Ellowyn Found: An MM Vampire Trilogy Omnibus Edition Books 1 - 3

by Kayleigh Sky

  “Show me the top card.”

  Isaac pulled it off the stack and turned it toward Camiel. “Is it about love?”

  Rune finished his wine and poured another glass. The card was a depiction of two people, standing face to face. They were naked, hands outstretched.

  “That depends,” said Camiel, “on how hard you want to hold on. They are not touching. Something is between them. Pick another from the top.”

  Isaac flipped it over. A vampire, pointing a Ryzok in front of him, ran down a tunnel. His mouth was open wide, his fangs fully descended. Jewels glittered in the walls of the tunnel. “They fight?”

  Camiel nodded. “The question is, what do they fight for?”

  “What’s the answer?”

  “Time will tell.”

  Rune snorted. “I hope you don’t get paid for this kind of thing.”

  Camiel grinned. “Quite well.”

  Isaac stood. “I’m going to fix something for Anin.”

  He picked up his plate, circled around Rune, and reached for his plate too.

  “Thank you, Isaac.”

  Isaac bent close. “I didn’t do it for you.”

  Of course not. And that was as it should be, because there was nothing Rune could do for him either.

  31

  In Another’s Eyes

  “Let me see,” said Mal.

  She took the map Isaac gave her and laid it on the desk where piles of notes covered most of the surface, and Clara sat with an open textbook. The thing was as thick as a dictionary Isaac had once seen that supposedly contained every word in the English language.

  Mal sat back down beside her, and Clara flipped a page.

  “It definitely resembles Onopiel. Ciphers or rhymes. I’m comparing it to Celes but not coming up with much. It should be related to that. The problem with Onopiel is very little written language remains. They had no means of preserving anything except on stone. And from what I’m reading here, the early Ono were as nomadic as it was possible for the Ellowyn. They appear to have formalized their written language into poetry when they did write, and they were fond of rhymes.”

  Mal rested her elbow on the desk and cupped her cheek. “We think the half of the map you have is the first part.”

  “I don’t know,” Clara murmured, a frown squinching her face. “What if it isn’t?”

  Mal lifted her cheek from her palm. “We’ll misinterpret everything if we’re wrong about which cipher comes first.”

  “The order might become clear once we decipher them, though. I think that’s most important. I don’t want to rely on anything pictorial at this stage.”

  Isaac glanced from one to the other. “What does that mean? I need my map back.” Just in case the glum vampire locked up in his room upstairs decided to steal it. Though the thought was unfair because he could have stolen it a long time ago if he wanted to. But something told Isaac to keep it close to him anyway. He wouldn’t put it past Uriah to steal it. Or Yair, to please him.

  A shy smile rippled across Clara’s face like a mirage. “Can I have it later if I need it?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She returned his portion, and he folded it and tucked it into his pocket. Mal eyed him strangely, then rested her fingers on Clara’s shoulder. “I need a minute with Isaac, okay?”

  From the way Clara’s face shone, Isaac figured anything Mal wanted was okay. She nodded, smiling over her big teeth. “Of course.”

  Mal motioned to the hallway, and Isaac steeled himself. She always wanted things he wasn’t going to do. Isaac wasn’t the bravest person in the world, and he’d as soon as fade into the background as have to speak up about something, but he made his own decisions, and he didn’t follow people around. Not even Rune, no matter how much Isaac picking up and actually following him made it appear. So he gritted his teeth and followed Mal to the front door.

  “Walk with me?”

  He nodded, and they went outside. The warm sun pulled at him, but he stayed in the shade for Mal.

  “I love the sun,” she said. “As long it behaves and stays where it belongs.”

  Something about the way she said that made him think she was talking about him. Maybe remembering when she’d told him to stay at the castle and he’d followed her to the mines. But she’d be dead if he hadn’t. They skirted the tree line, Isaac dipping into the yellow sun whenever he could. He squinted in the brightness.

  “Time to decide, Isaac.”

  “Decide what?” But he knew what. She was talking about the map. Meaning that maybe he shouldn’t keep it?

