Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I

by Naylor, Joleene

  Pleasure radiated out from between her thighs and her eyes drifted closed. She quickly forgot that he was watching her and lost herself to the moment, her back arched and her mouth slightly open as their bodies moved together in a primeval rhythm.

  Jorick growled low in his throat and she opened her eyes in surprise. She started to ask what was wrong, but he suddenly pulled himself into a half sitting position that nearly dislodged her.

  She held tightly to his shoulders, her voice uncertain, “Jorick?”

  He threw his arms around her and used her body for balance to maintain the odd position. With another thrust of his hips, he nuzzled his face against her left shoulder and clamped his lips around the mark he’d left weeks earlier. His tongue ran over the slightly raised scar and goose bumps danced down her spine. She moaned softly, then he pulled back and, with a quick motion, sunk his teeth into her.

  She cried out as his fangs pierced her, and then she forgot everything. Jorick was everywhere at once; inside her, outside her, wrapped around her. He coursed through her veins and burned in her mind. Through it all she was drowning in waves of pleasure that threatened to drag her under the tide until she ceased to exist, leaving nothing but him and his hands and his lips and his hard body pulsing against hers.

  She heard herself cry out, but the sound of her voice was foreign to her ears. He broke contact and dropped back to the bed. Slowly, the world started to come back into focus and she found him lying beneath her, his chest heaving and a satisfied smile flickering on his lips. Wordlessly, he pulled her to him and rolled over, dislodging her. He buried his face against her neck and held her tightly, both of them fighting to control their ragged breathing.

  She closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow down before it exploded in her chest. His hand absently ran over her back and under the red nightie. She plucked at the straps and tried to put it back where it belonged, but it was useless. She’d have to move first and, just then, she didn’t want to.

  Moments passed with only the sound of their heartbeats, and she finally forced herself to speak. “So, does that mean you like it?”

  “Like it?” Jorick echoed, his lips against her skin.

  “The nightgown?” She tried to sound teasing. “Does this mean you like it?”

  Jorick’s laughter filled her ears and he tightened his hold on her. “Yes, little one, I think it’s safe to say I’m very fond of it.”

  Katelina woke the next evening to find Jorick dressed and on his way through the door.

  “You’re awake early,” she murmured sleepily.

  He paused at the sound of her voice and smiled. “Not really. You’re asleep late.”

  “If you say so.” She rolled over in bed and snuggled under the covers. “So are you going to go…” she couldn’t use his word for it, so she supplied her own, “-eat?”

  When he didn’t answer, she rolled over to find the doorway empty. He was already gone.

  “Men,” she muttered darkly but, with last night still fresh on her mind, she couldn’t really hold onto the anger.

  Roughly an hour later she’d showered, dressed and was snuggled up on the couch under a blanket. The front door opened and she glanced up from her book to see that Jorick was alone.

  “Where’s Loren?”

  Jorick’s face was dark with worry and anger, but he tried to act casual. “How should I know?”

  So, he hadn’t shown up for their morning, or more accurately evening, meal. It wasn’t really hard to guess why, either. “He’s probably still upset. I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

  Jorick shrugged and stared down at the chair as though the upholstery was fascinating.

  “Maybe you should go look for him?”

  Jorick still didn’t answer and she sighed heavily. She understood that Loren wanted to be acknowledged as an equal, but she really didn’t understand why he was so desperate to go fight with Oren in the first place. That was one of the questions that had gotten lost in the shuffle last night.

  “So, are Loren and Oren friends or something?”

  Jorick looked up from his study of the chair, surprised. “Friends? No. To my knowledge they’ve only met once before.” He seemed to suddenly realize what she was getting at, and his face clouded up again. “Loren just wants a war to fight. He’s been that way since I found him.”

  Katelina blinked in surprise. “Found him?”

  Jorick snorted. “He was hiding on the beach, covered in blood. His brother had just been murdered and they were coming after him.”

  She cocked her head at Jorick curiously. “Why?”

  “His brother was an idiot.” He snorted derisively. “He made his master angry, if you could call him a master. They were a rogue coven whose only rule was ‘do as the master says’. They thought they didn’t have to follow anyone. There was a lot of infighting and killing. They did what they pleased and made a lot of trouble until The Guild wiped out the ones who were left.”

  “And you took Loren?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I brought him home that first night and killed the three rogues who came looking for him. When the Executioners came they assumed he was one of mine, and I let them because it saved him from suffering the same fate as the other rogues, but he isn’t. His brother, who’d been a vampire for less than a month, turned him only hours before he died.” A sardonic smile flickered on his lips “Why is it the first thing a new vampire does is turn everyone they know?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer him, or if he even wanted an answer. “Um, I don’t know. Didn’t you?”

  Jorick’s smile disappeared. “No,” he said quietly. He straightened and tugged at his shirt, as if to signal that the conversation was over. “He is none of mine. His fate is his own.” Then he crossed the room and disappeared without another word. Katelina flinched when she heard the mysterious door close. Despite his words, his worry for Loren was palpable and she wished there was something she could do; not that he’d let her. Rather than seeking any comfort from her, he hid himself away.

