by Larissa Ione
Finally, he stopped in the middle of the hall. “Am I walking too fast for you? I can slow down.”
Startled, she blinked. “I can keep up.”
“Then walk next to me.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue, and then, after a furtive glance down the hall, she stepped beside him. But still, as they walked, she seemed uncomfortable, slowing every time anyone looked her way. Was she honestly expecting someone to chastise her? In front of him? What the hell was going on in the ShadowSpawn ranks that had made her this way?
Probably the same shit that went on at MoonBound when Hunter’s father, Bear Roar, ran the clan. The memory of that set his temper on edge. He never wanted to be associated with that kind of brutality toward his own people, had worked hard to eradicate every trace of his father’s legacy.
You’re my blood, his father had once said. You can never escape that.
Maybe not, but Hunter could sure as hell try.
“I’m only going to say this once,” he said, his gaze fixed on the training room ahead, because he was afraid that if he looked at Aylin, his anger would scare her. “In my clan, everyone is equal. You don’t have to look at anyone’s back when you’re walking.”
She didn’t reply, but he sensed turmoil coming off her, as if she didn’t believe him but wanted to.
He let his words sink in as he showed her the training room, the main living quarters, and the armory. When he got to the library, he thought she was going to stroke out.
“A library,” she whispered as she entered. “A real library.”
“You don’t have one at ShadowSpawn?”
She trailed her fingers along the book spines as she wandered around the room. “My father thinks reading is a waste of time.”
Hunter thought her father was a waste of space. And now he knew where Rasha’s attitude came from. “So you have no books at all?”
“We have books for children to teach them to read at a very basic level, but aside from a few history or warfare books my father keeps in his chambers, no.” She pulled a Harry Potter book from the shelves and smiled as she smoothed her hand over the cover. “Sometimes when Rasha goes to the city, she’ll bring me back some books. I hide them under my mattress.”
“You have to hide them?”
She nodded. “Only senior warriors are allowed to have books. Approved books.”
“Your father is a shitty leader.” He waited for her to argue, but she merely moved to another book section.
“This is amazing,” she said. “Can I borrow a book while I’m here?”
“Borrow whatever you want. That’s what the library is for.” He watched her gaze flit around the room, and he wondered what made books so magical for some. “Who are your favorite authors?”
Closing her eyes, she lifted the Harry Potter book to her nose and inhaled. “All of them. You?”
“Like I said, I don’t read much,” he said. “But I like a good political thriller or horror novel now and then. Can’t beat the oldies—Stephen King, Tom Clancy, Steve Berry, Brad Thor . . . but there’s that new guy, Croft, who writes thrillers with a vampire protagonist. The vampire fights slavery while pretending to be his human partner’s slave. I hear there’s even a movie coming out soon.”
Nicole said that the popularity of the Croft books was a good sign. She was convinced the tides were turning in human society as more and more people spoke out in favor of vampire rights. He hoped she was right, but history showed that not only were humans slow to change, but they quickly forgot the errors of their past.
Aylin sniffed the book again. “I prefer fiction from the old days, before humans knew we existed.”
Hunter did, too, but it was clear that Aylin truly appreciated everything. She was like a kid in a candy store as she flitted from section to section and pulled out books to flip through or just touch. The touching was the worst. Every time her slender fingers caressed the fragile pages, his skin tightened and warmed as though remembering how they felt on his body.
Finally, as she carefully replaced a beat-to-hell copy of The Pillars of the Earth on the shelf, she sighed. “I suppose we should go. We’ll miss dinner.”
“It doesn’t start without me,” he pointed out. “We can be late.”
For a long moment, she stared at him as if he were a big jigsaw puzzle and she was trying to put the pieces together. He wished her luck, because he’d never been able to do that himself. “You aren’t what I expected,” she said. She pulled a mystery novel from the shelves and brought it to her nose. A smile spread across her face as she drew in a deep breath. Someone needed to create an air freshener in “musty library” scent for people like her.
