by Ava McKnight
She knew it was time to accept the impossible. She was trapped in an Anne Rice novel.
Christ. How could all of this be real?
"Because we are real."
She grimaced. “You're one of those mind readers, I see."
"I have the gift. As does Rynon."
"It's not polite to invade someone's private thoughts."
"Nor is it polite to put your bodyguard's life in danger. Not to mention your child's."
"Why is everyone so convinced I'm pregnant?"
"Because we can smell the change. And I suspect, if you look deep within yourself, you will feel the change as well."
"Yeah, sure,” she mumbled, though she already knew his words were true.
The Enlightened One, as he deigned to call himself, perched his regal frame on the edge of the bed, careful not to cause her further pain.
"I understand why you are skeptical of us, why you are hesitant to believe in your destiny."
"Which is what, exactly?” she interjected.
"Rynon did not explain it to you?"
"We didn't exactly get a lot of talking done last night.” No need to be coy about it. If everyone believed her to be with child, they obviously knew how she'd gotten that way.
"Then he shall further explain it to you."
"And where is he? I would think a man so concerned about the well-being of his offspring would be standing guard over me. In fact, I'm rather surprised my arms and legs aren't restrained. And there are no bars on the doors and windows."
"He does not wish to hold you prisoner."
"Ha!” She couldn't help the outrageous laughter that spilled forth.
"Catalina,” Darius said in a serious tone. “Rynon wants you to feel safe here. Welcome. Is this not everything you ever dreamed of? Everything you've ever wanted? A home that is yours?"
"This is not my home,” she said. “Nor will it ever be."
"Someday you will realize that all Rynon has built, he has built for you. You are now the mistress of this mansion. It is yours, Catalina. To share with Rynon and your child."
She considered the decor, the elaborate furniture, the old-world feel of the place. Every inch of Ryan's house was decorated exactly as she would decorate it, were it hers. He knew what appealed to her, knew her as well as she knew herself.
Perhaps, he knew her even better than she did.
"Rynon will tell you everything you want to know. He will visit you soon. Once his temper is under control.” The Enlightened One stood. He cast her a long, contemplative look, then said, “Your parents would be proud of the woman you have become, Catalina. They would want you to stay safe, to not put yourself in harm's way."
"You knew them?"
He nodded. “They both meant a great deal to me. And to the coven."
Cat closed her eyes. “I barely remember them. I have some memories, but ... not enough."
"Ask Rynon."
Her eyes fluttered open, focusing on Darius. “Did he know them well?"
"They were very close. Ask him,” he repeated. He turned away from her and crossed to the door. Giving her one last glance over his shoulder, he said, “Take care of yourself, Catalina."
She half expected him to vanish into thin air. He used the door, closing it behind him when he left.
Cat settled back in the bed and gave into the weariness that consumed her. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out all of the images and voices swirling in her head. She wanted to escape into a cocoon of darkness, where nothing unpleasant or unsettling plagued her mind or infiltrated her senses.
Unfortunately, that was not possible. Thoughts of Ryan lingered.
Cat had been taken by his gorgeous looks and commanding presence from the onset. She had found negotiating with him not only stimulating to her brain, which constantly required a challenge, but also stimulating to her senses.
Oh, why did she have to be so attracted to him?
She groaned. The last thing she needed to be thinking about was the way Ryan Donovan sparked her desire.
Which was really a monumental understatement.
The man commanded it. Along with her passion. Her lust was for him alone. And, unfortunately for her, it was an all-consuming lust that had settled deep into her bones, despite the fact that she loathed the man.
He was holding her prisoner, for God's sake.
And yet ... The thought of Ryan's hands on her body crept into her mind. She could practically feel his lips and sharp teeth on her neck. She had wanted him desperately, had found immense pleasure in the way he'd touched her, the way he'd made love to her.
No. He hadn't made love to her. He'd fucked her. There was a huge difference. Hell, he hadn't even kissed her.
