by A. M. Hudson
I nodded, placing my hand over his. “Then you better make love to me, David. I don’t want our child conceived while you’re spanking me.”
He laughed, falling on his elbows, his silky, naked body completely touching mine, and brought his hand up to sweep my sweaty hair off my brow. “Look at you.”
“What?” I said self-consciously.
“You’ve grown up so much, Ara, but you’ll always be that sweet girl I fell in love with on the football field at school.”
I looked up at his perfect dark pink lips, then at the long lashes surrounding those emerald eyes, and I could still see so much of the boy he would always be to me—the sweet, funny, carefree guy I sometimes missed. But that was fading—washing away to reveal the man inside me right now. My king. My husband. Strong. A fighter. A man willing to die, willing to do anything to see that I never went a day again in my life looking over my shoulder. And his face changed then, his body moving faster against mine, his eyes turning dark and black as he reached the point of no return, becoming the man who would one day be the father my daughter never knew.
I held back my cries, the lusted breath of ecstasy, the tears and the rage, and just wrapped him up tight in my arms, feeling him release his life force into my body, spreading hope and light throughout. I didn’t want to orgasm. I didn’t want to feel the pleasure of the moment; I just wanted to remember what it felt like to hold him this way—to love him with all my heart—no other distractions in the world. So I drove my fingers into his hair, his shoulder pressing my jaw with the closeness, his body so heavy I couldn't breathe, and just held him tighter—the muscles in my arms flexed and rigid to keep him close. I’d never let him pull away. He was everything to me, just as I was everything to him, and we held each other as this truth rained through our tired, sweaty bodies, relaxing us down through the scales of exhaustion, breath by breath.
He rested his weight on top of me, his elbows propping him up, and stroked my hair behind my ear a few times, taking in all of me—taking in my smile, my eyes, my scent, my skin, the wetness, the heat, the breathlessness. We laid that way, David going soft inside me, connected and unwilling to part, wordless but speaking volumes in silence, until we both turned our heads and watched the glimmer of red sunlight kiss the horizon on the far side of the world.
***
I felt the presence of the hunter behind me, his eagle eye anticipating my every move. But he couldn’t read my mind, thank goodness, which meant he could only guess what I was about to do.
Ever since that cursed day I fell off the lighthouse, Mike had slowly and surely managed to get his own way again and have guards all over the manor. It was downright annoying. Especially since the business I had to attend was not for Falcon’s ears, nor was it for the four men standing guard between the windows on every corridor and on every door of the manor. They were sworn to absolute secrecy about any and all private business that occurred, but I still didn’t trust them.
My red summer dress, so fitting for such a devilish mission, reflected the morning light back against the white walls to my right, making them pink, and my shadow danced beside me, flickering and dipping, lengthening over Arthur’s door then wrapping the corner to the stairwell before I reached it. I glanced back inconspicuously to check Falcon’s shadow, then turned the corner and headed down the stairs, taking a very quick right on the second floor, my fast feet putting sudden and great distance between my guard and I.
“Ara?” he called quietly, careful not to disturb any manor guests. But he’d never find me. I closed Jason’s door so slowly that the only sound it made as it clipped gently into place had no more volume than the back being snapped fast on an earring.
“Ara?” he tried again, his voice drifting toward the wrong end of the manor. He knew he’d been given the slip, and I’d been caught giving him the slip enough that knew I had very little time before he picked up my scent and followed me here. Except, by the time he figured it out, I’d be long gone, leaving him with nothing but the burning question on his mind as he’d scratch his head, muttering, Where the hell did she go?
Before executing my ‘Houdini’ escape, though, I took a moment to look around the small space. Unlike the other rooms in the manor, this was undersized by the plaster wall hiding the secret room beside it but, despite the lack of space, still overflowed with Jason’s personality. It was set out much the same as Arthur’s room: a redwood canopy bed to the left, swathed in rich auburn blankets and pillows; a fireplace between two windows, except Jase only had one window, and a long oak table across from the foot of the bed. But, unlike Arthur’s room, Jase’s was painted blue between the white panels on the walls, and instead of plants and books about plants, his shelves were stuffed to overflowing with novels and comic books. His baseball cap sat on the tall drawers between the window and his bed, a pile of books stacked on the floor beside it, almost as high as the ledge, clearly used as some kind of footstool while he sat there in the nook, reading, and a small cluster of clothes littered the blanket box. It was exactly as I’d imagine it should be.
I walked over to the oak table and spread the collection of papers aside to see what he’d been doing. Several cartoon sketches of dragons, and girls with big eyes and long, blue hair, stared back up at me. I knew he was talented, but most people I’d met that could draw were good at either real-life or cartoon. Not both. Jase was clearly just too talented.
