Reborn (Princess of the Blood Book 1)

by Jane Ederlyn

  “I like the changes you made to the house,” he said.

  “Abby did a lovely job.”

  “Last time I was here, she was a mere child. How time zips past touching all but us.”

  She settled deeper in the chair, sinking into its shadows. “Would you like a drink?”

  He shook his head. “Feel free if you need to break your fast?”

  “Ahh, my friend. You have not changed. Still so proper.”

  “I know. I do not think it is in me to change.”

  She smiled.

  “I am sorry not to have visited sooner, but I was in Italy.”

  “How is your Master?

  “Orpheo is well. Still painting. That reminds me.” He opened his jacked, retrieved a wallet-sized package, and handed it to her.

  Despite the size, it was surprisingly weighty. She removed the brown-paper wrapping to reveal a miniature canvas of a sunbaked vineyard framed in gold.

  “Etienne, it is breathtaking. Please extend my gratitude.”

  “He regrets not painting when you were in Italy. Perhaps you will join us in the near future.”

  “Abby would love it. Perhaps after France.”

  “You are not returning to Anton?” he asked, the reserved tone of his voice suddenly sharp.

  “Of course not. I merely promised Abby I would take her to the vineyard and Versailles. She is desperate to see it all.”

  “But that will be difficult for you.”

  “I cannot say no to her. She is my life.”

  He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “He will know you are there?”

  “I will be careful.”

  He pushed out of the chair and crossed the room. Cocking his head, he stared out the glass doors. “You should tell her about Anton.”

  “No.”

  “Knowledge is power.”

  “I don’t want to taint her. She is so—”

  “Innocent.”

  Marie nodded.

  “You know best.”

  She could see Etienne’s reflection in the glass and his eyes were shadowed. Vampires didn’t have to move and Etienne was more peaceful and contained than most. His current, uncharacteristic agitation was troubling.

  “First rogues and mauled bodies begin springing up in my absence. Then not only were you not welcomed, but you found yourself in a distasteful situation and no one extended aid. I cannot apologize enough.”

  “I took care of the rogues.”

  “Yes. I expected nothing less. But I am ashamed you were not shown proper respect. Rest assured, I have taken care of my personnel issues.”

  Marie walked over to him and put a reassuring hand on his back. “It is all right, old friend. I am happy to be here and happy to see you again.”

  “As I am.”

  Silence stretched between them while she waited for him to voice his true concern.

  “I understand you’ve met Odin?”

  Just as she feared. She dropped her hand. “Etienne . . .” she started but trailed off. Etienne would like more from her, he always had, but try as she might she didn’t feel the same. All she could give him was friendship, their deep-seated bond nurtured by years of necessity and understanding, a relationship she treasured. He was the only vampire she trusted, the only one who’d met members of her family, but she didn’t want to discuss Odin.

  He turned around. Instead of meeting her gaze, he feigned preoccupation with the items on her desk, picking up a silver framed photograph of Abby in braids. A smile touched his lips. When he finally put the frame down, he met Marie’s eyes.

  “Odin’s father does business with many elders, including Orpheo and Anton.”

  Marie stiffened. “I didn’t know. I was aware Stormda knew of Anton but not of their business acquaintance.”

  “At times, Stormda is sensible. At other times he is mad and unpredictable. He does respect Anton and the money that Anton can send his way. The body found the other night was a Swedish tourist and the local media is swarming in. Reporters and cameras are all over the beach. The last thing we need is the international media to join the fray. I fear if this issue is not resolved soon, our mutual maker might be tempted to step in. Neither one of us would be pleased to have Anton here.”

  “Anton? Here?” Marie’s hand tightened on the desk. “No.”

  “That is what troubles me.”

  His somber nod chilled her and she didn’t know what to say. Etienne hated Anton as much as she did, perhaps more.

  She touched his arm. “Dear friend, you have given me much to think about. But let us not talk about this further. It’s been too long. Tell me, how have you been? Do you miss London?”

  “Not in the least. The heat in Miami is divine. How about you?”

  “I never miss cities. Only the people.”

  His cell phone vibrated and he excused himself before checking a text message.

  “I’m afraid I must cut our visit short.” He waved his phone at her. “Can you believe the changes to our world?”

  “Yes, they do seem unbelievable at times.”

  He chuckled and bent to kiss her hand. “I’m always here for you.”

  When the front door closed, Abby flew across the hall and rounded on Marie.

  “Go ahead, I know you will fret until your curiosity is sated. Get it out of your system,” Marie said, hands on her waist.

  “I remember very little. Tell me everything.”

  “My son, Marcel, used to go on nightly walks. One night, I found Etienne wanting to make him dinner.”

  Abby gasped. “Seriously? What happened?”

  “I stopped him, of course.”

  “What happened after that?”

  Marie touched Abby’s warm cheek tenderly. “We became lovers.”

  Abby’s eyes widened and Marie stifled the urge to giggle.

