by Keary Taylor
I fix him with a look, but he only smiles again.
“But she’s family, has been for a long time.” And now I see the genuine spark in his eyes. “And then, two: your husband had my father killed, pretty brutally, a long time ago.”
Bam.
Smack me in the face.
My blood chills and I feel my expression slacken.
“Don’t worry, doll face,” Christian says. “You didn’t do it.”
I don’t know what to say or how to react. But thankfully I’m saved when someone else walks into the ballroom.
“So this is the woman who put Mom and Dad into such a tizzy.”
The man looks terrifying. Honestly.
His hair is bleached blond-white, but his features are sharp, hawk-like. His eyes are dark. His lips set in a thin line. I’m pretty sure he could cut me clean through with his gaze.
But he smiles this…smile. Wicked and gleaming.
Mom and Dad…he certainly doesn’t look like he should be calling them that. He looks like he’s close to forty.
“If you have any issues with my presence, you can file an official complaint to Roter Himmel,” I say, straightening, fixing him with my own gaze.
The look in his eyes changes, and his smile does, too.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my Queen,” he says, bowing deep before me. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I stand straight, tall. Rising above and reminding myself of who I am.
“Wow, Smith,” Christian says. “Think you can grovel any deeper?”
Smith looks over to Christian, his eyes darkening. “She may be Alivia’s daughter. And she may look like she should be in high school. But I will not forget who she really is, mate. I don’t see the harm in showing respect to the Queen who rules over us all.”
Christian’s expression falters. His eyes slide over to me, and look doubtful, maybe slightly fearful. And he tips forward in an awkward little bow.
Over the other noises of the house, my ears pick up on voices. Upstairs, to the north end of the house.
They’re yelling.
My brows furrow.
“Like I said, you put Mom and Dad in a tizzy,” Smith says, raising one eyebrow.
I look over at Elle in confusion.
“I think Alivia told Ian that your first meeting didn’t go quite as expected,” she says. “This,” she waves a hand in their direction, “is just how they communicate sometimes.”
“And somehow they’ve stayed married?” I question.
“They say make up sex is the best sex for a reason,” Christian says.
“Seriously?” Elle yells at him, her brows furrowing in annoyance. “That is my brother.”
He just shrugs and chuckles.
“The way those two fight every other week, it must be truly great,” Smith says as he tucks his hands into his pockets. He turns as if to leave. “If you need anything, you let me know, my Queen.”
There’s dark devotion in his eyes when he says it. And I can tell he means it.
“Thank you,” is all I can give him.
As he walks out of the ballroom, I see two faces poke around the corner. Nervous whispers find their way to my ears.
“It’s okay,” Elle says, sounding slightly exasperated. “You two can come out.”
Around the corner, two women nervously walk out. Their eyes are bright, they don’t seem to know what to do with their hands, and they’re giggling and giddy.
“Is…is it really true?” the first asks. But she directs her question at Elle. “The Queen has really returned?”
Elle looks at me, and raises an eyebrow.
“It is,” I say, feeling exasperated.
This is freaking exhausting sometimes.
They both let out a loud squeal, one of them actually jumping up and down.
“This is seriously so exciting,” the other says. “We have heard stories, and oh, it’s just so tragic and romantic. I loved hearing about you and Cyrus when I was a kid.”
“Where is he?” the other asks. “Are you two planning a big wedding again? I can’t even imagine how amazing it must be to be together again after so long!”
“Girls,” a firm but gentle voice says. I look past them and see a man step into view. He wears a blue suit. Extremely light strawberry blond hair sits atop his head. “Give your greetings to Logan, and let her be.”
They give me another excited look and squeal. “I’m Stephanie,” one pipes up as she enthusiastically shakes my hand. “Nikki,” the other says, making a breathy little sound when she shakes mine. “If you need anything, we’re your girls.”
With more squeals and giggles, they both scamper away.
“That was delightful,” I say as I watch them go.
The man crosses the ballroom. “I apologize for them,” he says. He’s British, immediately given away by his accent. “I guess there’s been too much anticipation for them since they learned of your arrival a few days ago.”
He stops in front of me. His ice blue eyes are inquisitive, but they are kind. Open.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, though, Sevan,” he says as he takes a little bow in front of me. “After all this time… It’s an honor.”
“Please,” I blush. “Just…call me Logan, for now.”
“Logan,” he concedes with a little tip of his head. “I am Nial Jarvis. Welcome to the House of Conrath.”
“Nial is a doctor,” Elle continues the introduction. “He supplies pretty much everyone here with donor blood. And he takes charge of the House whenever Alivia has to travel.”
“I do what I can for Alivia,” Nial says. There’s a certain humility about the man. It’s refreshing. “She is family to me.”
Family.
There’s that word Edmond kept using when talking about the House of Conrath.
“It’s nice to meet you, Nial,” I say. And I actually mean that.
The fighting upstairs winds down, the words coming fewer and farther between. All our eyes rise to the ceiling when we hear a door open.
My heart jumps into my throat.
I hear footsteps, just one set of them, walk through the halls upstairs. And then I hear them pad down the stairs.
