Byzantine Heartbreak

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Ryan sat on the edge of the low bed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He was still naked.

  And Salathiel sat on the bed next to him. Just as naked. It was clear from the tangled coverlet and cushions that Salathiel had used the bed for the night. He had been nowhere near the docks.

  Salathiel’s hand was on Ryan’s shoulder. Comforting. Caressing.

  Confirming Nayara’s conclusions.

  The pair of them looked up at her. To her relief, neither of them jumped up or tried to cover up. They simply looked...defeated. There was so little surprise in their faces that Nayara felt almost indignant.

  “How long?” she demanded.

  “How long?” Ryan repeated, sounding puzzled. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” His voice was low.

  “How long have the two of you been lovers?” Nia demanded.

  Ryan glanced at Salathiel. Salathiel’s mouth opened, shock slithering over his features. Ryan turned to her, rising to his feet. “Is that what you think, Nia? That we have been...cheating, behind your back?”

  “Lathe had his hand on you. He’s naked in your bed. You spoke of telling me the truth...what else am I to think?” Nayara demanded.

  “And what of last night?” Ryan asked. “Where would that fit in, if Salathiel and I had been lovers all along?”

  Nayara could feel her thoughts starting to slither and disintegrate. Emotion was overwhelming her. “I don’t know!” she cried. “All I know is that right now, you both are hiding something from me! I feel like my life might shatter and change completely once I know and you won’t tell me!”

  Ryan’s arms came around her, instantly comforting and strong. He kissed her forehead, then turned to look at Salathiel. “The damage is already done, Lathe. There’s no point in not telling her.”

  Salathiel nodded. He gave a great gusty sigh. “Nia, know that I love you.” He hesitated. “And for some time now, I have loved Ryan, too. But we have done nothing you would hate us for.”

  Nia started and Ryan’s arm’s tightened around her. “Shhh...” he murmured. “Listen.”

  “We have struggled with this, Nia. I didn’t want to lose you...and Ryan wanted you, too. Last night...well, last night was an attempt to resolve the dilemma.” Salathiel shrugged. “It didn’t work. You are too principled, it seems. You sent Ryan away again.”

  Nayara could feel disbelief and a growing sense of wonder dawning in her. There was also anger there, for the pain that had needlessly been suffered, but she quenched the impulse to lash out.

  “Ryan, would you leave me and Lathe, for a moment? I want to speak to him alone.”

  Ryan looked down at her. “Are you sure?”

  “Salathiel can’t harm me, even if he wanted to. I’m sure.” She gave him a smile. “I have some things to say that I’d rather you not hear...for now, anyway.”

  Ryan hesitated.

  “I’ll speak to you in a minute,” Nayara promised.

  “Very well,” Ryan agreed. He picked up another tunic, a clean one, from the press against the wall and threw it on as he left the room.

  Salathiel was watching her, his blue eyes wary. His unruly hair looked almost copper in the early sunlight blazing through the lattice screens.

  Nayara picked up his big hand and threaded her fingers between his. She could only push her fingers down to his first knuckles, for his hands were so big, it spread her own fingers too wide. “Do you believe I love you, love of my life?”

  He jumped, like he had been deeply startled. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. He turned to her. “Nayara...”

  “Do you trust me?” she insisted.

  “Oh god,” he said, in pain-filled voice.

  “Shh...” She touched her fingers to his lips. “I have many errands to do at the markets today. I plan to be away all day.”

  He was trembling. “Nia, don’t do this just because—”

  She kissed him to silence him and he returned the kiss with a ferocity that would have normally overwhelmed her with feelings of passion and need, except that her mind was occupied with plans and schemes. Anticipation.

  Salathiel caught her face in his hands. “You will be back?” he asked her. “Promise me you will return.” There was a desperate quality in the question that reassured her far more than any ardent promises of love he might have made.

  “I will be back,” she said and she was able to smile at him as she got to her feet. “But it will be later this evening, when the lamps are lit.”

  “Nia, I love you,” Salathiel said simply, as she turned away.

  She believed him.

