Beyond The Sun

by Sandra Bischoff

  “You are, at times, infuriating. A downright plague upon the senses, but when all is said and done, no other male could hold a candle to you. Your ability to satisfy me, my overwhelming Zephyr, is what keeps me coming back for more.”

  Using the hold he had on her as well as the one she had in his hair, Absinthe spun them around until they faced the body-length mirror. Her gaze leveled with his. “You may take what you want, use me as you wish, and leave, but we both know you’ll come back. You always come back to me, as I do you.”

  Absinthe reached up with one hand and laid his grip around her neck. She leaned back against him, molding the length of her body from shoulders to buttocks, and gave his hand one hard squeeze, tightening his grip around her throat. “Do you mean to make good on your word, vampire, or is this a game you play?”

  He hissed. His upper lip curled up on one side to expose a long dangerous fang. This woman loved to play rough. It was why they were so good together. With the two of them, pleasure and pain went hand in hand.

  “Have you ever known me to bluff, Absinthe?” He ground out, dipping his head and raking his fangs across the tender skin covering her jugular. He felt her pulse quicken under his teeth and pressed harder, pricking the skin. He ran his tongue up her neck in one quick movement to seal the tiny wounds.

  Zephyr spun her around, capturing both of her wrists above her head in one of his hands. He pressed her back into the cool mirror, his knee parting her thighs and pressing into her. His other hand came up and cupped her breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching her pearled nipple between them.

  “You, unsatisfied? Perish the thought.” He growled an inch from her face. He fought to control the overwhelming urge to claim her. “I would never dream of leaving you wanting. Tell me what you want.” He bit her lower lip, his fang slicing the surface so he could sample her. “Tell me, Absinthe.”

  “What I want, what I crave, you cannot give me.”

  She wriggled one hand free from his and wrapped her fingers around the nape of his neck. She bit roughly into her tongue, opening a wound, and pressed her mouth to his. Her tongue ventured into his mouth. Her blood pooled under his tongue.

  Moving her hand from his neck, she traced the main artery in his neck with her thumbnail and whispered against his mouth, “But I’ll settle for this. I’ll settle for the sweet taste of your blood upon my tongue, the heat of it flooding my veins. I want your infuriating male scent to engulf me, to linger so thick it feels like I may suffocate.” She would have settled for much more from him, but unfortunately, Zephyr didn’t hold the keys to the kingdom she sought, he merely guarded them.

  “I want for you to know a simple fact.” She stared directly into his eyes and dropped off her tiptoes, making intimate contact with his leg once again. Drawing up her knee, she nudged his thickening bulge. “You may not bluff,” her fingers tightened around his throat, “but I do. Always have, always will, and I never plan to stop.”

  Using the mirror for added leverage, she pushed her body against his and drove him backward toward the ottoman. The backs of his knees buckled. He sat abruptly and she released his throat, wrenching her other hand free from his grip.

  Absinthe spread his legs and stepped between them. His gaze raked every inch of her flesh. He licked the remainder of her blood from his lips. To say he was enjoying the torture would be putting it mildly. Absinthe had a way of turning the tables, taking control of the situation. She overwhelmed his senses; the only thing he could focus on was her. He hated the fact he was drawn to her. She was the epitome of forbidden fruit. From her glowing passion filled eyes which still had a secret buried in them, to the heat of her, clenching around him fulfilling their inner hungers, he was totally at her mercy.

  “The fact is, when I say one thing, there is always a hidden meaning. If I say I want something, then there is always, irrevocably, something else I want as well.” She tipped his chin up, challenge in her eyes. “I think I find myself enjoying you at this level. On your knees would be so much more delightful,” she said, and tapped the tip of his nose.

  Zephyr was about to pull her to him when she verbally slapped him, putting him back in his place. His face hardened. “You know I am always happy to take care of your wants. I am yours to command, remember? One of the many perks of being in the employ of the Royal Family.”

