by Helen Scott
After I gently withdrew my arms from around Nas's unconscious form, I pushed myself away, giving Doc space to work. I watched silently as she tended to the wounds on Nas's shoulder. When she asked for help binding my mate's ribs, I moved silently as she directed me where to lift and how much to move Nas.
Once she was satisfied with her work, Doc slumped on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You've got to get this under control, Christian. There have been more fights, more poisonings, more...everything since Nana's death. If you don't fill the power vacuum soon, this side of Nightstone is going to devolve into a faction war."
"I know. We were trying to prevent that when Ambrose was challenged. Nasima's injuries won't stop that or encourage it, at least not overall. How is Ambrose anyway?" I asked as my mind whirled the ideas of how to squash this new, or rather, renewed quarrel.
"He's resting. The amount they gave him would have killed someone like Nasima, but with his metabolism and general body mass, it didn't affect him quite as badly as it could have. He's lucky, so is Nasima. The two of them are getting in more and more trouble. If it keeps up at this rate, I won't be able to save them next time. I'm not made of unlimited power. In fact, now that I know they are both stable I'm going to rest."
Without waiting for a response from me, Doc turned and left. Her form looked bowed as she moved down the hallway at about half the clip she normally would.
Once she was out of sight, I let myself return to Nas's sleeping form. I didn't get back into bed with her, didn't wrap the protective cage of my arms around her once more, instead I just perched on the edge and watched her sleep like a creeper.
There was so much we hadn't had a chance to talk about. Hell, she didn't even know she was my mate. I was starting to worry that if things kept progressing like this then we would never get the chance. She knew I loved her, but she didn't understand what that meant for me.
I sighed as I watched her and daydreamed of a time when we would be at peace in Nightstone. She would know exactly who she was and what she meant to me, to Ambrose, even to Bane if they managed to work that shit out.
Thay day felt so far away that my heart ached for it. Not the manliest thing, but after being alive for centuries I found that vampires either felt everything more acutely or felt nothing at all. Of course, we were a private bunch, so it was hard to know which way a vamp swung on the spectrum until it was too late.
"You okay in there, Boss?" Sasha's voice cut through my daydream like a knife.
I was thankful for the interruption though, since it made me realize how much I'd let my guard down. I couldn't protect Nasima if I was busy mentally living in a fantasy land that we had yet to achieve. "Fine. How are the troops?"
"Concerned. You went into the shifter's territory unarmed, alone, during daylight, and you haven't returned yet."
"Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could figure out where I am." I tried not to snarl at Sasha, after all, she was my new general these days after Tatiana's untimely demise and Lake's unfortunate choices. It was hard to reign the emotion in though.
"Most of us understand, but there are some rumblings starting that you're more interested in what goes on with the shifters and witches, well, witch, singular, than what goes on with your own people. I think it would help if you brought Nasima back to the vamp quarter, but you need to make a show of strength to the vampires otherwise they are going to start their own rebellion, even if it is inspired by shifters." Her words were like ice picks to my heart. Each one driving deeper and colder, hardening me for what was to come.
"You're right. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Sasha." I pushed off the bed and scooped Nas up, cradling her against my chest as we moved to the vamp quarter. I'd been too scared of her injuries to take her that far before, but now my venom had healed her some and Doc wasn't particularly worried about her so I felt safe moving her. Plus, if the pack truly lost their shit and didn't respect her win because she used a weapon then she'd be safer in the vamp quarter than in her own cell.
As soon as we stepped into the vamp's area, I heard the whispers start. Without reacting, not even the twitch of an eyebrow, I calmly moved to my cell and set Nas down on the bed, tucking her under a blanket and placing a kiss on her forehead.
As I stepped back out into the main area I tugged at the curtain of my cell and let it fall closed. If Nas happened to wake up I didn't want the first thing she saw to be me covered in blood, as I likely would be in a few moments.
When I stepped into the center of the open area that made up the vamp quarter, I looked up all three floors of cells, noticing just how many of my brethren were around. It was unusual for so many to be gathered outside their cells rather than spread through the supermax section of Nightstone. My lips knit grimly.
"I hear some of you are unhappy with my recent activities," I said. The words weren't much louder than my normal speaking voice, after all, with supernatural sensitivities we didn't have to scream and shout and carry on to be heard. I knew they all heard me quite well. "If you take issue with me, then please bring that forward so we can address it."
No one moved.
In fact, everything seemed to still, as though the very air in the vamp quarter wouldn't dare raise a finger against me.
"I know some of you are talking of rebellion, of overthrowing my leadership, and to that, I say bring the issue to the floor so we can address it. I am not an unreasonable man." I spread my hands wide to either side of my body before placing them behind my back.
For a few long, silent beats, the stillness remains. Then, one of the younger vampire's steps forward.
Unexpected.
