"Casimir?"
The woman met Casimir’s eyes, a bright flush spreading across her cheeks at the sight of him. Casimir tensed as he gazed at the woman.
Naomi looked back and forth between them, wondering how they knew each other and what was the cause of their tension. From what she'd observed, Casimir was usually reserved, but he looked unsettled at the sight of the woman.
"What are you doing here? Where's Alaric?" she asked, a Scottish accent shaping her words.
"On his way," Casimir said, quickly looking away from her. He turned and gestured to Naomi and Kat. "This is Naomi and her aunt Katherine, they're friends of his. I need you to put Naomi in the most secure bedroom. The Order is after her."
The woman's expression changed as she looked at Naomi with amazement and disbelief.
"A Descendant?" the woman asked. "You actually found one?"
"My niece is not an object," Kat said, glaring at her.
"Kat." Naomi had been thinking the same thing, but embarrassment still shot through her. Her aunt was never one to mince words.
"You're right. I just—I never thought the Alliance would find a Descendant," the woman said apologetically, stepping forward to extend her hand. "I'm Fiona. Alaric's daughter and the caretaker of his estate."
Surprise chased away Naomi's jealousy. There was no way Fiona could be Alaric's biological child, they didn't look far apart in age. Which meant . . .
"He's my Maker," Fiona said, her lips twitching with amusement at Naomi's visible astonishment. "Please. Come inside."
Alaric hadn't mentioned any "children”—but why would he? He hadn't told her anything personal, other than the year he was born. This reminded her of just how little she knew Alaric.
The inside of the estate was as ornate as the exterior, with high ceilings, plush rugs that dotted the wooden floors, and old expensive-looking paintings lining the walls. Naomi's historian brain was humming as Fiona led them down the massive grand hallway towards a winding staircase; she tried peeking into each of the rooms they passed, wondering how many authentic paintings, books and antique items filled each room.
Fiona led them to the second landing of the estate, walking them to two bedrooms at the far end of the hall.
"This is you," Fiona said, as Naomi trailed Fiona into a spacious bedroom. It had a four poster bed and a balcony that looked out onto the back gardens of the estate. Fiona studied her as Naomi took it in. She assumed that Fiona had many questions for her, but instead she just said, "I assume you're tired. If you have questions, I'll be in the downstairs drawing room."
Fiona left her alone, and Naomi sank onto the bed as Kat entered. Kat cracked a wry smile, perching on the bed next to her.
"We're hiding from a group of witches in a medieval estate," Kat said, "it's like we've stepped into some dark and twisted fairy tale."
Naomi tried to return her smile, but her stomach was twisted up in knots.
"I'm still finding all of this hard to fathom," she whispered, "I almost went with Raphael . . . willingly. I don't understand why."
"I think Casimir is right. Madalena might know why."
"But what if she doesn't? I made my apartment building shake back in Athens and she doesn't know how I did it. What if I give myself over to them—and I can't stop myself? They'll keep coming for me, and I can’t—“
"Naomi," Kat whispered, looking terrified.
Naomi froze. She looked down in astonishment. Somehow . . . she was floating. She hovered a few inches from the bed. How on Earth was she—?
"This happened to your mother whenever she was extremely happy or upset," Kat muttered, shaking her head. "You need to calm yourself. Focus.”
Naomi closed her eyes. She willed herself to calm down and soon her body drifted back down to the bed.
"Do you see? I'm capable of doing things I can't control or understand," Naomi said, her eyes filling with frustrated tears.
"But you will. I promise you. Think about it. You've been holding in a lifetime of magic, now it's bubbling out of you. It's just going to take time. And even then . . . your magic is just part of who you are now. You mother literally floated through the house when she fell in love with your father, and she'd always been comfortable with her magic."
Naomi smiled at the thought, dashing away her tears.
"Really?"