And then a moment later, Alivia rounds into the foyer.
We stand there for a long moment, just looking at each other.
“I know you’ve gotten what you came for,” she says quietly. “But please, Logan. Will you please stay for a while?” There’s emotion in her voice. She keeps control over it, though. Just barely. “Can you please…can you please give me a second chance?”
I swallow once, because it’s the only way to get my heart back under control. Tentatively, I take one step forward. My eyes rise from the floor, up to her face.
“I…” I sigh. I really don’t know how the hell to say what I feel. “I shouldn’t have freaked out on you like I did earlier. I wasn’t being fair. I…” My voice trails off again, and I feel a little hollow inside. “I’m kind of a mess right now.”
I still don’t apologize. But it’s the best I can do right now.
She crosses the space, and stops just a few feet in front of me. Slowly my eyes rise up to hers again.
“That’s okay,” she says. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, we’re all kind of a mess here.”
An emotional, appreciative laugh huffs out of my lips. And I finally let her, as Alivia wraps her arms around my back and hugs me.
I hesitate. I shouldn’t. I never imagined I would. But I stand there for several long seconds with my arms hanging at my sides.
It’s all different.
Every bit of it.
Different than I ever imagined.
But it’s okay to not be okay.
To not be how I imagined.
For things to be different.
Finally, I raise my arms, and wrap them around my birth mother.
I let my eyes slide closed. I press my face into her hair. The hair that is the same shade as
mine. I hug her frame that is slighter than my own, and also a little taller. But as my heart beats in my chest, it tells me the truth.
We have our similarities. We have our major differences.
But this is the woman who carried me inside of her for nine months. This is the woman who didn’t abort me, whatever the circumstances were in the beginning. It’s the woman who did what was best by knowing there was another family who could give me a better life than she could.
Thank you, the thought rolls through my head.
I can’t voice it. Because I’m the same salty Logan I was a week and a half ago.
But I can admit it to myself.
“Second chances,” I say instead.
Alivia hugs me tighter for a moment before releasing me. She smiles, appreciation and emotion shining in her eyes.
Footsteps on the stairs draw my eyes back to the entryway. Alivia turns as well, and we both see as a man rounds the stairs and turns toward the ballroom.
There’s hardness in his eyes. Doubt. Questioning. His lips are pressed into a thin line and his jaw is tight.
I know exactly who this is and what he and Alivia were just fighting about.
He doesn’t like me.
Ian Ward is medium height, but his body is honed. Muscled arms, a broad, thick chest. Various scars line his arms. His brown hair is quite a bit lighter than Alivia’s. He’s attractive. In a backwater, rugged type of way.
“Logan,” Alivia says. There’s a stubborn tone to her voice and she lifts her chin just slightly. “This is my husband, Ian.”
I hear him let out a hard breath through his nose. His left hand curls into a fist and the set of his lips thins out even more.
Ian Ward is hot-headed. I’ve not even spoken a single word to him and I can already tell.
But he takes a step forward, and then another to cross the ballroom. He extends a hand. I make sure I stare him down, show him that I don’t give a damn what he thinks of me, as I shake his.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ian,” I say. I want to add, I’ve heard a lot about you, because I have, but I’m trying to be mature and act like the Queen I’m remembering. So I keep the words sealed, safe and sound, behind my lips.
“Logan,” is all he says, an acknowledgement. He stares me down.
But I see a warring of emotions. Anger. Distrust. But also…reverence.
“I guess you’ve already met some of the House members,” Alivia says, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me away from her distrusting husband. “And Elle.”
I nod. “I totally get why she’s Cyrus’ favorite,” I say with a wink in her direction. “And Christian was very…friendly. And then there was Smith.”
Alivia gives a little smile and chuckle, as if she totally gets why I didn’t have a word to say more about him.
I’m still not sure how to take him.
“Do you mind if I introduce you to everyone else?” she asks, her eyes unsure. “We were about to eat dinner.”
I nod.
Time to stop being a baby.
I’ve met thousands of new people throughout my lives. I’ve dealt with people who wanted to kill me. People who cursed my name.
I can handle Alivia’s House.
“It’s dinner time!” Alivia says, raising her voice. With a smile, she holds her hand out toward the formal dining room.
Side by side, we walk in. She sits at the head of the table. Ian sits beside her, and I take the seat on her other side.
Ian keeps watching me. His eyes bore into me, as if he can read what kind of a person I am off my skin.
I only offer him a polite look every now and then.
Christian immediately follows us, Stephanie and Nikki aren’t far behind, with more whispers and amazed looks in my direction. Nial sits at the other end of the table, shooting the women annoyed glares that yell get a grip.
Three more women wander in, all of them fierce looking. Rath joins a moment later. And that sets everyone into words of surprise and welcome home.
And then Elle comes around the corner, and walking next to her, is a young girl.
My heart flutters.
She’s young. So, so young.
Ten years old.
But here she is, human as her mother at the moment. She walks with confidence, and it’s obvious she knows what all of us are. But she’s not afraid. She looks absolutely comfortable and at ease.
