“Yes,” Elijah admitted quietly.
“For your second sign, though it is true the female of an Imprinting often takes on the eye color of her intended mate, sometimes it is hair color or even their mate’s powers. And the change can come to either the male or the female. It is exactly this kind of alteration, I assure you,” he said, indicating the warrior’s hair. “In my case, Legna gained my eye color. As for the Enforcers, and Kane and Corrine, in their cases, with a Demon/Druid Imprinting, it is the awakening of the Druid’s powers that takes place.”
“And the third is the telepathy between the couple,” Elijah finished for him. “The ability to be in constant mental contact with the other person.” Elijah made a sound of frustration, smacking an abusive palm into his forehead. “Now I understand why I feel like I can still hear her voice. Why we always seemed to know what the other was thinking or feeling without saying anything. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it myself.”
“It takes time for it to become strong between Druids and Demons. Perhaps it is the same for any Imprinting across species.”
Elijah laughed at that, but the sound was terribly painful and Gideon felt a reflexive response in the back of his mind from his wife. Hard as she tried, she could not cut herself off from him completely, and he felt that she had wanted to leave them in privacy. It was one of her foibles, this notion of privacy, that he would not understand any time soon. Privacy was not a Demon concept. It was a human one. Where she had picked it up was beyond him.
Do not worry, sweet, he assured her softly. He will recover from this shock just as you did when you discovered I was to be your mate.
Who said I recovered? she teased him. But he felt the sadness beneath her humor. It will be so hard for them, for so many reasons.
It always is, he agreed gently.
Gideon turned his full attention back to the warrior. He had moved to a window and was staring down at the manicured grounds outside of it.
“Correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t this whole thing against the law?” he asked, a corner of his mouth lifting in a wry smile.
“That did not stop you from taking her to your bed,” Gideon remarked.
Elijah swore softly, the sharp term aimed at Gideon’s cold attitude. “Is there anything you don’t have an answer for?” he bit out.
“Elijah, I am being direct for a reason,” Gideon said. “The Hallowed moon of Samhain is not five nights away. You will not be able to keep from her on this night. You do realize this, do you not?”
Elijah’s answer was another bluish string of words. His temper got the better of him and he grabbed the nearest object and threw it across the room, where it shattered against the stone wall.
“Damn! Damn it!” Elijah whirled to face the medic, his fists clenched so tightly they were turning white. “She’s going to hate me. Do you understand that? You know her better than any of us and you know she is going to hate me for this.”
“Only in the beginning,” Gideon assured the other man with surprising gentleness. “And it will be resistance and fear, not hatred. Trust me on this.”
Elijah understood what the Ancient was telling him. He had been through this very situation himself. He’d had to win his mate over on many levels himself.
Her. Her friends. Her family.
But the difference was, all of Legna’s friends and family knew about the permanence of the Imprinting and the futility of fighting it. Siena might know something about it from what she had heard and seen from Gideon and Legna living in her court, but experiencing it firsthand was going to be difficult, and explaining it to a society who didn’t believe in such things was going to be nearly impossible.
“I will do what I can to help, Elijah,” Gideon offered magnanimously. He had known Siena the longest of them all, a fact Elijah tried not to feel slighted by. But if anyone could make her see light, it would be Gideon.
“I appreciate that. And do it soon, Gideon. I need to see her, to talk to her. Before I end up tearing into her bedroom with nothing but animal lust on my mind. She has to understand this. If she doesn’t…” Elijah turned back to his window, sighing as he rested his forehead against the glass. “If she doesn’t, to her mind I will be taking her against her will.”
Gideon understood that better than Elijah thought he did. Siena was made of proud and stubborn stuff. As long as she resisted the inevitable, any move Elijah made toward her would be seen as hostile. The more that happened, the harder it would be to regain the lost ground and connect them. The worst shortcoming of an Imprinting was that it usually occurred close to those urgent holy days. It was as if nature was giving them a few days to get a grip, but would have her way in the end. And that end would come quickly.
“She found me in the forest, frightened away my attackers before they could finish me off. She carried me to shelter, tended my wounds, fed and cared for me…” Elijah paused to flick a startling emerald gaze up to the medic. “And then she turned my entire existence inside out. What a hell of a way to thank her for her hospitality.” He paused, rubbing a finger at a smudge on the window. “And what about Jacob? Noah? The law? Remember? ‘The dog does not lie with the cat. The cat does not lie with the mouse.’ And that’s only one out of about a dozen purity laws this is breaking.”
“The Imprinting is not something you can resist or avoid, so if it has happened, you can hardly be held to blame,” Gideon remarked. “If you recall, there are a great many laws we have needed to rethink over this past year. If we have learned one thing this annum, it is that our ancestors tended to interpret prophecy the way they wanted it to be interpreted. We may not be the dogs to her cats, Elijah. She is a powerful Nightwalker female. She is intelligent and just as prone to her animal instincts as we are. She may have different traditions, but her people celebrate the exact same holy days we do. It may turn out that we were never any more different from one another than we allowed ourselves to be.”
