Beloved Forever

by Kit Tunstall

  “Nicholas.”

  Emily twisted her neck, deepening the cut from the dagger, to look at Michael. Something in his tone alerted her to what he planned. She wanted to plead with him, but her tongue remained frozen.

  Koss and Nicholas eyed him just as intently. “You can’t volunteer, old man,” Koss said.

  “You didn’t choose this. Remember that, son.” With a lunge, Michael threw himself back on the sword pressing against his spinal column. His momentum caused the sword to penetrate all the way through his throat, severing his spinal column instantly. Death, rather than paralysis, was the outcome of his actions. His body slumped forward, held up only by Juarez’s hold on the sword.

  Koss shouted his anger as he rushed toward the priest, wrenching the sword from Juarez and jerking it from the priest’s body. He shook Michael, but there was no life remaining in the body. He tossed aside the corpse and turned his baleful glare on Emily. “That wasn’t in the rules, Nicholas. You’ll lose them both now.” He turned back to him. “You’ll watch it all, as I kill her slowly.”

  Nicholas lunged forward. “I’ll never let you touch her.”

  “How will you stop me?” He jerked Nicholas against him. “You aren’t strong enough, and she is too new, too weak, to help you. You’re alone.”

  “That’s not quite true,” Nicholas said. As he spoke, an arrow fired from the balcony, penetrating Juarez’s heart. He pulled away from Koss’s hold as his minion fell to the floor of the church.

  Emily pushed away from Nina with a burst of strength. To her surprise, the woman didn’t try to restrain her. Instead, she rushed to her fallen companion and turned him over. A wail of anguish broke from her. “He’s dead, Koss.”

  Koss shook his head. “How can that be? It was only an arrow.”

  “Tipped with the venom of the beaked sea snake,” a voice said from the shadows of the balcony. “A single drop is lethal to humans. With the amount saturated into that arrow, his lungs seized, and he suffocated instantly.”

  Nina stiffened at the voice, as did Koss. Emily didn’t pause to seek him out. She coaxed a burst of speed from her shaking legs and sought the safety of Nicholas’s side. She was past Koss before he realized she had slipped away.

  “I have plenty more,” the voice said calmly. “Your heart is in my sights, Koss.”

  Emily’s eyes widened when she realized Koss was frightened, although he made a good show of hiding his fear behind bravado. “Brannon, show yourself, and I might let you live to walk away.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll remain right where I am until Nicholas and Emily have fled to safety.”

  Emily realized Nicholas was tugging on her bound arms and fell into step with him. Koss seemed to have trouble splitting his attention between them and the threat in the balcony. “You’ll never leave here alive, dhampir,” he hissed. “Already, Chadwick hunts you. He will find you.”

  The laugh that came from the shadows caused Emily to pause in mid-step. She shivered at the cruel sound, wondering if this person really was on their side. A gasp escaped her when a bundle fell from the balcony and landed with a thud on the tile floor. She barely bit back a scream when she realized it was the body of the blond-haired man.

  “Two down…” The voice trailed off.

  Koss hurried forward, pulling Nina from the floor and pressing her against him. “Now what will you do? Will you murder your wife to kill me too?”

  Emily missed the conclusion of the melodrama as Nicholas lifted her over his shoulder and ran from the church. As he moved, he tore loose the ropes around her wrist, freeing her arms. He didn’t stop running until they were at the Forester, and he put her inside with haste rather than gentleness. Then he was behind the wheel quickly, and they sped away from the church.

  She turned her head to look at him, alarmed by his color and the suppressed tears in his eyes. She reached out to touch his leg. “Nicholas—”

  “Not now,” he snapped. As he spoke, he briefly squeezed her hand. His voice cracked when he spoke again. “I can’t talk…not yet. Let me get through this first.”

  Emily held his hand in a tight grip and subsided into silence. She could sense the low hum of his grief in the back of her mind and knew he was close to losing control. She was shaky as well, and tears burned at the back of her eyes. She turned to stare out her window at the night, wondering if it could possibly match the blackness in Koss’s soul. Upon remembering his touch, she shivered.