"Really," Kat said. “For someone whose world just got turned upside down . . . I think you're handling this incredibly well. Now," she added, "I'm going to get all motherly on you and insist that you sleep. You didn't sleep at all last night. Some of your stress is exhaustion."
Naomi started to protest; she wanted to at least wait until Alaric and the others arrived, but fatigue already tugged on her senses. Kat kissed her on the forehead and left her alone.
A familiar presence in the room roused her from her sleep. Alaric.
Her eyes flew open. He stood by the doorway. Even in the darkness of the room, she could make out his handsome features, and his blue eyes glinted in the darkness. Relief flooded her at the sight of him, and without a word she slid out of bed, crossing the room to him.
She moved into his arms, and he held her tight, burying his face in her hair. They just stood there for several moments, the only sound their steady breathing, and the thundering of her heart.
"I was worried," Alaric murmured, pulling back to look down at her. "I feared Raphael somehow tracked you down."
"I was worried about you too," she confessed.
"I can handle him," Alaric replied, his body stiffening. "You're safe here. My estate isn't on anyone's radar, and Madalena surrounded it with a Cloaking spell. Only the people currently under my roof can see the estate."
"I do feel safe here. Well . . . as safe as I can feel." Now that you're here, she wanted to add. And she did. There was something about his presence that filled her with a sense of calm.
“I—we—almost lost you," Alaric whispered.
She looked up as he reached out to cup her face. Naomi's throat was too dry to reply; she was far too aware of his touch, his nearness . . . him. Their eyes locked, the desire between them like a tightly coiled spring.
Alaric leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a fervent kiss.
Chapter 17
Alaric held Naomi close as he kissed her. Her body fit perfectly against his as he held her, her lips were soft, and she tasted of honey and mint tea. The world around them faded away as their kiss deepened, and his primal instincts screamed at him to take her. But he forced himself to release her, stepping back.
They stood there in silence; breathless. Naomi was a near vision in the moonlight that illuminated the room; her hair still tousled from her nap, her cheeks infused with color, her lips flushed from their kiss.
Kissing her had been the opposite of his intent. Hadn't he told himself during the drive here that he would focus on protecting her and put aside his desire? But when he found her sleeping, the relief that filled him had been so great that he'd swayed on his feet, reaching out to grip the doorway to hold himself steady. She was safe, and he felt a possessive pride that she was safe in his home. He didn't know how long he stood there, just watching her. When she'd awakened, her face brightening at the sight of him, it was like the sun emerging from storm clouds. He'd just wanted to urge her to get some rest and leave her be, but he'd been unable to stop himself from kissing her.
Now, he had to clench his fists, his nails biting into his palms so severely that they drew blood, to stop himself from reaching for her again.
"I apologize for that," he said stiffly, noticing the flare of disappointment in her eyes at his words. "Everyone's gathered in the dining room. A meal's been prepared, if you're hungry."
She lowered her gaze and gave him a hasty nod. He tried not to stand too close to her as they made their way back down the hall. She was looking at anything other than him, taking in every square inch of the hall. He cursed himself; he'd made things awkward between them by not reigning in his desire.
"Your home is amazing," she said finally, still not looking at him as they descended the winding stone stair case. "How long have you lived here?"
She was trying to change the subject, to take the focus away from their kiss, and he was grateful. But he at least wanted her to look at him.
"I haven't lived here for quite some time," he replied. He didn't want to tell her that living here brought back too many painful memories, but for some reason, he couldn't allow himself to get rid of the estate. "I spend most of my time in my homes in London or New York. When I tire of the cities, I go to my home in Ireland or one of my other country homes."
Now she looked at him, her eyes wide.
"How many homes do you have?"
"Over my lifetime? Too many to count. Right now . . . I believe it's between twelve to twenty. Perhaps more. I'd have to check with my accountant."
He had to grin at Naomi's agape expression. His real estate holdings were meager compared to other vampires; Elias had fifty homes.