“But Jacob…”
“As I recall, there was a night about a year ago where you stopped Jacob from making what, by law, was an enormous mistake. That law has since changed. Elijah, our world as we know it is in flux. None of us who are your friends will beat you with criticism. This is a time of temperament and change. A time of special destinies. You would do well to remember that.”
Gideon lowered his head and lifted a corner of his mouth in a smile as his wife’s praise for his uncommon tolerance whispered through his thoughts.
“I would, however, make a point of speaking to Noah relatively soon,” he added. “It would be better coming from you as soon as possible…before someone else figures it out.”
Elijah turned to look at the Ancient. After a moment, he simply nodded.
CHAPTER 8
Gideon approached the locked doors of the Queen’s inner sanctum, giving the guards a smile that dared them to gainsay him. The Minotaurs had fought Gideon once before, though not truly in earnest, but it was enough to make them understand that the Demon was not only not to be messed with, but also allowed privileges to the Queen that no one else would have dared to assume. Not only that, but the medic could astral project into the chamber if he wanted to. It would be like trying to capture a ghost.
Gideon rapped his knuckles against the door and waited for a response. He ignored his wife’s voice in his head as she cooed to him about how pleasing it was to see he had at last learned the concept of knocking.
One does not do otherwise when royalty is involved, he remarked dryly.
Oh, and no one else but royalty deserves the courtesy? she argued.
Foreign royalty, he added.
Ah, yes. A sense of privacy is not the Demon way, she mocked him with another of her light, pretty laughs.
“Come,” came the resigned call from inside, the locks tumbling as someone inside freed them.
Gideon put aside his playful mental argument with his mate and focused on the task at hand.
Siena was seated at her loom, her hands deftly sh
ooting the shuttle back and forth at a speed and degree of precision that only someone with supernatural reflexes could manage. She did not look up, and Gideon suspected he knew why. There were two waiting women in the room, but it was clear they had been ordered to a fair distance from the moody Queen and were more than happy to obey.
“Leave us,” the Queen said without looking up, sending the servants scurrying out into the hall as Gideon closed the door. “Do you think it wise to attend the Queen in her bedchamber in the plain sight of all her subjects, medic?”
“Better to do so openly than in astral form. Tongues would wag then for sure, and I am not certain my wife would hold her significant patience for very long should she overhear such gossip. Ambassador or not, an insult to you of this inference would also be an insult to me, and she would not likely stand for it.”
“Yes,” Siena agreed. “I have come to know Legna quite well. She is not one to bear an unjust incident in silence. It makes her a good ambassador for your people, and her patience makes her a good one for mine. She and thee have changed many stubborn minds these past months of your residence among us.” The Queen’s shuttle continued to fly between her threads. “But I do not imagine you came here to discuss your wife or court gossip trends.”
“No. I did not.”
“Then speak, medic.”
“I should first like to ask at what point it was that I changed from ‘Gideon’ to ‘medic,’” Gideon queried archly.
The shuttle stopped, held in the Queen’s hand for a long, thought-filled moment.
“My apologies,” she said softly, setting her work aside and turning to look at him. When he stepped closer, however, she turned her gaze to the floor and to the right, her hand gathering together the material of her collared gown around her throat.
“Siena, my powers may have very little effect on you, but I have eyes in my head and a sense of smell as good as most of your kind. I know the scent of the man you now carry as well as I know my own, and when I went to heal him three days ago, I recognized your mark on him. It does not take a genius to notice how you are concealing yourself beneath these clothes, surrounding yourself with half-bred Lycanthrope handmaidens whose senses do not include a heightened sense of smell.”
“You are too shrewd, med—Gideon,” she said, her voice distinctly hoarse. “Hopefully shrewd enough to tell me how to get out of this predicament.”
Siena looked up, releasing her hold on her clothing, and Gideon drew in a soft breath of shock. He had been not been expecting to see Siena’s bared throat. He had never seen her without her collar of office and had lived at the court long enough to know the significance of the legend and mysticism that accompanied the thick piece of jewelry.
He had been correct from the moment he had entertained the idea of this unusual Imprinting, but it was still quite something else to see the evidence of it growing in such leaps and bounds right before his eyes. A Demon Imprinting on a Lycanthrope? It should have been impossible, and yet, here it was, plain as could be, flickering with emotion between both sets of the Queen’s golden lashes.
Gideon advanced on her, looking into her with his power as best he could, sorting through her alien physiology. He could not affect her much as far as the ability to heal was concerned, but he had lived in the court of the Lycanthropes for five years once before, and during that time had learned how to read enough to distinguish the normal from the abnormal.
Elijah’s stamp was all over her. Being apart from each other these three days was clearly taking its toll on the beautiful Queen, just as it was taking its toll on the warrior back home. She was paler than usual, clearly out of spirits, and though she fought it, clearly yearning for her inconceivable intended.
“Gideon, if you owe me anything for the kind treatment I gave you when my father imprisoned you all those years ago, you will repay me by stopping this.”
The request was as desperate as the uncontrollable tone of her voice.
