Beneath the Night

by Jen Colly

  “He’s the only one I’ve found who will. Be good to him, Cat,” he said.

  His words somehow felt like a good-bye. “Savard, whatever this is—”

  The captain shook his head. “Navarre needs you. I won’t bring this into his home, his city.”

  Cat recognized the look on his face because she wore it now. Determination. “Then be safe, Captain.”

  Captain Devlin Savard gave her a deeply respectful bow, one reserved for a lord or lady, then walked away. Whatever this was must be extremely important for him to leave this city and Navarre.

  Cat wanted to find Keir and ask him what hell this was all about, talk with Soren so he could prepare the Guardians, and explain this to Navarre. But it could wait.

  In this moment, the only thing that mattered was Navarre.

  Cat hurried down the corridor, veering left when the hall split. The council room door was just ahead. She entered without hesitation. The silvery blue waiting room was narrow, beautiful. At the end of this short room stood Titus, guarding the door to the council room.

  Ivan’s voice filtered through the closed door. “Valenna sent an emissary to confirm the miracle of your waking after seven years. Henrick is showing him the city now.”

  “Move,” Cat demanded, and to his credit, Titus didn’t try to stop her. He opened the door and followed her into the council room. Vidor and Ivan turned, watched her enter, both men displeased by her presence.

  Navarre stood and stepped away from the table. His gaze held hers.

  “Apologies, my lord,” Titus said, then hitched a thumb toward her. “I can’t physically stop her, so…you have a guest.”

  “She’s fine,” Navarre said, waving dismissively at Titus. “What is it, Cat?”

  Cat walked around the table and right up to Navarre. She didn’t know what to say, or if anything needed to be said. She grabbed his shirt in her fists, pulled him down to her, and kissed him. This wasn’t a shy, sweet kiss, and she didn’t give a damn if they had an audience.

  Navarre pulled away, and when he spoke, his voice was harsh with need. “Kiss me again, and you’re saying yes. To everything. To me.”

  Cat wrapped her arms around his neck. Navarre raised his eyebrows, curious to see what she might do. With one fluid, graceful spring, she lifted herself off the ground, wrapped her legs around his waist.

  They were so close their noses touched. Slowly, she closed the short distance between them, then fully pressed her lips to his. Navarre remained motionless for all of two seconds; then his hands held her thighs to him and he broke the kiss. He didn’t set her down, but carried her from the council room. Ivan and Vidor gaped at them, shocked at what they’d just witnessed.

  Navarre walked quickly down the corridor, looking nowhere but her eyes. She tightened her arms around him. “You can’t see where you’re going.”

  “I can see the walls, and anyone in my path will move. I’m not letting go of you. Not ever.” The way he growled those words sent a pleasant buzz through her body. She liked that he didn’t want to put her down, and when she placed kisses along his jaw, ending with a gentle nip to his ear, he groaned and clutched her tighter. “Cat…”

  “Should I make this easier?”

  Navarre gave her the most endearingly quizzical look and she laughed, the sound fading as she pulled them both into Spirit.

  Sailing through the corridor in Spirit was the fastest way to travel, and she could do with some privacy right about now. She took him down the royal corridor, the rich blue colors blending as they moved quickly by. Once they were on the other side of his door, inside his home, she released them both from Spirit.

  Navarre stepped back, leaned against the door as his body acclimated to being a body once again. He looked around, noting the familiar surroundings of his home, and then his hungry gaze latched on to her lips. He kissed her then, his longing so deep she felt it inside her, her response mirroring his need. “Down,” he said, the rough edge to his voice as thrilling as knowing she’d brought him to the point where he’d lost his reserved composure.

  Cat unlocked her legs and slid down his body, the full contact electrifying. Navarre groaned, put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her around. He clamped his right arm around her waist and lifted her tight against his chest. His left hand slid up her torso, between her breasts, and pinned her to him.

  Navarre started at her shoulder, his hot, openmouthed kisses scalding her. His kisses lingered over her vein, his tongue teasing her skin. She gasped.

