Return of the Assassin (All the King's Men)

by Lynne, Donya

  He tried to ignore the discomfort of his bladder and gazed out the window as the scenery flew past.

  It was a wonder he had fallen asleep at all, but after he had gotten used to the speed of the car and its gentle rocking motion and the lull of the engine, exhaustion, along with a large breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and milk—and a decanter of decaf—had taken him under. He had slept for the past five hours. Then again, what he'd done the day before had drained him. He needed sleep to recover and recharge his power.

  "Where are we?" He looked out the window at the more densely populated landscape. Buildings jutted skyward in rows. Apartment buildings. He had seen pictures of them on the Internet. And lines of houses and industrial-looking shopping centers sprawled on either side of the highway. Shiny glass buildings loomed ahead, and a line of traffic was encroaching on his right, entering the highway. Cars and tractor-trailers closed them in on all sides.

  He jarred to attention, suddenly claustrophobic and panicked.

  "Sshh, sshh, Brak." Cynthia reached across the seat and took his hand. "We're outside Indianapolis, just north of the city."

  He stared in fear as a car entered the freeway and pulled up alongside them. If he opened his window, he swore he could have reached out and touched it.

  "The cars are so close." He looked in the mirror beside him, then out the front window and to the left, past Cynthia.

  "They're not as close as they look, sweetie. Just relax. I do this all the time. I won't let them hit us."

  She was so confident, calm, and relaxed. Would he ever be so calm in the driver's seat of a car like this? The last time he was free to roam where he pleased, the fastest transportation had been a horse. And traveling in comfort meant riding in a carriage, which had been a privilege of the upper class. Roads had been worn dirt paths or maybe cobblestone in the bigger cities, where structures had been built of wood, laid brick, or stone, not steel and glass. He had lived in a one-room thatch hut with an underground chamber where his father slept. Everything was so different now. What if he couldn't live in this new world he had missed out on as it grew up around him?

  The car slowed and Cynthia veered onto what he knew by now was called an off ramp. "What are you in the mood for, sweetie?" she said in her Southern drawl.

  "What do you mean?" He was on sensory overload. There was so much to see, he didn't know where to look first.

  "Food," she said. "Aren't you hungry? I'm famished."

  Multiple lanes of traffic fed north on what looked like another highway, more crowded than the one they'd just left. "Sure." He was hungry. He could eat.

  "How about Bob Evans." She pointed ahead to the right.

  He really didn't know a Bob Evans from a hole in the ground. "Okay."

  "They have good food, sweetie. Kind of like home. Biscuits and gravy, fried chicken, good stuff. You'll like it."

  He hadn't eaten much other than what Jacob and Haslet had seen fit to provide to him in groceries back in West Virginia, but he trusted Cynthia. If she told him the food was good, he believed her.

  "How far are we from Chicago?" he said.

  "Just a few more hours. We'll be there before nightfall." She turned onto the cross street and into the parking lot for Bob Evans. "If you think the traffic here is bad, just wait. You ain't seen nothing yet."

  He glanced back out toward the highway, at all the cars lined up bumper-to-bumper at the stoplight they'd just gone through. Chicago was worse than this? What was he in for? Not that it really mattered. As long as he got back to Trace and his father, he would endure traffic a hundred times worse than this.

  What was left of his family was all that mattered. That and finding new purpose now that he was free.

  CHAPTER 24

  When Gina awoke, her body ached in all the right places, and for all the right reasons. Malek had made love to her for hours, obviously in what had to have been the final stages of his calling.

  Clearly, Micah had been spot-on. Malek had not only been suffering the loss of Carmen, he had also been locked in the pull of his calling. No wonder he had behaved like a guy badly in need of an exorcism one minute, and an angel the next. Malek had been in a mental wasteland of torture and confusion for weeks, torn between extremes. How had he denied his body's urgings for so long without going irrevocably insane? It was nothing short of a miracle he had held himself together as long as he had.

  He had more than made up for his otherworldly powers of restraint this morning and into the afternoon before collapsing into a sleep so deep not even a lightning strike inside the room would wake him.

  He had taken her every way imaginable. In the shower, on the bed, once on the kitchen counter when they went in search of food and found each other again instead, and then in bed again three different ways.

  After that, exhaustion had claimed them, and they tumbled into slumber, arms around each other.

  Gina slowly looked over her shoulder at her new mate, curled behind her and cradling her body against his. He was her protector, even in his sleep. And wasn't that a change from what she had received from Armand, who had been more likely to make her sleep on the floor than to hold her securely while they slept. She had been silly to fear that other males—especially Malek—were like Armand and would treat her the same way he had.

  Malek looked peaceful, dead to the world. When was the last time he had slept? Really slept? From the looks of it, he hadn't rested in a long while.

  When her stomach rumbled, she grimaced at the intrusion. She might as well get up and find something to eat. This could be her only chance, because she might be wrong about Malek's calling coming to an end earlier. When he woke up, he might kick off round two of their marathon.

  Carefully, she slipped out from under his arm, pulled on a robe she found in the bathroom, and quietly closed the bedroom door as she stepped into the hall. Her cell phone sat on the kitchen counter, and she picked it up to see a notification that Micah had called and left her a message. She pulled up her messages and played his back.

