by Jen Colly
She opened her eyes, and straightened in the chair. On the wall before her, a battle-ax hung at an angle, held up by two large hooks, and to its left, a painting with a lady and a knight on a stairway. Rising, she slowly turned, taking it all in as if in the middle of a museum.
The paintings, large and vibrant, had been separated by weaponry. The innocent romance in several of the paintings countered the harsh edge the unsheathed weapons gave the room. Or maybe the danger was in the man who lived here.
The bedroom took on a similar medieval theme, but here she found no weapons. This room held several works of stained glass art. One imitated a window, the view a lush scene of rolling hills and bright green trees. Beautiful.
Ending her tour was the bathroom. Elegantly designed, with white and gold stripes running from floor to ceiling. She skimmed her fingers over the burgundy shower curtain as she walked out. He wasn’t a slob. That was nice. Everything seemed to be in its place. She’d expected the bathroom and kitchen to be trashed.
Stopping short, she counted the rooms suspiciously. Three. No kitchen or dining room. They were missing.
Of course! Vampires wouldn’t eat at a table. It would be far more convenient to bite the nearest neck. Great. Now she needed a distraction from the thought of blood drainage.
Snooping through Soren’s bureau drawers and under the bed, she didn’t find anything to give her a hint about him, or even something to occupy her time. She found nothing. No TV. No radio. The man didn’t even own a chessboard. A home with this kind of decor could absolutely use a chessboard.
“I’m going to be bored for the rest of my life,” she said, sighing as she flopped onto the bed.
* * * *
Soren hadn’t been called to a meeting before, and would be perfectly happy if he never saw one again. The council consisted of good and wise men, and he understood their necessity, but this sort of thing was not his cup of tea.
It didn’t appear as if Captain Savard enjoyed these meetings either. Three seats remained empty for guests and emissaries, but the captain quickly gave up his seat for him. No surprise there. The man did not like being stagnant.
Captain Savard leaned against one of the wooden pillars bracing the walls. No one would suspect that he was the second most powerful man in Balinese. His stature bordered on the definition of short, and unlike the strapping Guardians, he was leanly muscled. His long black hair would touch his jaw line if he didn’t keep it swept back from his face. Other than sideburns, he had no facial hair and appeared to be a young man in his early twenties. While his appearance didn’t necessarily intimidate, his reputation did.
With the captain abandoning his chair, Soren now sat beside Navarre, who presided over these meetings, his word final, even over the council’s decision. Vidor and Julian indulged in the idle conversation of noblemen, seeming not yet aware of his arrival.
Five men resided on the council, and these two had been hand chosen. Vidor Wesleyan was the last of the oldest aristocratic family, and had been on the previous council belonging to Navarre’s father. Julian had later been appointed to represent the nobility. Kind, fair, and sensible, Julian remained a favorite among both common man and aristocrat. Navarre chose well when he’d added him to the council.
Bareth, the city’s High Justice, had yet to arrive. Like the lord and captain, Bareth’s presence was required because of his prominent title.
The double doors burst open, Bareth easily filling the open space.
“And there he is. If you can’t make it here when you’re called,” Julian teased, hands folded neatly before him, “how the devil do you get to the arena on time?”
“It’s my job to be there,” Bareth countered, flopping into the chair beside Soren.
“Yes, but it’s your job to show up here as well.” Vidor tried, and usually failed, to keep Bareth in line.
“This isn’t nearly as fun as the arena,” Bareth grumbled, then cast a quick smile at Navarre. “Why are we here, my lord? And why is Soren here?”
“He discovered something which needs to be brought under consideration. Soren, speak what you know,” Navarre prompted.
Every man in the room waited for him to open his mouth, and he shifted in his seat. No matter what he said, or how he said it, this conversation had a minute chance of going well. “I went above this night and found two demons attacking a woman in an alley.” As expected, a ripple of murmurs and sneers followed the word demon. “I encountered another on the way home. The last knew I was vampire and targeted me.”
“Before we go further, let me inform you that Captain Savard has doubled the Guardians at the gate and sent a few scouts into Paris. We will know soon if more are out there,” Navarre said.
“This is dreadful.” Julian combed his fingers through his long, wavy hair, pulled it away from his face.
“What happened to the woman?” Vidor asked, narrowing his eyes.
“The woman lived and knows what we are. She’s mine.” What he’d wanted to be a clear statement had ended up more of a declaration.
Bareth chuckled. “She’s a runner, is what.”
“You didn’t try to catch her.” He jabbed his finger at Bareth. “You watched her run down the hall.”
“A human attempted escape? Navarre, we cannot allow this,” Vidor protested.
“She didn’t get far.” Soren, instantly guarded, shifted his attention to Vidor. “You have the entire city to meddle with. Stay out of my personal affairs.”
Vidor’s sharp stare drilled into him, and the nobleman puffed out his chest, ready to battle.
“No human will leave the city,” Captain Savard said, ending the argument. “This is not a concern. Move on.”