“What did you expect?”
“A hideous, troll-like tyrant.”
“Hideous?” Hunter feigned offense. “You thought I was hideous?”
She laughed, a light, happy melody that made him think of springtime, which was strange, because vampires rarely evoked images of sunlight and butterflies and chirping birds. “Okay, no, I lied. Tales of your virility and Adonis good looks reached even my ears.” She straightened a dog-eared page in the book. “But you are supposed to be an unpredictable tyrant with delusions of grandeur.”
“Screw the tyrant-grandeur crap,” he scoffed. “As long as everyone knows about my virility and handsomeness, I can live with the rest.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “Everyone needs priorities, I guess.”
“And what are your priorities?”
“Probably the same as everyone else’s.” She eyed the rows of books the way a starving vampire stared at an exposed throat. “To stay alive.”
What a strange answer. To him, staying alive wasn’t a priority; it was a given that you did what you had to do in order to not die. To focus on it meant you were currently in danger or expecting danger. So which of those was affecting Aylin?
She popped the book back onto the shelf and turned to him. “Speaking of staying alive, should we go to dinner? I’m famished.”
As much as he’d love to hang out a little longer, he wasn’t going to let her go hungry. He led her toward the dining hall, detouring to take them up a ramp and along an open hall that looked down into a massive living area filled with couches and tables, a television with a massive collection of movies, a Ping-Pong table, and a kitchenette.
“That’s where most people spend time when they aren’t in their quarters.” He pointed to an open doorway on the opposite wall. “There’s a game room, too, with pool tables, a foosball table, and, thanks to Baddon’s crime network connection, four classic video arcade games. Gotta love Pac-Man.”
Aylin seemed completely lost. Maybe she’d never heard of Pac-Man. “Where’s your fight arena?”
“Fight arena?”
She looked at him as though he was a moron. “You know, the room where fights take place.”
“We have a workout room for sparring. It’s next to the gym.”
“No, I mean fights. Our fight arena is where disputes are settled, innocence or guilt is determined, and sometimes a hunter or poacher is brought in for a special gladiatorial battle to the death.”
Dark memories flitted like shadows on the edges of his mind. “We haven’t had one of those in a very long time.”
“Good. It’s barbaric. And ridiculous to think that a person who wins a fight is automatically innocent of whatever crime he’s been accused of.” She snorted. “That’s why my father has banned most books. He’d rather keep his flock uneducated and in the dark.”
Yes, very dark memories. Before Hunter had taken over his father’s position, the clan had been a violent, dangerous place. His father, a first-generation vampire descended directly from one of the Originals, had led MoonBound by the Way of the Raven. He’d believed, like so many chiefs, that stricter rules and harsher lifestyles would keep cla
n members safe and in line.
It was Bear Roar’s very beliefs that had been his downfall, with Hunter being the one to topple the bastard.
“My father ran MoonBound the same way,” Hunter said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Even my mother approved.”
“What happened to your mother?” Aylin asked.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you know?”
Aylin ran her palm over the wooden banister, which was worn smooth by countless other hands over the decades. “The story I heard was that you traded her to humans in exchange for your life.”
“That’s pretty cowardly.” The scent of roasted venison wafting from the kitchen got him moving again. “Do you think it’s true?”
“I thought it might be, but now I’m not so sure.” They passed a couple of young females coming from outside, their coats dusted with snow. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Is it true?”
Before today, he hadn’t thought about his parents in so long that their memories were practically covered in dust and cobwebs. As far as he was concerned, they could stay that way, and he bit out a clipped, “No. I exiled her. And if humans have her, they’re welcome to keep her.”
THE MORE TIME Aylin spent with Hunter, the less she felt she knew about him. So much of what she’d learned as gospel was wrong, and as they entered the dining hall, she wondered how many more surprises he had in store for her.