  "I'm hoping that the fact you aren't answering your phone is a good sign." She smiled to herself. Yes, it was a good sign. "Whether it is or not, I want you and Malek to stay at the apartment tonight. We've been receiving multiple reports from all over the city that two Dacians are in town. Sounds like your friends have made it here, as we suspected. You should be safe there for the time being, but we're working on a plan. You've got my number. Call if something comes up."

  The message ended, she disconnected, and then she invaded the kitchen to make a quick meal of eggs and toast. She ate as she wandered around his living room. Micah had a lot of books and CDs, along with some impressive artifacts and works of art. The guy lived well. His apartment looked nothing like Malek's house, which was rather plain and sparse. She pulled one of the books off his shelf, set her dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, and went back to the bedroom.

  Malek was still sleeping, on his side, his head burrowed into one of the pillows so that his dark hair fell partly over his face.

  Damn, even asleep Malek was sexy as hell.

  Taking care to be quiet, she changed into another pair of Sam's yoga pants and a tank top. She and Malek needed to do a load of laundry for Micah and his mate…maybe even buy them a new bed. This one was ruined. Micah would never be able to use it again unless he didn't mind being reminded of what she and Malek had done here.

  The thought made her smile as she carefully climbed back into bed, pulled the covers over her legs, and turned to the first page of the book.

  She was still reading a couple of hours later, long after the curtains and blinds had whispered open on their tracks. She was seeped in the book when she felt eyes on her. Turning toward Malek, she found him awake, motionless, staring at her.

  "Hi," she said, and bit her lip as she grinned.

  So much had changed between them in the last twenty-four hours, and part of her still feared he would revert back to the Malek he'd been before. Would he snap at h
er again? Push her away? Or had that phase fully passed?

  "Hi." He blinked, and his shapely, full mouth curved into a tender, subtle smile.

  That was a good sign.

  "How long have you been awake?" She set the book on her lap.

  "A while."

  "Why didn't you say something?" She brushed a strand of his hair back and tucked it behind his ear.

  He closed his eyes, shifted, and crept closer. "I was watching you read."

  She set the book on the nightstand, scooted down, and lay so she faced him. Hardly a foot separated them.

  They lay like that for a while, staring into each other's eyes and letting the quiet encapsulate them. Neither spoke, as if both wanted simply to exist with one another. That same feeling as before, as if a million unspoken words hung over them, swelled and drifted like a cloud, and its presence became more obvious as the minutes ticked by.

  "Carmen liked to read," he said quietly, sticking the pregnant balloon with the proverbial pin. Maybe he was finally able to talk about Carmen.

  "Is that why you have all those books on your dining room table?" She had assumed as much after what Micah had told her, especially in light of the odd exchange between them when she'd asked about the books after entering his home.

  "Yes. And I have an entire room in my basement filled with them, too."

  His talking about Carmen was a good sign. It meant he was ready to move on. The fact he was sharing Carmen with her was even better. It meant he trusted her enough to share his cherished past, which touched her heart. For him to open up to her about Carmen spoke volumes about how he felt now. Toward her. Because she knew from what Micah had told her that Malek had never spoken to anyone about Carmen. Not even him, and he had been Malek's best friend at the time.

  "Maybe we need to get some bookcases and turn one of the rooms in your house into a library," she said.

  Malek scooted closer and smoothed the tip of his index finger down the side of her neck and into the small hollow at the base of her throat. "I'd like that." Gratitude shone in his eyes as his smile widened. "You wouldn't mind?"

  She shook her head. "No. As long as you don't mind if I read them. I love to read."

  His finger trailed up and down, tracing the tendons in her neck. "I don't mind. I think Carmen would love knowing someone is enjoying them, and that I found someone who loves to read as much as she did."

  "I'm sure she would. She sounds lovely."

  He took a deep breath, blew it out. "She was."

  "Tell me about her." If he was going to heal completely, he needed to get all of Carmen out of his system.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. She was a part of your life. An important part. Don't hide her, anymore."

  Moisture glistened his eyes. "I love you," he said.

  He had told her he loved her earlier, as well. This was the first time anyone outside of family had said those words to her.

  "I love you, too. I've loved you since I met you. It just took me a while to figure it out."

  He puffed out an impish breath and looked down. "Me, too. Obviously."

  "Obviously." She caressed his cheek, and his soft stubble scratched her palm. "So, tell me about her, Malek. What was Carmen like?"

  He kissed her palm. "Carmen was human."

  This came as a bit of a surprise. Micah hadn't mentioned that during their talk earlier. Still, it wasn't totally uncommon for a vampire and human to mate.

  "I met her during the late Middle Ages, during one of the short-lived truces between wars back then. She had long, auburn hair." He gestured, pulling his hand down through the air to signify long hair. "It was naturally curly, so when she wore it loose, she looked like a seventies flower child." He chuckled. "But it was very soft. I loved touching it. Like I love touching yours." He pushed his fingers into her hair. "But yours is softer. Your hair feels like satin, so smooth and silky." He paused, combed his fingers through her hair a few times as if hypnotized, and then settled back on his pillow again. "I wanted to change her. Make her immortal. I even petitioned the king, but he denied my request. It wasn't until much later, after she died, that the king changed the law and allowed males to change their human mates. But by then it was too late. Carmen was gone." He said it more matter-of-factly than emotionally. He definitely had crossed over to acceptance regarding Carmen's death.

