Blood Destiny

by Tessa Dawn

  Colette frowned. "Not a bushel of undead children, Jocelyn.

  Beautiful, perfect, wonderful children...if you want them.

  Children who won't ever get sick or die. Children who will love and honor you probably more than your human children would have...certainly longer...since you will also be immortal. And yes, you will have to go through a short pregnancy and a completely painless childbirth.

  "And when it's all said and done, you will have saved the life of an incredible male...one who would willingly die for you. One who will never lie to you or cheat on you. One who will love your children with all of his heart—live for your happiness—and probably save you right back. Yeah, I'd say that's pretty hysterical."

  Jocelyn watched as Colette sat back down on the bench beside her. She appeared more frustrated than angry as they both stared out the window in silence. After some time had passed, she spoke again: "Tell me, Jocelyn...do I look like an unholy, blood-sucking creature of the night to you?"

  Jocelyn froze then. Uncertain. And a little ashamed.

  Colette turned away and walked over to a small built-in row of shelves just outside of a compact butler's pantry. She picked up a delicate, beautifully-framed oil on panel painting and brought it back to the nook.

  "This is Keitaro and Serena Silivasi with their five children," she said, handing the painting to Jocelyn.

  "Nathaniel's parents...his family. It was done almost four-hundred and eighty years ago." She pointed to a tall, handsome young man with a brilliant smile and eyes that lit up the canvas; he was standing on the far left side of the painting. "And this is Shelby Silivasi, Nathaniel's youngest brother. The one who was buried yesterday." She took a deep, steadying breath. "Shelby was the kindest person I've ever met—human or vampire. He taught snowboarding at the ski resort, and during his time off, he gave private lessons to kids with disabilities. I don't think I ever saw Shelby without a smile on his face or a kind word on his tongue." She sighed then. "And he had all of eternity ahead of him...." She paused. "Just hold onto this, Jocelyn. Look at it for a while.

  Decide for yourself if these people are monsters."

  Jocelyn sat up straight, feeling horrible for losing it like she had. "Colette, I'm sorry; I never meant to imply that—"

  Colette waved her hand and reached to smooth a loose strand of Jocelyn's hair before resting her palm on her trembling shoulder. "Jocelyn, it's okay to be afraid. And angry. And a whole bunch of other things. Just know that this is not a game to Nathaniel...or his family. And you are definitely not just some object to breed with."

  Jocelyn felt the full weight of Colette's words as she looked down, once again, at the picture. "They all look the same age."

  Colette smiled. "Immortality has a way of doing that. The two on the right are Keitaro and Serena."

  The couple was stunning. The man had a thick head of black hair just like Nathaniel's, and the beautiful woman had elegant features and graceful arms and legs. Jocelyn tapped the painting. "I recognize Marquis and Nathaniel...and now Shelby...but who are these other two?"

  Colette looked over her shoulder and pointed as she spoke.

  "This one, right next to Shelby, is Nachari. He and Shelby are twins. And the man standing to the left of Nathaniel is his twin, Kagen."

  Jocelyn studied the painting in great detail. "Why doesn't Marquis have a twin?"

  Colette's eyes softened. "Shelby and Nachari are the youngest, born last. And Nathaniel and Kagen were born in the middle. But Marquis was one of the first born."

  Jocelyn still didn't understand. "I don't get it."

  "Marquis's twin was the...Dark One...the one they had to let go."

  Jocelyn looked up and grimaced. "Oh." She wondered if Marquis might be darker than the other brothers as a result of having such a twin. "And it's this way with all the families?"

  she asked. "All the vampires?"

  "All the lighter ones," Colette answered. "The descendants of Jadon," she clarified.

  "How many children do you and Kristos have?" Jocelyn asked, trying to be polite: Regardless of what she thought about Nathaniel and her own situation, Colette didn't owe her anything. And she had made a genuine effort to answer all of her questions...as honestly as possible.

  "Just the one," Colette answered. "He's at the academy now."

  Jocelyn didn't ask.

