by Joey W. Hill
His cock got harder, his fingers constricting on Mariela. She made a noise of encouragement in her throat, her clever mouth driving him even higher.
What was the Fae’s end game with Uthe? There was no end game. There never was with the Fae. It was all about the game itself. Uthe should be far beyond such games.
Mariela nipped him and he let out a breath. “You seek punishment.”
He would give it to her, because he never left her aching or wanting. It was an attempt to make up for all the things he couldn’t give her. Like his body inside her, his seed. It had been some time since he’d actually joined with another.
Damn Keldwyn for making him miss that. Damn Fae.
* * *
Evil cannot be destroyed. It will always resurface, a root that runs deep beneath the earth. Even if you kill the plant, it will sprout elsewhere. Whereas Good is like the plucked flower. There are endless flowers, yes, but so fragile, so temporal. Why do you think He made it that way? Why do you think your religions exhort you not to ask why? Never question, only serve…
A bouquet of flowers. She’d plucked them from around the front door, as far as her chains would allow her to reach. She’d been thinking…what had she been thinking? That she wanted to summon something of who she’d been. An appreciation for beauty might balance the horror that had happened to her. As she sat at the table, watching the flowers, her hand on her swelling belly, Uthe could feel the pressure of her hand. Through the cushion of her nourishment, the liquid of her womb, he tried to put his hand up, touch hers.
Flowers, scattered over a table. Washed with blood.
Uthe surfaced, the wooden dagger beneath his pillow tight in his grip. The candle had just stuttered out, for he could still smell the smoke, the faint scent of the wax. It was sundown.
My lord? You are well?
Mariela was kneeling on the floor, for she started his night the same way she ended it. There was a touch of concern to her mind-voice.
“Of course.” He put his feet on the floor, scrubbed a hand over his face and gave her an absent smile. “Go see to your household duties, Mariela. Tonight will be busy for all of us. I will meet you in Council chambers. They are requiring the presence of our servants to discuss the arrival of Queen Rhoswen.”
Had that been part of what had driven Keldwyn’s own thrumming energy to such an edge yesterday? Knowing that tonight the Unseelie Queen was coming to the human world for the very first time in years?
Those in her entourage would be the oldest and strongest of the Fae, for politics and appearance. Though younger Fae were quickly drained of energy by too much concrete, iron and other trappings of the human world, the Council’s headquarters outside Savannah had plenty of undeveloped woodland and marsh property. Nearly a thousand acres of it cushioned the mansion, the driveway a winding mile from the closest rural road. The surrounding forest contained a portal between the Fae world and the human one, so that was where the receiving ceremony would be. There’d be a short honorary meeting in the Council chamber, followed by a soiree in the grand ballroom. A few carefully chosen vampires, beyond Council members and their servants, would attend.
The current Queen of the Unseelie Fae was Lyssa’s half-sister, so the sisters would take some private time together after that before the Fae Queen returned to her world.
There was no official business planned for this visit, but it was an important one. Lyssa had indicated a planned lack of controversy and her familial connection with the Queen were no guarantee things couldn’t go to hell in a blink. The Fae had done their best to murder Lyssa’s vampire mother after Rhoswen’s Fae father impregnated her. He’d been turned into a rose bush and banished into a wasteland for fraternizing with their species. Though that had been over a thousand years ago, relations between the Fae and vampire had advanced very little until recently.
As one of the humans might say, today would require everyone’s “A-game.”
Given that, Uthe decided to start the evening with a short but intense workout. Since their hierarchical world was unapologetically built on the idea that might made right, all vampires set aside time to keep battle skills sharp. Normally he might have engaged Lord Belizar for a sparring match, because the two were well matched in weight, height and weapons use, but he wasn’t ready to be around any other members of Council after that disturbing dream. Plus, Belizar would want to dissect the latest Council decisions in his gruff, heavy-handed way, and Uthe wasn’t in the mood for that.