  She closed her eyes and clutched the book tightly, trying to squeeze all of her frustrations into its cloth cover. Why was he always so damn touchy? It wasn’t as if she knew what would offend him! That seemed to be a secret, and he kept his secrets guarded. And not just his current secrets, but his old ones as well. He refused to discuss his life before he’d met Michael and Patrick. It was as if he’d just dropped from the heavens recently, a brooding fallen angel.

  Jorick came back a couple of hours later, to find Katelina eating potato chips and reading a book. He made a noise in his throat, no doubt meant to catch her attention, but she decided to ignore him.

  “Katelina?”

  She ignored that too.

  His voice was louder, and closer as he moved to stand next to the couch. “Katelina.”

  She looked up innocently. “Oh, hello. I didn’t realize you were back from your little secret room already.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her sarcasm. “I’m going out for a while-”

  “To look for Loren?”

  He ignored the interruption. “-I want you to stay in the house. Though I doubt they’d bother you, Beldren and Zuri are still around and I see no need to tempt them.”

  Katelina couldn’t stop the surprise that showed on her face. “Still? But why?”

  Jorick made an impatient noise in his throat. “Because they think I’m lying. They’re waiting for me to go meet Oren, and then they plan to follow.”

  She studied him for a moment before she asked quietly, “Are you lying to them?”

  He looked away and shrugged casually. “I’ll be back.”

  He started for the door, but she called after him, “What's in that room?”

  Though his stance was relaxed, the innocent look on his face seemed fake. “What room?”

  She scowled at him. By God, he was going to answer one of her questions! “The one you just came out of! With the stupid locked door?”

  “Nothin
g that you need be concerned with,” he said airily.

  “Somehow I knew that's what you'd say.” She made a dismissive gesture and turned back to her book, but she couldn’t leave it that way. A second later her head snapped up and she demanded, “Why won't you tell me?”

  “Because it’s nothing important,” he said simply. “I’m going to go now.”

  “But it must be,” she argued pointlessly. “Or else you wouldn’t keep it locked.”

  His jaw twitched, but he held his composure. “It’s nothing, little one. Please stay in the house while I’m gone.”

  And then he left.

  The door had barely shut before Katelina was on her feet and headed to the mysterious door. She grasped the knob and rattled it thoroughly, but accomplished nothing. It was tightly locked and, short of breaking it down or removing the hinges, she wasn’t going to get through it. After careful examination, she realized that she couldn’t dismantle it and put it back together again before Jorick returned. And what if he caught her? Truthfully, did he owe her any explanation? Had he promised her anything past her safety? Did she have a right to demand answers to his secrets? She wasn’t his wife, after all!

  She slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Why hadn’t she learned to pick locks? After she’d watched Patrick break into his own apartment, he’d offered to teach her. She’d declined, of course, but now she wished she hadn’t. If only she’d known what her future held!

  Yeah. If only she’d known what her future held she’d have done a lot of things differently. But, it hardly mattered. One problem at a time; and the problem of the moment was to figure out what was behind the door. As if she had a clue.

  Clues. That was what she needed! There had to be clues somewhere in the messy old house. Jorick had a slob side, and slobs always left something lying around that they shouldn’t.

  She climbed to her feet and started with the books in the dining room. She flipped through the pages, then shook them out on the off chance something was stuck between their pages. For her trouble, all she got was a lot of dust. Some of the inscriptions inside the covers were interesting, though. Most of the dates were from the 1800s, and some were in a foreign language. Both of those things disturbed her, so she stopped reading them.

  Against the far wall was a heavy wooden desk, and, once she’d finished searching the books on top of it, she decided to look inside it. There was very little room between the desk and the giant table, so she plopped on the floor and started with the bottom drawers.

  Inside were more books.

  “He’s insane,” she muttered aloud to herself as she slowly pulled them out, one by one; old book after old book. Then, sandwiched between the last two, she found a bundle of letters tied together with a bedraggled blue velvet ribbon.

  “What’s this?” The paper refused to answer, so she untied the knot and let the ribbon fall to the floor. Carefully, she laid the old envelopes out on her legs, and squinted at the faded, spidery writing, the same as the book inscriptions. Every envelope was addressed to a Velnya Smit in Nebraska but with no return address and, though the postmarks were from different places, they were all from 1868.

  A shiver shot up her spine. When she was a kid she’d always dreamed about finding a trunk full of mysterious old letters. This moment was like the fulfillment of a child’s dream but, for some reason, it didn’t feel as exciting as she’d imagined it would.

  She took the top envelope and moved to discard the others, when something fell into her lap. She looked down to find an old, yellowed photograph. A beautiful girl, in sepia tones, sat stiffly on a chair. Her dark hair cascaded around her pale face in ringlets, while a tight bodiced gown was represented in faded brown; the same shade as old tobacco. The girl's eyes stared from the photograph, large, liquid and haunted. The date stamp in the corner proclaimed “Nickerson's 1862”.