  “What about now?”

  “We haven’t been lovers for a long time, but we will always be friends.”

  England, 1813

  “I would not do that if I were you.” Marie stepped out of the shadows, teeth bared.

  “Who are you? Why did I not hear you?”

  “Dismiss whatever thoughts you are entertaining toward the human couple.”

  Marie wore an Indian muslin gown with her hair curled, braided, and swept up off her neck.

  “Look at his face and remember it. He is mine, and if you drink from him or his wife, that will be the last night of your cursed existence.” She pronounced each word deliberately marking each syllable with unmistakable menace.

  “I understand perfectly.” He bowed. “Have you fed, milady?”

  “There is no need for you to concern yourself with that.”

  “I am merely hungry, and I hope you will join me.”

  “I consider feeding a private matter.”

  “At least let me walk you to your destination.”

  They stood underneath an ancient tree, enveloped in the deep shadows of the canopy. Only his eyes were visible as they glowed in the darkness. He extended his arm. She hesitated a moment before curling her gloved hand around his elbow. She was suspicious, yet curious. There was something familiar about him she couldn’t place. It was a mystery and she hated mysteries.

  “My name is Etienne Henwood.”

  “It is good to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Henwood.”

  “May I be so forward as to inquire your name? I fear my manners are deplorable, but you are familiar and yet I cannot place you?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You may call me, Marie.”

  “But what is your surname?”

  “It is not important.” She studied him. He was strikingly handsome and was sure she would ha
ve remembered him. “You smell familiar and yet I cannot place you. Who is your maker?” There were a few vampires in London and she knew most of them. Before he could answer, they arrived at a house awash in lights.

  “The ball, I presume? What a pity that our walk was not longer.”

  “Would you like to join us?” Marie asked in a spurt of spontaneity.

  “I would, yes.”

  “Perhaps there will be someone inside that you find interesting.”

  “No one could possibly be as interesting or as lovely as you.”

  Etienne’s eyes warmed to a more natural hue.

  Marie lowered her voice. “Thou shall not kill but rather imbibe discriminately on the wine of the Gods.”

  “I have not received an invitation.”

  “There can never be too many gentlemen in attendance. Please be my guest.”

  She turned to the hostess, who surveyed the assemblage like a queen over her court, and greeted her.

  “Mrs. d’Orgemont. It is good to see you again. You certainly are a vision tonight, my dear. Your cousin Marcel is already here with his new bride, lovely girl. He is a lucky man.”

  “Madame Piedmont, may I introduce you to a friend. This is Monsieur Henwood.”

  Etienne darted a glance at Marie, recognition in his eyes, then bowed to the older woman and kissed her proffered hand.

  “He is just arrived from France,” Marie said.

  “It is the utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said with an eloquence and sincerity that made Marie arch a brow.

  “What brings you to London?”

  Mrs. Piedmont winked at Marie and she cringed. The older woman was constantly telling her she was too young to remain in mourning and ordering her to take a lover. Discreetly, of course. She should have guessed she would consider Etienne an eligible candidate.

  “Tonight, at least it is all pleasure. How can it not be in the company of such beautiful women?” Etienne said.

  Mrs. Piedmont’s round cheeks blushed. “Please, our home is your home.”

  “Only if I may have the privilege of a dance,” Etienne insisted.

  Mrs. Piedmont waved them into the crowd with a giggle.

  Marie’s hand closed around his arm. “You have a way with women.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Marie tensed. “There is no need for formality here.”

  “These humans . . .”

  She laid her gloved fingers over his lips. “Please do not speak of it. That life is over. I am Marie. That is all.” She shrugged.

  “We are far from France, but you shall always be a Petite-fille de France, and I shall always be in your service.” His voice rumbled, low and grave.

  “Thank you, Etienne. Now, dance with me. We are being watched.”

  Chapter XXXIII

  Abby slowed at the stop sign at the southernmost corner of the house. On her left, a black GMC Yukon appeared and stopped. She motioned for the vehicle to pass.

  The Yukon started forward and suddenly swerved, coming to a screeching halt mere inches from her. She pressed down on the horn. The doors of the Yukon opened and two large, burly men spilled out. “What the f—?” She trailed off.

  Like Marie’s Bentley, Abby’s Range Rover was equipped with bulletproof glass, GPS, and a blinking red light that if she pressed would sound an alarm at the house. She glanced down to double check that the doors were locked. When she looked back up, the energy around the two men blurred as they transformed into huge, hairy creatures.

  Werewolves? In daylight, signaling the house was futile. She fumbled with her iPhone, almost dropping it as she changed the screen from music to phone and pressed 911. She glanced up again and found them looming over her black hood. One of the beasts growled menacingly, exposing sharp canines. The other huffed, puffs of hot air blowing out his nostrils.