I picked up a picture and ran my fingers over the lines of a dog’s face and the speech bubble above its head, moving my touch then to the cursive signature on the bottom right corner. I’d never really paid much attention to his handwriting, but it did say a lot about him—each long, smooth stroke of the pen tip over the page that led to the tall then rounded lines of the J and the O, shorter, more decisive strokes on the A and the N, and the S almost non-existent. He never really owned his name. I knew that. It was a name given to him by his father because it was against the law not to name a child. David told me their father had flipped through the paper until he found the front page news about a cad named Jason Fruge, a rat of a man that rained devastation on their town, selling high-interest loans to the already poor and destitute then taking their homes when they couldn’t pay. And Jason saw this name as a role he’d one day live up to: a sign, a signature, that illustrated everything impure and childish and dishonest about this offcut of a boy. But all I saw was a strong warrior with a heart so big and so kind it allowed the innocence of boyhood to shine through, despite everything he’d done or suffered. I would never believe he was the ‘leftovers’ of centuries of evil being drained from one bloodline, not for as long as I’d live.
I placed the page back down and hugged myself. This room and everything in it held a certain amount of personality that Jason didn’t carry with him out in the real world, and it smelled like him, so rich with everything that made me love him, that I walked toward the secret door to Eve’s room with a bit more of a brisk stride than I intended.
If I could have avoided coming this way, I would have. But the secret passage from my room was off limits while David was in there, awake. He’d hear it the second it opened, and I didn’t have all day to wait for him to finish reading his book. Once his mind was set on a few hours of relaxation, he would do exactly that. And, unfortunately for me, the secret room was the only way I could escape Falcon. It wasn’t like I could just close my bedroom door, wander down the corridor to find Morgaine and have a chat with her. Falcon would overhear, then tell Mike what I’d said, and then it’d all get back David, who’d be mad at me for talking to Morgaine in the first place, since he clearly had some underlying reason he didn’t want me to. Unfortunately for him, though, I wasn’t quite as naive and trusting as I had been a few weeks ago.
I pushed the panel to Eve’s room so the door popped open, then tiptoed inside, closing the portal behind me. The room was dark and undisturbed, still stale from the last conversation that was held in here. I could almost feel the tension and confusion lingeri
ng within the very air I was breathing. It seemed nothing in here was ever affected by time, not even memories.
I shook it off and walked across the room to the bookshelf disguising a secret door that led down a stairwell and into a tunnel that would take me to the small Lilithian village, Lamia, on the other side of the island. From there, I’d be able to speedily run back here and seek out Morgaine—free from a certain giant Mike-alike. Sure, it was a great length to go to, but this was Falcon I was running from—not Quaid. It took great lengths just to stop him hearing me take a pee in the bathroom every day.
Dust gathered under my fingertips as I traced the spines of the old books, feeling for the loose one. When I pulled back on it, though, it shifted downward, but the secret door didn’t open. I pulled again and again, finally giving up with a little groan. Clearly, it would take greater lengths to escape Falcon than I realised. The door was sealed in place, like it was unlatched or the connection had just disintegrated over time.
“Damn it,” I huffed, looking down at my summery dress. The only option left now was to jump from the window, and hope no one saw me do it.
I quietly unhitched the wooden panel from the loose nail over the window and laid it to the ground, peering out through the glass. The coast was clear, but the distance from here to my clear coast was a pretty big drop. Had I been better at math, I might have even been able to guess exactly how far it was, but it didn’t matter. I had to jump because I just had to talk to Morgaine. So, here I sat, butt on the window ledge, feet dangling over the second story drop, taking a mouthful of air to give me courage.
“You’re a vampire, Ara. Just jump,” I told myself.
Myself didn’t move.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll throw you.” And as I was about to slip easily off the ledge and drop to a graceful landing, the air wrapped my feet and legs and hands, and came out of my gob in a long scream. The ground rose up too fast—way too fast for me to calculate the angle of my feet against the speed of attack.
I covered my eyes, readying myself for the impact, when a neck-twisting jolt sent shockwaves through my bones, a large pair of hands wrapping my ribs and falling under my knees before the ground smacked my hiney.
“Goddamn it, Ara,” Falcon growled, placing me gently on the ground.
“Where did you come from?” I gasped, pulling my dress down to cover my undies.
“Never mind that.” He stepped back and rubbed his head, cursing under his breath. “You scared the living hell out of me. What were you thinking?”
I looked up at the window, and the wavering ghost of Eve smiled down at me, covering her mouth. “I . . . I was trying to escape you.”
“You should know better than that by now, Ara.” He straightened up, rolling his shoulders back. “I mean, Your Majesty.”
I laughed. “You didn’t need to rush in all white-knighty and save me. I would have been okay if I’d hit the ground, Falcon.”
“I know. And if I’d given you about two more seconds, you would have corrected the fall, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.” He rubbed his hand firmly across his heart. “No offence, but if you’re gonna turn yourself into royal stew, do it on someone else’s watch.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“Just?”
“I think someone pushed me.”
He looked up at the window, taking a quick step forward. “Who?”
Eve pressed her finger to her lip.
“No one.” I looked back at Falcon. “I’m stupid. I just fell, is all.”
“Ara,” he said, issuing me one raised brow. “I follow you for eight hours every day of your life. You’re not stupid. And you didn’t fall. So don’t try to play dumb with me. Who pushed you?”
