Reborn (Princess of the Blood Book 1)

by Jane Ederlyn

  Lagmann sighed.

  A hungry werewolf was a short-tempered one. Egon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, picking up Odin’s scent. “He was here and is still nearby.” Finally he opened his eyes and motioned across the street. “Over there.”

  They entered the gallery, following Odin’s scent just as he was coming down a white staircase with an unknown woman.

  “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Ulfsson. If there is anything further that I can do for you, please do not hesitate to call me,” she said in a rehearsed clip. At the bottom, she shook Odin’s hand and disappeared into one of the rooms.

  “Ah, our fearless leader. New interest?” Lagmann pointedly looked around.

  “Something like that. Let’s go,” Odin ordered.

  “After you,” Lagmann said.

  “Age before beauty,” Egon quipped, patting Odin on the back.

  The three of them stepped outside. Egon halted, catching the trail of a scent. He sniffed the air and let the breeze wrap around him. “I think we might have trouble.”

  Lagmann scanned the surrounding area in reactive alarm.

  “What is it?” Odin asked.

  “That flowery scent in the alley, and again at the beach, is everywhere.”

  Lagmann shot a glance at Odin.

  “Lavender,” Egon confirmed, perplexed.

  “I think I left my wallet inside,” Odin interrupted. “I’ll catch up with you guys at the Meat Market Restaurant.”

  “We’ll wait. If there’s danger, you shouldn’t be alone,” Egon said.

  “How can lavender be related to rogues? Get us a table outside. I’ll be right there.”

  Egon shrugged, and his focus turned from concern to food.

  Lagmann regarded Odin somberly. “She’s here, isn’t she? Careful, brother.”

  “I’m hungry,” Odin said, ignoring him. “Go.”

  Neither of them could deny a direct order.

  At the end of the block, Egon whiffed a trace of lavender, more a print than a presence. Curious, he turned to investigate, but was surprised to find it coming from a human brunette nestled in a corner table. Coincidence? Maybe. His eyes locked on her, the heat of his stare willing her to turn around, so he could get a better look.

  She turned slowly, as if sensing someone. Their eyes met. Unable to move, he stopped walking.

  “Let’s go,” Lagmann yelled.

  Her companion said something, and just like that, she broke away and the connection shattered. He felt oddly bereft, and when her laughter floated to him like bait, he grimaced. Humans were off-limits.

  Odin leaned against the wall until he was sure that Egon and Lagmann were gone. Then he followed his nose, expecting to find Marie, but finding Abby and John dining alfresco beneath the burgundy umbrellas of the Van Dyke. He watched them, wondering if he should approach when the hairs on the back of his neck stood. He smiled.

  “Once again, Mr. Ulfsson.”

  He turned. “Hello, Marie. We have to stop meeting like this.”

  “I thought you were alone?”

  “I was, but I did tell you that I was waiting for my brothers.”

  “You need not explain to me.”

  “You left the gallery after I asked you to stay.”

  “I did not say I was waiting. I do not play with my words, Monsieur.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “What business do you have here?”

  “I was looking for you. Who is she?” he asked, motioning to Abby with a sweep of his hand.

  “That is none of your concern.”

  “Food or friend?”

  They stared at each other as if the next to speak was the weaker. Finally, Marie spoke. “Be on your way. We are in public after all.”

  “Don’t threaten me. I’m here to have dinner. I mean you no harm. I mean your friend no harm.”

  “Then no harm will come to you.” She cocked her head and went eerily still with intent.

  He laughed. “You are such a little thing, but I do believe you can kick my ass. Have dinner with me.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you eat?”

  “Yes, but not dog food.”

  “Nasty stuff. I don’t eat that either.”

  “I am sure your friends are waiting for you. Besides, the beach is not a safe place after dark.” Her statement was both a reminder of the other night and a thinly veiled threat.

  “I live on the beach and your family is aware of that.”

  “The coven is not my family.”

  “But you know Etienne,” he said.

  A delicate brow rose at the mention of the coven leader.

  “Look, I don’t want trouble. I want . . . what all of you want.” He ran a hand through his hair and her gaze followed the movement.

  “And what is that?”

  “Privacy.” He reached for a lock of her hair and pulled it gently. “I want to see you again. Meet me tomorrow.”

  “I am afraid that is not possible.”

  “You owe me.”

  “For what?”

  “For making me spend three hundred and ninety-five thousand dollars.”

  She laughed. “That’s your doing. You like landscapes.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “You could have said no.”

  “Meet me.”

  “I thought you wanted privacy?” she said, copying his cryptic tone.

  “From humans, not from you.”

  “As I said, it will not be possible.”

  He looked down at her mouth. It was pink and swollen, and slightly distended. Her fangs must be out, he thought, and in quick succession wondered how she would taste and what it would feel like to be bitten by her. He swallowed and the movement drew her eyes to his neck. Was she thinking about biting him? The thought made his blood boil and rush to his dick. He sucked in a breath. Last thing he needed was a hard-on in public.