  He pushed her back and stood to tower over her again. He was tiring of the game. Absinthe knew how to throw water on a fire, especially one of her making. “Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll try not to sully you with my unworthiness.” He left her standing in the closet and crossed to the bed, shoving his boots on.

  Absinthe stayed behind, dressing quickly. Leaving the closet, her eyes darted to where he sat. “For one who wishes to remain aloof, you offend far too easily. As for your supposed unworthiness,” she paused, noting he was ignoring her.

  Walking briskly, she tipped his head up to her. “You know I would not choose just anyone to share my bed...or my blood.” She swiped her thumb across his bottom lip and whispered, “You're about as far from unworthy as you can get.” She pulled away and began searching for her cell phone.

  He planted both feet firmly on the floor. Did she honestly think he was gullible? The heir to the throne expected him to believe she wouldn’t take another to her bed. Sure she wouldn’t. He wasn’t fool enough to take her word for what it was. If she found another who served a better purpose, his ass would be shoved to the curb, and he damned well knew it.

  “Spare me the insult, Absinthe. I’m only as worthy as your next scheme.” His cell phone buzzed. He growled at the timing and pulled it from his jacket. Frowning at the restricted number, he silenced the call and shoved it back in his pocket.

  He stared at the ceiling and counted slowly to get his anger in check. This wasn’t how he wanted to let things to end this evening. He wanted them to share something more than this. He was on the verge of telling her when the phone buzzed again. This time he recognized the name, it wouldn’t be ignored.

  He pushed up from the bed and walked over the stand behind her. Zephyr laid his hands gently on her shoulders. “Absinthe, I have to go. Your father summons me. We shall finish this later.” He released her and grabbed his tux jacket from the back of a chair on his way to the door. “For the record, this is not how I wanted this night to end.”

  Absinthe didn't respond. But the second his shoulders passed the doorframe, she sneered, “By all means, go to the puppet master. Let him pull your strings yet again.”

  Nine

  IT WAS WELL AFTER THREE IN THE MORNING when Jared’s car pulled up to the Gates to Divinity Cemetery. He and Zephyr parted ways at the museum when the gala drew to an end. His friend and mentor made it a point to say he wanted to make sure the Princess stayed out of trouble. Jared shook his head. One would think they were more to each other than an Advisor protecting his King’s daughter. The vampire was tightly wrapped around her little finger, and the sad thing was, Zephyr denied it with every last breath in his body. Jared shuddered to think of what might happen if they actually acted upon whatever it was between them.

  He hit the button and the darkened glass silently lowered, allowing him to stare off into the night. A frigid breeze blew through the open window and rustled the hair falling over his brow. Pushing the hair back, Jared closed his eyes and inhaled the earthy scent of frost-covered autumn leaves.

  He loved this time of year. The bright fall foliage never failed to cheer him up. His mother would go out of her way to drive north from New Jersey to snap a few photos to mail to him. It was her way of giving him a taste of home. There were times she found the perfect leaf and had to include it just to make him happy, or so she said.

  Jared, however, didn’t believe it was the real reason she sent them. He believed she wanted to give her youngest son something special, just between them. Since he’d been a child, she would do little things to make him happy. Unlike the rest of his siblings, he would rather go on a drive in the country, l
eaf viewing. It was a stark contrast to what he’d gone through tonight, though you would never know it by watching him mingle with the elite.

  Jared had become quite the chameleon.

  He rolled the window up, cutting off the night breeze. Lifting the fall colored bouquet of roses from the seat next to him, Jared lowered the privacy screen. “I’ll only be a few moments. It’s getting pretty late, and you want to head home by now.”

  The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Not a problem, Mr. Bonatelli. I have plenty of time left, so there’s no rush. Take as long as you need.”

  Jared took a steadying breath. His hand closed around the door handle. This was long overdue. He hadn’t been allowed to return for fifteen years, and although his mother made sure flowers graced Giovanna’s tombstone every day, he hadn’t seen it in person. He despised the decision of the Conservatorship for dragging him away before the funeral. He was cheated of his right to mourn her properly. Forced to leave when he should have been the one taking care of arrangements and drinking himself into a stupor every chance he got in the comfort of his own home, not miles away in another state.