  * * * * *

  The Agency satellite station. 2263 A.D.

  Cáel stretched and rolled over, then sat up as he realized he was not in his own bed.

  The star field through the window directly over the head of the bed instantly oriented him.

  Ryan’s bed. Again. He must have fallen asleep—or Nayara had made him sleep. The end of her tale had taken longer to tell than either of them had anticipated, for she had stopped and started, the words difficult to find and speak aloud. Ryan had sat in the darkest corner of her office, not helping. He had been a silent, even darker shadow. Had he been ashamed of the moment of complete vulnerability she had been painting, as she sat there in her velvet and sequins and spoke in her soft voice of unrequited, desperate love and a woman who had thought herself badly wronged, but still insisted on returning a celebration day favour despite the hurt she felt?

  Cáel glanced at his wrist to check the time and saw that it was bare. “Time?” he called out, wondering if the computer had been synchronized to his voice.

  “Oh three hundred and thirty-two hours,” the computer replied, in a pleasant contralto. It was just gone three-thirty in the morning. He had been asleep for about ninety minutes. The cat-nap would be enough for him to keep going a few hours longer and he wanted the rest of the story—Ryan’s half of the story—before either of them decided story-telling was done with for the night, or forever.

  Cáel threw back the covers to slide out of bed and paused.

  He was naked.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, his pulse settling and reasoned it out. He had been wearing a five thousand dollar evening suit and Ryan was picky enough about his own clothes to know the value of the suit. Unlike last time, he wouldn’t have wanted Cáel to sleep in dress pants.

  Who had stripped him down? Did it really matter? The act had been meant in kindness. Considering the wholesale intimate probing Ryan and Nayara were exposing themselves to, this was nothing.

  Cáel spotted his clothes hanging neatly over the back of a tall chair, a few feet away. His watch and other possessions were sitting on the seat. So he got up and dressed in the semi dark, then walked back out into Ryan’s office. The door obligingly opened for him and he blinked at the lights from the office. Tiredness pulled at him, despite the nap. He would have to sleep properly, soon.

  Ryan and Nayara were sitting in chairs at either end of the coffee table that sat in front of the sofa, all grouped under the window with the view of earth. They looked up as he entered. They had changed clothes while he slept. They were wearing what Cáel considered their usual work wear. Ryan was in black once more and Nayara still in green, but it was one of her business robes. Boots peeked out from under the hem. She had her feet up on the edge of the coffee table and a reading board on her knees.

  “I want the rest of the story,” Cáel told them. There was no point in prevaricating. “You can’t leave it there and not tell me the rest.”

  Nayara blinked. It was her only reaction.

  Ryan gave a small smile. “You know how it ends, Cáel. There’s no suspense.”

  Cáel stepped right over the table and sat on the sofa between them. “You don’t see it, either of you. It’s your lives, so you can’t step away from it. I know this is private information you’re sharing and that doesn’t help you see how truly fascinating it all is to this human who
is listening to it. I suspect millions of readers will find it just as fascinating as I do.”

  Ryan rubbed his temple with his long fingers. He looked awkward. “If you insist,” he said at last. “For right now, I can only do this if I am telling a friend. As soon as you make this about telling strangers, Cáel, it makes it impossible.”

  Cáel held up his hand. “This friend is pleased you can do that much. I’ve known you for nearly a year now and this is the first time I’ve got more than a hint from you about anything more distant than yesterday. I’m pathetically grateful.”

  “Has it been a year?” Nayara asked, sounding surprised. “Why, yes, it has, hasn’t it? Your time trip was around the time Tally went back to Bannockburn and met Rob.”

  Ryan was still rubbing at his temple. “You’re beginning to understand just how different vampires are from humans, Cáel.”

  “Bullshit,” Cáel shot back. “I’ve known many vampires and none of them are as closed off as you two.”

  Ryan’s hand dropped and his eyes widened.

  Cáel heard Nayara’s tiny intake of breath.

  Cáel drew in air, fighting for calm. “My apologies,” he replied. “I am tired. That is my only excuse.”