“Soren,” Julian said, calm and collected, “you’re getting as serious as the good captain. Be at ease. We would not take her from you.” Julian studied him for a brief moment, seeming surprised by his odd behavior.
“The demons weren’t after the woman, were they?” Vidor asked, suddenly more anxious than agitated.
“It seemed so at first, but they prefer females. I can’t be certain.” Soren shook his head. “Why would they want her for anything other than a meal? She’s a tourist. She knew nothing of our city or people until tonight.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t stumble upon something,” Julian suggested.
“I doubt it.” She’d seemed so upset once he’d told her what she’d assumed had been a man had truly been a demon. “She didn’t notice their red eyes until I killed the last one. She didn’t recognize the creatures, only saw them as cruel men.”
“But if they are after her, more might have followed you here.” Bareth rubbed his chin, pondering his own suggestion.
“Not likely. I took a car,” he admitted, which drew several curious glances.
“Leave her to the demons, let them have her,” Vidor said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“She’s human.” Soren pinned him with a sharp and angry stare from across the table.
“Exactly, she’s human. The world is full of those expendable creatures. One life for all of ours is a fair trade.” Vidor nodded decisively, as if his logic would be considered supreme rule.
“She’s innocent.” Growling, he stood, tensed and ready for a fight. He only waited for Vidor to start one. Faith belonged to him, and he would protect her, from his people if necessary.
Navarre cleared his throat, and Vidor and he stilled, awaiting the lord’s judgment. “Vidor, you are right. One life is more than a fair trade to save this city.”
A chill washed over his face as the blood seemed to drain away. Nausea tugged at his stomach. The shock of what Navarre intended to do numbed him. “My lord, you can’t possibly mean to—”
“Easy, Soren,” Navarre interrupted, waiting until he sat before continuing. “I would gladly give up one life to keep my city safe. Howe
ver, we have no proof the demons are truly after her. It could be coincidence. All we’re doing is speculating. Both attacks happened only streets apart. Hardly convincing evidence that demons intend to harm her, and only her. More than likely they were pack hunting, just as they used to before we wiped them out. And Soren, you were present at both attacks, but we have yet to say the demons may be after you.”
Grunts of agreement rumbled through the room.
“I don’t want to lose sleep and lives over demons again,” Vidor said. “My apologies, Soren. It is not your human woman setting me on edge, but the presence of these demons. They should have been hunted to extinction years ago.”
In complete agreement with Vidor this time, he nodded. He often forgot that Vidor had been alive when demons ran unchecked, and humans hunted both vampire and demon. Granted, being of noble blood, Vidor had never fought in those wars. Though war, on any level, would have made an impact on every vampire, no matter their station.
“Soren?” Navarre leaned forward, his long hair falling over his shoulder, reaching to where his elbow rested on the arm of his chair. “You said she didn’t recognize the creature as anything other than man until she saw its eyes. Explain.”
He hesitated, loathed being the bearer of bad news. “They looked human, my lord.”
“What?” Vidor leaned back against his chair, his body slack and his eyes wide, horrified.
“Except for the red eyes and fangs, the demons could’ve passed for human men. No discoloration or sunken skin. Worse, they didn’t act mindless or desperate. One spoke to me, and he was completely coherent,” Soren said, shaking his head in disbelief. “More unbelievable, and what I dread to say out loud, is that it seemed normal to Gustav. Unwanted and hated, but normal.”
“They might be a different breed of sorts,” Julian offered.
“Very possible.” Navarre nodded.
“The creatures should be eliminated,” Julian said.
“What say you, my lord?” Bareth’s booming voice filled the room. “Shall we wipe them out once more?”
“I’m not yet certain we have a problem. They could have been stragglers from another city, another country. I won’t send men out to hunt them, not when Soren likely killed them all.” Navarre looked around the table, waiting for argument. “We will wait for the scouts to report.”
“Just like Soren to get a hold of those demon bastards first.” Bareth chuckled.
“You never leave anything for us old men sadly out of practice, do you?” Julian said with a smile.
“If I weren’t High Justice, I wouldn’t get a chance to swing a sword. It’s why I took the job. Needed my exercise. At least that’s what Gretta says,” Bareth said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
“Gretta’s right.” Vidor laughed. “You are getting rather thick in the middle.”
“My woman’s always right.” A knowing smile spread on Bareth’s face.
“Captain, you’ve been quiet,” Vidor said, glancing at the captain who had stood in silence.
The captain sucked in a breath, sounding as if he were exhausted and looked not at all thrilled at being singled out. “I’m here solely to gain information for the protection of Navarre, and the entire city. I have no opinions.”
“You’re on the council. Your opinion counts a great deal,” Vidor pushed.
“I do as my lord commands.” The captain’s calm level stare made Vidor hastily end his pressuring.
“Good to hear,” said Navarre. “Captain, inform the Guardians at the gate of these new creatures. Meeting adjourned.”