  Her gaze moved to his mouth and they burned as if she had touched him with more than just her thoughts. She took two steps away from him. “Goodnight, Mr. Ulfsson.”

  “Wait. I need to see you again.”

  “They are waiting for you.”

  “You want me gone because you are protecting her.”

  With lightning swiftness, she was in his face, forcing him to take a step back.

  “You are pressing your good fortune. I have asked you kindly.”

  “I was curious.”

  “Do not ask after what is none of your concern.”

  He grinned at her and her eyes turned lighter and feral.

  “Is that supposed to scare me? Because I think it’s really sexy.” He blew her a kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

  She snarled after him.

  “Find me. Or I’ll find you.”

  Odin reached for a menu and feigned complete absorption in the entrées even though he always ordered the same thing.

  Lagmann shook his head. “After all these years, you still surprise me. You buy paintings and stink of lavender. Are you keeping something from us?”

  “I think it’s okay if he reinvents himself,” Egon said. “Deena might like it.”

  Odin lowered the menu. “Don’t bring her up. You’ll ruin my appetite.” Multiple plates arrived at the table next to them and steam wafted toward them making Odin’s stomach rumble. “Have you ordered entrées yet?”

  “We waited for you,” Lagmann said.

  “Maybe you can pick up lavender soap for her,” Egon said. Odin gave him a blistering look and his cherubic smile faded. “I know you’re not happy about the contract, but she’s hot.”

  “Then you marry her.”

  Egon laughed. “No
way. She’s too tough for me.”

  Lagmann inclined toward the table, in full counselor mode. “Better I remind you of your duty, than your father.” In a softer voice, he added, “Vampires have makers, masters they have to obey.”

  Odin glared at him. He didn’t want to discuss Marie nor did he need a reminder of his pack responsibilities. They sat on his shoulders, heavier than he was willing to admit out loud. His father was so ingrained in the past and in the old ways, he wasn’t adjusting to the modern world and the pack was suffering because of it. Odin didn’t want to take over, but if he had to, he’d first have to kill his predecessor.

  “I’m not marrying Deena. I’ve told him that. Multiple times.”

  “He’s the Alpha. You have to obey his order.”

  “What part of I don’t want to discuss this don’t you understand?”

  “Have either of you slept with a human?” Egon changed the subject and both men turned and gaped at him.

  “Not a good idea, brother,” Lagmann warned.

  Egon turned to Odin, hope clear in his eyes.

  Odin wished he had a different answer. “Lagmann is right.”

  “Other than the fact that you’re bigger than a normal human, there is that other thing,” Lagmann continued.

  “What thing?” Egon scratched his head.

  “Your thing. You know.” If Lagmann’s pale brows rose any higher, they’d disappear into his hairline, and still Egon looked lost.

  “My thing? Like anatomy thing?”

  “No, the shifting thing,” Odin added.

  Egon looked away, his eyes glued to a couple strolling past arm-in-arm.

  “I can’t imagine always having to keep part of yourself a secret. And you’re bound to make a mistake. What then?” Lagmann’s words rung like a death knell.

  “But there are only so many female werewolves,” Egon said.

  “Yes, and you’ve slept with all of them,” Lagmann said.

  “Very funny. Not all of them.”

  Lagmann glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “No, just all the ones in our pack.”

  Egon shrugged but blushed.

  Odin studied the younger werewolf, but nothing alarmed him until the waitress arrived to take their order. Egon’s eyes glinted with a hunger he recognized. It wasn’t just sex, it was about needing something new. Werewolves were immortal. Everyone in his pack had lived a long time, changing and adjusting, loving and losing. At heart, they were still Vikings and he understood Egon’s restlessness much better than he did Lagmann’s unbending path of righteousness.

  He needed to talk to him, but what could he say when he felt the same? For the moment, at least, there was only one solution.

  They ordered Kobe Tartare for appetizers, 20-Ounce Kobe Rib-eye steaks for dinner, and Veal Chops for dessert.

  Chapter IX

  John followed the paved circular drive around a three-tier stone fountain, past the heavy, double front doors, and toward the side of the house. “Here?” he asked.

  Abby nodded.

  He put the car in park and turned in his seat.

  “Do you want to come in for coffee?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He undid his seat belt, crossed in front of his car, and followed her. When she pushed a low-lying branch out of their way, his jaw dropped. “You live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alone?”

  “No, I live with Marie.”

  “I mean, no older relatives?”

  “It’s just the two of us. Carmen, our housekeeper, is here in the day, but at night it’s just us.”

  Although pristinely landscaped, the expansive lawn was thick with trees that closed like a curtain against the night.

  “You don’t have any close neighbors. Aren’t you scared?”

  “Of things that go bump in the night?”

