He didn’t like it. “Lorraine, you will suffer. The thought of you suffering unnecessarily bothers me on a level I can’t even convey. Our separation will weigh on you. Your mind will continually seek mine. When you cannot find me, you will become afraid that I am dead. That can be dangerous with lifemates when they are not fully bound.”
“I know the dangers. You’ve cautioned me. I’ll be prepared. If you have to be covered all the way to heal, I understand. I want you to do it, but I can’t be asleep so deeply that I wouldn’t wake if there was a problem.”
He detested that he understood. That he knew what this request meant to her. Another ancient would do what he thought to be right. Andor gave in because Lorraine needed him to.
14
Lorraine woke to the sound of children laughing in the distance. She groaned and turned over, feeling every individual muscle in her body protest deliciously. Frowning up at the ceiling, she let herself get her bearings before moving again. She was at the compound, and Andor was not with her. Her mind reached for his. She’d been slipping in and out of his mind for days, but now, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she was desperate to touch him.
She reached. There was only nothingness. Emptiness. He was gone. Her heart dropped and then reality kicked in. They’d had a conversation about this very thing—how one could become terrified that something had happened, when in fact, Andor was safe beneath the soil, healing as he needed to do.
Her teeth worried at her lower lip. What if he wasn’t safe? She didn’t know. She couldn’t see him. Andor had told her this would happen. She just had to trust in him, have faith that at sunset, he would emerge and she would see for herself that he was alive and well.
She sat up slowly. She’d gone to bed fully clothed, ready for war. Her gun was loaded and in reach under her pillow with only the safety on. She’d practiced hundreds of times flicking it off and pointing her weapon at the door or the windows. The shotgun was loaded as well and propped against her side of the bed within easy reach. The knife was in a sheath and at her fingertips while she slept. She’d practiced with that as well.
She wanted a shower. Or a bath. Or better, a shower and then a bath. She knew she was clean. Andor had seen to that, cleansing her body and hair, but it wasn’t the same as standing under a hot spray of water and letting it wash over one. Nor did it take the place of the luxury of a bath. She stretched, grateful for the roof over her head. She’d been camping for nearly two weeks before she’d run into Andor and was caught up in his world.
Very slowly she got out of bed, feeling every ache. She was making Andor’s world hers. Showers and baths would be a thing of the past. A nice comfortable bed would be as well. Where did Carpathians make love? Have sex? Get crazy when the notion took them? She made her way into the bathroom, thankful for modern conveniences. She brought weapons with her. Enemies might find her naked, but they wouldn’t catch her unarmed.
She opened the screened window so she could listen to the children as she showered. Their voices were happy, not scared. They sounded like normal kids having fun on the playground. She caught a glimpse of stone dragons sitting on the grass looking as if they were guarding the mini-park that was situated outside of the main house and directly across from a cottage that was a miniature replica of the main house.
She liked the sound of the children playing. She needed it. If she stayed on the course she was on, she might not ever hear it again. She would be deep beneath the ground while they lived and played above. When she was up, they would sleep. She pressed her forehead against the tiled walls of the shower. She’d been so absorbed by Andor, so caught up in the battles against the undead and the tremendous honor he and his brethren had, that she hadn’t really thought beyond that to the realities.
The ancients had been so selfless always. They’d been willing to tie themselves to her in order to find Andor, each knowing if they weren’t successful in recovering him, they would be caught in that terrible cold, dark place. They had known what they were risking and yet they still went after him—for her. For him. For the man they called brother, and they’d done it out of honor and loyalty.
She’d just gone along with everything because there hadn’t been time to think. She’d gotten on the roller coaster and she hadn’t been able to get off. She hadn’t even considered getting off because she wasn’t leaving Andor as injured as he’d been. Now—now she had time to think about what she would be missing if she went through with the last blood exchange.
They hadn’t talked about children. Andor said he wanted them, but she didn’t know what that entailed. Emeline, Dragomir’s lifemate, was pregnant. Perhaps a talk with her might alleviate nerves—and she had them. Worse, just as Andor had warned her, her wayward mind kept reaching out to his and finding—nothing.
She was so used to touching his mind, crawling into it when she was afraid, gathering her courage there and then sliding out when she felt armed with enough knowledge to face whatever was coming at her. But if she was honest, she knew it was far more than just being afraid of monsters she had no knowledge of. Or gathering information for a coming battle. She wasn’t lonely. At all.
Lorraine knew she’d retreated from the world when her brother had become a headline, a monster. She hadn’t been able to face the accusations and whispers. She didn’t dare speak of her brother or parents or aunt and uncle. The couple who’d died trying to help Theodore had a family, sons and daughters who now despised her. She’d dropped out of college and cut herself off from friends who’d already deserted her. She hadn’t realized just how alone and lonely she was until Andor filled her mind.
She poured shampoo into her hand and rubbed it into her hair. Who knew that shampooing hair could feel like such a luxury? She’d often thought how cool it would be if she was magic and could wave her hand and instantly have her hair done. It was thick and heavy and took forever to dry. After having Andor or one of the others wave their hand and clean and dry her hair, shampooing and conditioning seemed a luxury. She would be giving that up as well.
She stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair and body in towels. Her body felt very sensitive, as if every nerve ending was alive. Wandering over to the window, she looked across the yard. The playground was a distance from the house she occupied, but from her vantage point up high, she could see the children.
There was a boy, who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. Tall, lanky, all arms and legs. His hair was longish and tied in a very small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He pushed a little girl on a swing. The child screeched and kicked her legs excitedly into the air.
“Higher, Danny, higher.”
“This is high enough, Bella,” he said. “I don’t want to take a chance on you falling.”
The little legs kicked higher. “We fly dragons, Danny, we can’t fall.”
Lorraine leaned her head out the window, shocked at how clear she could see from the distance. Her eyesight and hearing seemed much more acute than normal. She found herself smiling as she watched the boy patiently explain how flying a dragon was different than swinging.
“Your dragon makes certain you don’t fall.”
She looked at the stone dragons overlooking the playground. It was a nice game, the little girl clearly fantasizing the dragons were real. She might have seen the Carpathian hunters shifting, just as Ferro and the others had. That was one thing she wouldn’t mind being able to do—shifting into other forms.
“Does your dragon keep you from falling, Lourdes?” Bella called out as she gamely tried to pump her legs to get more height as Danny pushed her.
The child beside her in the other swing was being pushed by a teenage girl. She looked to be a year or so younger than the boy. Lorraine thought both Lourdes and Bella appeared to be three or four, three by their size, especially Lourdes, and four by their intelligent speech.
Lourdes hung her head way back so she could look up at the teenage girl. “My dragon always holds on to me, does yours, Amelia?”
>
Amelia smiled immediately at the child. “Of course. This is where we practice for dragon rides, Lourdes. Bella, you, too. You have to learn to hold on tight with your hands and use your legs and body to help gain height. If you fall here, you’ll bounce on the rubber mats, but if you fell when a dragon was in the sky, you would fall a very long way and get hurt.”
“I wouldn’t,” Bella said, pumping her feet like mad. “Cuz Liv will catch me.”
“Liv can’t catch you if she’s sleeping in the ground like Tariq and Charlotte,” Amelia reminded. “So, no riding the dragons without grownups around.”
“Genevieve,” Bella called to a woman sitting on a bench watching them.
Lorraine thought the woman might have stepped off the cover of a magazine. She was truly gorgeous. Her face would never need airbrushing. It was perfect. Her bone structure, her large eyes, her lips and her tall, slender body with her fashionable clothes and elegant boots made Lorraine remember that she’d only packed camping clothes.
She dressed hurriedly, but took time with her makeup and drying her hair. Evidently Tariq and Charlotte believed in making guests feel very welcome. The hair products were top-of-the-line as well as the cosmetics, and they’d provided hair dryers, straightening irons and even curling irons. She especially appreciated the brand-new electric toothbrush. She didn’t even feel guilty using it. Well, maybe a little, but she could purchase it from them. She’d already left an envelope with enough to cover the cost of everything she’d used.
Her mind reached out for Andor. She had a million questions. She had a million needs. One of them—the most important—was just to feel him in her mind. Close. Pouring into her, filling empty spaces and removing … loneliness. She’d learned she could be with a hundred people and still be lonely. She could be by herself and feel strong and complete—until Andor. He’d changed that. She felt strong. Capable. But she was lonely without him. Her mind kept insisting on reaching for him.
Surely, even sleeping below the ground she could touch him. When he’d slept the sleep of his kind, she’d always been able to see his face and reassure herself that he was fine. No enemy could catch him unawares because she’d been there. Right there. Guarding him. Making it impossible for some monster—or some loved one—to harm him.
Lorraine stared at herself in the mirror. Andor was hers. Her family. The man she chose. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t take that back. She had crossed a line somewhere when she’d let him in, and now he was there, deep. She wanted it that way. She wanted him enough to give up the sun and the sound of children playing in play yards. She would choose him every time.
“Andor.” She whispered his name. Needing him. Knowing it was better if she didn’t call telepathically and awaken him before the soil had a chance to do its work. She straightened, still looking at her reflection in her mirror. “You are capable of going a few hours without touching his mind, so pull it together.”
Ruthlessly, she crushed down the need to reach for him. The need to protect him, even from her intrusion when he required healing sleep, helped her focus back on other things. She hadn’t eaten anything since that first blood exchange, only drank water. Food seemed repugnant to her. She knew she would have to eat something soon, she was getting weak, but the thought turned her stomach.
Very slowly, taking her time, she dressed, pulling out her last pair of clean jeans, her vintage blues, washed so many times they were soft and pale, with a few worn places, but still acceptable to wear if she was going out. Her T-shirt was old as well and one of her favorites, soft and black with words touting Fireball Cinnamon Whisky. She liked the sentiment. Did Carpathians drink whiskey? Any kind of alcoholic beverage? Probably not.
She pulled on her hiking boots because they were the only shoes she had with her. Glamourous, that was her. She was going to look good standing next to the model out there. She’d make a really good impression. Squaring her shoulders, she left the safety of the bathroom and made her way down the stairs to the front door.