  "How did she die?" She took his hand and squeezed.

  He smiled sadly. "I had turned to farming with the war over. She and I had a small cottage and a field where we grew wheat, barley, corn. It made for long nights. We had humans who shared the land and profits with us, and they tended the field during the day, while I worked with the other vampires at night." He paused. "Just before dawn, I returned home." Another pause. "I smelled death before I reached the door. I rushed inside only to find her lying on the floor, her body bent at an awkward angle. She'd had a stroke while on the step stool putting away some preserved fruit on a shelf. The fall broke her back."

  Gina frowned and looked down, fighting back tears even though Malek seemed to be holding it together. "God. I'm sorry."

  "Ssshh." He brushed his hand over her cheek. "It's okay. I can finally think about it now. I can talk about it and finally let her go. Before you, I couldn't do that."

  "But…that must have been awful for you."

  "At the time, yes. And until I met you, it was."

  "Even after you met me," she said. "I awakened that memory for you."

  "Only so that I could deal with it and move on…to you…to my life with you." He brushed the backs of his fingers down her arm.

  "What about children?" She wanted to think he and Carmen had young, because then at least she wouldn't have to fret over being unable to provide that for him. "Did you and Carmen have young?"

  He shook his head. "She couldn't have them." His hand drifted unbidden to her stomach, and his palm flattened against her belly, almost as if he was checking for the life signature of a child. After making love for hours, he surely expected to find a growing life inside her.

  He wouldn't find one.

  "Malek…" She squirmed and pulled his hand from her stomach. "Don't."

  His brow wrinkled in confusion. "What's wrong?"

  "I just…" Damn it, but she didn't want to cry. What would he think of her when she told him she was barren? Would he be disappointed? She wasn't sure she could bear that. Malek deserved a child, which was something she could never give him, no matter how much she wanted to.

  Unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head and hid from him before the first tears could fall.

  "Gina, talk to me. I don't want to invade your thoughts to see what's wrong."

  How easily he could, and how sweet that he wouldn't. Armand had never given her that consideration. He had stolen into her mind whenever he felt like it, raping her thoughts just as he raped her body whenever the urge took him.

  "Baby, please." Malek caressed her cheek down to her chin, where he placed two fingertips below her jaw and slowly eased her head back up until their eyes met.

  He leaned in and kissed away her tears before brushing his lips over hers. "Tell me what's wrong, Gina."

  But when she opened her mouth, no words came out. Why was telling him about her past so hard?

  He reached behind her and shut off the light, throwing the room into darkness. "Is that better?" he said.

  Actually, it was. The lights of Chicago still fed light into the room, but the darkness made her feel safer.

  She nodded. "Yes."

  For a long moment, nothing was said, and Malek didn't push her. He let her get to her confession in her own time.

  She took a deep breath. "I can't have children, either, Malek." Saying it aloud was harder than she thought, and she covered her face with her hands as a sob erupted from her throat. "I can't give you a young."

  Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his body, and he gently rocked her.

  But Gina was inconsolable. She cried and
poured a lifetime's worth of guilt, pain, and sorrow into her tears. Like Malek, she had never mourned what Armand had done to her, just as Micah said. She had tucked Armand away like an old sweatshirt that didn't fit anymore but that she couldn't give away. In her mind, he had become a talisman of regret, shame, and guilt, and she had used him to shield herself from her emotions, as well as from others.

  How perfect she and Malek were for one another. They possessed such similar pasts, only with different circumstances. Both had tried to tuck away what had caused them the most suffering, thinking that by doing so they could forget the past and carry on. Only…the plan had backfired. What they had tried to forget had never gone away. It had sat, watching and waiting until the time was right, and then the past roared back to life, ready to be heard and dealt with, not to be ignored anymore.

  "Ssshh." Malek's hold tightened.

  The world fell away in his arms. Her fears quieted. These were the consequences of his love…knowing he was there to catch her, hold her, kiss away her tears if need-be. Through his touch, she felt his commitment to her. Only a day ago, Malek had been distant, but now he embraced his station as her mate and let go of his past. And he was stronger for her because of it.

  There was a lesson to be learned from him. Maybe it was time she learned it and did for him what he had done for her…and reveal her past. All of it.

  She pushed back, wiped her face, took a deep breath, and kissed him. "There's more," she said.

  His arms loosened as if he instinctively knew she needed to stand on her own in that moment. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "I know, but it's hard. I've never told anyone this." She suspected Micah knew most of what had happened, but him seeing her thoughts wasn't the same as her consciously making the decision to talk about them.

  "What about Trevor. You two seem close."

  She shook her head. "Trevor is a longtime family friend, but he only knows some of what happened. I never told him everything."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know." She dropped her gaze. "Like you, maybe I thought that by not talking about the past, it would go away. Just disappear on its own."