  She had taken in more than enough information for one day, and her mind was on overload. She could think about all of it later—worry, analyze, and process things another time.

  She knew her choices were not going to be as cut and dry as she had first thought. She had never held another person's life in her hands before...at least not like this. It was one thing to stare down a criminal at the other end of a gun, when his or her own actions ultimately controlled the outcome. But this was completely different, the kind of thing that would make for great debate in a college ethics class.

  And Colette was right.

  There was something elemental between her and Nathaniel. She could already feel it. Sense it. And it terrified her to think she was going to have to confront it at some point.

  "Colette?" She had one more question.

  As always, Colette sounded infinitely patient. "Yes?"

  "If I don't choose to be with Nathaniel, if...when it's all said and done, I just can't...will Nathaniel...force me?"

  Colette hesitated, clearly giving the question thought. "I don't know what Nathaniel is or is not prepared to do, Jocelyn. Just as I don't know what influence Marquis or Napolean...or any number of others might have on him, assuming it comes down to that. But I do know that he would never hurt you in the way that you're thinking. Whether or not he would use coercion, or mind control...or some other form of seduction, I really don't know. It's hard to say what one will do when their life is on the line. Hopefully, for both of your sakes, it won't come to that."

  Jocelyn wasn't sure whether or not that was the answer she was looking for, but like everything else Colette said, it was honest.

  She ran her fingers reverently along the edges of the oil painting. It was almost as if she already knew the people captured so beautifully within its borders. Of one thing she was quite certain: The face of the young man with the gleaming smile—Shelby Silivasi—was going to haunt her long after Colette was gone.

  Despite all of her mounting fear—her revulsion and desperation—she could hardly bear the thought of what happened to Shelby happening to Nathaniel.

  The mere possibility turned her stomach.

  When Nathaniel entered the kitchen, Jocelyn was still sitting in the breakfast nook, her knees tucked tightly against her chest, her arms wrapped firmly around her legs—her eyes fixed on the panoramic view from the window.

  "You okay?" Nathaniel asked, stopping in the doorway. His large frame took up the entire space.

  Jocelyn looked over her shoulder and spared him a glance.

  "What do you think?"

  Nathaniel sighed. "What can I do?"

  Jocelyn chuckled, although there wasn't any joy in her laughter. "I don't suppose you could just let me go—maybe call me in twenty years?"

  Nathaniel smiled and took a tentative step forward. "You know I cannot."

  Jocelyn frowned and leaned toward the window.

  "Do you really think any of this would be easier in twenty years?" he asked.

  Jocelyn tightened the grip around her legs and shrugged.

  "Probably not, but at least I wouldn't have to deal with it now...."

  Nathaniel knew better than to respond. After all, what could he possibly say? The woman had been thrown abruptly into a foreign world, and what was being asked of her was more than most beings—human or vampire—could absorb in such a short time. Gods, he wanted to go to her and hold her.

  Show her who he was. Make her see that their destiny together was nothing to fear. But how could he convince her when he wasn't sure himself?

  "What does it feel like?" she asked out of the blue.

  "
Excuse me?" Nathaniel leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms in front of him; he was careful to remain a safe distance from the table—not wanting to come too close.

  She turned to look at him then, her beautiful eyes unbearably sad. "Being you. How does it feel to have that much power over another human being?" She laughed again, that same insincere sound. "I mean, you're faster than me, stronger than me, and from what I can tell—completely capable of controlling me if you want to. So, I was just wondering how it felt...to be you?"

  Nathaniel frowned and rubbed his jaw, trying not to let her words upset him. "I may be all of those things, love, yet it is you who holds my life in your hands. It is you who will determine whether or not I ever have a family...live the life I've only dreamed of. It is you I have waited on for a thousand years." His voice trailed off as the reality of his words sunk in. "From where I stand, mea draga, you are holding all the cards."

  Jocelyn turned around to face him squarely; she seemed surprised by his words. "Mea draga?"

  "My darling."

