Reborn (Princess of the Blood Book 1)

by Jane Ederlyn

  Lagmann sighed. “He’s right. We can’t take the chance of being overheard. Let’s order room service. What’s another fifteen minutes?”

  “An eternity,” Thorhild grumbled.

  In the room, Siv ordered food then swiped four baby-pink macarons off a glossy coffee table and popped them into his mouth.

  “They’re going to make you sick.” Thorhild snatched a red apple from a wire basket on the dining table, bit into it, and threw another at Siv.

  Siv caught it one-handed and after swallowing the sweets, bit into the juicy fruit.

  Odin pulled out a dining chair and fell into it.

  Egon took the seat next to him and the other three followed.

  “Do you realize Paris is huge? It’s going to be impossible to find her,” Lagmann broke the silence.

  Odin rubbed his face. His eyes burned, his face gritted with days old stubble, and he needed a shower. His thoughts veered to Marie and he tensed, the pain of her loss intensifying with every passing minute. If he could have her back, he’d take lavender baths whenever she wanted and everyone be damned.

  “Don’t you trust me?” Egon pushed back the chair and strode to the window. Moonlight streamed in and he closed his eyes. “If they’re here, I can find them.”

  Lagmann sighed. “What if the call was a red herring to throw us off the scent? On the flip side, what if she is here? There are too many people here and too much square footage to cover.”

  Egon’s eyes sizzled.

  Odin gave him a warning look to stand down and turned to Lagmann. “What do you suggest?”

  Lagmann leaned forward. “I think we need to split up. I know we just came from the airport, but while you and Egon search the city, Siv and I can return to the airport and do a little exploring. There has to be someone who remembers coffins leaving or arriving. It’s a start.”

  Odin put his face in his hands. Lagmann’s plan was solid. Letting Marie down was not an option. He had to find Abby. He contemplated the pros and cons of holing up in the room waiting for Etienne versus doing something at the risk of being spied. It might be days before the vampire called. And there was always the chance he wouldn’t call back at all. They had to do something.

  “Don’t come back empty-handed.”

  A short knock sounded at the door followed by, “Room service.”

  “That was quick.” Siv sprang up to open the door and three carts piled high with food were wheeled in. As they passed, he plucked a piece of golden chicken from a platter.

  Thorhild shook his head and Siv reluctantly returned it.

  Lagmann placed a steaming bowl of soup and a hot roll in front of Odin. “Eat.”

  The aromatic onion soup filled Odin’s senses and his stomach growled.

  A waitress pushed the bill at Odin.

  “I can sign.” Lagmann reached for it.

  She pulled back. “No. Monsieur Odin.”

  Odin extended his hand.

  She laid the check holder flat on his palm, glanced at the other two servers at her elbows, and then all three backed out and closed the door.

  Good or bad. News of their arrival had already spread.

  Thorhild rose. “Shall I follow them?”

  “No.” Odin opened the check holder and immediately snapped it closed. “Gentlemen, we have an address.” He handed the missive to Lagmann. “How many days do we need?”

  Lagmann looked at the address. “This is suicide.”

  Egon left the window to look over Lagmann’s shoulder and flinched. “We need to go now.”

  Odin searched the faces of his men. Urgency twisted in his gut with the razor sharpness of a trap, but they needed a plan or he was risking all their lives foolishly. “Plan it, boys. In and out. We’re coming, Bee. We’re coming.”

  Chapter XLIV

  France

  The scraping of chairs and a loud thump sounded outside Abby’s room. She cocked her head and focused on the noise.

  “Abby?” a low voice rumbled.

  Was that Egon? It couldn’t be. She dropped her book and flew to the door. “Egon?” She rattled the doorknob and pulled, putting all her weight into it, but it didn’t budge. “I’m here.” She splayed her hands on the door separating them and pounded with her palms. “In here." When her palms started burning, she closed her hands and pounded with tight fists. They came, just like Marie said they would. She had wanted to believe her but hadn’t dared hope.

  “Step away from the door,” he called out, and she walked backward until the bed hit the back of her knees.

  The door surged open. Egon burst into the room, his immense frame filling the doorway, and she jumped into his arms. She hated werewolves but not Egon. Never Egon. She absorbed the warmth of his body and the feel of his hands squeezing as if he would never let go.

  “You came.”

  Suddenly, his hands disappeared, leaving her with an overwhelming sense of emptiness. “Egon?” She searched his face, but his eyes went from blazing to arctic, and his expression was as empty as she felt.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He removed her hands from around his neck and glanced at her stomach.

  Abby’s heart plummeted. All along, Marie had wanted her to get pregnant and she’d resisted, partly because she didn’t want things to change and partly because she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be a mom. But now that life grew inside of her, it didn’t feel like an arrangement or duty, it felt right. And she realized, she wanted it too. But Egon mattered. And so did the shadow that had fallen over his eyes.

  Lagmann entered with two body bags folded under his arm. He tipped his chin at Abby and turned to Egon. “Don’t drag your feet. If we’re going to make it out alive, we need to hurry.”

  "Are those body bags?" she asked.

