The Last Queen

by Christine McKay

  Vespero was silent.

  “Who is this?” she demanded.

  His gaze wary, he said, “No one of consequence.” He pulled the book away and brought out another. “Let us look at bloodlines.”

  “Name her.”

  “Until you fly many feel you are not our Queen.” His voice was reprimanding, his jaw set against her command.

  “Please.” He remained stiff. She knew she should’ve taken that as a warning, but she persisted. “She never flew either,” she guessed. The room rustled, as if possessed by spirits. She’d grown accustomed to that not-quite-alone-don’t-look-over-your-shoulder feeling as well. Only she and Vespero were in the chamber. Yet she knew they were not alone. The same shadowy dragons that escorted her in her dreams were here as well.

  His eyes flashed fire. “Do not utter such blasphemy.” He dropped the book he held, stormed off to another section of the bookshelves, then turned on her. “You give our younger members hope. For Benito and I, you are too late.” He vibrated with anger.

  No words could soothe that kind of resentment. When she remained silent, he turned away from her, and ran his fingers along the spines. Finding what he sought, he pulled out a heavy book of plates. “Here.” He thrust it at her. “Here are all our Queens. You will find no pity within these pages.”

  She took the book from his shaking hands, and held it to her chest. “I should go,” she said quietly.

  He waved her off and turned back to his books.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nikki laid her purchases on the kitchen counter quietly, wondering what wrath she’d face. She’d snuck off to the mall while Quince was still asleep. Leaving him alone in her apartment to rummage through her belongings wasn’t exactly an appealing thought, but neither was taking him to the mall. She didn’t want to share him with anyone. Even the looks the old ladies had given him at the party she catered made her feel jealous. And that intrigued her. She’d never felt jealousy before. Men came and went in her life. They were nice to look at, fun to touch and play with, but never something to waste such a powerful emotion on.

  She peeked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, reapplied her lipstick and fluffed her hair with her fingers. Some warrior Quince was. He didn’t even hear her come in. She poked her head into Adrianne’s bedroom. No Quince. She looked in her own room. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through one of her photo albums.

  She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Anger was the first emotion to surface, but she flicked it away. She didn’t want to spoil the view.

  His thin black t-shirt was stretched over his expanse of back, revealing a ripple of muscle. His dark hair brushed the nape of his neck. Why, whenever she saw him, did her heart skip a beat? She didn’t know what he had done to her, but she didn’t like it. That was probably another reason why she didn’t bother bringing him to the mall with her. Take that!

  “Nosing around my belongings for any particular reason?”

  He raised his head carefully. “You appear to have had a happy childhood.”

  She frowned. “I did. Yes. Thank you.”

  “Your parents seem content.”

  “They were.”

  He closed the book cautiously, as he did everything. His head tilted. She watched his violet eyes gleam and wondered yet again if what he wanted with her was more than she could give.

  “Why do you avoid partnering for life then?”

  The air whooshed out of her sails. “I haven’t found the perfect man,” she retorted.

  Quince smiled faintly, just a brief twitch of the lips. “Does he exist?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Hmm.”

  She watched him unfold gracefully and return her photo album to its place upon the shelf. “What about you?” she pressed. “Why haven’t you settled down with a nice woman?”

  He arched a brow. “I do not care for nice women.”

  Nikki laughed.

  “It is true,” he insisted. “Besides, no woman would wish to go on a cursed quest across the universe looking for a Queen that would only usurp her.”

  “You make it sound like a lovely voyage.”

  Another quirk of the lips. “Perhaps, I, too, am searching for that which does not exist.”

  She sidled up to him and wound her hands around one of his biceps. She didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. “What does a man have to do to get muscles like this?” she purred.

  “I prefer the genuine. This façade does not become you.”