It seemed that Ambrose and I had both underestimated this new generation. Those that had been in Nightstone for a while, who understood how the ecosystem worked, had no interest in overthrowing us. We were the ones that dealt with shit and kept peace so they could make the most of their lives.
"Branson? What is your grievance with me?" I asked.
"You care more about her than you do about the rest of us," he said, jabbing a finger in the direction of my cell and my mate. Mistake number 1. "How many of us have been poisoned, attacked, hurt by the shifters and you did nothing? Then your witch gets the same treatment and suddenly Nana's dead and you're torturing Lake. When are your people going to matter as much as your sex toy?"
Mistakes number two and three. "Nasima is not a sex toy, nor is she a random witch who I happen to be infatuated with. She is my mate, and I expect her to be treated with the respect that comes with that. As for not doing anything, just because you didn't witness it with your own eyes doesn't mean nothing was done.”
I stared him down before going on, my voice growing soft and dangerous. “However, you are not the innocent party you make yourself out to be, are you? You've never been a victim of these attacks. Your poisoning was strangely mild, almost as though you did it to yourself.”
There was a rustling through the vamps. I went on, ignoring their whispers. “You see, the problem with an eye for an eye is that it will leave us all blind in the end. Keeping the peace is just as important as making sure the attacks never happen again. What would you have me do? String up every shifter that laid a hand on a vamp and bleed them dry?"
"For a start!" Branson's voice was tinged with embarrassment and rage.
My deduction that he hadn't actually been impacted by these so-called attacks was probably accurate based on his reaction. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if I was accurate about him poisoning himself either. He seemed like the type. Power hungry without realizing the responsibilities that lay at the feet of those in charge, and also desperate for attention, which was why he was speaking out now.
"And when they came looking for revenge?"
"Then we would fight tooth and claw against them."
"And how many more lives would be lost because of that? How many grudges would be started because of the actions you took that day?"
"Any
lives lost would be worth it if it brought the shifters to heel. Nana's gone. Someone needs to step up and rule with an iron fist, just like she did, and if you're not going to do it then I say we let someone else take a shot."
A few cheers of agreement went up around the quarter and I tracked each one. I knew Sasha would be keeping notes on who reacted and how exactly they reacted so I could respond later. She was driven, that one. If Lake hadn't misstepped then she wouldn't have been my first pick as general, but now I was seeing that my choice would have been wrong. Lake was too scared of me to bring something like this to my attention, but Sasha had.
"If the majority wants someone else to lead then I will step aside, but I urge you all to consider this. What Branson is suggesting would start a war. Not just between shifters and vamps but between all of the factions. Yes, those are the two biggest, but there are members of other supernatural races here that are just as powerful if not more so than some of you. They won't take well to being ruled with an iron fist. Do you wish to have their blood on your hands as well? How many vampires have to die in this war you are so desperately seeking? How many innocents?" My voice rose toward the end as I was unable to keep the passion I felt hidden within.
"As many as needed until we rule Nightstone!"
"So you don't really want peace at all, do you? You don't want the attacks and poisonings to stop, you just want to use them to elevate yourself, to achieve the power that ruling will get you? When you started this speech, you made it sound like you cared about the vampires that are trapped here in Nightstone with you, but now it sounds like you don't care about them unless they can forward your campaign for more power."
"You're twisting my words," Branson spat a second before hurling himself at me.
I knew he would eventually. People like him are fine with taking what they feel they are owed, but when they're asked to justify it they can't, or their reasons are unsubstantial, so they resort to violence.
His speed and strength were nothing compared to mine, though I rarely made a show of using either of them. I was an alpha vampire for a reason, not just because of my age but because of my maker, because of how I was formed, raised, and taught to live in the world. With a step I moved to the side, avoiding the impact he intended to cause, and reached out, catching him midair by the throat and pulling him toward me, before stabbing his chest with my other hand, punching through the bones of his rib cage and wrapping my fingers around the muscle of his heart. With a sharp tug, I pulled it from his chest and I threw him to the side a moment before I crushed the organ between my fingers.
Blood sprayed over my hand, soaking my skin until it looked like I was wearing scarlet gloves. I flicked some of the liquid off my fingers. The scent of blood was in the air now, swimming through it, and heightening those volatile emotions that we felt. Just as I started to think it was over, one of his cohorts who’d agreed with him rushed me. As if he would have better success than his companion.
When a few others joined in, I let loose a peel of laughter that would make most think I was insane.
Honestly, I was just happy to be able to fight. I kept myself caged, my beast locked down, all the damn time. When I found myself in situations like this, as rare as it was, it was a tiny bit of freedom that I thought I'd lost forever when I first set foot in this wretched place. Each swipe of my clawed fingers, each punch of my fist, each tear of my fangs against flesh, it all brought blood raining down on us.
The fight only lasted a few moments, but the damage was dramatic. Blood plastered my clothes to my body and coated the floor around me. It was only when there were no more oncoming attackers that I relaxed enough to use the edge of my t-shirt to wipe my face.