  Lagmann’s lips tightened and he sighed. “We didn't know if you would need one too."

  The significance of those bags hit Abby like a bat to the head. They thought she might be turned or dead. But they came.

  “Hi, Bee.” Odin entered the room, wiping his hands.

  Abby burst into tears and he hauled her into his arms and enveloped her.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the warning signs and I sure as hell didn’t listen to her,” he choked off.

  “No one did,” she said.

  “Tick-tock.” Lagmann pointed to his watch. “We’re behind schedule.”

  Regretfully, Odin released Abby. She still had a trace of Marie on her that he found consoling. “We don’t have time. First we had trouble with the transport and then with the perimeter guards, but I need to see her. Where has he buried her, Bee?” He raked a hand through his hair. “If there’s still a body.”

  She hiccupped and looked at him through glassy eyes. “Marie’s not dead.”

  His heart slammed against his chest. He grabbed her by the shoulders. “What did you say?”

  “She’s not dead, Odin. She’s in the vampire wing. Sleeping.”

  Could Marie have lost all that blood and survived? Abby didn’t look delusional, but the attack on the house, losing the only family she had, and the solitary isolation of this tiny room, could have been too much trauma even for Bee. Underneath his shirt, Marie’s necklace pulsed against his skin propelling him forward. Was his father capable of lying? The answer was yes.

  “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes. Yesterday.”

  He released Abby and threw his head back. The muscles on his neck bunched and released as he fought the urge to shift.

  “We need to go, Odin.” Lagmann’s voice rang harried. “We need to get to the plane with the sun still in the sky.”

  He reined himself in and they followed Abby out of the room and down the hall where a mural of gladiators slaughtering both h
umans and animals, and drinking their blood, separated the left and right wings. Lagmann snorted and gave the finger to a platinum-haired gladiator devouring a wolf.

  “She’s in that one.” Abby pointed to the red door at the end of the hall.

  “Are you sure?” Odin asked.

  Abby nodded. “But it’s bolted.”

  “Not a problem, Bee.” Anton’s taste in décor leaned toward gaudy and the house smelled stale as if time had stood still for him. This wing had more gold gilt than Versailles and stashing Marie behind the only red door, was like marking an X on a treasure map. But Odin couldn’t begin to understand the old vampire.

  He approached the door and hesitated, needing to be mentally prepared for whatever he found inside. He sighed and pressed his nose against the wood, inhaling long and deep. The scent of lavender washed over him and Marie’s energy hummed, weak but living. He jerked the door open with more force than necessary. The rudimentary lock, designed to keep out a curious human but not a supernatural, crumbled and crashed onto the floor along with a chunk of doorframe. The sound exploded into the silence, but he didn’t care if a stampede of guards barreled down the hall, he was taking his mate.

  “What part of quietly did you not understand?” Lagmann warned.

  Odin ignored him and pushed the door out of his way. It creaked on its hinges and fell against the wall. The room was pitch dark and he had to blink several times for his wolf vision to compensate. He scanned the room. A monstrous bed hugged the far wall. His heart jumped into his throat and began an erratic drumming. He crossed the room in two strides and peeled away endless layers of drapes and gauze.

  He hadn’t dared believe until he saw her. “My love,” he breathed out in a warm caress that disappeared into the mist that blanketed her body. He lowered and the mattress sank with his weight, but the movement didn’t wake her. Leaning over to kiss her, he froze inches above her lips, shocked by her appearance. Scratches marred her angelic features and she looked fragile and weightless, far from the petite but robust woman who had thrown him against a tree.

  “What have they done to you?” How injured must she have been that she still wasn’t healed? Volcanic rage bubbled inside him, needing an outlet, but he managed to stifle it. He wanted retribution. He wanted justice. But there would be time for that later. Right now, Marie needed his undivided attention, and they needed to get the hell out of France.

  As gently as he could manage, he lifted her into his arms. Her eyes fluttered and she groaned. He paused and lowered his face to hers, rubbed her nose with his, then kissed her eyelids, first one, then the other, and brushed his lips across the jagged scar down her sunken right cheek, before burying his nose in her neck. How he had missed her smell. How he had missed her.

  “I promised to take care of you and Bee . . .” he broke off. There was so much he wanted to say, needed to say. He was done skirting responsibilities. His duchess had taken the fall for his inaction and he intended to spend the rest of their immortal lives making it up to her.

  “Odin,” Marie said.

  The sound of her weak voice snapped him to attention. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it, before meeting her open eyes. She blinked and fixed a heavy lidded, but clear, gaze on him. They stared at each for what felt like an eternity. He loved her. Had there ever been a moment when he hadn’t? No. Time had begun for him when she’d appeared in that alley ready to combat an army of werewolves.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  Her cracked lips curved into a smile, and he answered with one of his own.

  “You didn’t have to come all this way for us.”

  Odin threw his head back and laughed. “Ma petite ball-buster. When have I ever been able to stay away? I’m lost without you.”

  She expelled a heavy breath and her eyes brightened. “I’m glad you came.” She lifted a rough, bony hand and caressed his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer against his pounding heartbeat. “I love you too. Now let’s go home.”