Reborn (Princess of the Blood Book 1)

by Jane Ederlyn

  “You can’t bring her inside. Deena is here and so is your father. They’ll be up soon.”

  “I have no choice.” Odin gritted his teeth.

  Lagmann ran a hand through his short hair, looking like he wasn’t done talking, but Odin couldn’t humor him anymore. With no idea how much protection the bag offered her, every wasted second was dangerous. “Go.”

  Marie groaned.

  Odin glanced down. In his rush, he hadn’t secured the zipper closure correctly. It gaped open enough for a sliver of light to invade. He gathered her tighter against him and ran.

  The main house was dark and empty, but with the scent of peppery sausages and buttery biscuits flowing from the kitchen, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. They made it up the stairs and into Odin’s room unnoticed. Lagmann opened the closet and Odin dropped Marie in the deepest corner, then overturned his hamper over her head to mask her scent.

  Lagmann closed the closet door and turned. “What now?”

  Odin snapped the curtains together, blocking out the sun, and surveyed the room. “Now, I get some sleep.”

  Chapter XXXI

  Abby looked at the blank screen of her cell phone and sighed. No text or voice message. She tried to convince herself no news was good news, but she couldn’t stop worrying. Marie always came home.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be so neurotic about the changes Odin was bringing into their lives. She needed coffee. She had fallen asleep dressed in case she had to run out quickly. Her clothes were beyond wrinkled, but she was too tired to care. She dropped her phone in a pocket, twisted her hair into a knot, and padded downstairs, the marble cold on her bare feet.

  A soft snore floated toward her from the family room. Egon lay spread out, monopolizing the white sectional, his immense frame bare except for jeans.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He blinked and rose in one fluid move. “Good morning.”

  “Did you sleep down here?”

  He nodded. “In case Odin needed me.”

  There was a hole in his reasoning and she suspected there must be more to it, but she didn’t press. “Have you heard anything?”

  “No.”

  “I was hoping Odin would check in.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine, Abby.”

  “She has to be okay, Egon. I can’t imagine being without her.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Her forehead creased into a frown, but the answer sprung quickly and surprisingly easy to her lips. “Yes.”

  “If you trust me, you trust Odin.”

  An eyebrow crept up.

  “Come on. Admit it. Odin would never let anything happen to Marie.”

  She searched his eyes. The baby-blue irises were heavy lidded and underneath his pronounced lashes, dark circles shadowed his pale skin.

  “I appreciate you staying.”

  He smiled. “You don’t have to thank me.”

  His grin was bright and contagious and his lips full. His jaw was square and a cleft peeked out from beneath his stubble. Egon was crazy sexy. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that?

  He pulled his shirt on over his head and froze.

  Abby stared, transfixed by the width of his shoulders and muscles bunching and flexing.

  His stomach contracted. The movement caught her attention and her gaze dipped down his sculpted torso, to his stomach and lower, along the ridge of his zipper and to his powerful thighs.

  He ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “Abby.”

  She wondered what his hair would feel like in her hands. She wanted to touch it, fill her hands with it, and pull his head back to bare his throat to her mouth. She licked her lips.

  In a flash, his breathing quickened and his body responded. His gaze dropped to her breasts and lower.

  “I hate werewolves.”

  “I know.”

  She looked at his mouth, and inched up to meet his in a silent invitation. She took a step toward him.

  He groaned. “Abby, please don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like how?” John entered the room.

  Abby lowered her eyes.

  Egon pulled down his shirt. “She hates it when someone messes with her coffee maker.”

  “I should have warned you,” John said.

  Egon’s eyes burned with gold flames. “It won’t happen again.”

  Abby touched his arm and he recoiled. “Egon, it’s okay.”

  “No, I don’t think it is.”

  She shook her head not understanding.

  “I need a shower.” Egon removed her hand.

  She searched his face, but it was now devoid of all the emotion that blazed only a moment earlier. She felt oddly cold. “Of course.”

  Without another word he left the room. What just happened?

  “Coffee smells good.” John took her hand and led her to the kitchen. Evidence of an earlier sprinkle resembled tiny bubbles on the windows and doors and glistened on the pavers. All clouds were gone and the sun streamed bright into the kitchen, transforming the room into an oasis of light.

  John poured himself a cup of coffee. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  She retrieved halved and peeled oranges from the fridge and pushed the citrus through the juicer. “What is it?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but we’re never alone.”

  She looked up. “Is this about Marie, again?”

  “Actually I’m referring to Odin and all his friends. The house is always full of men. I don’t like it.”

  “Can we talk about this later? Now is not a good time.”

  John’s jaw tensed, but to her relief, he didn’t press. After topping off his mug, he went to sit outside. Abby cracked three eggs into a bowl and whisked. When frothy, she poured the eggs into a pan. John was a creature of habit and she could make this breakfast with her eyes closed. For that she was grateful because her head felt like it was about to explode. She wanted to tell John everything, about werewolves and rogues, that she was worried about Marie, share rather than slip and slide over half-truths. She wanted to hear from Marie, and she wanted to stop thinking about a naked Egon upstairs.

