by Casey Lane
I considered my options as I stroked Salina’s knee. If this was something that I decided to do, I would be tied to the city and unable to roam freely like before. I would probably also have to take a mate.
My strigoi growled.
I was happy with my freedom to partake in whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Being tied to a mate would only make her unhappy because I was no longer willing to tie myself to one woman. But holding the power over a large city usually required a mated strigoi.
I sat forward, my hand sliding up Salina’s leg. “I need information.”
She sat back, her arms crossed over her chest, but she let my hand wander higher, stroking her thigh. “I know what you need.”
I raised my eyebrow. “How do you know?”
“I can read your thoughts. I know that your primary objective is to discover Agosto’s killer. And that you’d rather be on a ship back to Italy, where your harem awaits.”
I dropped my hand and frowned. “It’s not a harem.”
She watched my body language carefully, so I licked my fingers slowly, tasting her on my fingers. I stared into her eyes as her heart rate picked up.
She spoke quietly, as if in a trance, as her eyes followed my tongue. “You may not call it that, but there are whispers that travel across the sea and I hear them all.”
Suddenly, I leaned forward menacingly, my fangs extended, and I could smell her fear. And her stupidity. “It’s not a harem.”
Her lips trembled but she shrugged. “It is not up to me to judge.”
“You cannot read my thoughts, but have only guessed at what is whispered in the streets, and at what is seen as plain as day on my face.” I leaned in closer and hooked my finger in her shirt, slowly pulling her closer. The room was suddenly quiet, and all eyes were on me. “You will not deceive me; I have eyes that see into the dark. And your motives call to me, like a siren on the rocks. You wish me to become your Alpha, but I will not. I am here to revenge my sire’s death, and then, and only then, will I make a decision. The city will have to wait.”
She held her breath, undecided if she wanted to tear my throat out, or have me on the table. Even though I told her that I would not be her Alpha, I didn’t reveal if I would allow her to continue to rule, and the future of her pack was more important than her feelings for me. She lowered her eyes, as did the eyes of all in the room as they showed their acquiesce to me. I stood up. “You will send my payment and any information you have to my home tonight.” She nodded.
Rowan stood up, and the pups played at his feet, pulling on his legs. They laughed as he brought his knees up high, swinging them forward. I grabbed one of the girls and threw her into the air. She screamed out, delighted, as I caught her.
“Again, again.”
Suddenly all of the little ones were at my feet, begging for their turn. Rowan and I left the house, taking the pups out into the field and throwing them into the air one by one until Salina called them in for bed. They gathered to the house begrudgingly, until we promised to do it the next time we visited. As I mounted my horse, the yellow eyes of one of the male shifters, his name unknown to me, stared at me from the window. I turned my back to him, but sent my senses tumbling towards him. They knocked him down and he gasped, surprised. For a second, he was open to me, and I knew his darkest desires. I rode off, intending to pay him a visit later.
We visited the homes of landholders of the shops on main street, and of the proprietor who ran the ships at the docks. I didn’t need to visit all of contracts we held, just the ones necessary to make a statement. No one was protected from me, unless I was willing to offer it.
Many of them despised Agosto, even though his generosity had been given in abundance. But power always draws the ambitious, who are resentful if they imagine any slight. Just as he had taught me, Agosto knew the hearts and minds of the living and the creatures that bound with him, even if they did not know the secrets that we held. They knew only enough to be afraid, as they whispered in the dark of our origins.
If at any moment they opened themselves to me, I probed them softly with my senses, sending their hearts racing in their desire to please me. I watched their every move, but they were practiced in the art of deception and I knew that I would have to drive them out to discover the killer.
Shortly before the payments would arrive, I determined to make one last stop. Only because it was necessary; I had received word that he was waiting.
I entered his home like the others, without permission, even though he would’ve given it freely. But I didn’t need it like the other strigoi, so I did not ask. Rowan waited at the door, and I called him to enter.
The man’s home was small, much smaller than the others, and in the darkness of the night, his sickness called to me. He sat on a worn chair, his fire low. I could smell his fear, like the others, but also could feel the warmness that he extended to me.
“Come, come.” He waved his arm in my direction and to Rowan and gestured to the gin laid out on the table.
I sat on the sofa across from him, and studied the way he leaned on his left side, his right side giving him pains.
I cleared my throat, wanting to speak softly. “I heard you were waiting for me.”
He nodded. “That I am.”
“I have not come to collect from you.”
Rowan poured his drink, and offered me one. When I declined, he poured another and gave it to the man. Bennett was his name, and his eyes were as soft as the hazy wheat blowing in the wind on a summer day. He took a glass from Rowan, not answering me until he had warmed his throat.
“Aye, but I am a man of my word.” He looked at the ground, the fire reflected off his eyes as he studied the floor and grasped the glass loosely in his hands. “You’re aware of her death?”
I nodded. “She was a good woman. I only wish I could’ve done more.”
His hands tightened on the glass. “You did enough. But even your disease couldn’t save her in the end.”
