his arms. His intent was to lay her properly on the bed and to sit with her until she recovered, but he couldn't put her down. She felt so right in his arms with her body curled against him that he couldn't let her go. The overstuffed chair where he'd spent so much time during her recovery was back in its corner where it belonged. It would be a comfortable retreat that would support them both.

  She was stiff, but didn't fight or show any signs of protest when he sat and adjusted her in his lap. She allowed him to settle her head against his chest where he continued to run his fingers through her hair and speak in low tones.

  "You amaze me, little hummingbird. You looked so sick and frightened when you crawled from beneath that table in the cantina, but you wouldn't let Agdta hold you back. You heard the cries of the women and their wounded and you had to do your part no matter the cost to you. You're small and tender, but you have a braver soul than most men I have known."

  That night in the cantina, Lucien had watched carefully as Faith used her golden light and laughed openly when Carlos changed from coyote to man, setting her back on her pretty little bottom. The look on her face was priceless and confirmed his belief that in spite of her claims to Álvaro, she'd had no idea what the secret of the People's otherness was.

  His laughter was short lived however. As before, he had to forcefully break her healing connection with each person she touched, only letting her magic work to the point where the injured would continue to heal properly. She couldn't seem to withdraw from the connection on her own.

  They argued about it, but being bigger and stronger and more stubborn, he prevailed. To see her take on the pain of each injury she healed particularly while still weakened from whatever she had done before he arrived, tore at him and he found himself becoming angrier and angrier at the demands she was placing on her body. She swore she wouldn't die from it, but how could she know? Even his body with its strength and rapid healing would someday falter and die.

  She'd risked too much already. She was staggering under her own slight weight and yet, when they found Adam sitting on the steps of the cantina trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound in his leg, she'd been willing to risk more. She dropped to her knees beside him and waited, hands hovering, while Lalo treated the wounds.

  Lalo, using his head for once, reached for the holy water Lucien insisted the trainees carry with them, the only thing that would neutralize the poison from a demon wound.

  "Hang on, tiger. This is gonna hurt like fucking hell," Lalo said to his friend as he began to pour the water into the wound and then he winced, not because of the possible pain to Adam, but because he remembered who was standing beside them. "Oops, sorry for the language, Faith," he apologized, but he never took his eyes from the wound. "What the hell?"

  Adam, eyes closed tightly against the pain he knew would come, opened them in surprise.

  Nothing happened. Everyone stared at the gaping wounds. No acrid and oily fumes rose from the demon inflicted injuries. There was no demon poison within.

  Faith didn't hesitate. She laid her hand over the bloody mess and the golden light passed through her and into Adam.

  Lucien heard the murmurs of some of those in the cro
wd behind him. After what she'd done and what she'd sacrificed to do it, he hadn't expected such a cruel response.

  "She's a bruja, a stain, an abomination."

  "Hear me, all of you," the Liege Lord commanded, his face hardening in anger as he turned to those who stood behind them. "Faith is mine and under my protection. Speak against her and you speak against me. I won't make the same mistake again. See that you don't either."

  "Uh, boss?" Adam called, forgetting how much his Liege Lord hated the use of the term, "We need a little help over here."

  Faith had fallen over Adam's lap with her hand still gripping his thigh over the place of the now healing wound. Her face was as white as the skirt she wore before the blood of the injured had stained it beyond repair.

  She was curled into him now just as she'd been curled into him that night when he held her in his arms for the short ride home. Her body had relaxed and her eyes had closed. Her hand was spread over his left pectoral where the skull and tears of his calling marked his chest. He could feel the warmth of that tiny hand all the way to his heart.

  How could he have mistaken her for a child? The weight she'd gained had added to the fullness of her hips which only emphasized her tiny waist. With her small rounded bottom and her high firm breasts, she was a woman fully formed. He could blame his earlier assumptions on her emaciated form, but he couldn't excuse his lack of attention to her face. Those big blue eyes were captivating, but they were not the eyes of an innocent child.

  There was a wariness in them that he should have noticed. She would smile and laugh in her silent way, but always, always, her hand would unconsciously move to the light scarring on her cheek and the smile would disappear as if the scars were a reminder that she had no right to happiness.

  Marisol, without the physical reminder of scars, had done the same thing. Maybe that was why he'd seen Faith as a child. She reminded him of Marisol.

  He pressed his lips to Faith's forehead and murmured his vow against the smooth skin. "I will not let you fade away as I did my sister. You are mine, little hummingbird and I will prove to you that I can keep you safe."

  "Tell me about Marisol."

  Lucien's quiet voice held a call stronger than the call of the safety of her secret room. Faith sensed a need in him to speak of things past and she couldn't turn away. She was an expert on the secrets of the soul and she couldn't bear the thought of his living with the torture she herself endured.

  When she opened her eyes and smiled up at him, Lucien smiled in return and his lips once again touched hers, this time with such tenderness and relief that she knew she was doomed. He needed her and if the sacrifice of her last moment of happiness was what was needed to set him back on the road to finding a full life of his own, so be it. Better to endure his eventual pity and disgust than to run away and hide when he needed her to listen and to heal the wounds to his soul.

  This was what it felt like to be truly in love. She'd heard about it from her sisters in Canaan's House. She'd seen it in their eyes. She'd read about it in books, but never dreamed she would feel it in her own heart.

  "Tell me about Marisol."