  Disoriented and perturbed by a drumming heartbeat in close proximity, Marie opened her eyes. As she struggled with consciousness, memories of Odin in the Everglades returned to her. She pushed out into the blackness, discovering vinyl. She was in a bag of sorts. Unable to find the zipper slider, she grabbed fistfuls of material and pulled. It tore down the middle and a pile of smelly clothes fell on her. She brushed herself down, removing a clinging sock, and cracked the door open.

  Odin lay sprawled face down on an enormous bed, naked and sleeping. She glanced around. The room was small and dark, with moss-painted walls and carved-walnut furniture. The woodsy décor exemplified the antithesis of his space on the beach. They must be in the compound, and she knew she wasn’t exactly welcome. She pushed the door open farther. It creaked, but Odin didn’t budge.

  Spying a brown sheet draped over what must be the window, she smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. Now, where was her phone? Abby must be mad with worry. She picked through discarded clothing, without success, and using the compound’s landline wasn’t an option.

  Hands on her waist, she considered the room. Where was Odin’s cell?

  The air-conditioner blasted cold air as she padded across the room in search of his jeans. Where were her shoes? And why did she keep losing them around Odin?

  The protective sheet kept luring her, magnetizing her yearning for the sun. Foregoing her search, she pulled the sheet off. Light snuck through the juncture where the curtains met. Dusk inched across the sky, like a living canvas in fiery orange, shell pink and mixed blues. She reached out, wanting more lig
ht, more warmth. Just more. Careful to remain beyond direct contact, she separated the curtains. How long had it been since she had truly been warm? She rocked closer and impulsively touched the window.

  The light burned and she grunted with pain as her singed skin reddened and swelled into a garish blister.

  Odin jumped to her side.

  She withdrew her hand, hiding it behind her, away from his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Concern etched his features like slashes.

  “Nothing, I was admiring the sunset.” Although none of her emotions spilled into her voice, she doubted she could completely mask her embarrassment.

  Odin captured her hand, brought it forward, and frowned.

  Marie tried to snatch it away, but he held fast as he examined it.

  “I wanted to feel the sun. I didn’t think it was still so strong,” she admitted.

  “The sun is overrated.”

  She believed him. His eyes danced with an internal fire that made her forget about sunlight and blue skies.

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it with a gentleness that belied his size. “There is nothing romantic about the sun. When I get you home, I’m taking you for a moonlit walk. Now that is romantic.”

  “Perhaps.”

  He smirked and glanced down. Before his eyes, the redness disappeared. “You heal faster than I do.”

  “This is minor. I heal even faster after I feed.”

  He pulled her into him, lazily resting one hand on her buttocks while the other played with her hair. “We better put clothes on,” he said, but his eyes suggested something else entirely.

  Marie nestled her cheek against his chest, enjoying the heat and tickle of his whispery hair. He tugged on a fistful of loose curls, tipping her face up. First, he kissed her nose and then traced her lips with his tongue. When her tongue brushed against his, he bit her and swallowed her gasp with a hungry kiss.

  “I can get used to this.” He lifted her and she swung weightless before wrapping her legs around him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “If it isn’t obvious, I’m losing my touch.” His eyes sparkled, the gold ebbing and receding in a hypnotic rhythm.

  She giggled and the sound surprised her, as if it had come from someone else. Teenage girls giggled. She did not.

  When his legs hit the bed frame, they fell in a tangle onto a bouncing mattress.

  “Odin.”

  He rolled until she was on top of him, then he captured her hand and laid it over his heart.

  She understood the gesture and its significance; and felt the same. Some emotions were too powerful for mere words.

  A noise outside the door jarred Marie back into awareness. Lost in the powerful beat of his life source, she had forgotten she was in a werewolf compound.

  “We must dress.” She strung another set of pop kisses across his chest and finished by sucking on his nipple.

  “I need to be inside you,” he growled, guiding her down to his waiting erection.

  She pulled her hand away and wiggled off him. “Later, I promise. Where’s your phone?”

  They exited the building into a breezy, star-filled evening that carried night-blooming Jasmine, citrus, and baking bread across her senses. The kitchen must be nearby. She had loved bread and made a mental note to try chewing it like Odin taught her to do with steak. She looked up at him and smiled. He tipped her chin up and dropped a quick kiss on her upturned mouth.

  “Ready?”

  Staying in shadow, he pulled her along until they covered the distance to the barn. Relieved not to have crossed paths with anyone, he squeezed her hand and turned to open the door for her.

  “Brother, you should introduce your friend.”

  Through their joined hands, Marie felt Odin tense.

  He turned toward the voice and ushered her behind him. “Leidolf, how are you, brother? I didn’t know you had returned.”

  “This morning.”