Opening his chest, Uthe chose the sword he’d carried centuries ago. He needed the closer connection to his past tonight.
The marsh side of the house had a quiet courtyard with enough space for sparring maneuvers. When he was relieved not to meet anyone along the way who would engage him in conversation, he realized how much he needed the exertion to steady his mind. There were more second mark servants on the grounds right now, but though they offered him a respectful nod and bow as he passed, they would not speak unless he engaged them. From their harried expressions and quick steps, they were occupied with preparing the estate to Lady Lyssa’s specifications. All surfaces gleamed with cleanliness, and fresh flowers were arranged. No risk of offending the Fae Queen was too small to be overlooked.
“If you think I am easily insulted, you have not met my sister.” Uthe had overheard Lyssa say that to the small army of servants she’d addressed earlier in the week. She’d then turned them over for more detailed instructions to Jacob, her own servant, and Elijah Ingram, a second mark who had majordomo responsibilities for all her properties.
Uthe smiled a little. Lady Lyssa had always had a dry sense of humor, but it had become a little easier of late. Much of that had to do with her relationship with Jacob, and the birth of their son, Kane. Uthe could not deny it. Vampires and servants. He thought again of Mason’s proposed policy, but today other things would take priority, which suited him fine. Complex problems needed time and study to determine the most sensible decision, not the most politic one.
Once he reached the courtyard, he started as he always did, on one knee, offering a quick prayer for his training to serve the Lord’s purpose. Then he launched into the exercises. After so many years, he had no problem imagining his opponent’s possible strikes and going through the stances. The blades were old-fashioned weapons, but training and a vampire’s speed and strength made them formidable still. The swords the Crusaders had brought initially from France were not as well-tempered and balanced as Saracen blades, but the knights had learned from their metalworking skills. Though he could have upgraded to even more modern versions of those now, Uthe practiced with these blades for different reasons—to remind him of his purpose, who he was.
He pushed himself, but never lost an awareness of his immediate surroundings, because a vampire who did that didn’t live long. Hearing the whisper of air over a weapon not his own, he spun, and his sword met the edge of Daegan Rei’s katana. The chime of the two blades echoed as he held the stance. Daegan did the same, a warrior’s greeting he reinforced with an approving look. Uthe knew the Council’s enforcer was lethal and near invincible with that Japanese weapon, so he’d measured his stroke to match Uthe’s. He didn’t take it as an insult, but as a sign of respect.
Daegan let his blade slide free and backed up a step, though he kept a sparring position. “May I help you with your workout, my lord?” he asked.
Uthe’s vampire senses told him that Gideon, Daegan’s third mark, was with him. The muscular, sharp-eyed male shifted into his peripheral vision, confirming it. Anwyn, the other vampire of their threesome, was not, but both males bore her fragrant scent, suggesting they’d left her bed only recently. Since she was still a fledgling, she would stay below ground until full dark around nine p.m., but Uthe was certain one or both males was monitoring her wellbeing. Gideon could do it with his third mark connection to her, whereas Daegan could use the blood link he’d chosen to have with her, or the access that the two of them sharing Gideon gave him.
Anwyn had been and still was owner of Club Atlantis, a BDSM establishment in Atlanta. When the Mistress became a vampire, her Dominant streak had simply been enhanced, but she and Daegan did not share Gideon as equals. There was no such thing as equal partners in the vampire world. One was always top. In their case, there was no question it was Daegan. Out of all the vampires in their world who could challenge Lyssa’s strength, Daegan would have been one of them, with Mason following a close second. Fortunately, both were loyal to her, as was Uthe. She deserved their loyalty on every level. It also didn’t hurt that Jacob, Lyssa’s servant, was Gideon’s brother. Two former vampire hunters serving as servants, one to the head of the Vampire Council, and the other to their assassin. The world was an unpredictable place.
