4 - We Are Gathered

by Jackie Ivie

  “She won’t say. I think it’s tied to her neck.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my neck!”

  Rori put too much emphasis on it and that made her throat hurt. She moved her hand to her neck to prove it, and came away with blood tipped fingers.

  “Oh my.”

  “Exactly,” Naomi finished. “Now do you believe me?”

  Rori stood, waved away the mist that seemed to surround her feet, and stumbled into the bathroom to look. Things were worse in there. The mirror looked like one from an old hostel she’d stayed at once, where it was so old the finish had rubbed off, making it difficult to make anything out clearly. Only this one was worse. There was a murky image projecting back at her, but even if she squinted, it wasn’t recognizable. Nor could she make out anything on her neck, despite craning. And everything just made the throb in her head worse.

  “Do we have aspirin?”

  The water spigots were still there. As were the paper cups. Normal things, in the normal place, but if she chanced to glance at the mirror, nothing more than indistinct blobs could be made out. All of which made this surreal and abnormal.

  “Can I move now?”

  Elizabeth called it from back in the bedroom. Rori put one hand on the basin, and flipped with her fingers toward the voice.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” Nothing she was willing to discuss, anyway.

  “Then what punctured your neck? A vampire?”

  “Twigs in the forest. I ran into a tree.”

  “Looks…infected already. Really sore. Maybe we should see a doctor. Or at least, get a gauze pad.”

  She filled the cup, gulped it down, and then took another. And another. All the while ignoring how it felt like hot sauce was shooting down her throat.

  “Can you like work this magic on Professor Nall? I’d give anything to see him shut off like right in the middle of a sentence.”

  Elizabeth was too damn cheerful. Naomi wasn’t any help, and Rori had to give up. The water was so fire-filled her eyes watered. With her luck, they’d think she was crying. She splashed water next, and then a towel rub, and they were still debating her powers and her wound. And that wasn’t acceptable. She didn’t want to be the center of attention. She was at the fringes of any crowd because she liked it there.

  A quick band and her hair was in a tail, another search of her drawers netted a light blue scarf. Another search got her sunglasses that would look odd, but she didn’t think she could handle light without them. And then she walked to the door, pushed outward into the air, and got a half-hearted opening. Great. If she’d had powers they were fading. She felt like she was fading, along with them.

  She didn’t make Professor Nall’s class. She could barely drag herself back home after the first one.

  o0o

  “Hi. Is Rori ready?”

  Rori’s eyes popped open the moment the door opened. By the time Tristan had finished his greeting she was on her feet and in the doorway to their main room, in a frenzy of motion that had her black dress tossed aside, a slinkier one zippered on in replacement, and she’d even donned evening sandals.

  “Who are you?”

  “And wow. Look at you. Right on our doorstep. Can you believe it?”

  The first was Naomi. The second, Elizabeth, and she was gushing.

  “She didn’t tell you ladies?”

  “Tristan.”

  Rori said it for him, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d already seen her. Nothing about him had changed. Dark, smoldering, sexy male looked across the small space at her, creating a tunnel effect with his locked gaze. Everything in the room blurred, including her roommates, and every moment seemed to heighten and elongate the experience. It was akin to downing an energy drink but a thousand times more potent. She could actually feel her hair rising with the electric sensation.

  Naomi and Elizabeth were still mouthing words, as if they made sense, and Tristan was answering, but he wasn’t looking at anything other than Rori.

  “She didn’t tell you about me? How…odd. I usually make a better impression.”

  He still had the devastating smile. It worked. Rori felt alive and aglow, like a shaft of pure light permeated her right to her soul, just to be on the receiving end of it. Her roommates sounded like they might be giggling, and maybe if she concentrated on something other than Tristan, she’d hear it.

  “Am I a real vampire? So…she did tell you of me.”

  The smile reached his eyes, making something go all soft and weak just below her heart. Rori put both hands there to make it stop.

  “Her last boyfriend was one, too? You wound me, ladies. Truly.”

  He licked his lips, sending a flick of tongue over elongating canines, and Rori rocked in place as it hit her. Tristan might actually be real. He was nothing like Eric. That guy had paid to have his teeth elongated and then filed, and then he played with being dark and sexy with his fangs. She’d bought every bit of it. But not now. In comparison.

  “What? Before dawn, of course. Don’t wait up. Rori?”

  She was at his side without making one step, and didn’t worry over how. It was enough to feel the forces radiating outward from him, filling her, strengthening her, granting her power back. Rori lifted her hand and pushed toward the door, and knew it flew open without even looking.

  “Gently, Love.”

  His whisper touched her, making the wound on her neck tingle. Rori tipped her head sideways to keep the locked gaze through her lashes. Gently? She didn’t want gently! She felt primed to sprint a marathon, climb a mountain, and swim a lake. In tandem. She took his hand, got another jolt the moment his fingers wrapped about hers, and returned the smile, and then looked out the door. A cab waited in the street below them, his lights glinting off raindrops.

  “A taxi?”

  “It seemed best.”

  “Why?”

  “I wouldn’t want to tire over the trip.”