  Katelina wondered who she was. A thousand ideas, many based on movies she’d seen, fought for dominance in her brain. It was his sister, his lover, his daughter! The possibilities were endless, and there was only one way she was going to find out.

  She glanced guiltily in the direction of the front room, but silence greeted her and soothed her misgivings. She slid the delicate paper from one of the envelopes and unfolded it carefully. Spidery writing stared back and suddenly she didn’t want to know who the girl was, or what her picture was doing in Jorick’s desk and, most of all, she didn’t want to know what the letter said. But, the unfolded paper was already clutched in her trembling fingers and, before she could stop her eyes, they’d betrayed her and were skimming the long, slanted words:

  My dearest Velnya,

  Do not be afraid, my love. I know that they frighten you, but they are weak and stupid. They are mortals, made of clay and as lasting as the wind. They will be here today and gone tomorrow. They have no power over you or I, unless you give them such power. There is nothing that they can do to you that I cannot undo. You must not let your fear carry you to rashness. Stay where you are.

  It is only a month now, and then I shall be with you, whether I must walk through heaven or hell to return to you, I will. You can trust to this promise, for it is not made lightly.

  How I miss you, my dark lover! I long for your touch, the feel of you against me. My arms ache to hold you each day, and my eyes beg to see but a glimpse of you, but I know that I must finish what I have begun first and then it will be over forever, I promise you. Malick cannot claim my favors any longer, our bond will be severed and I will be free to love you, as you deserve to be loved. All eternity will be ours.

  Katelina stopped reading, though her eyes snapped to the bottom of the page where she saw “All My love, Jorick” signed with a flourish. Her hand dropped to her lap and her stomach twisted. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or throw up. Of course, she told herself, there had been others before her. She wasn’t his first, she knew that, but there was a difference between knowing and “knowing”. Jorick had never said things like that to her, and she doubted he even felt that way, not like he did for Velnya.

  Velnya.

  The name hung in the air in front of Katelina and she wanted to reach out and force it back into the fragile envelope where it belonged. She thought back on everything the vampires had said since she’d met him. Oren’s cold comments, Torina’s jokes about his last relationship, even Claudius’s words. Hadn't everyone expressed surprise that Jorick had chosen her? Hadn't they laughed, mocked and made jokes about her? Kateesha had even gone so far as to call her plain. And that was what she was: plain, not beautiful like the girl with liquid eyes who stared back at her from the faded photograph.

  Her first impulse was to wait for Jorick and demand to know who Velnya was. Why weren’t they together anymore? She’d shove the letters at him and say-

  And say what? That she’d been snooping. God, he hadn’t even called her his girlfriend, let alone told her he loved her. What right did she have to go through his things? He might have said she could stay there while she healed up, but he hadn’t actually asked her to move in with him. What kind of house guest went through their host’s stuff? Regardless of anything that was what she was; a house guest.

  Grimly, Katelina forced the fragile letter and the haunting picture back into the envelope. She stacked the letters and knotted the velvet ribbon around them before she stuffed them in the drawer and buried them under the books.

  She walked into the front room and threw herself on the couch. As if on cue, the front door opened and Jorick and Loren came through it. Neither one looked happy, though the tension between them seemed lessened.

  Jorick glanced at her and instantly his face registered concern. “Katelina?” He took an uncertain step towards her. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Of course,” she lied. How could she tell him she’d just been digging through his things?

  He crouched down next to the couch and gently laid a hand on her cheek. His dark eyes bored into hers, worry in their depths. “Are you sure?
You're not… ill?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Hmmm.” His dark eyes searched her face; deep pools of night that she feared she’d drown in if she gazed too long. Moments passed before he released her. “As you say,” he said quietly. He turned and glanced at Loren, silently asking his opinion.

  The youth shrugged, then looked her up and down. “She looks okay to me.” He offered a toothy grin to prove his sincerity.

  Jorick studied her again. “Perhaps you should eat something?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  That seemed to soothe Jorick. He stood and gave her a smile. “Good. I’d cook it for you, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to use the thing.”

  “The thing?” Loren asked, incredulous. “You mean the oven? Man, even I can use an oven! Seriously!”

  “Don’t worry,” Katelina muttered, her eyes on her escape. “I can do it.” And, before they could say another word, she hurried towards the kitchen.

  Katelina ate some horrible pizza that she didn’t want, then sat in front of the fire to paint her nails. Jorick and Loren hovered on the couch in silence, and then finally Jorick muttered something about “looking for Beldren and Zuri” before he disappeared out the door, leaving Loren to “keep an eye on things”.

  The door closed with a finalizing click, and Loren moved to the chair closest to the fireplace. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and tapped his fingers to some silent beat, while he studied Katelina as though she was a book he could open and read.

  “What?”

  He cocked a solitary eyebrow. “You should be more careful.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Careful about what?”

  “When you move things,” he replied casually. “The dining room is full of your scent now, and I bet it’s strongest in the bottom desk drawer.”

  Panic fluttered in her chest, but she looked away quickly to compose herself. “I don't know what you're talking about.”