She glanced around the well-lit, cavernous room at the long tables packed with food and people. But something wasn’t right. Where was she supposed to sit?
Hunter guided her to a table where she was relieved to see two friendly faces: Nicole and Riker. Rasha was already seated, her posture stiff and unyielding. Aylin would bet that the wooden goblet in her hand was either filled with alcohol or already emptied of it.
“Here,” Hunter said, gesturing to the chair next to Nicole and across from Rasha, who suddenly looked as if the cup was filled with lemon juice.
“I don’t understand,” Aylin said quietly. “Where’s the table for people like me?”
Hunter frowned. “People like you?”
“Defective,” she said, hating that she had to spell it out when it should be obvious.
A shadow passed over Hunter’s expression before he forced a smile. “You sit here.”
She hesitated until she realized that at this same table, there was a male with only one eye. At a nearby table, Lucy, wearing Mickey Mouse ears, was chatting animatedly with another female, and across from them was a male with a missing hand.
“Is this a special occasion?” Rasha asked. “Is that why there’s no table for . . . them?”
The shadow came again, but this time, it was accompanied by a flash of fangs. “Sit. Down,” he said to Aylin. He turned to Rasha. “We always eat like this. No one is shunned.”
Rasha’s chin came up, her expression sour. “I see.”
“I don’t think you do.” Hunter waited for Aylin to sit before sinking into the huge oak chair draped with deer hides at the head of the table. “I don’t run things the way your father does.” He looked out over the room full of people. “And I’m sure everyone here is glad of that.”
“Really.” Rasha took a sip from her cup. “Would those who were here under your father’s rule agree with you?”
Hunter stiffened, and Aylin braced herself for his wrath. If the stories about Hunter’s father, Bear Roar, were true, he had been a leader much like Aylin’s father, with a temper that left people maimed or dead. “Those who had a problem with my leadership style have long since left.”
“Yes,” Rasha purred. “They defected to ShadowSpawn.”
“And ShadowSpawn is welcome to them.” Hunter held up his goblet, and everyone in the room followed suit. “Today we’re celebrating the arrival of my future mate, Rasha. Our union will secure peace between our clans, and I expect you all to make her feel welcome. Same goes for her sister, Aylin.” He glanced over at Rasha, whose cold smile chilled even Aylin. “To peace.”
Rasha clinked her cup against his. “To peace and the merging of our clans.”
A vein in Hunter’s temple throbbed, but he held up his goblet once more, and the rest of the clan shouted, “To peace!”
Hunter leaned toward Rasha and in a low voice said, “Our clans aren’t merging. They will never merge.”
“Of course not,” Rasha said. “Poor choice of words. I meant uniting. Now, instead of fighting each other, we can fight humans.”
Feeling like an eavesdropper, Aylin turned to Nicole, whose fair skin glowed with her pregnancy. “It’s good to see you.” She took the platter of carved venison that Nicole offered. “You’re just starting to show.”
Riker, on Nicole’s other side, palmed his mate’s belly. “It’s happening too fast.”
“Too fast?” Aylin plopped a well-done slice of meat onto her plate.
Nicole patted Riker’s hand reassuringly. “He’s worried because we don’t have a gifted midwife, and I haven’t determined how to make labor and birth less dangerous. But I’m working on it, and I still have six months to do it.”
Vampire pregnancies used to be rare, but Nicole, with her background in vampire physiology, had discovered a way to change that. Unfortunately, giving birth often ended with either the mother or the baby dying, sometimes both. Born vampire females had the highest survival rates, but even so, it was always best to have a gifted midwife present.
“Could you do like the humans and take the baby out with surgery?” Aylin passed the tray of meat to Hunter and tried desperately to ignore the electric current that sizzled up her arm when their hands brushed.
