by Jen Colly
Rollin took Bette’s hand, led her away from their room and to a couch that faced their door. He sat, but she remained standing. He brought her palm to his cheek, resting his head in her hand.
“I didn’t know you were such a mother hen,” she said, smiling as she bent to drop a kiss to his head, her hand stroking his cheek.
She walked away from him then, their fingers maintained contact until the distance finally separated them. He watched her, wondering why she would walk away when he needed her. His curiosity grew as she disappeared into Navarre and Cat’s bedroom. She emerged with a blanket bundled up in her arms.
“Don’t you look at me like I’ve lost my mind,” she scolded, sitting beside him and spreading the blanket over their legs. “I’m setting up camp here on the couch. We’re not leaving them.”
He smiled as Bette tucked her feet up on the cushions and settled in against him. Wrapping his arm around her, he leaned back and let out long, tired breath. He’d needed Bette. Having her at his side had meant more to him than she could ever know. He wanted to thank her, but he didn’t exactly have the words.
Bette shifted against his side, burrowing in closer to his warmth. “Does Maeryn live here? Did Cat take her in as child too? Or can she have more than one child because she’s…different?”
“Different?”
“I suspect she’s Forbidden,” she said quietly. Rollin sent her a sharp look and Bette quickly explained. “Your city seems to have an enemy in demons. Ours hates all Forbidden.”
“Have you ever seen a Forbidden?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But without the telltale black hair of a vampire, she’s clearly of some other origin of birth. She hates demons too greatly to be one, and nothing of her projects human fragility. I can’t imagine she’s been converted. By a simple process of elimination, she must be Forbidden.”
“What if she was?”
“I find no fault with her species, just as you found no fault in the demon you released. The demon you’re supposed to hate, but don’t.” As she answered him, Bette lazily traced his collarbone, the slow slide of her fingers comforting. “I saw in her the hostility and strength of the Forbidden that my city fears, but it was in defense of herself, of someone she loved. She must care for Maeryn a great deal to defend her so valiantly, even while carrying her own child.”
“She’s my sister, though the only one with blood ties to Cat or Navarre is the child about to be born.”
“But if Jovan is your brother…”
Was he really going to explain his family? He’d avoided it for multiple reasons, but in the back of his mind, Tarmon’s words returned to him. If you know her crap, and she knows yours, and you don’t hate each other’s guts… Now he was the one being dishonest with Bette, and about more than just his family. “Cat took in all five of us, the youngest being Oriana at two years old. Jovan and Maeryn, also. Dulcina no longer lives in Balinese. She and I are the oldest.”
“Five children must have been a lot for one woman to take on.”
“You have no idea,” he said with a smile. “She was a terrible mother.”
Bette lightly smacked his chest. “Stop it.”
“It’s true! At least at first, she had a rough go. She knew nothing about children, about much of anything other than killing demons. Cat tried her best, and she protected us. That was all we ever needed.”
“A woman who kills demons raised you?” The amazement rang clear in her tone, and when Rollin looked down at her where she rested on his shoulder, he found her smiling up at him. “I must say you’ve turned out surprisingly normal.”
He laughed. “Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not that normal. I was a total disaster at being a child. More often than not, I was the second parent in the house.”
“I can believe that,” she said softly, curling back up against his chest.
“Four years ago Navarre woke from an injury sustained in that same demon attack. He and Cat…well, they work. I’m not sure how, but they do. He’s a good man. Navarre didn’t have to take us in, but he did. He adopted all of us. When they married, I stepped aside for the most part, moved out when I was old enough, but they still need me.”
“And you need them.”
Not a question. A fact. And she’d seen it clearly. “Yeah, I do. They’re my family.”
“Rollin,” she began, cautiously saying his name. “Your family is hurting because of your brother.”
“I doubt he realizes he’s truly hurt Maeryn. I’m sure Jovan realized I let the demon go, and if he’s gone to hunt the demon, then he believes he’s doing it for Maeryn. He wasn’t far from wanting the life of a Stalker, and this was the final push. I pushed him to this.”
“And what was the alternative? Taking a demon life for no reason?”
“Jovan can’t leave.” Rollin covered his face with his hands, pulling away from Bette and resting his elbows on his knees, hopelessness suddenly taking hold of him. “Oh, God, this will shatter Maeryn.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Bette said soothingly.
“No, she won’t. She would walk into the sun for him.”
Bette dropped on her knees before him, gripped his forearms, demanding his attention. “Then she will wait for him to fight his demons on his own.”
“She won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” she insisted.
But he did. Maeryn wouldn’t last a week without Jovan. They never spoke of their future, and never admitted how much they truly cared for each other. Maeryn had always followed him about like a lost puppy. Jovan pretended he didn’t care for his tag-along, but whenever she failed to follow him about, he went looking for her.
From an outside perspective, their relationship might be mistaken for sisterly adoration and brotherly protection, and perhaps Jovan did only have a brotherly concern for Maeryn. Maeryn, on the other hand, had made it obvious that she belonged to no one but Jovan. Rollin had never seen her look at another man, and every time some well-intentioned young man came chasing after her, she ran straight to Jovan.