  This was bad. Panic rushed through her and her breaths became short and erratic as her heart pounded. Stay calm and think, Abby. Marie taught her how to protect herself against humans and vampires. But this? She never expected this. Hell, she hadn’t even known that werewolves existed until recently and here two of them wanted . . . She didn’t know what they wanted, but she wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  She threw her gearshift into reverse and floored the accelerator. Maneuvering the vehicle backward, she saw another werewolf speeding straight for her. She slammed on the brakes. The beast sprung into the air. She tensed, waiting for it to land on the roof, but it cleared the SUV and landed between her and the other werewolves.

  The new werewolf flung his head back and split the air with a deafening roar.

  “Is this an emergency?” a voice asked from the open line. What should she say? A police siren would spook them, but she couldn’t exactly tell the operator she needed help because werewolves were playing bumper cars.

  The two original werewolves backed away, step by step, until their vehicle was behind them, then they shifted dizzyingly fast, jumped into the waiting truck, and raced off. Had they been afraid?

  The third werewolf roared at the retreating SUV, disappearing into the green of overhanging trees, then turned to Abby. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel ready to bolt, but there was something familiar about him that lulled her and kept her from fleeing. Gold eyes locked with hers and he shifted.

  “Egon!” Relief deflated her, making her knees quiver and her body melt into the smooth leather of her bucket seat like marshmallows over fire. If she had been standing, she would have collapsed.

  “Is this an emergency?” the voice on the phone persisted, more urgent.

  She felt split, one part of her aware of the shrill voice needing attention, and the other aware of Egon, naked and glorious as he ate the distance between.

  She managed to stutter, “Sorry, wrong number,” without looking away from him.

  Egon made a motion for her to lower the window and she obeyed.

  “Are you okay, Abby?” He heaved with adrenaline.

  She stared open-mouthed.

  He reached across her and punched ‘end call’ on her phone, removed it from her frozen fingers, and threw it on the passenger seat.

  “Egon,” she repeated. “Werewolves.”

  As he withdrew, the heat of his arm singed her breasts and desire topped the pile of emotions rushing through her.

  “They’re gone now,” he said.

  “What did they want with me?”

  “Nothing good.”

  “I could’ve have handled it.”

  Egon touched her face, the pad of his thumb caressing her cheek. Her eyes glistened as if she was about to drown in tears. “I know you could. You’re strong.”

  She hiccupped and turned into his hand. He looked around, conscious of the danger of being found naked in the middle of the street. She hiccupped again and his other hand came up to frame her face.

  Maybe it was the aftereffects of turning, but he became aware of her, of the strong beat of her heart, of her open mouth pressed against his palm. Heat surged through him like a bolt of lightning. Exhaust and Abby’s flowery scent were thick in the air, edged with a trace scent of werewolves. He should tear away. This shouldn’t be happening. He took a deep steadying breath and removed his hands from her.

  “You should go now,” he said tersely.

  She lifted her face and looked into his eyes.

  He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to live. But if he did kiss her, he would suffer the frozen afterlife of Niflheimr for breaking his oath to Odin. He couldn’t do that to him or to Abby. She trusted him.

  “Please go, Abby,” his voice creaked.

  “Come with me.” She touched his forearm. Beneath her touch, his skin tingled. He leaned his forehead against the frame of
the driver window, and dragged a breath of air into his lungs.

  “Abby . . .” What he was about to say died on his lips. Approaching sirens whirred in the distance. He didn’t have time. “I’ll meet you at the house.”

  Chapter XXXIV

  Odin stormed into his father’s office.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled. “You have guards out there acting like rogues, turning into werewolves on a residential street in the middle of the day.”

  “Oh that. It couldn’t be helped.”

  Odin slammed his fist on his father’s desk. “Do you hear yourself? You aren’t just condoning prohibited behavior, you’re ordering it.” Odin paced back and forth enraged.

  “Abby is a human and you risk exposing us.”

  “She is the peer of a vampire.”

  “Where are you going with that?” He whipped around.

  Stormda pushed his seat back and stood to be at eye level with his son. “The means sometimes justifies the end. You will find that out some day.”

  “You’re out of line.”

  “You forget I’m still Alpha.” Stormda’s voice erupted into the room like a flood. “What you think or feel doesn’t matter. You must obey me.”

  They glared at each other, the heat of their anger sucking the oxygen out of the room. Odin stepped back. His father’s time was nearing its end. It was something that Odin didn’t want to think about. He wasn’t ready to take on full responsibility for the pack nor did he want to see his once glorious father shrunken and dejected.

  Even worse, there were details in a turnover that he wanted to avoid. If or when, he challenged his father, Stormda could choose to fight himself. If he did, Odin would have to end his father’s life. If Stormda decided to select someone to fight in his stead, the pack member couldn’t decline and he wouldn’t pick Leidolf and risk losing his favorite son. He would pick the second strongest in the pack. He would choose Egon and Odin would have to kill Egon or resign the challenge. He sighed. The timing would need to be precise. “Watch yourself, Father.”