  "Oh," she said, making fleeting eye-contact. She rubbed her hands together nervously and started to say something else—a protest, perhaps—but then, apparently, she thought better of it. Her eyes swept over the small oil on panel painting lying on the table beside her. "I really am sorry about your brother," she said sincerely. "Losing family must be hard."

  Nathaniel nodded. "Thank you. It is...very hard. You've never lost anyone?"

  Jocelyn studied her hands. "Nope. Never had anyone to lose."

  Nathaniel shut his eyes. Gods, if she would only let him go to her. Hold her. Touch her. His groin hardened, and he felt like a beast for reacting so primitively. He sighed. "You do now, Jocelyn. Have someone, that is."

  Her look was one of both trepidation and confusion—fear and uncertainty. "You know as well as I do that it's not that simple. You can't just waltz into my life...or my heart...regardless of some ancient curse. And you can't possibly pretend to care for me when we've only just met."

  Nathaniel could no longer stay away.

  Moving silently, he glided to the nook, knelt down in front of her, and reached out to take her hands in his. She started to pull away but hesitated—as if she knew it was futile. And, of course, it was. Bringing her slim fingers softly to his mouth, he kissed the back of her hands, each one in turn.

  "You might not believe this, Jocelyn, but I do care...more than you know. And if I could take this burden from you, I would."

  Her eyes met his with skepticism. "If you could let me go, you would?"

  Nathaniel shook his head. "You misunderstand me." He caressed the center of her palms with his thumbs. "If I could take away your fear, your uncertainty, the difficulty of this situation, I would. But you are my destiny, whether you know it or not; how could I ever let you go?"

  Jocelyn just stared at him then, her beautiful hazel eyes softening despite her discomfort. "God, you almost sound like you mean that."

  He released her hand and softly traced the line of her jaw with his fingers before lightly cupping her cheek. She was so incredibly beautiful—and stronger than he could have ever imagined—this woman warrior so perfectly made just for him.

  Though his heart ached to see her discomfort, he couldn't help but thank the goddess for finally bringing her home. "Do you know what I want more than anything, angel?"

  Her lips began to tremble ever so slightly, and he removed his hand from her face. "What?"

  "To make you unbearably happy one day: to take all the sadness from your eyes and spend the rest of my life earning your trust."

  Jocelyn's eyes grew wide, and she quickly turned away, staring once again out at the endless canyons.

  Nathaniel slid into the booth behind her then and carefully slipped his arms around her waist. He braced himself for her rigid response—half expecting her to physically push him away—but when she simply froze, like an uncertain deer, he poured as much warmth and reassurance into his touch as he could. And then gently—oh-so-carefully—he rested his chin against her silky hair and simply stared out the window with her, allowing the silence to embrace them both.

  After a pregnant moment, her tension began to ease, and to his surprise, she leaned back against him. It was hardly a full embrace—a far cry from a glowing endorsement—but he would take it.

  When her hand came up to absently rest on his forearm, Nathaniel shut his eyes and held his breath.

  He didn't dare challenge the moment with words.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jocelyn sat dutifully on the sleek, modern-lined black sofa in the formal downstairs living room, Nathaniel leaning into her possessively, while he, Marquis, and Kagen waited anxiously to get their first look at Nachari. Alejandra, Nathaniel's housekeeper, had just gone to the door to greet him.

  Jocelyn smoothed out the material on her swirly sage-green skirt, watching as the cotton voile ruffles tumbled playfully down her legs. The matching, exotic V-neck top, with its three-quarter bell sleeves and soft, flowing lines, hugged her feminine curves as if it had been tailor-made just for her. It was one of a dozen outfits Nathaniel had purchased in the trendy, high-end catalogue Alejandra had dropped off for him later that morning, requesting immediate home delivery so that Jocelyn would have a variety of her own clothes to wear.

  The morning had passed in a companionable silence despite the intensity of the situation—the overwhelming repercussions of what was happening between them—what the "celestial gods" had decreed.

