by Lisa Olsen
Anja waved away the offer. “You’ve already done more than I could’ve asked for. Thanks for that, by the way. It means a lot that you’d go out of your way to help Rob. I know the two of you haven’t always been the best of friends.”
That was an understatement. “I’m not doing it for him.”
“Right, you’re doing it for Carys,” she nodded. “How could I forget.”
Was that what she really thought? “Anja, you must know I…”
“There you are, Ulrik,” Carys appeared at the end of the hallway, and Bishop spent the next ten seconds swearing in a half dozen languages inside his head while she sashayed down the hall to join them. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, just about,” he said, forcing a polite smile.
“What are you two up to tonight?” Anja asked, her smile looking just as strained, but Carys either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.
“We’re going hunting in town,” she beamed. “It’s been an age since I roamed the London streets. I can’t wait to recapture the pulse of the city.”
“You kids have fun with that.” Anja retreated back into her room and Bishop took a half step forward before he caught himself from going farther.
“So, call or text me if anything changes. I want to be kept in the loop.”
“You got it, Cap’n,” Anja drawled, giving him a crisp but somewhat mocking salute. “You go on and have fun, we’ll keep her flyin’.”
“Xièxie,” Bishop replied, enjoying the widening of her eyes at his semi-appropriate use of Chinese. He got halfway down the main staircase with a silly grin on his face before he realized he still had Carys by his side, not Anja. She was yammering on about something, and he forced himself to listen as they reached the grand foyer.
“Where shall we go first?” Carys was dressed in a slinky blue dress that hugged her curves, slit to show a scandalous amount of leg. She certainly was adjusting to modern times. Her blonde hair was still tucked up and away as it always had been, in an elaborate coiffure with a few springy curls against her neck. One of his favorite things had been to pull out the pins and take her hair down. It’d spilled over his fingers like cornsilk – but now his fingers itched to touch another blonde mane.
“Ulrik?” she prompted, when he didn’t readily reply.
“It doesn’t matter, wherever you want to go,” he replied picking up a set of keys from the board in the hall. “Oh, there’s something I want to stop and check up on first though.”
“What?”
Bishop waited until they were settled in the car before he replied, pulling away from the mansion. “We did a test run of cutting out a vampire’s heart last night and I want to check up on the guy and make sure he’s still doing fine.” Though part of him secretly hoped the guy would’ve taken a turn for the worse in the hopes that it would convince Anja not to attempt it herself.
“You cut open another vampire?” she blinked in surprise. “When did this happen?”
“Ah, when you were off glomming onto father/daughter time with Jakob and Nelleke last night.”
“I thought you said you had important work to see to.”
“And I did. This is important.”
The pucker of a frown marred her smooth forehead. “Why are you going through so much effort with this curse business? You’re suffering no ill effects from it, I’ve seen to that. I like things fine the way they are.”
Of course she did. “It’s not all about you. This curse is messing up Rob and Anja’s lives too.” He could feel her staring at him in the darkened car, but didn’t offer up any other explanation.
“What is she to you?” she finally asked. “You never bothered yourself with Jakob’s leavings before.”
“Anja and I are… friends,” he replied, choosing his words carefully. “Close friends.”
“How close?”
“She’s with Rob now, but there was a time when we were very close.” There was no point in hiding it from her, there were any number of people who knew about it and might spill the beans if he tried to downplay it.
“Surely not,” she laughed, sobering quickly when he didn’t rush to deny it. “But she’s an infant. I’ll admit she’s pretty enough in a common sort of way, but certainly beneath you in status and breeding.”
“These are different times, Carys. People are defined by their character and actions, not their breeding. Besides, her status is nothing to shake a stick at. There’s not another like her that’s risen to power even half as quickly. I should remind you that my lineage isn’t all that impressive either when you talk about breeding.”
“You are the son of a Germanic noble.”
“According to my whore of a mother,” he pointed out.
“She was an entertainer, a flawless beauty,” she started to say, but Bishop interrupted her before she spun too many fairy tales.
“I have no illusions of what my mother was and wasn’t and the same goes for me. You picked me because I caught your eye, it’s as easy as that. You admired my talents in and out of the bedroom and the way I jumped at your every command. It had nothing to do with breeding or status, so don’t try to make it more than it was.”
“Ulrik, I…”
“My name is Bishop now. I told you, I’m not that man anymore. I don’t know you anymore either.”
“I haven’t changed, I sit before you, the same girl as I was the first night we met.”
“Maybe that’s part of the problem.” Time had stopped for her, but the years had marched on brutally for him. Ulrik had died long ago, giving way to the man he’d become. Even that man had radically changed in the past year alone, since Anja had come into his life.
He’d rendered her speechless, and it took a few minutes for her to reply. “You confound me, to be sure. One might almost think you don’t love me at all anymore.”
“Do you honestly care?” Bishop challenged. “Jakob compelled you not to love me, why should it matter if I love you or not?”