  He stepped from the car and pushed the gate open. It swung quietly, welcoming him to a place of peace and rest. His chest tightened. He should be laying here, not her. He had tried to remedy it the next day, but of course as fate would have it, he failed there too, thanks to his friend Lance. Failure was the only thing he seemed to be good at.

  Tears filled his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the burn of the scotch, or if it was him finally breaking down. He turned his head to the side, and a small shoe box caught his attention. It had to have been put here recently because the box itself wasn’t faded from time or weather. Reaching out for it, he pulled it closer and flipped the top off. He pulled it onto his lap and began sifting through the pictures of he and Giovanna as kids.

  Jared took another swig from the bottle of whisky he lifted from the liquor cabinet. He downed almost half the bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. When he pulled out the last picture, he found an envelope with his name on it. He recognized the neat flow of her handwriting and lifted it gently out of the box. Placing the bottle down next to him, Jared held the letter in both shaking hands. Why would she put this out here and not tell him? Stupid question, she never had the chance to tell him.

  He silently debated about opening it. What could she have written that he didn’t already know? His mind made up, Jared slipped a finger under the seal. When he opened the envelope, a small picture fell onto his lap.

  He stared at the sonogram, and that was his breaking point. Jared threw the box across the room and searched for the loose floorboard. Once found, he tore it away and threw it out the window. He reached in the hidden compartment and withdrew a bundle wrapped in an old rag. Jared unfolded it and held the .45 in his palm. He opened the chamber and checked it. It was still loaded, wonderful. He sat back once more against the wall with it resting on his leg, the bottle in one hand and the sonogram in the other.

  This was how Lance found him.

  “Knock, knock. Are you done dismantling this place and hitting me in the head with the pieces? Or should I go back down and dodge a few more?”

  Jared watched Lance with a glazed look. “What the hell do you want? I just want to be left alone?” He took another swig from the bottle. “No one invited you. Go away.”

  Lance shook his head. “No can do, buddy, consider me your conscience. I’m here to stop you from making a huge mistake.” He pointed at the gun sitting on Jared’s leg. “You think that’s the answer right there? I can honestly tell you it’s only going to cause more problems and heartache. Is that what you want, Jared?”

  “What do you know about it? You weren’t there, Lance. You didn’t watch them rip her throat out. I did.” His words were slurred as he picked the gun up and waved it in Lance’s direction in drunken jerky motions. “They took both G and the baby from me. And I couldn’t protect them. I was useless.”

  He watched his friend break down in tears before him. The hand holding the .45 fell to the floor, and Lance took the opportunity to lift himself into the cramped space. As he reached for the gun, Jared lifted it again and glared at him, snarling, “Don’t even think about it, or I’ll make sure it’s your ass with the lead in it.”

  Lance rolled his eyes at Jared and held his hands up in surrender. “I don’t think you’d be able to hit me even if you tried at this point. How much have you had anyway?” Lance grabbed the bottle and held it up in the fading light. “Dang! Was this thing full?” Jared nodded at the almost empty bottle in Lance’s hand. “Geez and you hardly saved any for me. That’s just so wrong.”

  He leaned against the wall opposite Jared and downed the last gulp in the bottle as Jared tried to snatch it back. “Nobody invited you, didn’t you hear me before? Why the hell would I save you any? Get the hell out of here.” He trained the gun on Lance with a shaky hand, closing one eye to try to focus his blurry aim.

  Lance ignored him.

  “I don’t think you’ll do it, you know. I have info you might be interested in. But go ahead and shoot. Me or you. It doesn’t really matter as long as it makes you feel better.” Lance rested his head against the weathered wood and watched Jared. He wasn’t sure if Jared would actually do it or not, but he hoped for the latter.

