Trust Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines Book 8)

by Lisa Olsen

  It echoed his own hopes for the future and Bishop wasn’t sure if he should take heart that Jakob shared the opinion, or worry because most of his judgment was so flawed half the time. “Carys didn’t live long enough for those needs to change though, did she?” That was what kept him from sleeping some days. What if playing the long game with Anja turned out to be a mistake? What if, by not fighting for the woman he loved, he lost her forever? Forever was a long time to live with that regret, he’d already learned that the hard way with Carys.

  “I believe she did, we have only to find her.”

  Bishop tried to accept that confidence as more than Jakob’s flawed sense of entitlement. There was one point the Ellri had yet to acknowledge though. “You know, there’s no guarantee that Carys will want either one of us. She might blame us for Lodinn’s treatment of her.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Jakob smiled fondly. “And her anger will be the stuff of legends, but in time she will return to me, she always does. As will Anja, I am confident.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Anja surprises the hell out of me half the time.”

  “That is also true,” Jakob chuckled. “I’m trying to give her the space to grow and become the woman she is destined to be. There is a possibility that this destiny will not include me. If that should come to pass, I will try to accept it.”

  Bishop didn’t want to think about a future without Anja, instead he took another drink.

  “If Anja is to be with another, I would rather it be you,” Jakob added when he accepted the bottle back, bringing a pucker of confusion to Bishop’s brow.

  “I don’t get it. If that’s the case, then why did you cave so easily when it came to her and Rob being together after giving me such holy hell?”

  “And what would be gained by my separating them? Let me ask you this, why did you walk away from her?”

  He’d asked himself that far too many nights. “Because I want her to be happy and right now, Rob makes her happy.”

  “Exactly.” Jakob wagged a long finger at him. “Take heart, before too long she’ll seek the comfort of your arms. Me, I fear, she will not willingly embrace for many, many years to come.”

  Bishop didn’t know what to say to that. “What will you do if we find Carys?”

  Jakob was silent for long moments. “I will see her made strong again and help her assimilate to this time if she’s been in torpor this whole while. I will apologize for Lodinn’s treatment of her and try to make it up to her.”

  “And if she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you?”

  “I will offer her my heart, and if she wishes it, I will set her free.”

  * * *

  Despite Jakob’s faith in his abilities, they were no closer to finding Carys a few weeks later. After Romania, they’d gone to Slovenia, and now found themselves in Germany, where another disappointment had sent Jakob storming off into the night.

  Bishop turned to Carys’ diary, which he’d been working on translating from more than a half dozen languages. When Karr had first given him the diary, he’d been convinced it held the secret to where she was being kept by Lodinn. But a quick study of the last few entries made no mention of the Ellri. After that, the diary had become less of a priority, and he only brought it out when he found himself with spare time on his hands.

  It’d given him a fascinating perspective of the girl she’d been and her first years with Jakob, a time she’d spoken of very little in the past. And then even more insight into her mind at reading her first impressions of meeting him as a human. His own memories of that time were fogged with age. He remembered it as a whirlwind romance, but his experiences since had jaded his mind into thinking it all calculated on her part. Here he could read that she’d been as taken with him as he’d been with her.

  The words flowed easier as she switched to Italian, influenced no doubt by their time spent in that country together. Something was bothering her, but she seemed too afraid to come right out and write about it. It troubled him too when he realized he had no memory of the incidents she described.

  Bishop read on faster and faster as he came to understand what was going on, reeling over the revelations within the pages. It changed everything. All their years together, the addition of Aubrey into their lives, the choices he’d made both before and after her supposed death – everything had been based on certain assumptions he now knew to be a lie.

  Hours later, Bishop heard Jakob come in and it stirred him from his chair. Without stopping to think of the consequences, he burst into Jakob’s room. His anger bubbling over, he took a swing at him, his fist connecting in a satisfying crack against Jakob’s jaw.

  “You son of a bitch. You did it to Anja too, didn’t you?”

  Jakob recoiled, his movements hampered more by surprise than the reek of alcohol that surrounded him. “What do you mean?” he demanded, too astonished to be angry over the hit.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he bit out, tossing the diary at Jakob’s chest. “That’s why you said it wouldn’t last with Rob. You knew he’d die the moment she declared her love for him.”

  The Ellri had only to flip through a couple of pages before he realized what he held in his hands. All at once Jakob’s face changed as understanding dawned, surprise giving way to an inhuman coldness. “What of it?”

  “How could you not tell her?”

  “And ruin the time they had left?” Jakob shook his head. “I would not do that to Anja, she is too sensitive.”

  Bishop ran a hand over his scalp, at a loss for Jakob’s cavalier attitude over what he’d done. “You unbelievable bastard. She has to know about this, they both deserve to know the truth.”

  Jakob could only shrug. “Perhaps it is unimportant. They are not together. Perhaps he is no longer in danger.”

  “They’re not?” Bishop blinked, taken aback.

  “She has left San Francisco these weeks past.”

  “Unbelievable,” Bishop repeated. “Where is she?”

  “That I do not know. She left rather suddenly.”