  Perceptive critter, wasn’t he? She sighed and dropped her hands. Running her fingers through her hair, she said, a bit exasperated, “That’s all the other men wanted. That’s all I have to give. Look, I just want to have sex with you. I’m not asking you to move in with me or anything.” Dumb, Nikki, dumb. He was already living with her.

  He patiently took both her hands so she couldn’t fidget with her hair. “Your childhood pictures are also a façade.”

  Her breath hissed out. “Why would you say that?”

  “There are no photos of your family displayed in your dwelling, not even in your sleeping chamber.”

  “I don’t like dusting.” She tugged at her hands.

  His eyes bored into hers. She saw a glimmer of sympathy there. She didn’t need it. How could he have guessed her innermost secret? She shook her head.

  He dropped her hands. “I shall not speak of it again.”

  She backed as far away from him as she could. “I thought you might like to go out to eat.” She kept her gaze lowered, anything to not meet those all-too-perceptive eyes. “I picked up some suitable clothes for you.”

  “This will not interfere with your job?”

  “No, no.” She waved her hand airily and the bracelets she placed there this morning tinkled like wind chimes.

  “I would be honored to accompany you. It is my duty to watch over you,” he reminded her.

  “I won’t run off again,” she promised. How was it that he could make her feel so guilty with just a few words? Sheesh, they could use him to reprogram convicts.

  “No, you won’t,” he replied in an even tone. “As I will be sharing your bed from now on. Your safety is paramount to my Queen.”

  Part of her thrilled at the prospect. The more independent side of her recoiled. “Now just wait a minute.”

  “It is nonnegotiable.” He left the room.

  How could you argue with that? She took off her shoe and flung it at his receding back.

  He spun and caught it neatly in midair. Taking it with him, he set it on a kitchen stool as he passed through there.

  “Where are you going?” she shouted. “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting me?”

  She only wanted a simple night out, a fine meal, a drink or two, maybe some dancing, and then a full all-night game of conquest in bed.

  “I will be downstairs,” he replied.

  Gritting her teeth, she took off her other shoe and padded stocking-footed into the kitchen. The man was maddening!

  Her packages lay untouched on the kitchen table. She felt her throat clog. How dare he pry into her family life!

  No, it hadn’t been perfect. Far from it. She was the middle child, with an older and younger brother. Her father, even after all these years she hesitated to think of him, liked women and he didn’t care if it was his own flesh and blood or not. Damn him, she thought coldly. She would not let him control her from the grave.

  She stood in the middle of her apartment and let the ache of loneliness wash over her. Her mother hadn’t believed her when she told her. And her brothers ostracized her because of it. And now the Dragoon had taken Adri away as well.

  The Beast simply became a reflection of those humiliations she couldn’t put into words. Somewhere in that mess, though, it had seemed to wash clean. She loved her bar. For the most part, she adored her clients. The breadth of their fetishes continued to amaze her. She provided a valuable service, a safe environment for people
to act out their fantasies and a place for those of like mind to meet and socialize.

  She opened up the kitchen cupboard. Luckily, she always kept a secret stash of sandwich cookies. Well, not so secret anymore, she realized when she saw that a whole row was missing. She hoped all those cookies made Quince sick to his stomach. Okay, no, she didn’t. She was more mad at herself than anyone else. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she take what Quince was offering?

  Taking out of a heavy-bottomed mug, she laid a cookie on the counter and calmly crushed it to bits with the mug, grinding it again and again until her hand hurt. Then she left the mess, flopped down on the living room couch and proceeded to work on eating an entire row herself.

  She heard a thump, but chalked it up to Quince rummaging around downstairs. He was probably sticking his nose into her office. Well, she was putting her foot down. Drop-dead gorgeous or not, he could march himself right back to the ship. She could find plenty of other men who wanted a no-strings-attached affair.

  But not a single one that could make her moan with a mere kiss.

  She headed back to the kitchen with a considerably lighter bag of cookies. And halted mid-step.