"Twelve to twenty?" she echoed, shaking her head. "Vampires have accountants?"
"We provide accountants with most of their business," Alaric replied, smiling. The tension between them was evaporating, he felt more at ease. "We live a long time and acquire a lot of wealth that we have to keep under the radar."
"There's a lot I have to learn about your world," Naomi said, shaking her head.
"No, Naomi," he gently corrected her, "our world. You said it yourself back in London. You're a part of this now."
They reached the doors to the dining room. On the other side of the door, he could hear the rumble of everyone's voices, and disappointment flashed through him. He'd enjoyed his brief time alone with Naomi, and the memory of their kiss still burned hot in his mind.
Naomi moved ahead of him, opening the door and stepping inside. The others sat around the table, dining on a meal of roasted pork and glazed vegetables for the humans and witches, and goblets of blood for the vampires, all prepared by Fiona.
Kat shot to her feet, embracing Naomi before leading her to the seat at her side, where Madalena embraced her as well.
Alaric sat down next to Fiona, thanking her for preparing the meal.
"I'm so happy to see you," Fiona said, studying him, "I've been worried since you joined the Alliance."
"There's no need to worry."
He reached out to give her hand a brief reassuring squeeze. Fiona was the only vampire he'd ever made. A century ago, she'd been the daughter of his most loyal human servant, Duncan. When she and her father had been attacked by thieves and left for dead, Duncan had pleaded with him to save her. He'd turned her with great reluctance; he didn't like burdening a human with vampirism, but he was now glad that he had. Fiona had been one of the kindest humans he'd ever known; she was an even kinder vampire. And she'd taken to vampirism surprisingly well. As the sheltered daughter of a servant, she'd not been able to do much when she was human other than become a servant herself and pore of the books in Alaric's libraries. But as soon as she was turned, she began to travel, using Alaric's estate as a base as she explored the word. She once told him she loved experiencing the full range of all life had to offer; he'd never seen her experience any of the existential angst he and others of his kind struggled with. But she was still young for a vampire, and she was no killer; she was content to dine on animal blood.
He forced himself to not look at Naomi during the meal, instead focusing on the undercurrent of tension he detected between Casimir and Fiona. Casimir avoided looking at her, while he caught Fiona studying Casimir with yearning in her eyes. As far as he knew, they'd only met once before, and were nothing more than casual acquaintances.
Elias was the flirt of their group; he'd often wondered if Casimir had a pulse when it came to the opposite sex. But had something gone on between Casimir and Fiona? Had Casimir hurt his daughter? A surge of protectiveness went through him. He would find out if he had.
"I'm glad we all made it here safely," Madalena said, gesturing for silence as she spoke. "But we have to remain on high alert. If Raphael could find us at the penthouse, he can find us here."
"Maybe you should put Naomi in a safe house," Kat said, giving Naomi a concerned look. "This is the second time they've almost—"
"No," Naomi said, scowling, “I’ve told you. I'm a part of this. You're the one who shouldn't be here, Kat. It's too dangerous. They would've killed you to get to me."
"I'm not leaving you," Kat snapped.
"Kat—“
"I'm not. If you stay, I stay. My responsibility to you didn't end once you became an adult, do you understand me?"
Kat's eyes shimmered with tears, and Alaric could tell that Naomi was moved. She gave her aunt an understanding smile before turning to Madalena.
"Back at the penthouse, when Raphael was outside my window . . . I heard him in my mind."
Alaric's heart plummeted in his chest as she told them how Raphael's whispers in her mind had made her go towards him against her will. The thought of Raphael being able to lure her to him sent anger racing through his body.
"He can put you in thrall. It's usually an ability that vampires possess; it's rare among witches. We'll add resisting it to your training," Madalena replied, her brow furrowed with concern.
Naomi swallowed, but she nodded. He could see on her face the undercurrent of fear at the thought of Raphael luring her away again, but she was putting up a brave front. Another swell of pride rose in his chest. Most people would run for the hills after almost being abducted—twice. But Naomi wasn't backing down.