  Faith's hands hadn't moved and yet he heard her clearly. Lucien looked down into those clear blue eyes that held a world of possibilities. He bent his head to touch her lips with his and sighed with relief when she kissed him back.

  "How do you know I was thinking about Marisol?" he asked, looking surprised. "Can you read minds, too?"

  Faith gave the slightest shake of her head. "You talk aloud to yourself," she said and he heard her sigh in his mind. "It's what happens to foolish men who spend too much time alone."

  "I wouldn't be alone if you hadn't left me," he told her peevishly. "And don't look at me with those sad blue eyes. If you can face blood and gore and demon poison, you can surely face me. Or was kissing me worse than blood, gore and demon poison?"

  She looked so stricken, he relented. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  Again with the slight shake of her head. "You said I looked like Marisol."

  "I did not," he said emphatically. It was bad enough he'd thought of himself as a pervert when, thinking her a child, he was first attracted to her. He'd be damned if he let her think he was an incestuous one. "You look nothing alike. Marisol is tall and dark. My father claimed she was the image of my mother when she was young. She was flighty and full of mischief and subject to dramatic mood swings that drove us all crazy."

  "Then why do I remind you of her?"

  "Because you drive me crazy, too," he said, smiling to let her know it was in a good way.

  Those blue eyes continued to stare up at him and he knew Faith wouldn't be satisfied with his light hearted answer. Those eyes were more effective than any priest when it came to insisting on the truthful baring his soul.

  It took him another moment to begin the painful recitation as he shifted his eyes from Faith's blue ones to the past.

  "Marisol's eyes are brown, so dark that people think they're black. They sparkled when she was happy and flamed with anger when she didn't get her way. Like many young girls, my sister's emotions were mercurial and my mother always said she could judge Marisol's moods by the light in her eyes."

  Lucien closed his eyes, took a deep breath and waited until he could speak his next words without emotion. "The light died in Marisol's eyes the day my father's Second killed my mother."

  Chapter 20

  "No." Faith whispered as if her protest could change history. Her arm slipped around his back and she pressed herself further into his chest. If Lucien had felt such guilt over the death of Engracia, she could only imagine what he felt when her warning came true.

  "They were good. They were happy. They'd done nothing wrong. They didn't deserve that. It isn't fair."

  "Fair is a word best used to describe the weather, little hummingbird, since it seldom applies to life." Lucien kissed the top of her head. "It was a time of political turmoil, several groups battling over land and power and with that came bands of marauders who used war as an excuse for rape, robbery, and murder. We knew what was happening in the outside world, but we had little to do with the human world and were isolated from it. We felt safe. Elsewhere, my father and his men were much in demand."

  Demons thrived on the evils of mankind and times of war brought them teeming through newly opened gates to wreak their own mayhem under the cover of the havoc created by Man.

  "No one is really sure how it all happened, although some things are clear. It's thought that my father and his men were on their way home and reached the village as it was being attacked. During the ensuing battle, my father was turned. Do you know what that means?"

  Faith leaned back to look up into Lucien's face and the pain she saw there broke her heart. She nodded knowing her words were unnecessary.

  For a Paenitentia male, to be turned was to die a violent death and turn vampire, an animalistic creature that needed to consume the blood of others to survive. It was the ultimate penalty for their sins against God.

  There was no cure. Most vampires died a second death at the hands of a friend or loved one, but some escaped into the world to become the legends that horror stories were based on. In the past, some Paenitentia kept their turned loved ones locked away and hidden; caged like an animal until they died a natural death, since they aged more rapidly than unaffected Paenitentia. They were fed with the blood of humans captured for the purpose.

  Faith couldn't think about it without bile rising in her throat. She had an affinity with those captives few could understand.

  Uncle Otto, the vampire who was a member of Lord Canaan's household, maintained his equilibrium and lived an almost normal life through regular doses of black market human blood. They were fortunate to have found a source. Most weren't so lucky.

  Because of the nature of their calling, turning was a constant and very real threat to the Guardians of the Race. They were duty bound to bring second death to their comrades in arms.

  "There's a
period of time after first death in which the second deathblow must be dealt to prevent the turning," Lucien went on. "When my father fell, the Vigilante should have taken his head or heart to prevent the turning, but as Engracia predicted, the man lost his courage and failed in his duty to my father and the People.

  "My father, now turned vampire, escaped into the hills without harming any of those he loved. I want to believe this was intentional because he knew on some basic level what he'd become and what he was, therefore, capable of. It's something I have to believe." Lucien's voice had dropped to a painful whisper as if begging her to understand.

  "Your father was a good man, Lucien, a good man who loved his mate and children, who cared deeply for the People. It only makes sense that those feelings wouldn't immediately die with his turning." Faith took his hand in hers.

  "Thank you," Lucien told her quietly sounding as if he truly meant the words and then he continued in the same whispering monotone, "Whether it was through cowardice or because of his love for my mother, the Vigilante rode off with the Second who was supposedly racing to the defense of the hacienda. Once again, he failed in his duty when they were overrun by a small band of demon led marauders and the Second was turned. The Second ignored those still battling and immediately headed here where he slaughtered most of the servants before attacking my mother.

  "I was but a half a day's ride away when a Paenitentia rider brought the news of the attack. The enclave was by that time under attack as well. I'll always wonder what would have happened if I had paid attention to Engracia's warning instead of treating it as a case of local superstition gone mad. Could I have prevented it from happening or was it fated from the beginning? As it was, I arrived at the hacienda in time to find two demons and the Second feasting on the dead.