  A hound was busy nosing its way down her hallway. She could count every one of its ribs. Its skin, stretched taut along its spine, ended in a long snakelike tail.

  She dropped her bag of cookies.

  The hound backed out of the bathroom, its head swiveling toward her. She always thought she’d be able to scream in this kind of circumstance. She had mocked women in the movies who couldn’t seem to make a peep in a bad situation. Now she found herself making the same “uh, uh, uh” noise they did. Come on, she had a frickin’ great set of lungs.

  The hound’s gaze met hers. Don’t look. Its eyes were crimson, the color of her favorite wine. She trembled, backing away.

  Pulling a knife from the rack on the kitchen counter, she held it in front of her. The hound bounded from the floor to the countertop in one boneless jump. She screamed.

  The hound leaped at her.

  Gripping the knife in both hands, she swung at the hound as if it were a baseball. It dodged the blow. She lowered the knife and flung open the refrigerator door. The hound smacked into that. Where the hell was Quince?

  She screamed, “Quince!”

  She backed toward the door, still brandishing her kitchen knife, and hit something solid that shouldn’t have been there. Lungs now prepped, she screamed again. It was Quince.

  He pried the knife from her hand and flung it at the hound. It speared the animal in the side and pinned it to the kitchen island’s cabinet. Quince calmly walked up to it, pulled a knife from his boot and slit its throat.

  The hound yipped once.

  Nikki watched in stunned silence.

  He turned to her. “Where did it enter?”

  She continued to stare mutely.

  He gave her another moment to come to her senses. Fetching a garbage bag and a roll of paper toweling, he quickly cleaned up the mess.

  Quince fingered the knife hole in her cabinet. “Do you perchance have any wood filler?”

  “Oh sure.” She waved her hand. “Right next to the blood spot remover and the other dead animals I keep under the sink.”

  Dropping the bag, he took her hands and folded them between his. “Look at me.”

  She did. Who was Quince? Better still, what was he? She’d only seen a civilized man, a gorgeous hunk of a man. Right now she saw a killer. Someone who had just nonchalantly butchered a dog in her kitchen and just as casually sopped up the blood while worrying about a hole in her cabinet. She was so turned on it appalled her.

  His violet eyes watched her. Appraisingly? Well, she certainly proved her mettle there. Way to go, ace, good try killing it with the refrigerator door.

  When she didn’t speak, he said calmly, “Your instincts were good. You lack technique.”

  She hiccupped on a crazy giggle. “Thanks… I’ve never tried to kill anything…”

  He put a finger to her lips. “Where did it come from?”

  She steadied her breathing. “The bedroom.”

  “Stay here.” He headed for the back of her apartment.

  Like hell. From now on, she’d cling to him like lint on a sweater. She followed him despite the glare he gave her.

  Adrianne’s bedroom window was ajar. Quince closed and locked it. “I will need supplies. The windows must be properly secured.”

  She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. What if Quince had been sleeping here alone when the hound crept in? She’d have never forgiven herself. “I can take you to the hardware store. How would it have gotten the window open?”

  “Psi talents. They can unlock latches using their minds.”

  But of course. “Can you?”

  “No,” he said flatly. He drew the shade over the window, tucking it so the latch couldn’t be seen from the outside. “They are not the smartest creatures. This will be enough to give them pause.”

  Her second thought was how the hound managed to scale the two-story building. “They can crawl up walls?”

  “Yes, like a spider.”

  “How do you ever expect to beat them?”

  Another dark stare from Quince, then he relented. “We have our own talents. Navarre is the last of the high psis, super-talents whose skills leveled the playing field between the Hunter and ourselves. Altarre has some healing abilities.” He sat on the bed, his gaze faraway. “Our Queen’s talent will couple well with Navarre’s. Their children will be gifted. Thank the First Egg for that.”

  He looked so sad, but she didn’t know how to comfort him. “Adri’s smart. She won’t let the Hunter get her.”