  “Rhymes and ciphers.” She waved her hand, as though brushing away the air, her viperish smile curving her lips. “We vampires are so secretive. I thought Mama and Papa were normal parents, and yet…” The humor faded from her eyes. “I never knew them. Rune is like them, I think, which makes it pointless to talk to him. You can’t go, Isaac. That map leads underground. Most of the cities aren’t habitable and not even close to safe. The portals and tunnels will be treacherous to travel if it’s even possible to get through them. Rune won’t give up. I’m alive because of him. My family and our household are alive because of him. He led hundreds of us above ground and then returned for thousands more. I don’t underestimate him. But the fact is, he probably won’t find what he’s looking for. I don’t even know what that is anymore. A treasure? Is it worth dying over? I can’t stop him, I know that. And he might die. But for god’s sake, Isaac, don’t die with him.”

  “You want me to give him the map?” That was sure loss. A loss that tore into his heart like a spear ripping through it. “I’m his chance.”

  The words slipped from his mouth, no more familiar to him than strangers he passed on the street. But they were his, though his tongue fumbled over their strangeness, and he knew instantly they were true.

  Mal stopped in her tracks. They faced the house now, on the far side of the front yard. He searched the windows, but Rune was in his corner room in back.

  She sighed. “I want you to know you don’t have to do this, that’s all. You aren’t alone. We Seneras have always lived surrounded by enemies, and you’re one of us now. We’re stronger together not apart.”

  “That makes it kind of important for me to stay with him, doesn’t it? A vampire and a human together. I have to do this. I got that map for a reason.”

  She laughed and rolled her eyes as she looked back at the house. “Do you really think that vampire was bringing you the map?”

  “No. But I think I was meant to get it.”

  She nodded, put her arm around his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “Before meeting Clara, I would have told you that you were a romantic fool.”

  “So’s Jessa and Otto.”

  She grinned. “Otto was a lost cause. I wasn’t always sure he’d figure things out.”

  “I’m going.”

  She hugged him closer. “I just want you to come back, Isaac. I want you both to come back. I want our family back. We only have so many chances.”

  “This is mine. Ours. I know what he’s like.”

  “He can be cruel. He is Qudim’s son.”

  “I’m his fated.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. You have my support, no matter what happens.”

  They finished their trek around the yard. “Are you getting close to translating the ciphers?”

  “Clara is. She has all of Stefan’s knowledge now. Without her, I don’t know what we’d do.”

  “See,” Isaac said. “It’s working out the way it’s supposed to. We’re on the right path.”

  She stopped before climbing the steps. “Sometimes our path is a test.”

  He lingered outside for a moment, glimpsing Anin in the trees, a whisper of a shadow in and out of the dark. He wondered how many vampires he’d seen before the Upheaval, never knowing they were there.

  The murmur of voices and Camiel’s merry laugh came from the kitchen. Mal had returned to the study and sat at the desk across from Clara. Both had their
heads bent over books. More books piled on the desktop and the seat of a nearby chair.

  Isaac hadn’t gone to a real high school, let alone college. What would it be like to know things? He’d read as much as he could, but did he know things? Was he smart? Maybe everything he was doing right now was dumb. Like going upstairs. Maybe he should let Rune alone. If Rune wanted him, Isaac wasn’t hiding. But maybe Rune was.

  He turned the corner at the top of the stairs, raised his hand to rap at Rune’s door, but stopped before his knuckles touched wood. Nothing broke the quiet on the other side. He clasped the knob and pushed the door wide enough to step in. One of the windows was open, the thin lacy curtain stirring in the breeze. A comforter and sheets piled on the bottom of the bed. A T-shirt hung over the back of a chair. One shoe sat upright at the door of the closet, the other one nowhere in sight. A smile tugged at Isaac’s lips. What a slob.

  No sound came from the other room, but that was where Rune had to be. That door was closed too. It had a column of glass panes in it like a ladder, and the same lacy fabric that hung from the window covered it on the inside. For some reason, Isaac knew this hadn’t been Stefan’s room. Maybe it had been a guest room. Rune would have taken it for the light, he guessed. And the privacy of the adjoining room.