Sighing, Nicole shook her head. “Unfortunately, cesarean sections aren’t practical for vampires. There’s no known anesthesia that can knock out a vampire without being fatal to the baby, and epidurals don’t work to eliminate the pain of the surgery. Besides, I think the problem with the birthing process is uncontrolled bleeding. A cesarean section would only make things worse.” She squeezed Riker’s hand. “But I’ll figure it out.”
Riker swore quietly and stabbed the slab of meat on his plate with his fork as laughter broke out in the back of the room.
Hunter tapped Aylin on the shoulder and said in a low voice, “Watch this. It’s a little dinner entertainment.”
“I love a bloody fight at dinner.” Rasha grinned. “Whets the appetite.”
Aylin’s stomach turned over. She’d always felt like something was wrong with her because she couldn’t get into a brutal battle during a meal, so she took a relieved breath when Hunter scowled at Rasha and said, “We stopped doing that a long time ago.”
“Disappointing.”
Hunter eyed Rasha from over the rim of his cup. “I have a feeling you’re going to find a lot of things around here to be disappointing.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
Hunter didn’t have a chance to say anything else. Someone tossed an apple from one side of the room to the other, and in an instant, a young male popped out of thin air to catch the fruit in one hand.
Aylin gasped, sure her eyes were playing a trick on her. “Where did he come from?”
“Just watch.” Pride glowed in Nicole’s expression. “Bastien is amazing.”
Someone else hurled an empty bowl in the opposite direction, and Aylin could hardly believe her eyes when Bastien flashed invisible and reappeared on the other side of the room to catch the bowl before it hit the wall.
Rasha stared at Bastien in utter disbelief. “But how—”
Hunter cut Rasha off with a gesture as a dark-haired born vampire dressed from head to toe in leather rose from his seat to meet Bastien in the middle of the room. When one tattooed hand produced a massive blade from under his jacket, Aylin’s heart stopped.
“That’s Baddon,” Hunter
said. “He’s our fastest warrior and a helluva fighter. He blooded that blade when he was eight. Took down two humans who were attacking his mother.”
The guy was twice the size of the kid, and Aylin didn’t care what Hunter had said earlier about no bloody fights. Baddon looked like he could crush Bastien with his pinkie.
Riker leaned across Nicole, a proud smile on his face. “Bastien is my son. He’s only been training for a couple of months, but he’s a fast learner.”
Only a couple of months? Aylin glanced at Baddon’s hulking form. And they’d pitted him against . . . that?
There was a hushed silence, and then Baddon struck out at the younger male. The blade slashed a path across the very place Bastien’s neck should have been. But the boy was gone, and when she heard a chorus of claps, she followed the sound to another table, where Bastien stood on top, his feet straddling a giant bowl of bread.
Two more males, both different shades of blond, and a dark-skinned female joined the chase with their own weapons, and soon Bastien was disappearing and materializing all over the room. Aylin couldn’t even keep track. She watched in fascination as the kid dodged knife attacks and punches simply by disappearing. Twice he materialized behind his attackers and thunked them on the head with his thumb and forefinger before laughing and disappearing again.
“I didn’t think that talent existed anymore,” Rasha said, her voice as full of amazement as Aylin had ever heard it. “We need to breed him. As much as possible. Right away.”
A low, rumbling growl came from Riker. “There will be no breeding. Especially not anytime soon.”
“Clearly, he’s old enough—”
“I said no!” Riker snapped.
Rasha’s toothy smile was too calculating for Aylin’s liking. “That’s up to your leaders, isn’t that right, Hunter?”
“Leader,” Hunter said coldly. “Not leaders. And Riker’s right. We don’t breed people, and Bastien has a long way to go before he’s ready for any kind of relationship.”
Rasha let out a sound of disgust, and Aylin knew this wasn’t over. But she did have to wonder what Hunter meant by Bastien not being ready for a relationship. He was young, but he had to be at least in his early twenties. Since vampire aging and maturity slowed to a crawl around that age, he could be as old as forty. Maybe even fifty.