God, Seth had been right. She was a whore.
Disgusted with herself, she burrowed deep within the bed covers, her head settling between the grooves of the plump pillows. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to block out the images that flashed before her. Ryan taking her from behind, his hard cock pumping in and out of her as she begged for more.
Shame seized her very soul.
Goddamn it.
What had happened to the woman she used to be?
Chapter Nine
She woke with a start, as though she knew someone lingered close by, watching over her. Thin rays of silver light from the moon filled the room, clearly revealing his presence to her as he sat in a chair that he'd pulled up alongside her bed. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs.
"You look as bad as I feel,” she whispered in a hoarse voice.
"Do you need more pain medication?"
"No."
Ryan dragged a hand down his face. It had been two days since her great escape and he still wasn't over it. The fact that she had put her life and their child's life in danger was one thing. The fact that she had run back to Seth damn near killed him.
"Darius said you would stay away from me until your temper was in check. You should have waited a few more days."
He grimaced. Obviously, his emotions were written all over his face. He placed his hands on his knees and stood. Pacing alongside her bed, he rubbed the back of his neck. Uncertainty plagued him, mixed with the unsettling feeling that she would never let go of her past and embrace her future.
Would she hold onto the memory of Seth forever, clinging to the ideal of the man she'd known? Would she find some way in her mind to justify his actions the other day? Would she gloss over the pain he'd caused her in order to retain her image of the hero she had believed him to be? Would she return to him if given the chance?
Ryan scowled.
Perhaps she was right. Maybe he should have waited a few more days before he spoke with her. But it was too late for that. He was here.
The rustling of sheets behind him made him turn. Catalina's bare feet touched the carpet as she stood, unsteadily. She wore one of the silk nightgowns he'd bought for her. He reminded himself that she didn't wear it by choice, but out of necessity. Elaina had dressed her after the doctor had examined her. He'd then added the sling to help heal her dislocated shoulder.
Even the soft glow of the moonlight could neither diminish nor disguise the bruises on her exposed flesh. They were mostly along her left side. Her cheekbone, her jaw. One spread out from under the sling and nearly covered the left side of her collarbone. Even the fingers of her left hand had black and purple marks. Though her legs were covered by her long nightgown, Ryan knew there was a bruise alongside her knee and one on her ankle bone.
Frankly, she was lucky to have only sustained the dislocated shoulder, the laceration on her forehead and the bruises. The damage could have been much, much worse.
Knowing this disturbed Ryan all the more. His fists clenched at his sides. He would retaliate, when the time was right.
Cat carefully made her way to the tall wooden doors that encased solid glass panes. She opened one door and let the warm spring breeze sweep through the bedroom, app
arently deciding she liked the evening air on her skin and maybe even liked the way the long, white sheers billowed softly in the gentle wind. She stood beneath one as it fluttered all around her.
Staring out at the terrace and the garden beyond, she said, “I want to know everything. Why am I part of your ... game?"
"It's not a game,” he said in a stiff voice as he joined her at the wall of windows. “It's the precursor to war. A war that may annihilate the humans."
Her head snapped in his direction at his words. The pain from the sharp movement flashed in her eyes, but she ignored it. “Is that what you want? To kill all the humans? Let the vampires rule the planet?"
His jaw clenched. She wasn't about to give him the benefit of the doubt. What did she think of him? That he was some evil monster hell-bent on world dominance?
Forcing himself to keep his anger at bay, Ryan said, “I do not wish to see the humans extinguished. They have their purpose on this planet. Though I don't agree with their politics, I do envision us coexisting together."
"Well, you do need their blood.” Her tone dripped sarcasm.
Ryan definitely had his work cut out for him. “There are plenty of ways to feed our hunger without feeding on the humans."
Ignoring him, she said, “They also come in handy when you want to procreate. Nothing like a cozy human womb to cultivate your evil offspring."