“I may not feel that love any longer, but I remember it well enough,” she said softly. “I remember clinging to that love with such a fiery passion that I’d have sacrificed anything to save you, even that love itself.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about the curse back then?”
“You knew well enough when you were in the grip of it. We spent many a night lamenting our doomed love affair and cursing Jakob’s name.”
The fact that he couldn’t remember any of it rankled more than he liked for something that’d happened so long ago. “Then why compel me to forget all about it? If it was such a great love between us, why not keep fighting to beat the curse once and for all?”
“I couldn’t bear to and then I didn’t want to. Jakob took that from me. He took it from us.”
They sat in silence until the lights of the city beckoned, and Carys lost the gloomy mood. “Let’s go hunting as we did in the old days. Leave all this melancholy aside and recapture what it is to be alive and free.”
All Bishop could think was – this wasn’t freedom. If he was truly free he’d be back at the house playing gin with Anja and thinking about deployment schedules. But he also knew he had to maintain a delicate balance with Carys. Upset her too deeply and she was likely to lash out, and the consequences wouldn’t be pretty. “Sure, we can go hunting,” he agreed easily. “As soon as I make this one stop.”
* * *
The vamp holed up in his apartment was weak but alive when he went to check up on him. He probably could’ve healed quicker if he’d had more powerful blood than the bagged blood Bishop left behind for him, but they’d wanted to make sure he’d survive without it. Carys lost interest in the whole thing in less than two minutes after she walked through the door, declaring her boredom with the squalid little hovel. With assurances that he’d be back with the balance of what he owed the guy, they left on foot, Carys dancing ahead as soon as they hit the street.
Bishop followed along behind her, keeping her in his sights. This was th
e game. While technically hunting together, Carys preferred to make the first move on her own, making a show of it, knowing he watched. He followed her into a busy pub, keeping his distance while she stood dazed by the noisy display of blaring televisions mounted to the walls. This part was new for her, but she adapted quickly enough, taking a seat at the bar.
Much in the way he’d taught Anja to hunt, she selected a human that pleased her and set to charming him. She was dazzling to behold, knowing the perfect angle to highlight her heart shaped face, the effect of her light touch on a man’s arm or thigh, the ideal position to display the slope of her breast. Her laughter came high and sweet, but it rang false for him, knowing it was all an act.
The man she’d chosen was handsome, of course, strong and powerful. He’d already been talking to a blonde woman when they’d arrived, but that was simply more of the challenge Carys wanted. Bishop watched as she lured him away from the blonde and then out of the bar. He knew what it felt like to be captive to her charms, the guy never stood a chance.
Bishop followed them out into the nearby alley, away from the bright lights and sounds. He knew his part well enough. Once she had the first taste he was to join her, and from there… anything could happen. But Carys didn’t jump in and take what she wanted, not yet. Instead, she allowed her victim the illusion of control, letting him be the one to press her against the cool bricks, letting his hands roam freely over her body while Bishop watched from the shadows.
There was a sound of ripping fabric, and Carys’ slinky dress split even higher, the better to allow her to wrap her legs around the man’s waist. Bishop steeled himself for what was to come next as Carys met his gaze over the guy’s shoulder, a curious smile of triumph on her lips as he surged into her. Her head tipped back, fangs descending in a flash of white before she sank them into the strong cords of his neck.
The coppery scent of spilled blood filled the air and Bishop found himself drifting closer without having made the conscious decision to move. He knew what was expected of him, and he stepped into place, feeling the call of the blood. His fangs elongated with a slow, almost painful stretch, throbbing along with the beat of the man’s heart.
A thin rivulet of blood escaped from where Cary’s mouth clamped against his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt, and Bishop reached out and split the fabric in two, mesmerized by the sight of the crimson drop.
The guy’s rhythm faltered as he realized they were no longer alone in the alley. “Who the fuck is this?” he bit out harshly.
“Shh, lover,” she whispered at his ear. “This is Ulrik, and he will bring you untold delights.” The man instantly eased, his thrusts resuming as Carys’ compulsion took hold. Bishop stepped closer, his mouth closing over the spilled droplet, tracing its path back up to Carys’ waiting lips. Their mouths fused together in a blood-tinged kiss that was half regret and half delight, the man’s body nothing more than a frustration for him and a source of pleasure for her.
“I’ve missed you, Ulrik,” she smiled, even as her head tipped back again at the strength of the man’s thrusts before sinking her teeth back into him.
Bishop felt no particular desire to touch the guy. In fact, the heady scent of the blood no longer called to him and he took a step backwards, head shaking from side to side. “I don’t want this.”
Her hand flashed out to catch him, stronger than steel despite the delicate arch of fingers. “Drink with me… it’s been so long,” she panted, eyes half lidded with pleasure. “Feel how strong and alive this one is. He was made for this.” She placed his hand along the flare of her hip and his fingers closed around it reflexively. “Do this for me and I will do something for you.”
His body responded to the throb of promised pleasure in her voice, a thousand memories of such shared nights flitting through his mind in a cacophony of carnal delights. He pressed closer, his mouth meeting hers again before it sank to the bounty spread before him, a low groan emanating from him as the man shuddered and emptied himself into Carys.