  He instantly paused, his mouth never leaving her neck as he asked, “Cat?”

  “Do it,” she begged, allowing her head to fall back onto his shoulder. “Please.”

  Trusting him was freeing. The sensation of being completely out of control, of leaving everything, even her weight, in Navarre’s hands thrilled her. This time there was no fear, only a greedy anticipation building inside her.

  Navarre didn’t hold back. His teeth broke skin, slowly sinking into her neck to hit her vein. This was different, blissful. Perfect. Heat radiated from Navarre, and she savored the feel of him pressed firmly against her back, the delicious sensation of his lips tugging at her neck as he drank.

  She remained aware, fully in control of her body, though she’d offered control to Navarre. His bite was intense, delicious, and everything she’d been missing. For the longest, blissful moment, all Cat could do was feel. She’d thought nothing could top biting Navarre, but she’d been so wrong. This whole body rush of being bitten was something she’d never thought existed.

  Tears stung her eyes, the result of a strange combination of joy and relief. When Navarre pulled his teeth from her neck, she felt the soft sweep of his tongue closing the double puncture marks, sealing and healing his bite. He’d left her unmarked, saving that commitment for another time. Her body completely relaxed, she leaned all her weight back against him.

  Navarre dropped his head to hers, nuzzling her hair. “I want to hold you while I sleep.”

  “A healing sleep?” she asked, peeling her body from his to turn and face him.

  His eyes were half closed, a smile curling his lips. “No, but your blood was potent.”

  Cat took his hand and led him to his bedroom. She turned to face him, her head tilted slightly. “When we wake up, we’re making plans.”

  Navarre grinned, his satisfied smile devastating. “I like plans.”

  She glanced from Navarre to the bed, then back up at him. Cat hooked the back of his knee with her heel and pulled it toward her just as she shoved his shoulders back hard. Navarre landed on his back, sprawled out on the bed. Laughing.

  Her fingers deftly unfastened her corset and tossed the leather top onto the floor. Navarre caught sight of her and he fell silent, his eyes widened.

  “You’re undressing?” he asked, though his voice sounded off, like his throat had gone dry.

  “Not for the reason you think. We haven’t made those kind of plans yet,” she said, pure logic in her tone as she lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sleeping, and that is not sleeping attire.”

  Cat crawled onto the bed and tucked herself tight against his side. With an arm over his chest, and a leg curled over his, she snuggled close. “Was it…?”

  “You want to know if you tasted different?” His sleepy voice rumbled through his chest to her ear.

  She nodded against him. The taste of her mixed blood hadn’t entered her mind until he’d said it was potent.

  “You did,” he said, satisfaction infusing his words. “Stronger. Sweeter.”

  Cat smiled, placed her hand over his chest where he healed. She’d been what he needed. Content, she soon fell asleep to the languid rhythm of Navarre stroking her from shoulder to hip.

  Chapter 19

  Cat had woken him from a deep sleep with a kiss so tender Navarre thought he’d dreamed it at first. Already dressed, she’d whispered something about needing his sleep, and with one last kiss, she’d left, l
ikely heading back to her home.

  With Cat no longer at his side, he’d found it difficult to close his eyes, to quiet his mind. Navarre had given up on sleep hours ago, and slouched in his chair by the fireplace with one of the city’s record books on his lap in an effort to occupy his thoughts.

  Balinese had dozens of books. Some recorded laws, while others detailed the corridor and street layouts. One book recorded all deaths in the arena, and another tracked every man who’d been placed within his jail, no matter the minor crime.

  What he was looking for would not be found in those types of books, so he’d turned directly to the official records of city events. Nothing. He hadn’t known where to go next, so he’d picked up the council’s meeting notes.

  With the demon making the bold announcement that her father was in fact inside the city, Navarre didn’t know where to start. He searched for a name, an event, anything that might give him a clue as to who inside his city would wish harm to him, or worse, Cat.

  The records following the attack were a disaster, a mass of hodgepodge notes thrown together. An afterthought. A documentation of what the remaining council members recalled of the event. Only a few other scattered accounts had been logged.