  He opened the door and stood at the threshold looking in on Rune, who sat on a stool in front of his makeshift easel, bare feet braced on the stool’s bottom rung, knees wide, hands loose between his legs. His long fingers curled slightly. He watched Isaac from under his brows, not moving, no expression on his face. He’d saved thousands of lives. Isaac knew he was brave, but that wasn’t the part of him Isaac had to get to.

  “I thought you might be lonely.”

  At first nothing happened, but then a smile slowly lifted the corners of Rune’s mouth.

  “I want to draw you.”

  He chewed his lip. “Here?”

  “No.” He pointed at the wall. “Stand there. Lean back. Yeah,” he said when Isaac took his position. “Take your shoes off, socks too, tip your head back, and look at me.”

  The stance wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was hard to stare at him from this distance without lowering his eyelids, and for some reason that made him sleepy.

  “Just like that.”

  Rune moved the easel slightly to the side. A strange lassitude swept over Isaac. Concentration furrowed Rune’s brow. The muscles in his arm bunched and flexed. The hollow between his neck and shoulder deepened. His toes curled.

  “When did you know what it meant to be a king?”

  Rune frowned. “Don’t talk.” Occasionally he glanced over then returned his attention to his drawing. “I was four or five. One of my first memories. You don’t want to know it.”

  “Don’t tell me what I want to know. You don’t know me. You don’t know how many times I ran for my life from your kind.”

  He met Rune’s narrowed gaze. With a slight nod, Rune said, “Tell me.”

  “You first.”

  “Do you want to hate me?”

  “That’s what you want.”

  “So smart,” Rune murmured with a smile. “I used to hide under my father’s throne. One day, he pulled me out and sat me on his lap. I loved to be with him. He was strong. His voice was deep when he laughed, and everybody always laughed with him. We were in his throne room. People called me prince, but I didn’t know what it meant. That day an enforcer reached out for me. He meant to take me away. But my father said no. I looked at him, and he said, this will be your throne one day. You must know the price for it. My father’s other enforcers came forward with a man between them. My father said, ‘So you would start a war, Nezzarram?’ The man said, ‘Even a king must show respect to a queen. You hold her prisoner.’ My father laughed. ‘We struck a deal, but she keeps all her secrets from me.’ I remember every word, but I had no clue what he meant. I still don’t. Whatever secrets she had, I never knew them.”

  “Why did that show you what it was to be a king?”

  “Qudim beheaded him, or his enforcer did, right in front of me. The force of the blow made his head jump and tip sideways. His stare landed on me. I don’t know if he actually saw me. Maybe he was already dead by then. Blood spurted out of his neck, and his head landed on the floor. My father bent down and said, ‘Allow no betrayal. Not even a whisper. You will be a king they will always want dead. Make them die first.’ My father stayed a reasonable man for most of his life, except for moments like that. I wondered—I will always wonder—if my father wanting to teach me a lesson was the only reason that man died.”

  Isaac had gone cold, and he shivered. Probably wrecking Rune’s drawing. “What a terrible thing to live with.”

  “I’d rather run for my life, Isaac.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing now? Letting them chase you over a treasure?”

  “What is that treasure, I wonder?”

  “Maybe nothing.”

  “It’s something. Myths live with us for a reason.”

  He fell silent, and Isaac closed his eyes. Maybe he slept a little. When he opened his eyes again, Rune stood in front of him. A breath away from touching him. Isaac lifted his gaze. “Are you done?” he whispered.

  “With you? Never.” He cupped Isaac’s cheek. “We don’t always get what we want.”

  “Not if we run away from it.”

  Rune smiled, his thumb pressing at the corner of Isaac’s mouth. “I like your bite.”