Not once had Maeryn ever rushed to Rollin’s side. She’d never asked Navarre for help, and only when Jovan was nowhere to be found did she run to Cat. If Jovan had truly left, she would want none of them.
Only Jovan had ever been able to mend her heart. This time it would be Jovan who broke her heart, and with it, Maeryn.
“What is it, Rollin?” she asked, still kneeling before him. “Something else is weighing on you.”
His eyes met hers. “How is it you see so deep into me?”
With her hand on his cheek, she whispered, “Rollin, all I see is you.”
“Thank you, Bette.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly, then brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “For being here. With me.”
Rollin pulled her back onto the couch, and they found a comfortable position, leaning back on the deep cushions together. He hoped she might drop the subject, but he could tell she was restless, unsatisfied that he’d left her without an answer.
“I am here,” she said, and then Bette took his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and softly kissing each knuckle. She did the most sweet, impulsive things. “So talk to me.”
“What happens when this is all on my head? The decisions, the demons, the well-being of an entire city.” Rollin normally pondered his problems, sometimes for days, until he settled on a solution on his own. He worked through things in his head, following each possibility through to a possible end. To voice thoughts he wouldn’t otherwise hear aloud was a strange experience. “I feel like it’s all on me now, even though it’s not. Not yet.”
Bette lightly skimmed her hand over his chest as she snuggled close. “You worry too much. You can handle the captaincy. It was only difficult tonight because your family was involved. Everything would feel more personal.”
“I will never be captain,” he said, his voice sounding distant, even to his own ears.
“Why?” She pulled back to search his gaze. “The decision was yours with the demon. I thought he was considering you for the position?”
“That dream is no longer possible.” Even as he said the words, Rollin couldn’t decide if he was actually disappointed.
“Is Soren refusing to step down?”
“No, I—”
“Give it time, Rollin,” Bette hurried to speak over him, persistent in her support for his dream. He pulled her close once more as she continued to strategize against his chest. “Soren can’t possibly want the position forever. One day he will let go, and you will have proven yourself so many times over that there will be no question as to who will be his successor.”
“Lord Navarre made me his heir.” The truth was out before he could think twice.
“You can’t be,” she said, her body suddenly stiff against him.
“It’s already official. He plans to make the announcement shortly after the birth of their child.”
“But their child will be of Casteel blood. You are not,” she said, somewhat confused by this turn. Pressing her hand against his chest, she pushed back to see his face, joy lighting her eyes. “He’s trusting you with the city in the event the child is too young to rule. What a great honor, and one usually reserved for the captain.”
“Will you hold still?” Rollin laughed, pulling her back to his chest and locking his arms around her. Once she stopped squirming, he planted a kiss on the top of her head and explained, “I thought that was what Navarre meant too, and that would have pleased me, but he’s chosen to create a long line of succession that includes his adopted children. I am the first heir.”
“You’re heir to Balinese? Why would he do that?”
He thought he heard a twinge of sorrow in her voice on that last question, but he had to be mistaken. There was no cause.
“He sees me as his son, not a responsibility taken on to honor a dead friend.” Rollin breathed a heavy sigh. “Bette, Navarre trusts me to rule his Balinese one day, and I plan to make him proud.”
Chapter 24
Balinese
Bette lay awake on the couch long after Rollin fell asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest enough to move her in a gentle rhythm. The numbness and bewilderment that had settled over her the moment she realized Rollin was the true and legal heir to Balinese was finally beginning to subside. Emotions were slowly returning, thoughts beginning to come in a coherent stream.
Since the moment Rollin had stopped holding back and turned his desires loose with that first kiss, the call of the sun had been obliterated. Death held no power over her when she felt needed, wanted, cherished. Rollin had become the focus of her thoughts, the strength that chased her fears away, her reason to live. Her love.
She loved him.
Bette squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly both free and trapped by the admission, because in the end, it wouldn’t matter. Not anymore.
It would be easy to stay, remain at his side, and take advantage of his youth and inexperience in life to convince him she was his fated mate. Truly it wouldn’t take much convincing if she chose to assert her feminine wiles, show him he couldn’t possibly consider another. She could have him as a mate if she set herself to the task, and one day become lady of the city, but she couldn’t do that to Rollin.
His dreams, his future, and his happiness were deeply important to her. Genuine affection had formed, and as a result, her hopelessness and need for the peace in death the sun promised had faded. Bette could thrive under Rollin’s gentle touch and kindhearted ways for a lifetime, but one day she wouldn’t be enough for him. She had no pull to him, no instant and undeniable reaction she felt through to her bones. His mere presence hadn’t vanquished the call of the sun. Rollin wasn’t meant for her. She wasn’t his fated mate.