  The creases on his forehead deepened as thoughts flickered across his eyes.

  “I’m not scared.” His concern was sweet. She smiled briefly at him before turning away from the pool of his eyes to enter the number code into the security keypad. Just as the lock clicked, the French door swung open.

  “Hello, Abigail,” Marie greeted.

  Ablaze with light, they could see perfectly from outside in. One moment the kitchen was empty and a blink later, Marie materialized and opened the door. Abby darted a look at John, but he’d been checking out the pool area and hadn’t noticed. She let out a sigh of relief.

  “Good evening, John,” Marie said, sounding more like Abby doing the impersonation than Béla Lugosi himself.

  It was their thing, but with John here, Abby became conscious of the little things she never thought about. She glared at Marie, who was smiling and unconcerned. Seriously? Who said vampires didn’t have a sense of humor? “I didn’t know you’d be home already.”

  “I finished with my friend early.”

  Abby arched a brow. Her senses were more acute than an average human and, as usual, knew Marie had spied on her. Marie was overprotective and one couldn’t teach an old vampire new tricks.

  “Good evening.” John held his hand out.

  Marie ignored the hand but gave him a dazzling smile. “I just brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Please come in.” She turned and strode into the house, leaving them to follow.

  Abby watched Marie, suspicious of her motives. She had changed out of her dress and was now doing a good imitation of an all-American twenty-year-old. Her hair was picked up into a high ponytail and she had rummaged through Abby’s closet, borrowing Victoria Secret loungewear. She had scrubbed her face clean of makeup. With her smooth, translucent vampire complexion, she looked pale but youthful and very normal.

  Marie reached for two cups. “How do you like your coffee, John?”

  “I take it black, thanks.”

  “How nice. Just like my Abby.” She handed them their coffee.

  He accepted the steaming cup. “Aren’t you having any?”

  Marie crinkled her nose. “I make it, but I don’t drink it.”

  “But you’ll be joining us?”

  “Actually, no.” She motioned to the kettle and empty teacup on the stove. “Please, you and Abby enjoy. I have a bit of reading to catch up on, so I intend to retire to my room.”

  Abby watched their interchange as she sipped her coffee. John’s face was animated and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Marie’s face, on the other hand, was chiseled into stony neutrality. Abby knew her, though, knew the significance of her changing eye color and almost imperceptible flinches. The blank stare she was giving John meant she was listening intently. She knew what Marie was feeling, or not feeling, simply by watching her. On another level, because of their bond, she could feel her presence and elevated emotions. Abby realized that Marie liked John and was playing the role of a normal roommate attempting to match-make.

  Marie glanced at Abby and winked, causing Abby to spurt coffee all over the counter.

  “Are you all right, ma chérie?”

  “Yes,” Abby mumbled, wiping the counter enthusiastically in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.

  She felt a cool hand on her arm but continued wiping.

  “Your cheeks are flushed,” Marie said in a voice too soft for John to overhear.

  Abby’s head snapped up. That was obvious and the thought made her cheeks flame even brighter.

  “He likes you, Abby, and you can do no wrong.” Louder, Marie added, “Leave it. I will take care of it the morning. Goodnight, Abigail,” she said and kissed her on each cheek. She waved goodnight to John and glided out of the room, her ponytail barely moving.

  “It’s an amazing house,” John said, looking up from his cup.

  “Thank you.”

  His gaze d
arted around the kitchen. “What happened to Marie? She was just here.”

  A nervous laugh collected in Abby’s throat. “That Marie. Here one minute, gone the next.”

  “Have you lived here long?” he asked.

  “Mom left me the house, but we haven’t really lived here, except for a couple of weeks now and then when I didn’t have school. It’s been a while since the last time we were here though.”

  “Will you be staying?” He put his cup in the sink then shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “I’d like to. I just finished renovating. What do you think of this room?” She loved her new kitchen—sleek with crisp, white cabinets, marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances. She even loved the farmhouse table and French toile chairs that Marie insisted belonged in the design. Instead of detracting, the chairs complimented the modern and airy feel. Marie was usually right.

  “Nice,” he said, but his eyes were on her. “Well, I should go.”

  She walked him outside and leaned her hip against his car. The Mercedes-Benz engine was still warm.

  They both started to speak simultaneously and stopped.

  “It’s a starry night,” he said.

  “Yes. It didn’t rain after all. Thanks for dinner and the ride home. I had a nice time.”

  “So did I.”

  The breeze tugged on her hair, lifting and pulling strands across her face. He captured one, secured it behind her ear, and then retracted. At his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched until he jammed them into his pockets.

  A gust swirled, surrounding them with the scent of ocean.

  “Is that water?” he asked.

  She nodded. “The house backs into Biscayne Bay.”

  “Do you have a boat?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever been fishing?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t lived until you’ve gone fishing.”

  She looked at him doubtfully.