  Nicholas’s fingers tightened gently. “You’re safe now.”

  She bit back the instinctive question at the tip of her tongue: For how long? Instead, Emily put her head against the window, allowing the cool condensation on the glass to seep into her flushed cheeks.

  How could she have ever imagined Nicholas was evil? He had the potential for evil, and he wasn’t a saint, but he could never match the malevolence in Koss. She shivered again, unable to rid her mind of the images of the night. She bit back a cry when the sounds of the three devouring Tremont replayed through her mind. Did Nicholas know? She opened her mouth to ask.

  “I found him,” he said before she could speak. “I arrived at the warehouse to find everything in order. Immediately, I realized he had tricked me. On my way back to the apartment, I called Brannon.” He took a deep breath. “There wasn’t much left of Tremont when we found him.”

  She licked her lips, trying to keep her mind from supplying probable images of his battered body. “What did you do with him?” Nicholas was silent for so long she began to wonder if he had heard her question. She wondered if she should ask again, or was his silence his answer? Was it better not to know?

  “There wasn’t a lot of time, Emily. We won’t be returning to the apartment any time soon, if ever. I couldn’t leave the evidence there…” He trailed off, and a tear streaked down his cheek. “He deserved better.”

  She stroked his hand with her thumb.

  “I put him in the furnace in the basement, along with the rags we used to wipe off the blood Koss used to leave his message.” His voice turned icy. “He wrote ‘St. Peter’s’ on the wallpaper with Tremont’s blood, using a little heart in place of the apostrophe.” His voice broke again, and he drifted back into silence.

  She closed her eyes, stuffing her fist in her mouth to avoid giving voice to her anger and pain. The thought of Tremont being disposed of in such a fashion nauseated her, as did the image of words written in blood on the walls. She was relieved they wouldn’t be returning to the apartment, but where would they go?

  “A hotel for now. I’ve arranged to meet up with Brannon at the DoubleTree Guest Suites. We’re near there now.” Nicholas turned onto Broadway. “Tomorrow, we fly to England. Vallsade Manor is the only place where I can hope to keep you safe.”

  “He doesn’t want me,” she said softly. “It’s you he’s after.”

  Nicholas nodded once, but didn’t respond as he merged with traffic. After a few blocks, he pulled into a parking garage attached to the hotel, where he took a ticket from the attendant and drove up to the third floor to find a space.

  When he shut off the engine, Emily said, “I can’t go in there.”

  “Why not?”

  She waved a hand at the shirt with the ruined buttons and her missing pants, bra, and shoes. “Someone’s going to notice I’m wearing a man’s shirt with all the buttons ripped off and nothing else except panties. They won’t let me in a nice place like this.”

  Nicholas nodded. “You’re right.” He slid out of the Forester. “Come on.”

  She lifted a brow. “But—”

  “Emily, I’ll make sure everyone who looks at you sees a respectably dressed young woman. We don’t have any clothes for you, so there’s no other solution.”

  She shook her head, bunching the material of Nicholas’s shirt closer to her. “No.”

  He sighed. “I promise you no one will see how you look. Please trust me.”

  She wanted to continue to resist, but could see his tenuous control w
as close to slipping. He was pale and trembling. Tears shone in his eyes. They needed to get inside where it was somewhat safe. She hoped he could maintain his focus well enough to keep her clothed in public. She slid out of the SUV and joined Nicholas, trying to pretend she wore an elegant evening gown, keeping her head held high as she took his arm to walk with him to the elevator.

  Her confidence faltered when they entered the elegant foyer and found several guests still milling around. There was a short line, and she stood stiffly beside Nicholas, keeping her eyes averted from everyone. She saw an old man eyeing her from the corner of her eye, but when she looked at him directly and frowned, he looked away.

  The line moved quickly, and Nicholas was soon filling out a registration card while the clerk processed his credit card and examined his driver’s license photo.

  She smiled at him, and her expression was a bit more than friendly, Emily thought sourly. The twinge of jealously surprised her, and she shifted uncomfortably.