Somewhere in the great expanse of the world was a woman who fit Rollin better than she ever could, and with the weight of an entire city resting on his shoulders, he would need his fated mate. Bette had stolen this life, this man, and if she stayed would one day assume the role of the Lady of Balinese. It felt wrong.
Without him, she had nothing. She was nothing. He’d brought her back to life, returned her sanity, her joy. How could a man who had wrought love from her dormant heart not be her mate? Unfair! She didn’t want to leave him.
A tear slipped down her cheek. She’d already made up her mind.
Bette carefully rose from the couch. Leaning over him, she kissed his lips, a tender goodbye. She wanted to say I love you, to hear the words out loud even though he wouldn’t, but she dared not wake him.
Tiptoeing across the carpet, she went to the door and backed out of the Casteel home, burning the image of Rollin resting peacefully on the couch into her mind for those days to come where she would need him most.
She latched the door as quietly as she could, then turned and…ran smack into a man. A squeak of surprise escaped her before she covered her mouth.
“Going somewhere, female?” The man sounded frightening, and he looked even more so with his sunken eyes framed with dark circles and black hair falling over his eyes.
“You scared me!” she whisper-scolded.
It was the truth. She’d been good and startled when she’d crashed into him, but it wasn’t like before. No longer did she jump at her own shadow, fear men who walked in hallways or looked in her direction. Because of Rollin, she’d become stronger.
The intimidating man seemed to be waiting for her to answer his question, and not knowing what else to do, she defaulted to aristocratic mode. Taking control of the situation, Bette asked in a demanding tone, “Your name, Guardian?”
A flicker of surprise lit his eyes, bringing the slightest hint of life to them for one brief moment.
“Steffen De Lorme,” he answered, checking a respectful bow before it became more than a tilt of his head.
“If you would be so kind, Steffen, please point me toward your gate.” She straightened her shoulders, tipped her chin. Bette needed to see this through. “I find myself in need of some fresh air.”
“Who are you?” His dark eyes narrowed on her as he shifted both hands to rest on the hilt of his sword. “And what are you doing in my lord’s home?”
“Babette Dautry.” She inclined her head slightly, offering respect to this Guardian in an effort to keep them on an even ground. “Do you swear to keep my presence here to yourself?”
He seemed genuinely taken aback, as if the mere suggestion was an affront. “On my honor.”
“Your lady has gone into labor. Rollin and I have been staying with Maeryn and Oriana.” Bette opened her arms and looked down at her own attire, making a show of standing in the corridor in her pajamas. “Needless to say, it’s been quite the night.”
Steffen raised his eyebrows. “Indeed.”
Hands folded patiently before her, Bette waited with what she hoped was an expectant look on her face. It must have come close to hitting the mark, because Steffen came to her side and offered his elbow like a true gentleman.
Bette looped her arm around his, and as he guided her away from the heart of the city, he said somewhat shyly, “I’ll escort you past the Guardians.”
She was glad to have him at her side and not facing her. If he’d had more time to study her, he might have noticed her wet eyelashes. Or perhaps he had and a woman’s emotional state didn’t concern him. Either way, she was grateful she didn’t have to explain herself further.
If she hadn’t crashed into Steffen, she might not have made it this far. She hadn’t known for certain which way to go, and the second she’d latched that door shut, all she wanted to do was curl up and cry. Her heart hurt badly, but luckily with this stranger at her side, she’d kept herself together.
It helped that th
is Guardian escort was distracting in an odd way. Steffen didn’t march along, forcing her to keep up with him, but neither did he leisurely stroll to match her shorter steps. He walked with an awkward limp that, no matter which side of him she’d chosen, his uneven gait would have caused him to unintentionally tug at her arm with each footstep.
The more she walked alongside Steffen, the less certain she was that only a single leg had been injured. Each seemed to have a different stiffness, a limitation. A strange ailment for an active Guardian, but he seemed steady enough. Steffen made no mention of his struggles, so neither would she. Bette had her own to contend with.
Steffen opened a large wooden door in the outer corridor leading into a wine cellar. The room was large, but most available space was filled with wine barrels, making the area seem small, cramped. Stairs hugged the right side of the stone cellar wall ahead. Bette recognized nothing, but it was entirely possible this was how Rollin had brought her into the city. They were near the surface.
“This way,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs.
Bette hesitated. Not because she was afraid, but because she wasn’t. Not in the least. The thought of going above should terrify her. This dark Guardian at her side should unnerve her. Just glancing at Steffen would have sent her into full-on panic attack not long ago. But now? Knowing the world wasn’t out to harm her? Because of Rollin, it seemed she could even place a fair amount of trust in this battle worn Guardian.
She gave Steffen a small nod, and he took her cue, moving her forward. Again, a spark of gentlemanly behavior surfaced through his gruff exterior as he kept her close to the wall, placing himself on the edge of the stairs. The climb must be difficult for Steffen with his damaged legs, perhaps even painful.
Once they were back on level ground, Steffen steered her through a long kitchen and into the great room where the doorway to the chateau loomed before them. As they passed through the doorway, she noticed only the two of them were outdoors.