  “You don’t have an excuse,” Ryan said. His voice was quiet and Cáel couldn’t tell if it held menace or was calm. “You meant to say exactly what you said. Don’t try to apologize for the truth. It belittles both you and the fact.”

  Cáel swallowed. He sat very still. Waiting.

  Nayara sat up and put the reading board on the coffee table. “I’ll get more coffee,” she said, in a tone that sounded like she was agreeing with Ryan, even though he hadn’t spoken.

  “Thank you,” Ryan said.

  When the outer door to his office had closed behind her, Cáel looked at Ryan. “Does she read minds?”

  “Vampires can’t perform psi tricks on other vampires unless they’re in human form,” Ryan replied. “It’s a nice privacy shield, but damned inconvenient at times. Why?”

  Cáel shook his head. “You two operate like two halves of one whole at times. Are you aware of that?”

  “We’ve known each other a long time. It happens.”

  Cáel let the silence stretch and waited again. He wasn’t going to press again. Not now. He was aware that he had pushed his luck far enough. It was up to Ryan, now.

  Ryan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Now I understand Nia’s reluctance. This is...difficult.”

  Cáel let out his breath. “She came to you, after speaking to Salathiel, yes?”

  Ryan nodded. “That was one of the worst five minutes of my life, waiting for her that day, wondering what she would say...”

  * * * * *

  Constantinople. 1443 A.D.

  Nia swept into the grand main room and her appearance tightened Ryan’s gut and body, reminding him of highlights of the night just past. He could recall the taste of her flesh, the feel of her in his arms, how her body had fitted against his, how it had felt to slide into her, over and over again.

  She didn’t look like a seventeen year old maiden today. She wasn’t wearing the simple tunic and mantle, with her hair down to her waist and free like a girl’s, as she had been yesterday, or the day they had first met. Today she was wearing the sort of high fashion that was expected if one was going to the markets. It was very European and colourful. The kirtle was tight, skimming her trim figure, while the gown over the top hugged her breasts and seemed to lift them up, while trailing down to the ground in drapes of green, purple and red silk.

  Her hair was pinned and coiled and respectable and golden earrings dangled from her ears. Nia was stunning and every inch a lady.

  She stood in front of him and called for Anya, her personal servant, and Hyaleus, the manservant who protected her on the streets.

  “Where are you going?” Ryan demanded, his heart jumping in fear.

  Nayara rested her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was light. “I’m going out of my way to tell you where I’m going for the day.”

  His breath, as he drew it in, shuddered. He was too shocked to speak. A thousand questions bloomed, too fast for him to find the most important one to ask first. But along with the questions grew hope.

  “I’m going to the markets for the day,” Nia added. “I won’t be back until lamplight.”

  She turned to Anya as the serving woman arrived with her cloak and bags and outdoor sandals and the big sunshade for Nia. “Ready?”

  Anya nodded.

  “Gather the others and wait for me at the door,” Nia told her.

  Anya moved into the foyer and waved to Hyaleus, indicating he should come with her.

  Nia turned back to Ryan. She gave him a small smile. Her eyes, usually so revealing, were giving away nothing. “I’m removing myself from the equation,” she told him.

  Ryan caught her arm as she turned away. “Not forever,” he said and he couldn’t help the questioning note that emerged.

  “Just until lamplight,” she told him.

  But he couldn’t leave it at that. He drew her back to him and kissed her. It was intoxicating. How had he lived without these kisses for a year? How had he lived with her and merely imagined what they might be like? His imaginings had been poor substitutes.

  “Ryan,” she protested breathlessly when he released her.

  “I’m sorry. I could find no other way to say it. And it had to be said.” He stepped away from her. “I hope your market day is a pleasant one.”

  Her smile was jittery. “Yes...well...” She turned and glided away, graceful and erect, her head held high, her shoulders square.

  Chapter Eight

  Salathiel was waiting for Ryan in his room. He wore his tunic from the day before, the sleeveless one that showed the muscles bunching and playing in his tanned and corded arms. The tunic was old and stopped above his knees.