  “We would like a three-bedroom suite,” he said as he signed the card.

  “I’m sorry, but we only have two-bedroom suites available,” she glanced down at the card and looked up, brightening her smile another kilowatt or so, “Mr. Vallsade. Will that be acceptable?”

  He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Someone will be joining us. I’d like to leave a key card here at the desk for him.”

  She nodded and lifted a pen. She held it as if Nicholas was about to spout the meaning of life. “May I have his name?”

  “Brannon Vallsade.”

  Emily’s eyes widened at the name, and she shot a look at Nicholas. He wasn’t paying attention as he scooped up the electronic card the clerk slid to him, along with his driver’s license and credit card.

  “Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Vallsade.” Her simpering tone disappeared when she glanced at Emily. “Ma’am.”

  Emily walked with Nicholas to the lift, barely able to restrain her questions until they were safely ensconced in the metal car and the door had closed behind them. “Who is Brannon Vallsade?”

  “The man who saved us,” he said with apparent weariness. He leaned against the padded wall and closed his eyes.

  “But the last name…Vallsade isn’t common.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He rubbed his eyes, and then looked at her. “He’s my nephew.”

  She frowned, trying to puzzle that out. “He’s a vampire?”

  “Dhampir.” Nicholas didn’t say anything else as the elevator opened on the third floor. He took her hand and led her to their suite, not speaking as he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him.

  “What’s a dhampir?” she asked as soon as he dropped the card on the spindly-legged entryway table.

  “The product of a human-vampire coupling. Usually male offspring, and they’re particularly adept at hunting vampires. Since they have only one vampire parent, dhampirs are still subject to aging, albeit at a much slower rate. Whether or not they have full vampire gifts depends on the strength of the vampire parent, how long the dhampir lives and whether they choose to hone their abilities.”

  Emily shook her head, tuning out most of his explanation while following Nicholas into the suite. She paused briefly to eye the sitting room decorated in tones of peach and beige with the large fireplace reached by walking down a few steps. Two doors led off opposite ends of the room. Her mind remained focused on only one thing he had said. “But how can he be your nephew?”

  “He was William’s son.”

  She blinked. “Did William have a relationship with a vampire?”

  Nicholas paused by the phone, but looked at her before lifting the handset. “No. William was a vampire.”

  “But how—”

  He held a finger to his lips and lifted the phone. He spoke quickly, ordering rare steaks and baked potatoes from room service, pausing to ask Emily if she wanted anything different. She shook her head and waited impatiently for him to hang up. As soon as he had, she asked, “How could he be a vampire? I don’t understand.”

  He sighed deeply and took a seat on the peach sofa. “Koss has been torturing me since shortly after he turned me, Emily. When I returned to marry you…Emma, he followed me, although I didn’t realize it then. He waited until William arrived home and told him I had caused Emma’s death—and I had.” He stared off into space, seemingly lost in thought. It took him a moment to continue. “He offered to change William so he could reap his vengeance for all eternity, prolonging it. My brother was a foolish hothead, and he accepted Koss’s bargain.”

  She responded to his haunted gaze and sat beside him on the couch, putting her head on his shoulder. “What happened?”

  “William pursued a campaign of revenge against me for far too many centuries. In the end, I was forced to destroy him.”

  She gasped. “Did Brannon hate you for killing his father?”

  Nicholas snorted. “Hardly. William never acknowledged his existence. His mother had the misfortune of surviving being William’s sustenance and ended up with a child she didn’t want.”

  “What happened?”

  “Brannon fended for himself until he was eleven, living in Marseilles. Then he tracked down his father, who turned him away. It happened William had followed me to Paris where I had settled for a time, and the boy saw us together when my brother made his move. He approached me, realizing I resembled his father.”

  She stroked his leg. “You took him in, didn’t you?”

  He nodded, not saying anything else for a long moment. “It was nice not to be alone,” he finally said. A knock at the door signaled the arrival of room service, and he got to his feet. “We need to eat.”

  She nodded.