I bit my lip. He’d never believe me.
“Eve?” he suggested.
My mouth fell open below wide eyes, and when my head whipped up to the second floor window, Eve was gone. “You saw her?”
His gaze slowly came back down to mine. “No.”
“Then how did you. . .”
“I’ve seen you talking to thin air—heard you say her name.”
And a sudden rush of panic flooded me. “Falcon, you can’t say anything to Da—”
“I won’t.” He held up his hand, stopping me right there. “Everything you do, say, or see, is privileged information, Majesty.”
“But not to Mike. He’s—”
“He’s not the one I report to.”
“Then . . .” I stood a little taller. “Who is?”
“Me.”
I frowned.
“I’m acting Head of Queen’s Guard.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He nodded once. “They report to me now.”
I couldn't believe my ears. “Why did Mike put you in charge?”
“Because he has other things to do—more important than worrying about what you’re doing. He has an entire Knight’s Core to run.”
“Whoa.” I placed my hand on my brow, blowing a puff of air out through one corner of my mouth. “That is messing with my head.”
Falcon laughed. “Well, it’s how things are now. And if you ever—” He held one finger up in emphasis, “—attempt an escape like that again, I will quit my job and put Mike back in charge. Got it?”
I saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“Right. Now.” He grabbed me very gently by the arm and led me into the shadows closer to the manor. “Where were you going, and why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Actually, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It amazed me how much he was like Mike, with his sandy blond hair, his bulky frame, his warm eyes that were quite smiley when he wasn’t looking at me, and the sternness that afforded him command of the room without solicitation. “Can you give me a chance?” he said.
“A chance?”
“Yes. A chance, Ara.” He stepped closer to make his point. “I’m a member of your personal council. I’m your bodyguard and the one man responsible for your overall safety. I’m trusted by both your husband and, more importantly, your overly-protective best friend.” We both chuckled softly. “If Mike can trust me, maybe you can give me a chance, Ara. Because in order for me to keep you safe, I need to be sure you won’t try to run off on me when you have something you want to do but don’t think I’ll approve of. So. . .” He took another long breath. “Let me earn your trust.”
“It’s a matter of security, Falcon, to do with information I’ve learned—from David,” I added so he didn’t think I was being easily led. “And he asked me not to let anyone know, not even the council.”
Falcon nodded, taking a step back. “I respect that.”
“But?” I said, waiting for the ‘but.’
“No buts.” He raised both hands. “If you have good reason not to tell me, then just tell me that, Ara. Just tell me you need to take care of some business, and I’ll back off for an hour or so. Okay?”
My face went blank. I could feel it. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I’m running the show here, Ara.” He presented the proverbial show. “Mike might not have trusted you before, but I trust you. I think you’re a very smart girl, and I think you have grown up monumentally in the last two months, and if you say you need privacy for a bit, then I respect that.”
I just wanted to hug him. I nodded once instead, reminding myself that knights are not friends. “Thank you, Falcon.”
He bowed his head, placing both hands behind his back. “You’re welcome.”
I left Falcon in the garden and followed ‘last sighting’ reports from bystanders until I found my wrath-recipient wandering down an empty corridor in the servant quarters. There was no one around at this time of day so, despite the sub-level of the manor not exactly being a cone of silence, it seemed like as good a place as any to bark my fury on the unsuspecting target.
“Morgaine!”
“Yes.�
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“You lied to me.”
She watched me walk toward her, growing slightly taller. “I did?”
“The Immortal Damned—the prophecy, which is really a contract. And worse, your lies, David’s lies—all of them have gone so deep you’ve had to convince the entire Lilithian public of the same.” I stopped in front of her, closing the door beside me to block out the white light spilling into the hall. “What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything, Majesty, and neither is David.”
I bit my teeth together. I knew my face was as stone and hard as the statue of Lilith in the fountain outside, but so was my resolve. She was damn well going to at least confess, or this stone face would be last thing she saw.
“Okay, so I made up a prophecy—”
“That’s a pretty big deal, Morgaine. That’s a pretty frickin’ huge lie to carry all these centuries.”
“I know, but. . .” She made a small gap between her fingers, her neck shrinking into her shoulders a little. “It was just a teensy stretch of the truth.”
I rolled my eyes, dropping my folded arms. “Knowing the conditions in which the lie about the prophecy was forged, Morgaine, I can forgive that. I mean, really, I’m not surprised. None of the prophecy crap ever made sense anyway, but. . .” I angled my head to one side, my open palms rolling outward with my shrug. “You lied to me about the Damned, and maintained that lie all this time.”
“I got scared, Amara.” She brushed her hand down my arm. I jerked away. “Our people have been suffering for centuries. They were locked away, tortured, forced to torture other vampires at Drake’s will. And it was unnatural. We couldn't live that way any longer. Then, after Jason hurt you, I thought you wanted to die. I thought you were going to commit suicide, and I just couldn’t think. I told you there was a way to help the Damned before I even realised what I’d said. And you didn’t even look up at me until I said you could free them. After that, I had to do some pretty darn fast thinking to reshape that lie.”