Somehow the man wasn’t there any more and it was his waist her legs wrapped around. His senses on overload, Bishop’s fangs scraped at her neck and her head lolled to the side.
“Yes, do it,” she urged him, and he bit into her sweet flesh, overcome by emotion as the familiar taste of her burst across his tongue. It felt good to lose himself, abandoning all doubts and fears. In that instant there was only Carys, and he cared for nothing else in the world but bringing her pleasure as she moaned and writhed in his arms while he drank and drank. He wanted to bury himself in her embrace and forget the rest of the world – but something held him back.
Something was missing.
With supreme effort, he tore his mouth away from her neck, setting her down on wobbling feet. Her hands instantly went to his belt, thinking he had another position in mind, but Bishop caught her wrists, holding them gently still. “Wait…” he said on a ragged breath, desperate to assert some control over his body’s actions.
“What’s wrong, cariad?” she asked, her features stamped with confusion as she evaded his grasp.
His head started to clear without the lure of her blood pulsing in his mouth. God, had he almost taken her not ten seconds after she’d had another man inside her? Once that had been par for the course, but now the thought only sickened him. So why then did he still feel the urge to take her in that dirty alley? Was it compulsion or buried feelings that made him feel this way?
Her hands diverted back to his belt and he stepped back, brushing them away. “Stop it, I need to think.”
“What is there to think of?” she purred, cuddling closer, and this time he didn’t move away as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. “You want me, just as I want you.”
That wasn’t in question, he wanted her alright. What kept him from taking what she offered was why. Why did he want her so badly when he hated so much about what she’d chosen to become?
His eyes squeezed shut, away from her hypnotic gaze as he tried to clear his head. “I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t between us anymore.”
“This is real enough.” Her hand cupped the bulge in his pants with a familiar stroke that almost brought him to his knees.
“What’s going on?” The guy sprawled on the ground sat up groggily, touching the sticky blood at his throat. Just like that, the spell was broken and Bishop was reminded that they weren’t alone in the alley.
“You passed out, buddy,” he said, disengaging himself from Carys’ embrace. Hauling the guy up to his feet, Bishop used his own blood to seal the wounds while he pulled his pants up. There was no way to disguise the torn, bloodied shirt, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. “Go home. Forget about what happened tonight,” he ordered.
“Yes, go home,” Carys echoed, her hand smoothing up Bishop’s back. “We have no need of you now.”
Bishop stayed still long enough for the guy to stumble to the mouth of the alley before he stepped away from her touch, leading her back toward where he’d left the car parked. “Is there anywhere else you wanted to go check out or do you want to go back to the house?”
Carys looped her arm through his, not caring how much leg her torn dress revealed. “Eager to get me back to your bed, are you?”
“No, Carys, I meant that I have work to do if you’re done playing for the night.”
“Work,” she huffed as if the word left a bad taste in her mouth. “You have no need to work now that I’ve returned to fill your nights.”
“Actually, yes, I do. Jakob himself set me in my current position, so unless you want to take it up with him, I’m going to have to devote at least part of my time to it.” While he normally didn’t like to think about it in those terms, for the moment it was convenient to hide behind Jakob.
“I’ll have to have words with him on that score,” she frowned. “At least once the curse is broken and all is restored between us.”
“Good luck with that, I wouldn’t hold my breath th
ough.”
Her chin came up in determination. “I can handle Jakob well enough. It’s the least he can do to repay me.” Her hand smoothed up his bicep as they walked, caressing the bulge of muscle there. “Soon this will all be over and all will return to the way it was before.”
That was a chilling thought. “Is that what you want? To go back to how things were?”
“Of course, don’t you?”
“Carys…” He stopped walking, turning to face her. “I’m not that same person anymore. Over three hundred years have passed since we knew each other. I have a job, responsibilities…” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “A job that I’m good at and I happen to enjoy.” Maybe not all the political bullshit since he’d taken Volkov’s job, but he still believed in what the Order stood for.
“But you don’t need any of that now,” she insisted. “Don’t trouble yourself over this, Ulrik,” Carys added, patting his arm. “Once the curse is removed and we are both free from compulsions, you won’t want for anything but my company, just as before.”
Why did that thought make his blood run cold? “And if I don’t want your company anymore?” She simply patted his arm again, a glorious smile on her lips and he kept pressing. “No, I mean it, Carys. If we get to the other side of this thing and I don’t want to be with you, what then?” Would she simply compel him again? If that was the case, he wanted no part of the ritual.
“You needn’t be so dramatic,” she laughed. “I have suitors enough without the need to compel your love if that’s what you’re worried about. If you truly desire to move on, as you say, I shall respect your wishes. I understand my ability to compel other vampires must be a trifle disconcerting, but you’ll see when I restore your true feelings. We are bound by deeper ties than compulsion, Ulrik. This I know.”
“Bishop,” he said. “If you really want to respect my wishes to move on, then at least call me by my name.”