Ryan felt his temper rise. “What have I done to you to make you think of me as evil? Or to make you loathe a child that will be a part of us both?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I'm just the surrogate. The body that will harbor it. I don't want to have anything to do with a child conceived the way this one was. Nor do I want to share parental duties with a vampire. As far as I'm concerned,” she said with a growing amount of angst and disgust in her voice, “you and your coven can raise this kid. As soon as I find a way out of here, I'm leaving."
Ryan's jaw clenched, his teeth ground together. As anger—and jealousy—now coursed through him, he all but roared, “Going back to Seth? Haven't you realized that he doesn't want you? He'll kill you for betraying him."
"Then maybe I should return to him before your child is born."
Ryan's hand shot out and he gripped her upper arm, squeezing it so tight she cried out in pain. He instantly released her. But he knew his features were distorted by anger and grief, and his voice oozed venom. “Do not threaten the life of our child. I let your escape go unpunished because of the pain Seth caused you. I won't let you get away with putting yourself—or our child—in danger."
"What do you intend to do to keep me here? Shackle me to the bed?"
"No,” he said in a softer tone. His anger vanished as quickly as it had been sparked. He closed the gap between them. His hand cupped the right side of her face and tilted her head so she was forced to look at him, forced to meet his gaze. “I intend to prove to you that we belong together."
Her mouth quivered, but her eyes remained locked with his.
Having shocked her into silence, Ryan dropped his hand. Mustering a calm, collected voice, he said, “I will tell you why you are here, why you ended up in Seth's clutches for so long, and what really happened to your parents. But you must first understand that I am not the enemy. I do not wish to prey upon the humans or to annihilate them. I do not wish for war between the vampire covens, but it is coming nonetheless.” He knew his expression softened when he delivered the next bit of unsettling news. “You have been but a pawn. Seth has used you to start the new war."
She stared at him a moment, in obvious shock and uncertainty. Finally, she asked, “Why me?"
"Because you belonged to my coven from the beginning. Before you were even born, you were a part of our legacy. The prophecy decreed that Palomus's daughter would give birth to the son who would serve as the Enlightened One when it was time for Darius to step aside."
She turned away from him. He could hear her sharp breathing, could almost feel the thundering of her heart.
"Catalina..."
"I don't know if I can hear much more of this, Ryan.” Her voice was sullen. Her shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world rested on them. In some ways, it did. “You're going to tell me that my entire life, my entire existence—everything I've ever known and believed in—is a lie."
"Yes,” he whispered.
She choked back a cry. “Damn you."
"This isn't my doing, Catalina. Not all of it."
She turned back to him. Her eyes misted, but she seemed to hold the tears at bay. “What happened to my parents?"
Ryan pushed a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh. “Your father was of royal blood. He was a distant descendent of Julius Caesar. He became a vampire six hundred years ago. Had he lived, he would have been almost as old as Darius. And almost as wise.” Ryan sighed. Palomus had provided excellent counsel to the coven, and he had been a good friend to Ryan. “Following the vampire war at the turn of the century, when the Novus Semino made their first attempt to rule, the future of our coven was revealed. The prophecy came to light and your father searched for his match. When he found Mia, he watched over her until she grew into a young woman. He wed her and they had you."
"And then they both died in a car accident?” That she posed this in the form of a question indicated that she now found the explanation too convenient. Good. It would make the truth much less difficult to stomach if she were partially prepared for it.
"No,” Ryan said, forcing himself to keep his voice even and devoid of emotion, lest he make this even more painful for her. “They were murdered."
She gasped. “Murdered?” He waited several moments as she attempted to digest this information. Then, in a small voice, she asked, “By whom?"
Ryan found that he loathed telling her the truth, knowing how deeply it would affect her. For so many reasons, the truth would cause her great pain.
Hadn't he sworn never to hurt her? But what choice did he have in the matter? She wanted to know—she deserved to know. And he was the one who had to tell her.