  “Right.”

  She had to look away or something worse might happen. She could drown in the black of his eyes, felt faint at the light-headedness led by a buzz in her ears, almost as if her blood was thinning and racing through her veins…calling to him. Rori swallowed on the thought, because just maybe, that was exactly what was happening. It terrified and yet excited her, and knowing him, he’s probably already read her thought. The slight huff of groan he made verified it. The next moment saw her down the stairs, ensconced in the back seat, and held very close against Tristan and she couldn’t remember taking one step to get there.

  “Your roommates are very curious. Very interested.”

  “Of course they are. You’re very noticeable.”

  “You think so?”

  “You angling for compliments?

  “No. I mean…I don’t think so.”

  He looked as confused as he sounded. Rori edged away slightly, setting her tailbone against a seatbelt connector. She needed the space, but it didn’t work. Everything on her felt like it itched. Annoyed. Demanded.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The station.”

  “What station?”

  “MTBA.”

  “You’re taking me to the train station for a date?”

  His lips quirked up on one side, hiding the smile. Or maybe he was hiding those fangs. Either way, it made her heart skip a beat. Or maybe it was just being in proximity to him.

  “What is so amusing?”

  “Later.”

  Rori sighed. “That again? Well, let me tell you, ‘later’ better not include a round of moshing with some creepy vampire types, or another interrogation by your boss. Ok?”

  As if she’d commanded it, he huffed, moving about to fetch his little cell thing. She watched him put it to his far ear and turn from her, almost whispering the words.

  “Yes? Not tonight. Nigel has the codes. Thank you, but no. Very funny. Off.”

  He did some more shifting about putting it back into a pocket somewhere and then l
ooked back at her.

  “Problems?”

  “Nothing I need address now.”

  “Are you always on call?”

  “Not tonight. You heard me.”

  They arrived at the train station. It was crowded. One good thing about crowds: it was easy to be invisible…unless one was being accompanied by a man as amazingly handsome and tall as Tristan. Rori stood looking up at the front of the building while Tristan paid the fare. He was garnishing what was probably his share of looks, while she got the snub. Nothing strange about that, but the jealous glares were completely abnormal. So she flicked a finger at one of the lights on their billboard and watched it burst with a shower of sparks that starting moving from one to the other, knocking them all out. Everyone about them looked up, and the next moment she was wrapped in Tristan’s cloak and unable to see anything but him.

  “Good diversion. Now, hold to me.”

  Rori snuggled into the space below his chin, melding as close as she could to material-covered muscle and really amazing abs. He didn’t have to ask. She didn’t want to move anywhere. The sense of belonging was too vast and totally visceral. And he wanted her. How had that happened? She was in his arms, with her mouth wide to devour the sensation. Tristan Navarre Invaris. Knight. The guy was gorgeous. Built. Sensual. Delicious-smelling. Her world had certainly changed.

  Or, maybe not.

  They landed lightly on a stone floor in a replay of last night. Rori looked down at it in disgust.

  “What?”

  “You brought me back to your version of Tirgoviste Castle?”

  “Did you wish that?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Then no. This is not Tirgoviste Number Two.”

  He opened his cape, allowing her to move away. She took a second or two longer than she needed to, but he was just so stirring! So moving! So—

  “Later.”

  He whispered it into the space above her head, his voice full of laughter. Rori’s immediate reply was to clap and watch the torches all flare brightly about them.

  “You are learning your powers. You are even better than I was prepared to believe.”

  “By whom?”

  “Uh…later.”

  “You know Tristan, with you holding all the answers and refusing to part with them is really going to make this a long, frustrating night.”

  “Frustrating?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. Totally.”

  Rori reached toward him and ran her fingernail up the button placket of his shirt, watching each one pop off. She didn’t just hear him gulp, she felt it as her fingertips reached the bottom of his neck. Another touch parted the silk fully, giving her a perfect view of exactly what she’d felt every time she’d touched him. The guy was better than muscled. He was ripped. Completely and totally. Beyond anything she’d ever seen. Even more than the guy in the poster in their room.

  “Poenari. We’re at Poenari Castle.” He choked on the name.

  “You had this one re-made, too? Amazing. Let’s see…that’s thirty feet by one-eighty. Right?” Rori counted off steps to the width of the hall. It measured pretty close to thirty. A spin brought her right back to where Tristan stood, shirt gapped to display perfect male, while what looked like goose-bumps flew his skin. “You really have a fixation with Vlad Dracula, don’t you?”

  “You know your history?”

  “I’m majoring in the subject…with a few side trips into Theology.”

  “The…ology?”

  His voice split, but that was her fault. Those were little goose-bumps, and they seemed to move outward from wherever she put her fingers. It was addicting. The more she traced the bumps of his abdomen, the harder and tighter his nipples got. That just made hers a match. She probably should’ve donned a bra, and the moment she thought it, she watched his eyes widen. She’d been off a little. They weren’t completely black. There was the warmest dark brown around the edges of completely captivating and stunning eyes. She watched as he shut them, shuddered beneath her touch, and was still watching when he looked back at her, and then licked his lips.