The moment she neared the door, she felt a surge of power—of protest. You better not have tried to lock me in, she said, reaching for him without thinking, a small bit of laughter bubbling up. She sobered instantly when she realized she was doing it again and then her heart began to pound and she could barely catch her breath—signs of an impending panic attack. Swearing under her breath, she fought her way through it, going for logic.
“He told you that you wouldn’t be able to reach him and you would do this. You’re smarter than this, Lorraine. You have a brain. You don’t need to lean on a man, you’re one hundred percent okay without one. You know how to take care of yourself. Never, in your life, did you rely on someone else, other than when you were a child and even then, your parents insisted on you trying things yourself before they helped, or allowed Theodore to help.”
She pressed her forehead against the door, one hand on the knob. Theodore. He’d helped her so many times when her parents didn’t know. She’d always had a sweet tooth, and sugar was strictly forbidden. She wasn’t allowed to eat anything that wasn’t healthy and good for her. They practically counted calories for her, watching how much she trained and anything outside her home had to be done in the form of exercise, such as bike riding. That was an acceptable pastime. Running was. Reading was okay, but only for short periods of time, like when she was taking a bath.
Theodore had helped her find ways to get her sugar fix. He’d always brought her candy-coated licorice. They’d hid it, most of the time successfully. She couldn’t have gotten it for herself because her parents had watched her so carefully, but Teddy had managed and when she’d gone on reading binges, he’d always brought her some. She never wanted to forget those things about him. The good things. The childhood memories she had of him before … What had made Theodore take the steroids? She still didn’t know. Maybe she would never know.
She opened the door and breathed in the refreshing air. She’d been outdoors for long enough that being inside felt a little stuffy. There was a feeling of reluctance to step outside, even onto the porch, and she knew that had to be part of Andor’s safeguards. Still, she wasn’t locked in, and she wanted to go talk to the children and the model.
She gripped the doorjamb, heart accelerating as the feeling of power surged over her and under her feet. The floor seemed to tilt back toward the inside while just across the doorway, for one moment, she could see bands, like heat shimmer. Not bands, bars. Keeping her in? Keeping someone out? Maybe both.
Andor, I’m heading out to see the compound and talk to the children. Abruptly she broke off again. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t stop? Couldn’t remember she wasn’t to wake him? To reach for him? Every time she did only made her feel more alone and abandoned. More scared that something had happened to him and she wasn’t doing her job of protecting him.
She stepped over the threshold, ignoring the pull on her body to go back inside. She wouldn’t retreat, she wasn’t that kind of woman. Once on the porch with the door firmly closed behind her, she felt free again. Her eyes immediately burned and wept in protest at the almost blinding light of the sun. Every bit of exposed skin prickled as if it might burn under the rays. She had never worried about sunburn, thanks to her father’s complexion, so she ignored that weird sensation on her skin and went down the stairs, wishing she’d thought to bring sunglasses.
The lake gleamed, the water appearing like glass, shimmering with grays and blues, even deeper greens. It was beautiful and inviting. A pier ran out over the water and she was tempted to walk along it. The water added to the eye-burning effect the light seemed to have on her so, reluctantly, she turned away.
The little boathouse caught her attention. Someone clearly lived there. She could see someone moving around inside, and when they noticed her watching, they waved and beckoned to her. She’d taken a single step toward the cute little house when the door opened and a woman appeared. She wore an apron and was drying her hands on the material as she st
epped onto her porch. She looked older than Lorraine expected, maybe in her late sixties.
“I’m Mary Walton. My husband, Donald, and I live here. We’ve been with Tariq for a few years now. Donald is just inside watching over the cookies I’m baking for the children.”
Lorraine moved closer so she wouldn’t have to shout. “I’m Lorraine Peters. I came with all the others last night.” She hadn’t been told a lot about those living on the estate. Mary Walton was clearly human. So were the children. She didn’t know if they knew about Tariq and the ancients. She should have asked more questions.
“We saw them coming in,” Mary said. “Of course, we always worry about their battle wounds. They heal so fast, but when they first get them, the injuries look frightening. I still can’t get over wanting to wash out the wound, not put soil in it.” She gave a small deprecating laugh. “I suspect it’s my age.”
Lorraine shook her head. “That’s my first instinct as well.”
“Are you feeling all right? Can I get you a cup of tea?”
Immediately her stomach protested with another lurch of warning. She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m okay. I thought I’d go talk to the children. They sound so happy. After all the trauma of seeing things I thought were only in movies, worse than anything in movies, I need simple and happy.”
“Don’t be deceived, Lorraine,” Mary said. “Those children have seen and experienced some of the worst those monsters do. They live here because as long as they stay within this compound, the safeguards surrounding us, the undead can’t come inside. They know they’re safe and it’s the only place that is for them. No schools or shopping or fun like other children. They have us and they have one another. That has to be enough for now.”
She knew Mary was warning her that the feeling of safety she was experiencing would go away the moment she left. She smiled. “Andor is here, Mary. As long as he’s here, I’ll be here. If he leaves, I go with him.” She wanted that clear. She wasn’t a shrinking violet. If he left the safety of the compound, for any reason, she would be at his side.
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