  “We are expecting much from her, but she has yet to fly. If you worship a god, pray to it for her.” He abruptly stood.

  She couldn’t bear the look of quiet resignation on his face. Standing on tiptoe, she leaned up and kissed him.

  His arms wrapped around her so fast it wrest the air from her lungs. “I should not have left you alone,” he said, when they finally came up for air.

  Her fingers were tangled in his hair. She tilted his head down. “Kiss me again.”

  “I should not let you distract me from my duty.” He started to draw away.

  “Don’t.” She traced his jawline. “Please don’t.”

  She felt him relax just slightly. She ran her fingers down his arms, tracing the curves of his muscles. He let his breath out in a deep sigh. She looked at him through lowered lashes. “I can help you unwind,” she murmured.

  He let his fingers trail the length of her body, then settle at her breasts. Slowly, he traced their curves through her cotton blouse. She felt her nipples become instantly alert. “I let you distract me. It weakens me.”

  She shook her head. “Live a little.”

  His gaze went inward again, but his hands kept stroking her breasts. She wanted him in a way she never wanted a man before. She wanted to know what he was thinking, to soothe the hurt she saw hiding behind his eyes and fill that void she knew lurked there. That meant she was looking for a relationship. With Quince, that was both a scary and thrilling prospect.

  Touching his cheek, she brought him back to awareness. He paused, mid-stroke. She leaned into his hands. “Quince, let’s get the man stuff you need, lock this place up tighter than Fort Knox, get naked in bed and screw like bunnies.”

  His lips curved. “A warrior knows best when to replenish his fire.”

  * * * * *

  Several hours later, the windows were either sealed shut or at least boarded up to the point that nothing could figure out how to conjure its way through the glass.

  “I didn’t realize how many windows I had,” Nikki muttered. She surveyed her hands. Her fingernails would never be the same. They had even boarded up the tiny windows in her basement, caulked shut the old coal chute and changed the locks on several of the doors she didn’t think to have her handyman change. Adrianne’s bedroom window was nailed
shut.

  Her body was thoroughly exhausted, but her mind was vibrating with the thought of sex. What would it be like with Quince? He had an almost brooding persona, but working with him had shown that to be not quite true. He was as much a thinker as Adri, only he kept his worries to himself, hidden beneath that aura of calm. Whether he dwelled on one topic, picking it to oblivion as Adri did, had not yet manifested.

  When he moved, it was with the grace of a dancer, although she doubted he’d appreciate the comparison. His gaze saw everything, measured and filed it away. She almost thought he’d guessed what her father had done to her so many years ago, but, as promised, he didn’t mention it again.

  She fingered her short hair. Her father had liked it long. Even her dress had been inspired by her father’s interest in her. He preferred soft rounded curves and a schoolgirl-type aura. Nikki quickly learned to par away the excess fat, hone her body until the curves were barely there and dress so like a man or a prostitute that all thoughts of virginness fled. He cast her aside when she was fifteen.

  Quince stepped from the bathroom freshly showered, the dust and sweat of today’s exertions washed away. Jeans, t-shirt, bare feet. A suit and tie would have done him injustice. “Do you still wish to dine out tonight?”

  His eyes glowed, embers of a carnal fire banked within their depths. Her body turned to liquid beneath his gaze. “Do you have another idea?”

  “Yes.”

  How could a single word possess so much emotion? She was desperately wet. Two could play the game, but hers now seemed like a cheap imitation. She tried a different tactic. “I want you,” she said bluntly. No purr to her voice now, no sway to her hips or batting of eyelashes.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I had not guessed.”

  She choked on a curse. “Very funny. I’m serious.”

  “I have no doubt you are.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are we to do about it?”

  “You have plans. Why don’t you take control?” He had no idea what it cost her to say those words.

  He gave her a measuring look. “Shave. Everywhere. I will prepare our meal.”

  That command alone almost put her over the edge.