  Knowing she had already checked out of the local bed-and-breakfast the morning she hiked to the canyons, Nathaniel had simply made a few calls, had her rental car returned, and strongly encouraged her—in his not so subtle way—to alert her boss that she would be staying for an extended time in Dark Moon Vale. Just like that, she had become his captive.

  Locked away in a hidden valley deep within the Rocky Mountains, with a man whose desire to hold her grew stronger by the hour.

  She had given him her word that she would not try to escape. That there would be no attempts at suicide. And that she would remain at his side as he welcomed Shelby's twin, his youngest brother, Nachari, into his home. Nathaniel had explained that Nachari was back from the Ancient Romanian University of his people. Originally held in the very castle King Sakarias had lived in, the huge house of learning had become a secret campus in the Transylvanian Alps of Europe—an historic monument where the descendants of Jadon spent their second through fifth centuries learning the ancient arts, histories, and laws of their people.

  It was at the University that they perfected their skills with weapons, honed their psychic powers, and learned how to manipulate the physical laws of nature...ultimately choosing to master one of the Four Disciplines in their senior year.

  Both Nathaniel and Marquis had chosen the most common path of mastery—that of the Warrior—while Kagen had gone the path of Healer, but Nachari's choice to become a Master Wizard had surprised them all. And they had no idea what to expect when they saw him again.

  Nachari strode into the spacious receiving room, boasting its modern pieces of furniture, original works of art, and high, vaulted ceilings made of massive log beams and arched alcoves, with all the power and stealth of a jaguar—his overwhelming confidence, if not subtle arrogance, immediately apparent. There was a regal quality to Nachari Silivasi, an air of dignity and purpose that clung to him like a cloud of mist in a rain forest. He walked like a prince, with his broad shoulders pulled back and his head held high. And there was something else, too. Something radiating in his unfathomably beautiful eyes, deep forest green with golden irises, an awareness of dark mysteries, a promise of hidden secrets...a quiet but complete command of the world around him.

  Nachari swept his perfectly manicured raven-black hair out of his face and turned to greet his brothers, the eldest first.

  "It is with great respect that I greet a fellow descendant of Jadon, an Ancient Master Warrior, my eldest and most honored brother, Marquis." He
placed both hands on Marquis's broad shoulders and stared respectfully into his eyes.

  Jocelyn was certain that this was the first time she had ever seen Marquis truly smile with abandon, and his face lit up the room, his smile beguiling enough to stop a woman's heart. "I greet you, my brother, fellow descendant of Jadon and Master Wizard." The words almost caught in his throat, his pride so apparent. He gripped Nachari's shoulders, and the two stared at each other for a long time before they embraced fully.

  Jocelyn was surprised by the obvious warmth between them.

  He greeted Nathaniel next with the same formality, using all of his titles and expressing his admiration. Nathaniel responded in kind and waited patiently while Nachari and Kagen completed the same ritual of welcome. Once all of the greetings were exchanged, Nathaniel gestured toward Jocelyn.

  "Nachari, I would like you to meet my destiny." He reached for her arm and gently turned over her wrist, revealing the odd conglomeration of spheres and lines that marked her as his. "A daughter of Cassiopeia, Jocelyn Levi."

  Nachari looked suddenly surprised—as if he hadn't heard the news, but then he flashed the most breathtaking smile Jocelyn had ever seen. "Greetings, sister." He said it humbly.

  "It is an honor to meet you."

  Jocelyn was spellbound. She tried to return the smile and say her own hello, but her words came out as no more than a series of muttered sounds. Embarrassed, she looked away.

  Nathaniel snapped his head to the side, glanced down, and eyed her suspiciously—snarling a soft, almost inaudible growl of warning.

  She looked up at him, amazed: Nathaniel was a breathing reincarnation of an ancient Greek god. Only taller, darker, and far more handsome. Surely, he wasn't jealous of his little brother. To her surprise, the thought made her smile.

  Nathaniel sat back down, took her hand possessively in his own, and leaned back against the thick cushions of the sofa, while Nachari casually sank into a large black armchair directly across from the two of them, his feet going instinctively up onto the matching ottoman.