"This was not what I meant by discussing it. I hope you all know that. That being said I will not stand by and allow any vampire to start a faction war when the peace between us and the other factions is more important than your need for power. Most of you haven't been here long enough to remember what it was like to be afraid to leave your cell or to even drink from the bags of blood provided to us, but those of us that have been here longer can tell you that it's not worth it. Whatever grab for power you're thinking about making, don't. If you want to rule the vampires then, by all means, challenge me, overthrow me, but don't think that just because the title of vampire king changes hands, I'll let you start a war. My desire to keep the peace outweighs my desire to protect you individually, because I know, in the long run, that keeping the peace will save more lives. Now, if you'll excuse me, my mate needs me. Please feel free to bring any concerns to Sasha." I turned away from the crowd and headed to the showers. There was no way in hell any of them would touch Nasima right now, and I wasn't about to return to her covered in blood.
"Christian?" Her voice stopped me in my tracks.
I turned and walked toward her. "Nasima, you shouldn't be up yet. Let me shower and I'll be right back."
"You're literally covered in blood, I need to know you're okay before I let you walk away from me."
"I'm fine, none of it is my own. Please, just go back to bed, I'll be back in a flash."
She nodded though her wide eyes told me that the conversation was far from over.
21
Nasima
When Christian came into the cell, he closed the door and drew the velvet curtain to cover the bars. He sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Well, you’re still awake. I suppose you have some questions.”
“Of course I’m still awake! I was so worried about you.” Seeing him like that… It was what I’d seen in my vision, but not how I’d expected it to come about, at least from what I’d overheard.
His lips turned up at the corners, but the expression on his face was fond. “I don’t think I’ve had anyone worry about me in oh, two hundred and two years.”
“That’s oddly specific.” I leaned forward and tugged at his shirt, and Christian obligingly began to unbutton it. “What happened two hundred and two years ago?”
“My sister died,” Christian said.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It feels like it happened to someone else, in another lifetime,” he assured me. “I guess it might as well have. But of course, I saw everyone in my family die--from a distance. My mother, my siblings. I had four brothers and just the one sister who lived to adulthood, and she was the only one who knew--the only one I dared keep seeing.”
“Were you ever tempted to turn them so you could keep seeing them?”
“No,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Not truly. There were selfish moments when I was afraid to live forever if I had to live alone, but I didn’t choose this life and despite the humans who obsess over vampires now and campaign to be turned, I wouldn’t choose it for anyone else.”
“Pants too,” I told him, tugging at the waistband of his pants as I continued to mull over what he’d just said. Despite the sadness that underlied his words, he seemed so calm and at peace with his past.
But what was he thinking about his future--our future--when he knew our years together would be like a brief vacation compared to the life that stretched in front of him?
“Are you undressing me for sex or inspecting me for damage?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Both, depending.”
His other eyebrow rose in response, but he said, “I see. I assure you, Nas, I didn’t choose to turn any of my vampires into pinatas today. Some of them thought we should go to war with the shifters. Of course, I’m willing to entertain the ideas of my people, but I rejected that… plan.”
His dismissive tone suggested that he thought it wasn’t a plan at all.
“Did they think it was for my sake?” I asked. I didn’t dare ask him if it really was; if he and Ambrose would go to war without me, I didn’t want to know it. The relationship between them seemed to be slowly growing too, and I couldn’t imagine how I could have them if they didn’t care about each other.
“They did,” Christian said with a nod. “And the
y were wrong. Of course, I care what you think, Nasima, but even without you here… I would have sought peace with the shifters. I’ve seen enough war.”
The memory of how he’d looked covered in blood would stay with me for a long time. “It looked like you got one today anyway.”
He shook his head. “Merely a battle. Some thought they might take my place and plunge Nightstone into war and, well. Over time they forget who I am and what I am capable of.”
His words sent a chill down my spine. He spoke with such absolute confidence, calm and relaxed as he discussed a battle for his life--and mine--that had turned into so much bloodshed.
Strangely enough, though, the shiver didn’t stop me from being turned on a bit too.
“The good thing, Nasima,” Christian said, “is that I expect this will be the end of any rumblings and dissent from the vampire camp. I’ve made it clear how much I value you, how…. Non-negotiable… my relationship with you and Ambrose is.”
He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my lips, though the tenderness of that kiss was belied by the steel of his fingers as they slid around the back of my neck. My Christian, always so polished and sweet, but with a core of homicidal danger. My lips parted against his, welcoming him in, as my hands swept up his chiseled abs and pecs to his shoulders. His skin was cool to the touch, as if I were touching a perfect marble statue.
He pulled away to murmur, “Now they should see you as their queen, just as they call me the vampire king… when they’re being dramatic.”
He smiled teasingly, and I knew he thought it was all ridiculous, but that didn’t mean he didn’t value being the king, either. And he was a good one, keeping peace in Nightstone, even if that meant there was bloodshed along the way.