  “It really fascinates me how much cause and effect religion has had on the world. Over time. Vlad Dracula wasn’t a real vampire. You know that, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “So, why recreate his castles?”

  “I knew him.”

  “You met Vlad Dracula?”

  “Well…no. I didn’t meet him. Gaining his attention was a dangerous thing. But I attended more than one of his impaling sessions.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Blood.”

  Rori made a face. “Oh.”

  A strange buzz permeated the air. He grabbed for his pocket, moving muscle all over his bared chest. Her tongue flicked out to her lip over it. And then she reached and stopped his hand before he reached the pocket.

  “I should get that.”

  “You’re off tonight. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “It’s not work.”

  “No?”

  “He’s offering advice.”

  “Advice?”

  Rori pulled back and studied him until two spots of color appeared at the tops of his cheeks. Everything about him enthralled and fascinated and bewitched her. She cocked her head to one side and waited. He moved his eyes to some of the stone view above and behind her.

  “Yeah. Advice.”

  “On what? Me?”

  “No. Yes. Well…not specifically, but…yes. I mean, no.”

  He flicked a glance to her and returned to studying the wall, while everything flushed on him, even his torso. She knew. She watched it happen.

  “Okay. Let’s say it’s a maybe. What advice might he give you?”

  “Uh…I’m a knight.”

  “I already heard. Looks like you trained plenty hard and over a long time, too. That would explain all this…”

  Her fingers did the journey for her, showing what she didn’t put in words. It wouldn’t have mattered. He knew what she was referring to. His trousers weren’t hiding much of it. The whiff of air against her hand held a groan; a lengthy one she didn’t have any trouble deciphering.

  “You don’t understand. I’m a Knight…Hospitaler.”

  “You were a Crusader Knight? A Hospitaler? Okay. If my history is correct, they built and manned the Krak des Chevalier, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a truly stunning piece of architecture. The most beautiful castle in the world. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually seen it. Did you have a hand in its construction?”

  He nodded. And then he gulped. It had something to do with how she’d gone from touching him with just her fingertips, to roaming her entire hands all about his chest, and then lower belly, watching and enjoying every shiver, every gasp, and especially the size of his groin as it filled his fly to a straining level.

  “How old are you, Tristan?”

  “Uh…twenty-two.”

  “In real years.”

  “I can’t…recall. Seven hundred. No. Eight. And then sixty-three. Uh…”

  Rori moved closer, grazing her abdomen against him, and thoroughly enjoyed the jump he made back from her. And then she knew. Her movements stopped, her palms fully settled about his waist, while his words sunk in. Her eyes went wide as she stared up at him. Tristan wasn’t looking at her. He had his eyes scrunched shut, while every muscle on him seemed locked to a coil pitch.

  “Oh no. You didn’t make a vow of chastity, did you?”

  He nodded.

  “And…you still honor it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Truly?”

  “That life died with me.”

  Relief washed through her, sending warmth back to her fingers, and that made them even more ultra-sensitive to the flesh beneath them. The man was sending vibrations right to her very core, and they were getting answered with little lurches against him.

  “I…don’t understand the issue, then. Don’t yo
u want me?”

  It was stupid to ask when the answer was poking against her waist, but she wanted to see him acknowledge it. He pulled in a deep shuddering breath, licked his lips, which just put razor sharp fangs on display and looked down at her, enveloping her in a cavern of warm and wonder with just the touch of his exhaled breath. Rori’s mouth gapped open to let the slightest moan escape.

  “Yes.”

  “Well…what, then?”

  “I need your acquiescence.”

  “Surely you’re joking. You can’t tell?”

  His hands were around her waist, lifting her and holding her against him, so she could feel every shudder, every dip of his knees, each quivering breath. The response was immediate and harsh as her reaction ratchet to a truly primordial level. Her heart seemed to push into overdrive and every nerve ending wasn’t far behind.

  “Please?”

  “You’ve had seven hundred years to figure it out, Tristan. Surely, you can tell by now.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m a vampire. There is no desire without our mate.”

  “What?”

  “I needed my mate. You.”

  Hot breath touched her neck, followed by a scraping sensation, sending rockets of longing and desire to every portion of her. It almost overrode comprehension of what he’d just said, and then the light sucking motion obliterated every bit of conscience, as it sent her spirits right through the stone above her and into dark, endless sky.

  “Wait. We need to talk. This mate thing… Oh, Tristan.”

  Her back met the cool slick feel of tightly woven sheets, proving not only had he moved them to a structure resembling a bed, but he was perfectly adept at unfastening women’s clothing. All of which was a relief, and a worry at the same time.

  “Yes?”

  He was on his knees beside her, peeling the shirt off, moving more sculpted male than she could absorb. They were in a large enclosed bed, in what looked to be a stone-walled chamber, lit with his usual torchlight, and that just wasn’t fair. She wanted to see more. A lot more. He stopped his motion of yanking the shirt bottom from his beltline and looked over at her, and then started moving away.

  “Where…are you going?”

  “To get more light.”