"We'll continue your training tomorrow. As for the rest of you," Madalena said, turning to face Alaric and the others. "I need you to work on locating Raphael or any members of the Ibano family. And keep up surveillance on any members of the Order."
When the meal came to a close, everyone scattered. Kat whisked Naomi away, and her eyes briefly met his. He had to force himself not to follow her as she left.
Fiona pecked him on the cheek and bid him goodnight; soon it was only him and Madalena. She remained seated, sipping her glass of wine. He shifted under her intense gaze.
"What?"
"You have feelings for Naomi, don't you?"
He started, debating what to say. But there was no use lying to Madalena; she'd be able to see right through him.
"Yes," he grudgingly admitted.
"Are you going to be able to focus on your job?"
"Yes," he said, "regardless of my feelings for her, I'm dedicated to my mission. I'm sorry for snapping at you back in the car. I was just frustrated."
Madalena studied him for a long time before responding. "I'm frustrated with myself, believe me. I can't believe I never considered that an ally would turn on us. Dad often told me I was too trusting."
"It's taken us all by surprise," Alaric said, recalling the pure rage on Raphael's face back at the penthouse. "But we have a name now. Someone we can target."
Madalena finished her wine, getting to her feet.
"If we can find him," she murmured, looking worried. "Naomi may be our best hope. If she can track down the Stone, she can track down Raphael. He's not letting that Stone out of his sight."
She moved towards the door, but paused at his side.
"If you become involved with Naomi—"
"I'm not. Not now. We both need to be focused," he said quickly, too quickly.
"If you do, you'll need to rein in your protective instincts," Madalena said, amusement dancing across her face at his hasty response. "She's determined to help us, and we both know how dangerous this is for her."
"You think I'll try to stop her?"
"I know you will. You're a vampire, among the most protective creatures on the planet. And, " she hesitated, but made herself continue, “after what happened to Ileana —“
He was on his feet without thinking, baring his fangs. How did she know about Ileana? Madalena stood her ground, evenly meeting his gaze.
"My father told m
e. He told me a lot about you, Alaric. I just want—“
"Ileana, my past, and my personal life is none of your business," he snapped. He sped out of the room and to the back gardens, inhaling the fresh night air, ignoring the sting of blood tears that pricked at his eyes. He took several breaths to quell his fury; though most of it wasn't directed at Madalena, it was directed at himself.
He had barely thought of Ileana since Naomi entered his life, and the memory of her loss pierced his gut. He hadn't felt as drawn to Ileana as he did to Naomi, and her loss devastated him. What would he do if he lost Naomi? If the Order succeeded with their plans?
Anguish flowed through him at the thought, but he told himself that Naomi wasn't his to lose. Something in him protested at the thought; his instincts were rallying against him.
He straightened, focusing on the distant forest. He would hunt tonight; it would distract him. He shed his clothes and sped into the forest, his fangs bared, though he knew he could never be fully distracted from Naomi; she had somehow sealed herself onto his heart.
Chapter 18
Naomi sat in the center of the back courtyard with Madalena. Madalena was no longer holding back in her training; Naomi had received a crash course in magic. She'd been here all morning, practicing Locator spells to locate the Stone, Destruction spells she'd need to destroy it, Defensive spells to ward off attacks, and mental blocks to resist the thrall. She'd even begun preliminary training on how to apparate; though Madalena told her that was a complex spell that would take some time to master.
But last night's kiss with Alaric remained on her mind. His lips on hers, his tall and muscular body pressed flush against her own, the fierce desire that had coiled through her. During her brief relationships in the past, she'd never felt such a strong physical longing.
"Concentrate, Naomi," Madalena said, pulling her back to the present.
Madalena had hidden a pair of her earrings somewhere in the estate; she was practicing a Locator spell to find them.
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