  He was barefoot, still. He stood at the window, looking out over the shutters that covered the lower half of the open window. The dome of St. Sophia was visible, shining in the bright morning sunshine. It was going to be a dazzlingly beautiful day.

  Salathiel turned to face Ryan. “She sent you back.” He took a steadying breath. “Neither of us deserve her.”

  “Yet you just might get to keep her,” Ryan said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “She said she will return at lamplight.” He came to a halt in the middle of the room, unable to move any closer to Salathiel. Reluctance had suddenly mired his feet.

  Salathiel watched him slow and halt and pushed himself away from the window. “Ah, the testing moment, vampire.”

  Ryan frowned.

  Salathiel moved toward him. “You have been roaming the world for more years than you care to name even to me. Freedom is a heady taste. It’s like wine. It grows on the tongue. You’ve been free a good long while. And now, after going where you want, when you wish, for a year you have found your heart anchored and that has halted your wandering ways.”

  Salathiel moved behind Ryan and he could feel the man’s body, very close. He could feel the human’s heat. Ryan’s heart began to beat, all by itself. His body, still recovering from the sensations Nia had produced, began to thrum all over again.

  Salathiel was not much taller than Ryan. But he was tall enough to lean in from behind and murmur in Ryan’s ear. “Now you find yourself tied to a human.”

  The clip holding the tunic together on Ryan’s shoulder was pulled out, releasing the folds of fabric. It was enough to let the other side of the tunic slide down his other shoulder and on to the floor. Salathiel pushed the tunic away with his foot, leaving Ryan naked once more.

  Something fluttered out of the corner of his eye and he turned to see Salathiel’s tunic land on top of his own.

  Ryan’s pulse leapt.

  Salathiel’s hands settled on his hips and Ryan gasped at the contact. The heat from Salathiel was astonishing.

  “Your heart is committed,” Salathiel said, as he slowly drew arou
nd Ryan, to face him once more. His big hands stayed on Ryan’s hips, swivelling around as Salathiel moved. “But now that you stand on the brink, you’re wondering what you’ve let yourself in for, if you can stomach being held to one place, if you will hold with being human once more. If you can accept love.” Salathiel looked him in the eye. “Is that why you could not cross the floor, Ryan?”

  He was a glorious specimen of a man. He glowed with vitality, health and aliveness. His blue eyes snapped with fire and his flesh rippled with muscles.

  “I have lived so many lifetimes more than you, Lathe, that I’m afraid to tell you how many least you recoil in horror. So why is it that you, the human, is reassuring me?”

  Salathiel grinned. “Because you are the one who is troubled.”

  Ryan sighed. “Yes.”

  Salathiel curled his hand around Ryan’s neck and drew him closer. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered and kissed him.

  There had been near kisses in the past. Caresses. Fleeting touches. Heated looks. Just like with Nia, all of them paled when compared to this moment, the actuality.

  Ryan groaned and let his senses drown in the kiss. He had anticipated this moment. Wanted it. Now the moment was here and it was as sweet as any he had shared with Nia last night.

  Ryan let Salathiel draw him toward the bed. His heart, normally under his control, had become its own master. It was running a tattoo against his ribs, beating frantically.

  Salathiel stepped backwards, his hand on Ryan’s hip tugging him a pace at a time. His lips did not leave Ryan’s as he moved.

  Until they were standing at the edge of the bed. Salathiel let Ryan go and simply looked at him. “I did not think kissing you would be as good as it is,” he said simply. “Even though I have wanted to for so long.”

  Ryan found the laugh rising to his lips naturally. It felt good. He reached for Salathiel, sliding his arm around Lathe’s waist. “Lathe, you’re a beautiful man.”

  Salathiel frowned. “No, I’m not. Even Nia says I’m not. My nose is too big, my chin too wide. You, on the other hand—”

  Ryan shook his head. “I wasn’t talking about appearance.” He gave Salathiel another quick kiss, but it turned into a long, lingering sensual one. The mood changed between them. Passion flared.