Burn for Me (Edanholme Book 1)

by Catherine Fitzpatrick

  of Soairse and Breith, the only sound in a vacuum of not quite friendly silence.

  Cat felt awkward, like a gauche schoolgirl caught in the act of stalking an ex-boyfriend.

  How pathetic… She growled under her breath. With a shake of her head, long burgundy

  curls swishing at her back, a sister of the Fates willed the swords into abeyance.

  A breath-taking grin on a fascinated face, forced a laugh from compressed lips, to break

  down the walls of bristling animosity between a Queen and her Regent.

  “Come Iscatya… I believe our conversation is going to prove enlightening and very, very

  interesting.” Leading the way to the Palace of the High King, or more politically correct,

  High Queen, Phillipe chuckled at the distaste on a golden skinned face.

  Ensconced in deep, high backed chairs of red velvet, in front of a blazing log fire, Cat

  didn’t feel any sadness at the memory of Teyrnon turning to ash at her hands in this

  same room. A brave male, betrayed by a marked mate, had moved on to a better plain

  with his new love, wherever in the Universe Alastrina resided.

  A glass of deep red wine in hand, she didn’t know where to begin, so much mayhem had

  occurred in a few short days, didn’t know what was expected from the ascending ruler of

  the Dark dimension. The Palace appeared to be a mouldering ruin, a medieval mausoleum,

  with no modern amenities to make it decently habitable.

  “Where are you going to live Phillipe?” As an opening it lacked style, or finesse, but itwas

  an honest question of unbridled curiosity.

  “Here… Where else…?” Swirling ruby red liquid around a bulbous glass, dark eyebrowslifted

  in surprise. He thought it was obvious after recent events.

  “You took everything I had, including my home…”

  Grimacing at a simple, unadorned statement of a pitiless revenge on a monster who had

  ravaged her body and clouded her mind with vampire thrall, Cat took a hasty sip at the wine

  to relieve the sudden dryness of her throat. It seemed like a good idea at the time, it was a

  good idea when faced with forced captivity and a loveless partnership. Maybe not such a

  brilliant idea with hind sight, and the knowledge a free spirited man had been as much a

  slave as she was. “I’m sorry Phillipe…”

  She was interrupted by a keening howl echoing in the vast emptiness of an unlovely home.

  “Drusal…?” The Prince Regent asked a question, he already knew the answer to. This little

  tete to tete with his mistress had taken on an extra dimension, in the shape of her Consort.

  The shape depended entirely on the frame of mind of a Sidhe warrior, one who had no love

  for a plague of vampires. The image of a titanic wolf ravaging a path to its mate, brought a

  shiver of unfeigned fear to elegantly clad shoulders. Dressed immaculately in a designer

  shirt of pearl grey and suit pants of a darker charcoal shade in defiance of the shabby, but

  not chic, furnishings of a pale excuse for a palace. Phillipe may have bowed to a King and

  now to a Queen, but he would never let the sartorial elegance of his past life slip.

  “Yep…” Jumping to her feet, still clad in the cropped t-shirt and jeans she had worn to

  storm the throne room of Withins Underhill, Cat could have cared less what she wore.

  Glamour could clothe her in a ball-gown and diamonds, but what was the point of appearing

  to be something you were never meant to be? Being comfortable, and the added freedom

  of movement were much more important. Passing a half full glass of wine to her Regent,

  she raced across the room, over bare stone floors of a cavernous hallway to pull open heavy

  outer doors with a mere breath of force.

  A menacing white wolf with glowing amber eyes, paced back and forth in the gateway of

  a crumbling wall. Lifting a long snout, skin rolled back to reveal long glistening fangs, he

  left fly with a high pitched howl of distress at the sight of his female in enemy lands.

  “Get in here, you stupid mutt…” Incensed at his defiance of her wishes, impatient with

  a male who wouldn’t take no for an answer, dire retribution coated every word in the

  silky coldness of regal redress. Without waiting for Fur ball to follow her, Cat turned on

  the heels of soft leather ankle boots to stamp back into what could be described as a cosy

  parlour, if you had never lived in a modern human world.