  He pushed, and Isaac slipped his tongue out, curling it under Rune’s thumb, and dragging it back inside him. Rune’s flavor was like the scent of wood bark on a hot day—burnt spice and sweet berries. How could anybody taste like this? He moaned, the sound of it surprising him. Rune met it with his own sound, though his was more like a groan. He leaned in, bending his head, until his body covered Isaac’s. His heat radiated from his bare skin. Working a hand between them, Isaac found Rune’s chest, the beat of his heart under bone, the softness of hair. Flesh and blood, once a little boy stripped of his innocence. No wonder he wanted beauty in his life.

  But Isaac was… skinny.

  He pulled his mouth free and rubbed his cheek into Rune’s palm. “I was the one picked for you.”

  “And I for you.”

  “But I don’t know why.”

  Rune dropped his head lower, his lips a hairbreadth from touching Isaac’s. “You know what Cammy says. Time will tell.”

  Isaac got nothing out before Rune’s mouth closed over his.

  32

  Can’t Get Enough

  When he closed his eyes, he was nowhere in this world. Nowhere in the life he’d lived, only in the one he had now, this hour, minute, second, breath. And his breath was Isaac’s.

  Wiry arms wrapped around his neck, fingers in his hair.

  Isaac’s tongue fought his, one of his hands slipped free and cupped Rune’s jaw. He held him tight and moved his mouth over Rune’s, nibbled his bottom lip, breathed into him again and again until the air in Rune’s lungs was purged of everything but Isaac.

  If only for this moment, he soared.

  He brought his hands down the sinewy muscle of Isaac’s back and the hard curve of his ribs. He cupped his ass, like peaches in his palms, his taste as sweet as summer fruit and sticky nectar, and raised him into the air, breaking the kiss. Isaac bent over him, smiling into his eyes. Rune laughed and his heart lifted. “Always green.”

  “What?”

  “Jessa said all the heroes in romances have green eyes. You must be my hero.”

  Isaac shook his head, brushing Rune’s nose with his. “They’re hazel.”

  Rune smiled. “Hazel’s plain. Look into the trees, high up where the leaves catch the last of the sun before it sets. That’s the color of your eyes.”

  “God,” Isaac growled. “You should put that in a romance.”

  He bit the tip of Isaac’s nose. “I don’t need to.”

  And he didn’t want to think about romances and happy ever afters. Of Jessa or
Mal or home.

  Of being a king.

  Of his enemies watching him in the dark, waiting for their time.

  He carried Isaac to his bed, where the shadow of the curtains flowed like water over the sheets. Isaac sat but held him tight around the waist. He put his face against Rune’s bare belly, sucking on the flesh over his navel. Goosebumps spread over his skin. He took in a deep lungful of the warm air blowing in from outside and cupped Isaac’s head. The unruly curls scratched at his palm, one of Isaac’s bare feet rested on his, the curl of his toes pressing into Rune’s bones. A feather-soft touch ghosted up and down his spine.

  His ear picked up footsteps downstairs, the buzz of a bee outside the window, the rush of his blood to his cock, Isaac’s thumping heart, the bellow of their lungs, the tearing cry inside his soul—Forgive me!

  But he’d never be forgiven. And Isaac deserved better than him, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the bliss of Isaac’s arms holding him in place, anchoring him to the feel of home.

  He tangled his fingers in Isaac’s hair and pulled his head back. “Get undressed.”

  Isaac nodded.

  Rune unbuttoned his pants. Fuck, he was going to burst out of them. Isaac yanked his shirt off and gulped a breath before flopping back and tossing the shirt onto the floor on the other side of the bed. Three tiny moles dotted the fair skin on the ribs under one arm like a small constellation. Rune dropped a knee onto the bed and pinned Isaac’s arm in place. His expression turned quizzical as Rune bent down. He licked the salty skin from mole to mole, feeling the shudder that ran through Isaac from head to toe. His skin contracted while his back arched, pushing his flesh harder against Rune’s tongue. He buried his face in the dark patch of hair, breathing in Isaac’s scent, kissing and nipping until Isaac whimpered. “I have to get out of my pants.”

  He smiled and pushed up. “By all means.”

  Isaac shivered again, then reached for the buttons on his jeans. “I don’t usually do this in the light.”

  “Why not?”