"Who murdered my parents?” she demanded in a low voice.
"You won't want to believe what I have to say. You must think about all that has happened these past few days. The protection the coven has given you. Seth's rejection of you. The bond between us.” He reached out to her and lightly brushed a finger over her cool cheek. “You must look deep within your heart, Catalina. You will find the truth there."
"Who murdered my parents?” Her eyes were filling with tears now and her lips quivered, making him think that she was already preparing to deny the truth. Ryan was certain she already knew the answer he was about to give. He could see it in her pained expression. She was steeling herself against the harsh blow he was about to deliver. Fat drops crested the rims of her eyes and slid down her cheeks. “Who, Ryan?"
"Seth."
"No!” She screamed. “You lie!” Unexpectedly, she lunged toward Ryan and with her good hand, she balled her fingers into a tight fist and began to pound on his chest with a force that caused him to stumble backward. He found his footing though. She advanced on him again and pelted the ledge of his pectoral muscles with powerful blows, fueled by her anger and her pain.
Ryan absorbed blow after blow, allowing her to expel the rage within her. Her fevered temper did not diminish. Her grunts and cries of denial, combined with her angry punches, remained fierce for an impressively long time. Not once did Ryan try to escape the vicious onslaught, nor did he try to restrain her. He let her hammer on his chest until she was so exhausted, she slumped against him, panting heavily.
Ryan carefully wrapped his arms around her and held her to him while she sobbed.
Endless minutes passed. Eventually, he helped her to a chair in the sitting room. She curled her legs under her and buried her face in her hand. Ryan settled in a chair adjacent to her and let her sniffle and whimper and try to reconcile all he'd revealed thus far.
* * * *
The moon shi
fted in the cloudless sky, changing the angle of silvery rays and casting shadows across Ryan's handsome face. Cat could almost feel dawn encroaching on the peaceful night, but it was still held at bay. She lifted her head from where it rested on the soft cushion of the chair she'd sat in for hours, at least. Her body was stiff and sore. Her eyes burned. Her hand was now as bruised as the rest of her body.
But either she'd released all of her anger, or she was just too damned tired to feel it. She hoped for the former. She couldn't take much more of the hellish feeling that had plagued her since she'd visited Seth.
Begged for his help.
She let out a low groan. Seth was no longer an ally. She had to accept that fact.
Ryan shifted in his chair, stretching his long, powerful legs out in front of him. His gaze was locked on her face, never wavering. She'd felt his eyes on her the entire time she'd sat here, letting her brain reconcile what her heart already knew. Ryan wasn't lying to her. She didn't know how she knew it, she just did.
"Tell me the rest,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper that sounded painful even to her ears.
Ryan pulled in a long breath then let it out slowly. “Why don't you sleep? We can talk more later."
"No. I don't want to sleep. I want to know why Seth killed my parents. I want to know why he came to Stanford to recruit me. I want to know everything, Ryan."
He stood and crossed to the wet bar. He poured a snifter of brandy and then returned to the sitting room. He held the glass out for her and helped her sip it. Then he sank back into his chair and drew in a long gulp. Finally, he set the glass on the coffee table.
"The first vampire war started near the turn of the twentieth century. A younger band of vampires broke off from the coven and became known as the Novus Semino. They were led by one who knew the modern world, but not the old."
Ryan shook his head, as though in dismay. His gaze lifted and connected with hers. “In order to understand who we are and how we've evolved, we must know where we come from. Slaughtering villagers and countrymen traveling through the mountains was a means to an end in the old days. The vampires of the Old World thought of the humans as nothing more than sustenance. Later, they became sport. A wicked challenge. Our predecessors wondered how they could feed their hunger without anyone finding out about them. Eventually, of course, they grew complacent, confident in their conquering of the humans. That led to many of their deaths. They simply couldn't see past the challenge of obtaining human blood. They couldn't envision a bigger picture, a purpose for their existence."