“I am powerful, Siena,” he said softly, “but no one is powerful enough to overthrow Destiny. From what I have seen of Elijah, and now of you, she has made her choice and it will simply have to be accepted.”
“Simply?” The Queen surged to her feet, beginning to pace in a way that set her long, silky gown into a float around her calves and bare feet. “There is nothing simple about this and you know it as well as I. A Demon ambassador is one thing, and that alone hard enough to get my people to accept, but a Demon King for the Lycanthrope throne? Elijah and I would be slaughtered on the spot if I ever dared force such an abominable union upon my species. Not to mention the fact that I am aware it breaks about half a dozen of your people’s laws as well. And I cannot even begin to tell you my personal outrage over the entire mess or I will drop dead from a stroke!”
“What you fail to understand, Siena, is that every law has its exceptions. For my people, the Imprinting supersedes all else because it is a demand of nature in its purest form, and unlike law, not open to interpretation.”
“Imprinting?” The Queen stopped pacing, a numb laugh jumping out of her as her hand went to her bare throat. “A Lycanthrope? Imprinting is a Demon condition. A Demon hell, if you ask my opinion about it. No offense to you and yours, Gideon, but I would rather spend the rest of my life as a fungus than be so much a part of another being!”
“What you are neglecting to realize, Siena, is that you do not have a choice in the matter.”
“Oh, as long as there is breath in my body there is a choice!” the Queen snapped, marching up to Gideon with fire in her glowing eyes. “It may be irresistible to you Demons, but I am a Lycanthrope of incredible power and I will use all of that power to fight this thing! Imprinting? Ha! Try imprisoning. I have seen you and your mate, Gideon. How can you bear it, this constant need you have to be in each other’s presence?”
Siena paused, color flaring into her cheeks as she rubbed an absent palm over her stomach. The sky blue material of her dress tangled around her legs as she turned to continue pacing once more, but she strode through the confinement.
“I have been on my own since the day I was born,” she hissed, not even aiming the comments at Gideon anymore. She was looking up to the ceiling, and it was more like she was crying out in rage to her Goddess. “My father wanted nothing to do with children. War was his legacy. My sister was ill so often as a child that I was never allowed near her. After the genetic virus that altered her, she was sent to The Pride to be trained. My life was this court. After Mother died, I was left to tend the court while Father traipsed around the world trying to hunt down your people and pick fights with them. No rhyme, no reason that I ever knew of. Just hatred and prejudice.
“So my life has seen thousands of people constantly moving in and out of it, but none coming too close. Every moment of every day since I was a child has been this way. This court and every single soul that passed through it. I was a Queen, even when I was only a Princess. So I have, in a sense, ruled my people all on my own for one hundred fifty years. I will never take a mate, no matter what you and your Imprinting think to force on me! I will never force my people to accept such a blasphemous insult to our throne.
“Even if they could accept a Demon for their King, do you think that they would ever accept the man they refer to as the Demon Butcher? The peace we have worked so hard for will be destroyed instantly. Frankly, my people did not truly enjoy the idea of their Queen getting into bed with Demons figuratively—they most certainly will not accept it literally!”
“And you are so positive about this? Are you certain it is your people’s reaction that is frightening you?”
“Frightening?” Siena stopped to whirl around and glare at him. “You come into my home, my private chambers, and now you insult me?”
“If you wish to see it that way. However, your efforts to push me away are unnecessary. You need only ask and I will accept your dismissal.”
Gideon watched the seething Queen closely, aware of Legna’s ready attention in his
mind. Siena’s fingers were curling into fists and she was literally shaking with her emotions. Able to see and hear everything through her mate’s eyes, Legna was aware of how volatile the situation was.
“Your condescension serves no purpose but to anger me, medic. You wish dismissal? Consider it accomplished. You and your nosey mate can consider yourselves banned from this court until I say otherwise!”
“Siena,” Gideon warned quietly, “you will feel foolish for doing this in a few days’ time.”
“Out!” Siena’s wild shout brought guards in through the door. “Get out! I will not tolerate this!”
The guards, seeing their Queen upset and so out of character, didn’t care if Gideon was a frightfully skillful fighter who had already bested them once. They would still defend her honor and her wishes to their last breath. It was clearly in their stances as their fur bristled and bullish nostrils flared.
Gideon listened to the soft feminine voice in his head, her skill in diplomacy quite unique and effective. His direct manner often upset people, and perhaps he had misjudged by not bringing Legna’s softer touch along. But he had never seen the Queen act irrationally, so it had simply not occurred to him that she might. He heeded Legna’s pleas and sketched a slow, respectful bow to the Queen.
“As you wish,” he said softly, a moment before his wife snatched him up into the soft pop of a teleport, preventing him from any residual temper or action that would come to be regretted later as well.
Siena turned to her guards.
“In an hour you will take a contingent to their dwelling and ascertain that they are no longer there. If they are, you will hurry them along, but they are not to be harmed. Not one hair, do you understand me? This is not to be construed as a hostile separation, merely a temporary distancing so I can concentrate on state matters without the presence of any Demons interfering with me.”
Elijah: The Nightwalkers Page 17