Rowan slammed his glass on the table. “She lived long enough, thanks to Detrand. She would’ve died much sooner if not for him.”
I raised my hand to Rowan. “Calm, calm. It is acceptable.”
Rowan rolled his eyes. “His grief has made him mad.”
I jerked my head to Rowan, my eyes in slits. “Yes, it has.” It was a warning, this man was not to be touched. He was under my direct protection.
Rowan bowed his head and I turned back to Bennett.
“I have no need of payment from you, only your smile and good blessing on my damned soul, and for those under me.”
Bennett shifted in his seat, the pain making him wince. “I will not give it.”
My incisors extracted, my strigoi feeling threatened, but I forced them back. “Then what will you give?”
“I am fortunate enough that I have payment, and then I may die a happy man and return to my sweet Colleen.”
I studied his threadbare clothing, and although the house was scrubbed clean, the house had aged considerably since my last visit over twenty years ago. I scooted closer and his eyes slid to mine, the pain in them shining through. I held my hand out and, after hesitating, he gave me his and opened himself to me.
The pain wracked me in that instant and I understood his need for payment. He was dying a slow and painful death and wanted to settle his accounts before he did, which would come soon. He felt that he could never be able to repay me, even after a lifetime of working, unless I took the one thing he cherished the most.
He would never know, nor would I allow him, that the debt was all mine, and I owed him everything I owned and more. He would die a happy and wealthy man if I paid him my debt, but he did not desire it, so I disclosed nothing. Instead, I gave him what I could and flooded him with my senses, reminding him of the happiness he once felt. He remembered the smiles of his wife and the life he once lived, without pain. He relaxed, and I made to go as he began to drift off to a hearty sleep.
We were silent as the night,
as we turned from his home. He managed to mumble his apology that he could not see us out, and that he would send payment the next evening. When his snores reached our ears, we were down the street, and Rowan’s fangs were already extended in anticipation of the daughter he would soon regard.
As Rowan and I traveled towards home, I studied him. He was eager to return. “You are not to drink from that girl tonight.”
He stopped and my horse trailed ahead of his. “I will.”
“You’ve had enough to drink. Your strigoi should be satisfied.”
His horse began to move again. “I’ve not the luxury of time and power. Your control over your strigoi is admirable, and spoken of in the circles of the dead. They say you were born that way, that you never lost control of your blood lust.”
“That’s not true.”
“My bones are weary and my mind stale. I am a tired strigoi.”
“You are an adolescent, and only must learn control over your lust.” I turned towards him. “You were not this way before, but you were a child then. Did not Agosto teach you as the time passed?”
“Agosto was busy with other things.”
I slowed my horse so that we were face-to-face. “And his final death has shaken you.”
Rowan looked forward. “It has, but not for the reasons that you think.” He clicked his tongue and his horse began to move forward. He rode with his back straight, his hands tightly clasping the reins. As I watched the ass of his horse as he moved away, I considered using my senses to detect his needs, but determined against it. We rode in silence towards the house.
As we approached the door, I grasped his arm. “You will not drink from the girl tonight. If Agosto was too busy to teach you, then the responsibility falls on me.”
He hissed at me, his incisors already extended as the saliva dripped from his mouth. “You have no right to deny me.”
I leaned in closer. “I have every right. You will not drink from her tonight.”
He yanked his arm out of my grasp and moved inside. There were several men inside the door, patiently waiting for our return. The daughter stood among them, her back against the wall and her eyes wide, watching us as we entered. I ignored her, and ordered Rowan to begin counting the payments.
She watched everything that we did, and the men slowly drifted out as we went through the accounts until only the mayor’s was left. I viewed the small pile of gold coins on the table before me and eyed her wearily.
“Where is the rest?”
She stared at the floor in response, and my eyes trailed over her trembling rosy lips. “Hmm? Is this all he sent?” When she didn’t respond, I ordered the rest of his men away, and they scrambled towards the door. Only one turned to look at her, concerned, but Rowan led him away, until we were alone in the foyer.
Several strigoi were in the dining room and I could hear the wispy voice of Lily. So she was back. Their laughter drifted down the hallway and I sensed that that was the reason for the girl’s sudden shyness. I tipped her chin higher to look at me in the eyes, which was very dangerous for her. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Lula Belle.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Sir.”
“How old are you, Lula Belle?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
I pretended to looked shocked. “And unmarried, what a pity. Are you still untouched?” She did not answer, but folded her arms about her chest, staring into my eyes boldly. Her blouse was thin, and it hugged her figure tight, the buttons fastened to her throat. I watched a blond curl from her hair as it clung to her neck. At my stare, her light green eyes dropped, but I shifted so that she was forced to look back into my eyes.
“Do you love your father?”
“I do.”
“And do you realize that he does not love you?”
Her eyes widened and her voice shook. “Sir?”
“He has not sent me the coins he promised. Does he think me stupid?”
She choked on her reply. “Of course not.”