He brought his mind back to Daegan’s offer to spar. “I fear this old vampire would be a poor match for your skills, Lord Daegan.”
“Then I will be happy to improve yours to ensure you stay ahead of danger, my lord. Your counsel is worth ten vampires with my fighting skills.”
“Well spoken.” Uthe signaled his intent, and re-engaged. He didn’t try to challenge Daegan’s far greater skill; he merely worked on his own and let the male adjust as needed to push him a little harder, a little further. Blessed Virgin, they should have the male train all their vampires to fight.
It was difficult not to get distracted by the smooth, deadly grace of his opponent. Daegan was tall and compact, every muscle honed in the service of his assigned role. He’d worn his hair almost as short as Uthe’s for some time, but since Anwyn had become a vampire, he’d let it grow so it feathered across his brow and had some silky thickness to the short layers. Uthe thought of Keldwyn’s hair tangling in his hands, and how much he liked its length. He almost missed Daegan’s next counter, and increased his speed and deftness to catch back up.
Daegan slipped back in and out, swift and flashing like a needle through fabric. Uthe didn’t think, just parried and responded with more elaborate footwork, faster jabs and arcs from his own blade. The flicker in Daegan’s eyes gave Uthe a quick jolt of reminder, but the reminder was too late. Daegan lifted his blade, a formal request for a pause, and stepped back. “My lord Uthe, I would ask a favor.”
Uthe put the tip of his blade to the ground, folding his fingers over the pommel. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the weight of his mail, the ripple of the tunic over it as a desert breeze touched him. He jerked himself out of the memory, recognizing it for the danger it was. “Any favor within my power to grant you is yours, my lord.”
“Do not hold back. Show me your true skill set, so I don’t waste your time offering you guidance you don’t need.”
Uthe noted Gideon’s face remained impassive, but the servant’s midnight blue eyes had been tracking him as closely. While Gideon’s preferred fighting technique was blunt force, hammer against nail, rather than the elegant brutality of sword play, Uthe expected the servant was well-versed in reading an opponent. Humans had no chance against vampire speed or strength. They had to rely on surprise, strategy and calculation. Even if they had exceptional skills in that area, most human vampire hunters didn’t live long, because the odds were always stacked against them. Gideon had not only survived, he’d been more successful than any other vampire hunter they’d encountered.
As for Daegan, he’d read that slip in Uthe’s footwork for what it was. Any other time, Uthe wouldn’t have revealed too much, even to eyes and senses as sharp as Daegan’s. It wasn’t unusual for a vampire to be cagey about what fighting skills he had, so Uthe knew it was not a serious faux pas. Yet it was a disturbing indication about his state of mind tonight.
Daegan would allow him to gracefully decline the invitation, and Uthe should. Knowing the skill set of friend or foe in their world was a vital advantage, because one could easily cross the line from one to the other in a blink. The thought made Uthe inexplicably sad. He started to bow and offer a polite but firm dismissal.
Instead, an impulse surged up from his gut, so strong he couldn’t deny himself. He gave a short nod, and then he moved.
It was not hard to remember, not today. Today it was so clear. The blood and dirt as they engaged the raiders. The scent, the heat. The thin screams of the horses, since the cursed enemy would target them, knowing they were the most difficult weapon for a Templar to replace. Uthe spun, thrust, swung, crashed. His sword was a cutting tool, made for close quarter fighting, and the boon of such a superior opponent was he didn’t have to hold back. Daegan was still better at this, no chance of Uthe doing him real damage. Plus they were using metal blades. Unless he tried to sever Daegan’s head from his body, the assassin could come to no mortal harm.
Uthe’s muscles strained in fierce pleasure. His feet knew the steps, a dance he’d done over and over. Adrenaline rushed through him, the light of battle firing his blood, his gaze. It burned all the way to his roots. He felt like he was breathing after holding his breath for centuries.