  Wriggling her butt into the deep chair, wine glass back in her hand, rainbow hued eyes

  narrowed at a vision of lupine grace loping across red carpeting to sink on his haunches

  at her feet. Laying a furry head in a denim clad lap, he nuzzled at her belly, burnt umber

  eyes gazing reproachfully at her face. “He has trust issues…”

  Sinking clawed fingers into a soft mane, Cat tugged at silken strands in warning.

  I presume you are naked Fur ball… If so, don’t even consider shifting. I’m already mad

  at you, don’t compound an idiotic escapade, in expecting me to ask Phillipe to lend you

  some clothes. It really won’t make me any happier… She sent a piercing thought with

  a mental slap.

  Amber eyes blinked as pointed ears twitched in discomfort. I prefer fur…

  An unrepentant reply coaxed her to smile. A long tongue hanging from the side of a

  heavily armoured jaw, Drusal’s wolf wheezed in the faintest impression of a laugh.

  Completely ignoring the other vampire in the room, he settled deeper onto rounded thighs,

  relishing the gentle caress of small fingers stroking his head.

  Phillipe soaked up the vista of a beautiful Queen of two dimensions, calming a distraught

  male with a soothing hand. Disquieting thoughts of murder entered his heart, jealousy of

  a shape-shifter who had won the right to be at her side.

  Lifting emerald eyes to ones of deepest night, Cat shook her head attuned to the shifting

  emotions on a familiar face, catching the drift of unshielded thoughts.

  “It wouldn’t have worked…” A tender smile curved pale pink lips, as a thoroughly mated

  female crushed unspoken dreams. “We were never destined to be together.”

  The sleek head beneath her fingers twitched, amber eyes swivelling to fix on a figure he

  had come to loathe. Mine… A possessive snarl rocked Phillipe’s brain.

  “Indeed Lord Vardon, it would be foolish to deny the obvious.” Head dipped in respect and

  the semblance of defeat, a vanilla vampire acknowledged Drusal’s claim on his hearts-desire

  with quiet dignity.

  “If you two have finished flinging testosterone about, can we conduct a civil conversation

  without the further interruption of a pissing contest?” A wicked chuckle dispelled the last

  threads of tension in a duo of supernatural creatures, bitter males bent on rattling the amused

  bone of contention.

  “Let’s get to the meat of my curiosity Prince Regent. How did you come to be here, in this

  God-forsaken hole? It’s a long way from the place of your birth. Did you play a part in the

  vampire invasion of yesteryear?” The questions weren’t pertinent to the present, but they

  were ones she really wanted answers to, a way to determine Phillipe’s true character.

  He could lie, unlike the Sidhe, but she doubted he would. A growl rumbled in the wolf’s

  mighty chest, ears cocked in instinctive alarm.

  Have a care Iscatya… If you are averse to a pissing contest, as you so quaintly phrased it,

  do not provoke t
he enemy.

  Fingers locked tight in a ruff of white fur, Cat shrugged off the silent warning.

  That’s exactly the point Fur ball. I have to know if Phillipe is the enemy…

  Privy to bonded mates in mental conversation, a Regent formed his answers to a barrage

  of impertinent questions. He could lie, coat his words in flowery evasion, it would serve

  no purpose. Cat would see right through any deception.

  “Non… I did not serve in the ranks of a misguided plague. My life at that time was far too

  entertaining to be distracted by an idiotic endeavour to coral the Sidhe of the Sovereign

  court. My tastes ran to the flavours of Fae beings, entrenched in the French courts.”

  Leaning back in a deep chair, Phillipe offered the whole truth to his new mistress.

  “I have the ability to walk in daylight. A gift unknown to the majority of pure vampires,

  if you could employ that description for a cluster of depraved monsters. I was no different

  to them, I took what I wished, wherever or whenever the opportunity arose.”