  The gun went off.

  He watched the bullet whiz past Lance’s head and burrow into the wood. They stared at each other, both amazed that he had actually shot at him. “Oh shit.”

  “You really shot at me! What the hell, Jared?” Lance ripped the gun out of Jared’s hand and smacked him in the back of the head. “It's time for you to get a god damn grip on yourself already. You could have killed me!”

  “Hey! Ow!” Jared rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. “I told you to leave, not my fault if you don’t listen very well, you dumb ass. Maybe you should get that hearing checked.”

  “Yeah, yeah very funny. Well don’t get your ass too comfortable up here in the burbs. You’re gonna be hoofing it to my neck of the woods soon.” Lance flipped on the safety and tucked the gun in the back of his jeans. “That’s what I came out here to tell you before you rudely tried to blow my head off.”

  Jared’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed on Lance. “What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”

  Lance wagged his finger at Jared with a smile. “Oh contraire my friend, you are wrong. See, I’ve been in your living room all day while the Conservatorship went back and forth over how to handle this. You are being transferred. They all feel it would be better for you if you had some distance from everything that happened. Give you time to heal. Personally, I think that’s bullshit. But hey, I’m not the one making your decisions for you. I’m just following orders like a good little sheep being let to the slaughter.”

  The next day he was on a plane to New Orleans.

  The wind picked up. Jared pulled the collar of his wool duster around his ears. He carefully stepped over a tombstone which had seen better days and followed his mother’s directions to the private area reserved for members of the Conservatorship. At the head of the rows, there was a special monument marking each family patriarch. His family was close to the front, showing their status as one of the oldest and most loyal to the Dark Order.

  Jared followed the row to the end where the most recent grave had been added. It was in the row of plots set aside for him and his family when the time came. Unfortunately, the time had come far too soon. He paused in front of the granite headstone, eyes misting over with unshed tears. The cherub atop it was bathed in moonlight, giving it an ethereal glow. It served as a comforting reminder someone still watched after Giovanna. His mother had done a beautiful job. He couldn’t have done any better. Jared knelt to brush away some of the fallen leaves so he could lay the bouquet on the base of the tombstone. Leaning forward, he flattened his palm on the cold granite over her name. Tears gathered in the
corners of his eyes. The memory of the attack played in his mind all over again just as it had every night in his dreams.

  “I’m sorry I let you down. Neither of you would be here if not for me, G. You have no idea how many times I wished I could go back and change what happened, not taken the carriage ride. Those bastards took everything I loved. They might as well have taken my life for all it’s worth. Everything I’ve done means nothing without you.”

  Jared wiped a hand across his eyes to clear the tears running down his face. He raised his eyes to the heavens. “No amount of pleading is going to bring her back to me, is it?” A cold wind kissed his face, a silent answer to his question. “I thought not.”

  Shaking his head, Jared rose from the ground and touched the top of the tombstone. The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end. His gaze roamed the darkness. A vampire was here, lurking somewhere amongst the dead. His first thought was that it was only the driver come to hurry him along because dawn was coming. “I’m just about done here, Robert. I need a few more seconds.”

  Silence greeted him after he spoke. Strange, Robert never lurked without speaking to him. Why would the vampire start now?

  “Robert?” No one answered. The feeling of being watched by something other than human tugged at his brain.

  Jared slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and palmed the dagger concealed there. He never traveled anywhere without one. If it were a member of the rebellion, he’d be ready for them.

  “Show yourself, I know you’re there.” The gentle rustle of leaves in the night breeze answered. Maybe his senses were off tonight. Maybe there was no one there, and he sensed the driver waiting in the car. Whatever it was, it bothered him.

  Turning back to the tombstone, Jared whispered, “I’ll always love you, G.”

  Keeping his senses on high alert, he picked his way back through the graveyard to the main gate. The feeling remained with him until he was once again safely ensconced behind the tinted windows of the limousine and driving home. Robert said nothing. He stared out the window into the darkness.