He didn’t realize Daegan was calling his name, not until the vampire moved in aggressively. Using a move too fast for even Uthe to follow, the enforcer slipped under his guard and knocked the blade clattering from his hand, shoving him back with his other hand so Uthe had to plant his feet, regain his senses.
Even the crickets had stopped singing. He realized he had a feral grin on his face, and his heart was roaring. Though Daegan’s eyes were sharp as twin knife points, his sensual lips curled. “You do me honor with your trust, my lord,” the vampire said. “I fear there is little I can teach you that wouldn’t threaten my job security.”
“Fucking Christ,” Gideon said before Uthe could respond. “Maybe you should tell Lyssa not to have Uthe sit so close when they’re disagreeing about Council policy.”
His blood was pounding in his ears, singing with savage pleasure. It propelled him toward Gideon, closed the ground between them. In a heartbeat, he had the male’s throat gripped in his hand and his body up against the courtyard wall, slamming him there so a plume of dust rose from the brick.
“She is Lady Lyssa to you, servant,” Uthe said. His fangs were bared, and he relished the slick, sharp curve of them against his bottom lip. “To insinuate I would ever raise a hand to her is an insult so deep I should take your head for it. After flaying the skin from your body. You will also not blaspheme the Lord’s name in my presence, nor interrupt when one vampire is speaking to another, unless you are invited to join the conversation.”
Gideon’s eyes flared to rage when Uthe laid hands on him. If Uthe had not moved so quickly to pin him, he was sure the former hunter would have resisted in some way, no matter that Uthe was in a position to beat him into a heap of bones and blood.
He had no plans to do violence to Gideon, and not just because Daegan was breathing down his neck, the long fingers curling over his shoulder in warning. It made Uthe think of Keldwyn’s touch. The two men had a similar way about them. He expected when Daegan put that hand on Gideon, his gut coiled and uncoiled the way Uthe’s did now, remembering Keldwyn’s demanding hold. Daegan’s sensual mouth, held firm and stern as he’d sparred, heralded all the dark pleasures he could inflict on his servant, ones that would make Gideon suffer and beg for more.
Need and desire rose inside his own breast in edgy conflict. It could slice him up like the edge of Daegan’s sword. The vision Uthe had of blood slipping from his body brought an agonizing relief so strong his mind countered the image with alarm, a reminder to draw back, rein in. Control himself. Be who he was expected to be.
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Both the Rule and Bernard’s written endorsement of the Templars had emphasized the need for a tempered reaction to everything. Unlike other warriors, Templars did not charge into battle with battle cries. They engaged silently, never exulting in the death of the enemy but only in service to the Lord’s will. They did not raise voices, curse or speak in anger to one another, not without facing penance. While such enforced calm might seem restrictive, there was a level peace to it, a tranquility he knew well, even if it was eluding him at the moment.
Releasing Gideon, Uthe stepped back and away. He drew a deep breath, forcing the calm he didn’t feel into his voice. “I will do your servant no harm, Lord Daegan. Though I could certainly demand a punishment from my hands as a lesson in minding his tongue.”
He shifted his unblinking gaze to Daegan. “You value my counsel. I offer it now as repayment for your sparring instruction. The primary concern the Council has about formalizing more rights to our servants is that they will forget their place in our world, to the detriment of themselves and their vampires. If you want him to live long and well, and if he values you as you do him”—he let his gaze flick over Gideon’s tight expression—“teach him the rules before someone forces your hand in the manner you thought I was about to do. No policy the Council passes will punish a vampire’s justified reaction to your servant’s careless tongue. Do we have an understanding?”
Gideon had been a controversial decision as a human servant. But controversial didn’t mean wrong. He’d probably be surprised to know Uthe believed the former vampire hunter was a good match for Lord Daegan and Anwyn. His loyalty to his vampires, and the courage that backed up his great love for them both, compensated for his rough edges. Daegan and Anwyn merely needed to smooth some of those edges before they were forcibly sheared off.