I reached for the nape of her neck and pulled her close, my lips next to her ear. She smelled of soap and innocence, and she trembled under my touch. “If he cannot keep his promises, how can he expect me to keep my word to keep you safe?”
She shook her head, fear pouring from her skin. “I don’t-don’t know. I’m sure he miscounted. He was drunk. I can order his accountant to send the rest tomorrow.”
“But I did not request the money be sent tomorrow. The deadline is tonight.”
“Then I will run home. I’m very fast. I’ll have him send the rest immediately.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I stood back, releasing her and she released a shaky breath. “I am a man of my word, even if your father is not.” I turned to Rowan. “Send word to her mother that she will not return to her home until two years has passed.” She gasped, but I continued. “Her father cares for her so little, he doesn’t deserve her presence. But her mother will be allowed to visit her here.” I turned to her, gripping her chin until her eyes reached mine. “You are not to return home until two years has passed. And you are to tell no one of your time here. You understand?” She nodded, my compulsion taking full force.
I turned back to Rowan. “You may take the rest of the payment, as you wish, but do not kill her.”
He grinned, and she shrieked, backing into the wall. I walked away as Rowan descended on her.
* * *
Ignoring the party that was moving into the foyer, the strigoi were always attracted to the shrieks of the living, I opened the door to my workshop. I breathed deeply through my nose, smelling the wonderful aroma of aged oak. It stood in sheets at the far end of the room, just as instructed. I took off my shirt and lay it on the hook on the far wall. Then I looked over the sheets of oak carefully, selecting one, and centered it on my worktable. I ran my hands over it in fluid motions, feeling all the rough spots that would become smooth under my ministrations. I took a step back to assess it, forming and shaping it in my mind. Looking through my tools, I selected the perfect one and began my work. I took my time, working as slowly as the living, and ignoring the moans and laughter coming from the other room until the wood began to bend to my will.
As I bent over my table, a trickle of water dripped onto the wood. I closed my eyes, my tool gripped tightly in my hand, and shook my head. “The dead are never dead, unless they are forgotten.”
A hand ran over my chest, and her breath was on my neck.
“You are not forgotten, nor ever will be.”
“I will be forgotten.” Her voice was in my ear.
I growled. “Never.”
She appeared in front of me, her rear on the wood and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Her body shuddered and she tasted the droplets of water that beaded on her lips. My fangs descended; she was as beautiful in death as she had been in life, and I longed for her warmth one more time.
“To the day I die my final death, you will never be forgotten. I will never forget your smile that brightened my day or the laughter that spilled from your lips. Or the way your hand always found mine.” I pulled my hand through her damp hair and she tilted her head towards me. “I will never forget your body under mine, trembling and tender, or your moans into the night and early morning.”
“You have another.”
“They mean nothing to me, only a way to satisfy my strigoi. And to forget my pain for a while. You were the only one who could hold my heart.”
She grinned and I pulled her face to mine, softly tasting her cold, dry lips. “You are mine and always will be.”
And then she was gone, her words a tickle in my ears. “Come for me soon.”
I sighed, and the desire to rip Sophie from her company and take her into my room and mark her as mine was so strong that I had to grip the oak under my hands to keep from doing so. The wood bowed and snapped and I shoved it to the floor, frustrated that I would have to begin again. After calming my strigoi, I pulled another sheet of wood and started over.
After some hours, I glanced towards the window. It would be light soon.
Walking past the sitting room, I glanced inside to find Sophie retired to her room and most of the guests sleeping lazily, spread out across the room. Lula Belle slept soundly on the couch. Her head was in Rowan’s lap, her skirts to her knees and blood dripping from her neck. The collar of her shirt was open, his hand on her breast. I eyed him wearily, but he didn’t look drunk. He stared at her, a note of admiration on his face.
“And you drunk your fill?”
His head shifted to look at me, the pockmarks on his face gleaming in the candlelight. He raised his eyebrow. “I have.”
“And was she satisfied as well?”
He grinned. “She was.”
“Good.” I went to the closet, pulled out my coat and hat, and opened the front door.
“Where are you off to?”
I breathed in the smells of the street, and felt for the knife tucked in my pocket. I released my strigoi, allowing the hunters instincts to come over me. I shut the door and strode towards the mayor’s mansion.
Chapter Three
I knew she was here before she knocked. My need rushed through my veins and I flew to the door, throwing it open. It was the dark-haired woman from the streets. She was as beautiful as she was deadly, and I hardly noticed the glass of gin that shattered in my hand.
It took me a moment to gather my senses and push down my blood lust. “What do you want?” My voice came out a growl. This woman must leave immediately, or I would kill her in the doorway.
She had no idea of the danger that held her.
“I’m Adelade. My father sent me.”
Relief flooded my body; she had a mistaken address. “I know of no such thing. Go home.”
She stepped closer and my strigoi purred with desire. I almost reached out to her, just to feel her hair, or to breathe in the smell of her addictive claret, the one that would be my undoing.
“My father is Bennett. He said I was to serve you.”