  Flipping back several pages, Navarre searched for a broader scope in the weeks prior. Just before the attack, he’d been completely submersed in the city’s happenings. Everything from the new tunnels being dug on the south end, to the new arrival of a human. He’d lived and breathed for his city, and had yet to find anything he hadn’t already been aware of.

  After the attack the penmanship in this book had changed drastically. Vidor’s elegant scrolling letters suddenly gave way to Ivan’s sharp, draftsman-like script. Navarre read the first several entries. Many stories contradicted each other, and appeared to be of little relevance. Still, he read through them all.

  The first day after the attack, the entry read: “A vampire’s eyes turned red. Demons had been living among us. No demons on the lower six levels. Navarre still sleeps. Citizens uneasy. Awaiting Vidor’s return. By order of Lord Navarre, Devlin Savard was named acting lord in his absence. Soren Rayner promoted to acting captain.”

  Navarre paused, sat straight, and reread the entry. Why await Vidor’s return? Where would he go? Line by line he scanned the notes, searching for Vidor’s name. Never before had he found Vidor’s name among the official records, not even when Navarre’s father had ruled Balinese, but then, Vidor’s hand had written these books. He searched page after page, finally finding Vidor’s name again, this time in a single sentence.

  Vidor has been in Galbraith nearly a week in an effort to warn his niece of the demon threat.

  Navarre set the book aside and hurried to his desk. He slid open the drawer and shifted several papers around, searching for the radio he’d never needed. Pressing the button on the side, he gave it a try. “I need Captain Savard.”

  After a moment, and a soft static buzz, the radio popped on.

  “Hello there, lord o’ the land,” a female answered, her slightly off Irish accent adding a lyrical lilt to her words. “I was wonderin’ if I’d ever hear from you. Sorry to say, but the captain isn’t here.”

  “I understand that he would not be with you. I need you to find him.”

  “He’s no’ in the city. Hasn’t been for hours. The Guardians tagged him missing.”

  Missing? Savard had gone? He wouldn’t. “Then…then I need Soren.”

  “Already alerted him, m’lord. He should be there any second. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Send him to Cat’s home.”

  The other end of the line clicked, and he stared at the receiver. Where would Savard be? Had he been injured? He would never leave.

  Navarre’s oldest, most trusted adviser was suddenly his one and only suspect regarding the attack. He needed Savard now more than ever.

  In all the years both Navarre and his father had been in ruling, Vidor had kept the records meticulously. Vidor would have been the one to neglect entering the names of demons coming into the city. He’d likely known they were demon, and possibly why they’d entered Balinese.

  He could even be Cat’s father. The possibility was real, but it seemed so unlikely. Vidor hated demons as much as Ivan, and even Cat. He couldn’t believe any of them would open the doors for a demon. If he had to choose a suspect based strictly on having a history above ground and among demons, he would look to Savard. Accusing Savard made even less sense, except now that he’d suddenly gone, suspicion was inevitable.

  Navarre left his home, walked down the corridor to Cat’s. Without so much as a knock, he pushed the door open. Cat spun around, knife primed to throw, but when she saw him standing in her doorway alone, she relaxed.

  “You look pissed,” she said, then flipped the knife in her hand and slipped it back into her belt.

  “I think I may have a suspect,” he said, but Cat didn’t appear as hopeful as he’d expected.

  “Whoever you think was behind the attack has probably already been investigated. Savard was pretty thorough,” Soren said as he walked through the door with Rollin.

  “Vidor left the city before the crisis hit, claiming he journeyed to Galbraith to secure his niece’s safety, right?”

  “Yes, he did. He also had words with Galbraith’s council about the possibility of a demon problem,” Soren admitted. “He’d provided a letter for the council saying as much.”

  Navarre let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve known Vidor all my life, and he has no brother or sister. It’s not possible for him to have a niece.”

  “Whatever his reasons for lying, he wouldn’t be behind the attack. Vidor loathes demons. He’d never become involved with them,” Soren said.