  Marie leaned to see past Odin’s arm. Leidolf shared Odin’s square jaw and fair skin, but unlike Odin’s cropped ash-blond hair, his brother had golden-blond hair worn in a shoulder-length braid. She met his eyes, hoping to find Odin’s kindness, and gasped. He was the one she’d chased at the Delano before running into the rogues.

  “Very beautiful girl. Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Leidolf inhaled and wrinkles rippled across his brow. As if he didn’t trust his nose, he inhaled again, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating black and cold against pulsing gold.

  Odin took a step back pushing her closer to the car.

  Leidolf snickered. “Father is looking for you. I see why you have been detained, but I will gladly keep company with her while you visit with our patriarch.”

  “We have somewhere to be. He’ll have to wait.”

  Leidolf’s face darkened.

  “Goodnight.” Odin opened the SUV’s door and gave Marie a soft push into the passenger seat. Avoiding eye contact with Leidolf, he came around and slid into the driver seat. As they pulled away, she looked into the side mirror. Leidolf watched her, their gazes locked, and her eyes lightened for a second before she checked herself. She held his gaze until the vehicle’s speed turned him into a distant, insignificant figure.

  “Who is he?” she asked.

  “My brother.”

  “A pack brother like Lagmann?”

  “No. He is a blood brother and the jewel of Stormda’s loins.”

  “I shouldn’t hold my breath for invites to family gatherings then?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Marie’s heart sank, but she shrugged, trying to make light of it. “Your agreement with the vampires, does it extend to your brother?”

  “No. They trust me and to a smaller degree my immediate circle, the ones you met tonight and two other cousins that were on patrol. It doesn’t include my blood brothers.”

  “I’ve seen Leidolf before.”

  “When?”

  “The night I met you. I recognized him and I believe he recognized me.”

  Odin slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. “There have been sightings of him on the beach but never on the same night as a rogue outburst.”

  “Do you think he’s responsible for the rogues?”

  “I didn’t want to believe it, but who else can it be?”

  She placed a hand on his arm. He glanced down at where their skin met and released the death grip on the steering wheel.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and turned back to the road ahead. “I’ll talk to him. He hasn’t been the same since his wife was killed.” Odin sighed as if the weight of a millennium rested on his shoulders. “My father isn’t going to like this.”

  Chapter XXXII

  In a cloud of lavender, Marie glided downstairs and stopped at the landing. “Let him in.”

  Abby frowned then looked through the peephole. “There’s a vampire outside?” When the doorbell chimed, she straightened and opened the front door with measured caution.

  “Good evening, Abigail. You have changed since last we met?”

  Abby’s scrutiny turned to recognition. “Etienne?”

  He grinned, blasting her with charm and sincerity for a potent moment, before glancing beyond her and sweeping into a deep bow. “Your Grace.”

  Marie inclined her head and curtsied, straight and low, as if a corset was digging into her. “That is enough formality. It’s been too long, my friend. I’ve missed you.”

  “I have missed you as well. You are as lovely as ever.”

  “And you are as handsome as ever. How is it that you have lost your French accent and now have a proper Englishman’s accent despite living
in Miami for fifty years?”

  “And how is it that you have not lost your accent at all?”

  “You wound me. Surely I sound at least a little bit American?”

  Etienne glanced at Abby conspiratorially. She giggled and pushed the door wider, but he remained rooted outside the threshold.

  “And still a traditionalist, I see. Ma chérie, please invite him in.”

  Abby glanced between the two vampires, forehead creased. “But I thought . . .”

  “It isn’t that he cannot, merely that he will not.”

  “Oh. Please come in.” Abby motioned him forward.

  He nodded and stepped into the foyer, the cascading light of the chandelier highlighting a hint of sienna in the dark blond waves worn loose to his shoulders.

  A darker hue of blond mixture shadowed his jaw line, prominent against the pallor of his skin. He had a long aristocratic nose, deep-set jade eyes, and wore an exquisitely tailored, navy suit.

  “Abigail, this is Etienne Henwood. Etienne, you remember my child.”

  He took Abby’s hand and kissed it lightly. “You have grown into a lovely woman.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Abby, will you excuse us? Etienne and I have catching up to do.”

  “Of course. Bonjour, Monsieur Henwood.” Abby withdrew her hand, regret in her eyes. Marie knew she would’ve liked to grill Etienne about the history they’d lived, but by the tautness of his jaw, she suspected this was more than a social call. Was he here to warn her off Odin? Or discuss the rogues?

  He watched Abby disappear down the hallway and turned to Marie. “She looks more like you than I expected. Truly lovely and well adjusted.”

  “I am very proud of her. Shall we go to the library?”

  Marie led him across the marble foyer to the library and closed the heavy double doors behind him. Turning, she motioned to a pair of sage velvet dome chairs in front of the fireplace. He waited for her to sit. When she perched on the edge of one chair, he sat in the other, opposite her, and crossed his legs.