Her hair is blonde, but as the light hits it, I swear I see the faintest trace of strawberry in it. Her nose is tilted up just a tad, her cheeks are just beginning to lose the roundness of baby padding.
She looks a lot like her mother.
She’s precious.
I scoot my chair out and turn to her, rising to my feet.
“Aster, this is Logan,” Elle says. “She’s aunt Liv’s daughter.”
Aster gives me a shy smile, looking me up and down. “You look just like aunt Livy.”
I smile. “That’s what everyone says.”
“My friend Annika was adopted,” she says. “But she got to see her first mom lots. It would have been nice if you could have done that, too. I always wanted cousins.”
Both Elle and Alivia make noises, to stop her, or just noises of surprise.
“You know, that would have been nice,” I say with a smile. I reach out and she takes my hand. “I had cousins on my adopted dad’s side, but they lived really far away in Virginia so we only got to see each other every other year or so. But I think it would have been nice to spend time with you, too.”
Aster smiles. And my heart cracks.
She’s so sweet. Just like her mom.
“I heard my other cousin is sleeping,” she says. “When will he wake up so I can meet him, too?”
A little chuckle bubbles up from my chest, and I smile, my entire soul warming. “I’ve never done something like this before, but I’ve been told he’ll be awake in about twelve hours. I’m sure he’ll be excited to meet you.”
Aster Dawes smiles, big. Showing off two missing teeth.
I smile and look up at Elle.
And just then, I think my heart grows three sizes.
Elle guides her to a seat, and everyone sits as the cook and another woman bring dishes to the table. The room fills with the scent of food, and my mouth waters.
“I’ll admit,” I say as I begin dishing up food, after Christian starts us off. “I’ve heard talk about the House of Conrath from Cyrus, Rath, the House of Valdez. It’s smaller than I expected.”
“This is only a third of us,” Alivia says. “Eight are in Florida at the moment, dealing with a few small issues. And the others are in the region, keeping things in check. In all, there are twenty-six in the House of Conrath.”
I look around the table. Christian, Nial, Smith, Stephanie, and Nikki.
“Oh,” Alivia says. “Right, you haven’t met quite everyone. Logan, this is Pearl,” she says pointing to a woman with dyed silver hair. She gives me this little two-fingered salute. “And Leigh. She’s our acting attorney.”
Leigh is curvy and dark and beautiful. She offers a little smile.
“And Anna,” Alivia says, nodding toward the woman sitting beside Nial. Dark brown hair and pouty lips make her beautiful. “She’s my head of security.”
Anna doesn’t give me more notice than one little look in my direction.
“And everyone, you already know, but this is Logan,” Alivia says awkwardly.
“Also known as Queen of all vampires,” Leigh says. But her tone is impressed, in a go girl kind of way. She winks at me.
I sigh. I really don’t know how to deal with all this attention.
“Pretty impressive,” Anna says as she dishes her food. “The fact that Alivia hid that you exist from all of us for sixteen years.”
“They didn’t…” I trail off, looking toward Alivia.
She shakes her head. “No one knew,” she says. “Except for Rath and Ian.”
I nod. I’m not sure how to process that.
“Food,” a voice suddenly says from outside the dining room. It echoes around the foyer, throughout the house, and I actually jump. “I smell food.”
A boy wanders into the dining room. He looks young, slightly younger than myself. Sandy blond hair. His eyes are slightly bloodshot.
He walks in wearing nothing at all except a pair of boxers.
“Cameron!” Alivia says in part horror, part humor. “I think you’re forgetting something.”
He looks around, as if confused. And then with an expression of cleverness, like he’s just figured it out, he grabs the last plate from the table. He nods his head in her direction and winks.
He’s high. No doubt about it, he’s high.
I can smell the pot on him.
I take every bit of this in in just a second.
But none of it matters. Because my eyes lock on his bare chest.
The word TRAITOR was carved into his skin at some point. It’s now healed into red and white scars, but there the words are, big and bold and roughly hewn into his very skin.
Just below that, there’s the Conrath crest, burned into his skin. Just like Alivia’s.
This Cameron was tortured.
“Tell me where he is,” Cyrus seethed. He held the glowing metal blade just to the side of the man’s face. I could smell his skin begin to smolder, the hairs on his face burning. He hissed in pain, his face contorting with it.
“I told you, as far as I know he was killed twenty years ago,” the man pleaded. He struggled against the guard, fighting to get away from the branding that was coming that would permanently mark his face.
“Oh, but he apparently was not,” Cyrus hissed next to his ear. “For three of my men were found down by the lake, decapitated, their scalps removed. No other kills one of us in that manner. So tell me, where is he?”
“I told you, he’s dead!” the man screamed.
Cyrus gave a bellow and pressed the glowing blade to the side of his face. I winced as I looked away.
I hated this. Every second of it. The levels Cyrus would resort to…
But I could not stop it.
Not when it was over something this important.
But the man’s screams…
“Just because he is dead does not mean it wasn’t one of the others!” the man sobbed. “There were three of them that you did not kill. I told you, this one is dead, but there are still two others it could be.”