  He stared down at her. “I mean feed, Emily. It’s been too long since we had blood.”

  Her mouth parted. “You mean the server?”

  He nodded. “You can’t take too much. We can’t have the boy die.”

  She stood up and followed him to the door, hanging back a few feet as he opened the door to admit the server.

  The boy nodded at her as he rolled in the tray. “Where would you like it, sir?”

  “By the window is fine,” Nicholas said. As the boy turned his back to fold out the leaves of the tray, he lunged forward and pinned him in his arms. Before the boy could cry out, he spun him around and stared into his eyes. “You won’t make a sound.”

  The kid’s face went slack, and he nodded as if in a daze. He didn’t make any noise as Nicholas buried his face in his throat and drank for a couple of minutes. He did emit a small whimper when Nicholas raised his head, and the boy saw his own blood on his chin.

  “Shh,” Nicholas said. He waved Emily over, passing her the boy. “Remember to focus on making it pleasurable for him.”

  She nodded, sinking her fangs into the holes Nicholas had created. She kept her thoughts on erotic images as she fed from the server, finding her thoughts increasingly sensual as his hot blood flowed into her mouth. Her hunger seemed to intensify rather than slacken, and she could feel herself losing control. With a cry, she thrust him away so hard he fell to the floor. She rushed into the sitting room, knowing she had to escape the sight of his open wound lest she jump on him and drain him completely. Convulsions shook her body, and her heart raced. She was vaguely aware of Nicholas speaking softly to the boy before closing the door behind him.

  By the time he joined her in the sitting room, she had regained a semblance of control.

  “You did better. You were able to stop yourself.”

  She looked up, meeting his eyes. “I won’t always be able to.”

  He shook his head. “No, you won’t. It’s inevitable you’ll kill sometimes. It’s our nature.”

  She bit back protests about it not being her nature. She knew it was. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t chosen it. She still had to deal with the bloodlust and compulsion to take life.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head, unable to ima
gine eating the rare steak while mental pictures of Tremont still flashed through her mind.

  “Neither am I.” He sounded strained. “You should get some sleep. Brannon will need the other room, so I’ll take the couch.”

  She glanced at the short sofa and then at his long frame. “I’ll take the couch.”

  He shook his head. “No. I insist—”

  She rolled her eyes. “Chivalry’s dead. Practicality’s in. It makes sense for me to take the couch. I’m shorter—”

  His mouth tightened. “No.”

  She shrugged, gathering her nerve. “Fine, we’ll both share the bed. We’re adults.”

  He hesitated before nodding. “Okay. You’re safe from my desires tonight.” His mouth trembled. “I’ve never felt less like making love.”

  Emily rushed to Nicholas, embracing him, as his first sobs broke free. He didn’t attempt to hide his emotions or push her away. Instead, he drew her closer and buried his face in her hair. His body shook with the force of his emotions. He cried without sound, but she still heard his pain. She could feel it in her mind, and soon tears rushed from her eyes as well.

  They collapsed together in a heap on the floor. Emily cradled Nicholas’s head against her chest as tears dripped down her cheeks. She stroked his disheveled hair and murmured soothing words, rocking him gently. He still didn’t speak, but his emotions transmitted to her, battering against the pathetic barrier she tried to erect. She soon couldn’t tell where his feelings ended and hers began. She had never experienced anything like it and briefly wondered what it would be like to share such a connection when the feelings were happy.

  They might have stayed that way for minutes or hours. She lost all track of time. They probably wouldn’t have moved from the floor of the hotel room if the sound of the door opening hadn’t roused them.

  Nicholas pulled away from her, and Emily was physically bereft. Her hands shook as she wiped her cheeks and tried to restore a bit of order to her appearance. She remembered her state of undress and marveled that it hadn’t occurred to her while she held Nicholas in her arms.

  She hastily covered her exposed breasts as she heard soft footfalls. She started to get to her feet as Brannon joined them, but froze when she saw him. He was tall and muscular, wearing all black. Large sunglasses covered his eyes, even at night. He had blond hair.