  Hackles rising, Drusal strained to move his head from an iron grip. Cat locked both legs

  around a quivering mass of fur, clamping him in a cage of sinew and vampire strength.

  “Don’t do it Lord Vardon… If you make a mess of my Regent, I will be forced to stay ina

  realm neither of us have any liking for, to govern the development of a starving people.

  Do you really want that to happen?” A whip-lash of anger seared his brain with vicious

  intensity.

  Not ever… If I remain in this form, the instincts of the wolf will over-ride good sense.

  I have to shift, to keep hold of some semblance of calm.

  With a sigh of real disgust, she released him, a warning flashing in rainbow hued eyes.

  “Get behind the chair and go for it…” With a last snap of long white fangs in Phillipe’s

  direction, Drusal slithered sinuously behind a high backed piece of decrepit furniture,

  morphing into heavily muscled warrior, stark naked and no less intimidating. Leaning

  down to place both hands on slim shoulders, he dropped an apologetic kiss on gleaming

  burgundy hair. Opalescent eyes swirling with the last vestiges of wolf, the Lord Vardon

  taunted a jealous vampire.

  The Prince Regent smiled. A lazy smile of acceptance of his role in a new regime, whilst

  he sat on a non-existent throne, Cat was free to orchestrate the recovery of dispossessed

  Sidhe nobility.

  “Continue with thy tale Prince Regent…” Flashing him a menacing grin, Drusal leant upon

  the chair back, playing with a lock of gold dusted hair.

  “Yep… Let’s get to the reason you became a servant to Teyrnon.” Impatient with constant

  interruptions, Cat sipped at the dregs of her wine, keeping tight hold on a simmering temper.

  “You… You are the reason I became acolyte to the High king.” In a different time, he might

  rue the day he took a Sidhe princess as a lover. The years he had her all to himself were

  memories he treasured, a feast of blood and lust he had never known in hundreds of years.

  “I have undertaken many professions, enjoyed the benefits of wealth, of total freedom to

  do as I pleased. The role of Optometrist, indeed, of any health professional, brings with it

  the opportunity to sample the plethora of a variety of life forces on a daily basis. The day you

  walked into the practice to be interviewed for the position of partner, I wanted to take you

  then and there, your aura blazed with boundless energy.” Dark eyes closed on the evident

  disgust on two faces of equal beauty. “I am what I am…

  Or rather what I once was. You embodied a paragon I had been seeking for all my life,

  a female of complete innocence, a precious wealth of undeniable energy. Unfortunately

  for me, the High King recognised your aura for what it was. I had intruded upon his land,

  his sphere of influence, little realising he was aware of my every move.” Black eyes

  opened slowly, a frown of displeasure pulling at dark brows.

  “In all my years as a vampire, I have owed allegiance to none. Skirted the boundaries of

  the less than savoury conclaves, fought my own battles. The first being, the joyous

  despatch of the master who turned me…” Leaning forward, arms braced on solid thighs,

  Phillpe gave Cat what she wanted, the reason for years of entrapping thrall.

  “I was summoned, ordered to take you, turn you… If I refused, I would lose everything,

  including my life. It wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

  Cat stiffened, this image of Teyrnon as a tyrant, didn’t fit with the image of floating dust

  motes, stroking her face with tenderness.

  Drusal massaged tensed shoulders, compassion for the pain his mate felt, a living,

  breathing emotion he had learnt to embrace.

  “Shit with sugar on…. What a monster.” Cat spat out every word. She loved the gentle

  being who was her Grandfather, but hated the High King of the Dark dimension for

  subjecting a lonely female to blood lust and depravity.