  Bishop’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound like Anja at all. “Why would she do that?”

  “There was something of a betrayal on his part from what I gather. I expect the need to feed overrode all else.”

  “Then it’s already started.”

  “I told you they would not last.”

  They might’ve been talking about the football scores for all the emotion Jakob drummed up. Didn’t he care about the pain and suffering he’d caused? “You have no shame, do you? Tell me you can undo it. Can you?”

  “No.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  “It is the same.” Another shrug was given.

  Regardless of whether or not they were together, Bishop knew he had to at least tell her, and that kind of conversation shouldn’t be done over email or even the phone. “I’m going to find her. She deserves to know.”

  “Knowing or not will not alter the facts.”

  That was it. “We’re done here.”

  Now Jakob roused himself to care about the conversation. “You haven’t found Carys yet.”

  “And there doesn’t seem much point in my finding her anymore after what you did to her, does there?” Bishop glowered. “You’ll set her free, huh? Isn’t that what you promised you’d do if you found Carys? What kind of freedom is this?”

  Jakob bristled, his chest swelling as he drew himself up. “I order you…”

  “Compel me then, otherwise I’m not helping you.”

  “I thought you wanted me to compel you. I thought you wanted to forget her,” Jakob taunted and Bishop could only scowl.

  What did he want now that Anja was free?

  Chapter Thirty

  We stood out on the balcony, the rolling hills below exactly like I’d pictured them from his letters. The air was warm and dry, enough to stir my hair but not blow it in my face. Bishop tucked a sprig of jasmine behind my ear and wrap
ped an arm around my waist.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he sighed with pure pleasure. It was probably the most relaxed I’d ever seen him.

  “It’s breathtaking. I’m sorry it took so long for us to get here.”

  He tipped my face up to his. “Some things are worth waiting for.” His kiss was slow and unhurried, doing his best to make up for the time we’d lost. I lost myself in him, drugged by the gentle but sure hands that knew me so well. Nothing else mattered, only that we were together, and I’d found something I’d been missing for the longest time.

  “Maybe we should go inside?” I whispered, and his lips curved into a glorious smile.

  “I have a better idea.” Before I could ask what might possibly be better, he picked me up and carried me down to the river, laying me back against the fragrant grass. The delicate blades tickled the backs of my legs, but it wasn’t unpleasant, not one bit. The sounds of the water were soothing and full of life.

  I thought he might kiss me then, but for long moments Bishop stared down at me, fingertips tracing the contours of my face. His hair fell over one brow, in need of a trim, and I reached up to push it back. He turned his face into my hand, pressing a soft kiss to the palm, and then rolled onto his back, pulling me to rest against the crook of his arm.

  “When I was a boy, I used to lay here and look up at the stars,” he said softly, one arm reaching up to point. “I used to wish upon that star right there.”

  “What did you wish for?”

  “I’d wish for a band of gypsies to kidnap me.”

  “You wanted to be kidnapped?” I hid a smile against his shoulder. “By gypsies?”

  “It would’ve been better than playing on command for my step-father,” he scowled. “I’d dream of running away, playing for the crowned heads of Europe.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “That was before she was born. My dreams were simpler back then.” Bishop picked up my hand and kissed it. “I’d work my way into my real father’s notice and then he’d take me away from it all. I’d inherit his estate and marry a beautiful princess.”

  “Oh, is that all?” I didn’t bother to hide the smile now, and he returned it.

  “I said simpler, not realistic.”

  “What would you wish for now?”

  “Can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you,” he chuckled and I poked him in the ribs.

  “Isn’t that supposed to be can’t tell me or it won’t come true?” My head rose and fell as he shrugged.

  “Sorry, old habits die hard.”

  “Do you miss it? The Order, I mean.”

  “Do you miss being Elder?”

  “Sometimes,” I admitted. “But at the moment I want nothing more than to lie here beside you under the stars.” I pressed a kiss to his chest and then rolled back to look up at them. “Actually, there’s one more thing that I want.”

  “I didn’t bring any chocolate with me.”

  “Then I’ll have to work with what you brought,” I grinned, grabbing hold of his shirt, rolling him toward me for a kiss. He came eagerly, covering me with his body as he did his best to satisfy my craving for something sweet, until he pulled back to look down at me, his green eyes glinting in the moonlight.

  “I love you, Anja. Never doubt that.”

  “I never have.” I smiled up at him, lips parting in invitation, and he tasted them again, fingers moving lazily to unbutton my blouse. A shiver danced over my skin that had nothing to do with the light breeze and everything to do with the trail of kisses he blazed over every inch of exposed flesh. His teeth nipped and scraped, soothing the sting with his tongue before moving on to repeat, again and again, working lower, flashing me a wicked grin whenever I cried out.

  And suddenly he loomed over me and there was nothing between us but a kiss of air. He took me in a long, slow stroke, and as I wound myself around him, I knew in my heart I’d never be alone again.

  The sound of a car alarm pierced the peaceful countryside, jarring me from the dream. I rolled over, cursing my sharp hearing when the one alarm turned into a string of them going off. One of the fun parts of living in Chicago.