  “Yes, but his hate doesn’t stop with demons.” Navarre hated to admit it, but Vidor’s prejudices were many. “Vidor has a clear distaste for anything other than pure vampire.”

  “True,” Soren said, then pointed to Cat. She seemed surprised at the sudden attention. “Exhibit A. You didn’t see the fit Vidor threw after Savard allowed her to stay in the city, and you remember how he treated Faith. He wanted to throw her to the demons I’d only just saved her from to be rid of ‘the human.’”

  “How far would he go to get rid of those he perceives as impurities?” Navarre asked them. “The truth is, I don’t know.”

  Cat stepped up, standing between them and holding out her hands, motioning for them to calm down. “Listen, I don’t like the guy, but he’s your friend, Navarre, and you don’t know why he lied.”

  “You’re right.” Navarre scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t like that one written sentence has put everything I know about my friend and mentor into question.”

  Soren shrugged. “You want answers. Who wouldn’t?”

  Oriana rushed from her room to investigate the commotion, a tiny black-haired doll cradled in one arm. Maeryn peeked at them from the doorway, trying to hide behind Oriana.

  The children had dealt with enough upheaval, and he didn’t want to worry them needlessly. “Nonetheless, I want to speak with him to clarify. Soren, I want you there with me when I question him.”

  “I’m acting captain again, aren’t I?” Soren asked, somewhat deflated.

  “Yes. I was just informed that Savard has disappeared.”

  Cat looked between the two men. “It’s not like he vanished into thin air. He said he was leaving.”

  “Leaving? He talked to you?” Navarre turned to her, anxious to hear what had happened to Savard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was a little busy at the time.” Cat looked at him like he was supposed to know what she was talking about.

  “With what?”

  She lifted an eyebrow suggestively. “You.”

  Navarre opened his mouth to ask her another question, but stopped when Soren’s jaw dropped and Rollin crossed his arms over his chest. Maeryn and Oriana watched them intently from their bedro
om, hanging on every word. Maeryn was already fretting her lip, distressed by the tone of their conversation. This was not a discussion for children to overhear.

  The door to Cat’s home whipped open and Jovan barreled in, panting, his face pale and eyes wide. Maeryn pushed through the adults, running headlong to crash against Jovan, throwing her arms around him in a crushing hug.

  “I’m right here. I’m fine. Can you look at me?” Jovan asked, and she did, gazing at him with those big, sad eyes. “Be a good girl, Maer. Close your eyes and cover your ears.”

  Maeryn nodded, squeezed her eyes shut and cupped her hands over her ears. Jovan hugged her tight, covering her hand with his. He might not have realized it, but he rocked Maeryn, soothing her.

  Jovan looked at Cat and whispered, “A man in a fancy vest took Dulcina. Don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him with Lord Navarre. Mean eyes, and a dent in his chin.”

  “Vidor.” Navarre had held out hope that he’d been wrong. Until now.

  “Where is she?” Cat demanded.

  “I followed as far as I could. He was headed to the arena,” Jovan said quietly. “He had armed men with him, and I didn’t know any of them.”

  “Damn it. If Jovan doesn’t know them, then they aren’t Guardians. He’s brought more demons in,” Cat said, rechecking her weapons. She ducked into her bedroom and came out with her sword.

  “Soren, I want you to stay here with Rollin. Guard these children well.” Then Navarre said to Soren in a lower voice, “Do not call the Guardians. We don’t know what we’re walking into yet.”

  “I don’t like this,” Soren said. “I’ll give you ten minutes, then I’m sending them in.”

  Cat tugged on her leather, fingerless gloves. “Navarre, we have an appointment with a traitor.”

  Navarre stepped into the corridor first and turned back to see Cat sweep her gaze over the four children inside her home. With a short nod to them, she left her home and broke into a jog.

  They moved quickly, taking the first elevator down a level and heading for the arena.

  “Main door only opens to the seating, and he won’t be there. That leaves two entrances. Justice and prison.” Cat was focused, on a mission, and in her element. “They’ll expect us to enter through the prison. The passageway is wide, easier to take on a fight if we get pushed back.”