  “To survive in a world not his own, the Lord Teyrnon did what he had to do. Much as you

  have done, my Queen. Revenge on Istirina, his sole purpose in life. Your emergence into

  the light offered him the chance to destroy a viper, one who had discarded a marked mate

  with ease and deadly malice. To that end, I became an experiment, the first of our kind to

  be subdued by the essence of a pure bred Sidhe. My task to become a sacrificial lamb, who

  fed the cadre with a diluted version of your life force.” A voice as soft and smooth as the

  finest silk held sorrow and disillusionment at being on the receiving end of piercing fangs.

  “Were you a part of the feeding frenzy that turned me…?” There, the real question that

  made her distrust her Regent, was out in the open. The one that rankled in a wounded

  heart. Any hope for a continued relationship of any kind, depended on a forthright

  answer.

  “Non… I suffered as you did, perhaps not to an equal degree, at the command of the High

  King. The least member of a dissolute cadre, ordered to drink the elixir that offered the

  hope of co-existence, in a modern world of human technology. Teyrnon needed you, your

  burning anger, to purge the plague from his cells in complete annihilation of a mortal body.

  His actions, whether or not you and I agree, were meant for the good of all races, to set in

  motion your ascent to the ranks of the Fates. An almighty weapon, forged for the sole

  purpose of destroying the canker who wielded the throne of the Sovereign Court of the

  isle in madness and foul sadism.” That was all he could give to a female burdened by a

  divided nature. His love was not wanted, but he could offer friendship and allegiance to

  the Mistress of a Dark realm.

  “How is it you are aware of the Lore of the Fates?” Unnerved by the nonchalant attitude

  of a male who had been abused as much as he and his brethren, Drusal unbent from the

  role of fierce protector. He could never call Phillipe friend, but would accept him as Regent

  and aide to his mate.

  “The Lord Teyrnon was magnanimous in victory, outlining the destiny of a precious life

  force, a beloved granddaughter as foreseen by the Fates. His sudden departure from this

  plain, an unexpected turn of events…” Easing to his feet, Phillipe poured wine for them all,

  astonishment and shock apparent in depleted auras.

 
“Istirina lives still…” Taking the proffered wine in a trembling hand, Drusal sank it with

  indecent speed. He couldn’t get drunk. None of the Fae were subject to the deleterious

  effects of alcohol on the nervous system. He fervently wished that he could anaesthetise

  a brain reeling under the weight of Teyrnon’s, a brother enforcer’s, necessary treachery.

  A devious and uncompromising plan to eradicate a dangerously incompetent Queen

  from a blood soaked throne brought too much pain with it.

  “Merde, salaud, couilles… (Shit, bugger, bollocks…)” Imitating the Lord Vardon, Phillipe

  drained a brimming glass of wine, before hurling it at an unsuspecting wall, to shatter in

  wild splinters of sparkling crystal. “Why Cat…? After all you have been through, why let

  her continue to live?” Fangs dropping, he was more than prepared to take down a

  contemptuous piece of Sidhe royalty, to protect his mistress.

  A mirthless laugh leaked past Drusal’s compressed lips. “My sentiments exactly…”

  Head bent, Cat watched the ripples in ruby liquid, caused by the shaking of tightly

  clenched fingers on fragile crystal. “If you two have quite finished…”

  Blazing emerald eyes lifted, bright pin points of vibrant energy in a gloomy room.

  “She’s bound to Withins Underhill… Her reign is over, what’s left of the court continues

  to diminish, will wither away over time. I cannot, will not kill in cold blood. If I do this,

  it makes me no better than her.” Cat would not utter a soiled name, would not deign to

  acknowledge any relationship to a dethroned sovereign. “You can both rant and rave

  all you want, it makes no difference. If a dreaded day dawns… Until she gives me no

  alternative, her life is safe.” A coldly worded threat, conveyed sheer menace in an icy

  whisper.

  Two males bowed to a regal female with a merciful heart. Neither of them happy with

  the decision to allow vermin to survive, but they were bound to Queen and Mistress

  in iron-clad obedience to her wishes.

  “Right… Enough of recriminations…” Bouncing to her feet, Cat stood with her back to