  Burying my head under the covers again, I chased after that patch of grass, but it slipped away, taking Bishop with it. It was a strange dream, and I found I was reluctant to give up that sense of peace and security – not to mention the hotness. Stranger still because I had no idea where it’d come from. I hadn’t talked to Bishop in weeks, I wasn’t even sure where he was. Usually my dreams ran toward a different vampire, one with magic hands and a rough accent. Just like that, my good mood soured.

  The October sky was still a pinkish gold, the last stages of the dying sun before it was swallowed by the velvety night. I rolled over in bed, trying to get back to sleep, but there were no more dreams. In disgust, I got up and put on my comfy fleece pants and a long billowy cardigan, even though the weather hadn’t turned cold yet.

  Carter was still passed out in his room and I knew from experience that nothing I did in the loft apartment would rouse him. I made myself a mug of hot chocolate and opened the blinds to let in the rapidly dying twilight, looking out at the rooftops below. The sense of melancholy I’d been battling was better on some nights than others. This wasn’t one of the good nights.

  Even though I knew it wouldn’t help, I put Nina Simone on repeat – You Don’t Know What Love Is – her sultry voice wrapping around me as I went back up to my bedroom. From my shiny new laptop, I sent a brief email off to Maggie. We’d only traded a few in the weeks I’d been gone. I knew Lee was still in San Francisco and Gunnar still lived at the house with her, but that was about it. I didn’t ask about Rob and she didn’t volunteer anything.

  I’d been in closer contact with Hanna. With the cash boost from her winnings at the casino, she’d taken the plunge to work as a consultant instead of finding a permanent job. So far she loved the freedom it gave her and I was working with Maggie to funnel some projects Hanna’s way through the businesses she owned. Mason was back in the picture again, but they were taking it slow. I was just glad to see her rebuilding her life. So far my efforts in that area were hit and miss.

  All of a sudden the music switched off, Carter’s mumbles audible to me in the sudden stillness. “Enough with this weepy stuff. I get it, he doesn’t know what love is.”

  I lounged on the bed, wondering what he had to be so grumpycakes about. Usually Carter woke up bright eyed and raring to go. The sounds of his queuing up another song floated up to me, followed moments later by the silly Tacky. I waited to see if he’d made a mistake and change it, but he only turned the volume up.

  It was so ridiculous, and not his style of music at all (he was more a fan of The Zombies), I knew he was trying to cheer me up. It would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t so annoying. I didn’t want to be cheered up. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball, listen to sad music and self medicate with chocolate. But it was impossible to achieve that state with Weird Al throbbing in my ears.

  I leaned over the half wall of my loft bedroom, looking down to the living room below. “Hey, I was listening to that,” I complained over the music.

  “You already did,” he yelled up at me. “Time for something less self indulgent and get you out of this funk.”

  “I like funk. I’m a very funky person.”

  “You want funk?” he laughed. “Baby, I can do funk.”

  Tacky cut off mid-sentence and a few seconds later Play That Funky Music White Boy came on. I had to smile as Carter spun around, dancing in his bare feet and boxers, the ratty old t-shirt bulging at the arms when he struck a ridiculous pose all for my benefit.

  “You are such a dork.” I shook my head, coming down the stairs to turn the music down before the neighbors pitched a fit.

  “I’m not going to leave you alone,” he insisted as I settled on the couch and pretended to read the latest issue of Men’s Fitness while he danced around, straightening up the apartment. “You know you can’t mope
around forever.”

  “I’m not moping, I’m trying to read. This happens to be an excellent article on…” I looked down at the page I’d turned to, “… manscaping.”

  “Don’t go getting any ideas, sunshine. I got your back, but I don’t need you shaving mine.”

  I had to laugh at that, he was right. Carter wasn’t at all self conscious about his body or sharing bathroom space, and from what I’d seen in the time we’d been living together, he didn’t need any help in that area. “Darn, I was looking forward to a project. Maybe I should just go back up to bed.”

  “How about we go see Guardians of the Galaxy again? It’s at the cheap theater now.”

  It was tempting, but more than likely it’d make me cry again, and I wasn’t in the mood to open those floodgates. “No, I don’t feel like going out.”

  “We’ve still got Sharknado 2 on the DVR.”

  “No we don’t, I deleted it to make room for your hockey stuff.”

  “Aw, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s okay,” I shrugged. “SyFy will run it again sometime.”

  Carter frowned down at me, studying me close enough to make my scalp itch before he declared, “I know what’ll cheer you up. Let’s go out.”

  “I just said I didn’t feel like going out.”

  “No, I mean let’s go out.” His rugged features transformed with a smile of pure joy. He meant hunting.

  “Again?”

  “It’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

  “I know, but even Batman takes a day off every now and again.”

  “Not when the Joker’s on the rampage, and I’ve lined up a doozy for us.” He went to his laptop, pulling up the file he’d assembled on the target in question.

  We’d already tackled half a dozen baddies in town since we’d arrived and I could honestly say the world was a much better place for it. Maybe he was right? Maybe focusing on fighting the good fight was what I needed to pull me out of the less fun kind of funk.