The councilmen exited the room, but Soren stayed. After everyone except Navarre and the captain had left, he finally asked the question burning for release. “What if they are after her?”
“I won’t give up a female, even if she’s not vampire. She’s here now, and she’s yours. I refuse to negotiate with demons. But should we find more, the council will demand a hunt.” Navarre reclined in his chair, though he didn’t relax. “Captain?”
Silence hung in the air, and for the longest time, Soren thought the captain wouldn’t answer his lord.
“When you hunt things down, you unavoidably miss one or two.” Captain Savard spoke slowly, deliberately. “One man with a vengeance is a dangerous thing. Imagine two.”
What he’d witnessed surprised him. The captain did have an opinion. He’d merely saved it for Navarre.
Navarre nodded. “Agreed. Do what you can, Captain. I have no interest in revisiting our past.”
At his words, the captain left to no doubt do what he did best. Defense.
“Thank you,” Soren said. “Her safety means a great deal to me.”
Navarre stood. “She’s not the hysterical type, is she?”
“No.” Soren blinked a couple times as he processed the question. “Not at all. In fact, she seems rather level headed.”
“Good. Bring her to last meal. I’d like to meet her,” Navarre said as he walked from the council room, not waiting for Soren’s response.
Time to go home. With Faith’s future now certain, he breathed easier, but each step toward home hit the ground urgently. She was alone, and even though Steffen guarded his door, he didn’t trust her.
He rounded the corner, and immediately asked, “Did she run again?”
Steffen shook his head, already walking away. “Nope.”
Half expecting her to bash him in the head, he opened the door cautiously, but encountered only silence. The lights had been left on in every room. He didn’t see her, or hear her.
A stinging lump rose in his throat. If she hadn’t run, then where did she go? Had something happened to her? The thought terrified him more than he cared to admit.
He entered his bedroom, and the tension fled from his chest. She’d kept her word.
At the scene before him, he shook his head. Faith lay sprawled on her stomach across his bed, her right arm folded over her heart, left arm pressed somewhere between her stomach and the comforter. The sight of her hair completely covering her face, her nose peeking out, almost made him laugh out loud.
Regaining his composure, he covered her with a blanket. He should have turned around then, walked away, found the couch and let sleep take him. Instead he remained there, smiling.
Something was wrong with her, or maybe him. He rarely lost his temper, and never with a woman. But he had with her. When he’d seen her running across the grass, his heart nearly stopped with fear. Steffen had been close by, ready to kill. Yet he remained thankful Steffen’s shift hadn’t ended. No one else would have recognized Faith.
Then he’d yelled at her. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he couldn’t control himself at the time. She put him on edge. He’d been insanely jealous of Steffen simply speaking to her, and ready to fight a council member over his right to keep her. She unhinged him.
Soren controlled the urge to brush her hair from her face. He wanted to lie next to her and pull her against his chest, and just hold her. As strange as it sounded, sleep held no appeal if he couldn’t have her beside him.
He couldn’t recall standing over a woman as he did now, wondering if she needed anything he could provide. Did she need another blanket? Had she gone to sleep hungry? What kind of daily rituals did she have? Would she mind if he lay beside her?
With a growl, he closed his eyes, and turned away from her. His instincts screamed at him, demanding he bind her to him as his mate. Those internal impulses always had a reason, a solid need for being present, but this time he couldn’t understand them. Faith already belonged to him. According to his laws, he could do anything he wanted with her, but it wasn’t enough.
If he mated her, she’d have to become vampire. It would be an all or nothing deal. She couldn’t be turned without being his mate, and she couldn’t be his mate without being turned. This kind of thing should only be considere
d if…
Most vampires mated, binding themselves to someone they loved. Rarely, though, did a vampire find their true mate. Histories and legends said the only thing more potent than the calling of the sun was the pull of your other half, the one meant to save you from death and give you life.
Staring at Faith, he couldn’t believe it possible. Not after all these years, not with a human.
Placing his hand on the mattress, he leaned closer, wanting to somehow test his theory.
Faith woke with a start as the mattress dipped, rolled onto her back. She peered up at him, but her eyelids remained mostly closed, as if she were unprepared for the bright light of the room. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she mumbled, still half asleep and groggy.
“Nothing, get your rest.” He’d forced out the words, unsure if he lied to her, or himself.
She flopped back onto her stomach. Readjusting herself on the bed, she tucked her hands under her body. Before long, her breathing became even.
Soren pulled a thickly cushioned chair near the bed and watched her sleep. The possibility she was his one true mate could not be denied, but he would ignore that hope and be pleased with reality. She chased away the loneliness in his life, even if fate hadn’t handpicked her for him. Caring for her gave him a new purpose, a different reason to live.
Chapter 6
Soren woke in his chair near nightfall to find Faith staring at him. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her hair mussed and the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“You were gone a long time.”
“I know. The meeting ran long.” He hadn’t expected her to wake first. Her alert gaze threw him off-kilter.
“About the demons?”