by Dee Carney
A grimace creased Ross’s face. “And the reason you were not found in your suite last night, prima lux?”
“Now you go too far!”
The Lugh straightened. “I agree, captain. It is not your place to question the prima lux.”
But as your Lugh, it is mine.
“Papa!” Lia reeled back, unable to disguise the incredulousness from her voice.
When Lucas was discovered, guards were dispatched to your suite, Aurelia. You were not there. Why not?
My Lugh, I don’t understand why you would question me. Have I done something wrong?
You made no secret of how you felt about your marriage. I would be remiss if I did not ensure you had nothing to do with his demise. If for no other reason than to alleviate the questions others might raise.
“I could not sleep right away. I went for a walk, just outside the complex.”
“Without your guards, Aurelia?”
She struggled to find another appropriate response. So soon on the heels of her own assassination attempt, her father would not believe she would be so brazen as to venture unescorted outside of the protective walls of the complex.
“My Lugh,” Ross interrupted. “The assassin has been apprehended. We are working out now who he worked with.”
Jason studied his daughter. “Perhaps you should come with us. Let’s hear what this assassin has to say about his accomplices.”
So this was it. What others in the complex thought they knew. Because she could offer no alibi, because no one could account for her whereabouts, her own father suspected her of assisting with the plot against Lucas. In any other circumstances, it would be laughable. At least the assassin would not be able to name her as co-conspirator.
She followed Ross and her father out of the suite. The guardsmen at the door took up positions behind them. On their way to the holding cells at the rear of the complex, she mused over her good fortune.
Yes, she should have been horrified by Lucas’s death. In truth, she couldn’t find any sympathy for him. In their short time together, he’d inflicted so much physical and emotional damage on her, that she hadn’t been scarred for life was just short of a miracle.
Of course, this now meant she and Jericho had been given a sort of reprieve. Until her father found a replacement suitor, they could steal whatever time possible together.
The thought left her giddy.
She wrinkled her nose as they neared the holding area. If she ventured over here more than every five years or so, the estimate would be generous. The musk in the air stifled to the point she found it difficult to breathe. It seeped into her nostrils, closing down her airway. Lia coughed, doing her best to clear her screaming lungs.
She brought a hand to her face, covering her mouth and nose. It did little to help. A gloom settled on her and she shivered. Another effort to ward off the dank wretchedness hanging in the air like a cloud. The lighting dimmed, forcing her to squint in the corridor as they passed.
Ross stopped before a door along the way and pulled it open. The air from the room rushed toward the party and the distinct smell of fresh blood assaulted her.
The guard led the way into the room. Both he and the Lugh seemed untouched by the change in atmosphere, but Lia’s stomach turned. She walked further in, dreading she had to be here. She almost gave in to her impulse to turn and leave, but with a quick glance took in the sight of the bloodied man gasping for air against the wall.
And immediately recognized the scars across his abdomen.
Chapter Eleven
“Jericho! No!” She pushed past her father and Ross. The sound of her dress ripping echoed in the room as she fell to her knees before him. She took his face in her hands, scanning over him, horrified by the damage they inflicted. It was no wonder she barely recognized his face.
One of his eyes was purple and swollen shut. Dried blood plastered to the same side of his face. His already crooked nose bled openly, some of it dripping into his mouth. His bare chest was slick with sweat and more blood, various cuts and abrasions evidence to the torture inflicted there.
“Prima lux,” he sighed. The words sounded foreign on his thick tongue.
Gingerly, she brushed her lips across his. The sweet taste of blood brought tears to her eyes.
“What is the meaning of this, Aurelia?”
She ignored her father, turning to give Ross a lethal glare. “You know he’s no assassin.”
Ross’s gaze volleyed between her and the Lugh. “I know no such thing. Besides you, he is the only unaccounted for person for the time when Lucas Anders was assassinated. No one would have had time to make it outside of the complex. The assassin had to have been inside the complex long before the murders.”
Between clenched teeth, she said, “He’s no assassin because he was with me.”
Jericho shook his head, moaning. “No…”
“It’s okay, love,” she murmured while stroking his jaw. She used her fingers to wipe away some of the blood starting to drip there.
Daughter, you shame me.
“Papa, I will not apologize. Not in this matter.” Lia turned back to Ross. “Free him this instant.”
Beneath his gaze, the vampire watched as if toying with the prey he was about to eat. “We still do not have proof that either or both of you did not assist in the assassination of Lucas.”
“I was… by myself,” Jericho rasped. He tried to twist out of her hands, but she held firm.
She would not let him throw away his life for her. Especially not when she could save it. She kissed his lips again, then stood. “You want proof, captain?”
With a vice-like grip, she wrenched open the rip in her dress. Struggling, she did not stop pulling until the slit bared the bottoms of her panties. At last she spied the purple edge of what she sought. “There!” she said, pointing. “There is his mark. Given to me last night when we were together. A wedding present for my new husband from my lover.”
The bruise couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a lover’s ‘kiss.’ “We entered the complex together at sunrise. Unless Lucas was killed during the daylight, I swear to you, Jericho and I were together during the night.”
Her victory died a quick death when she looked into the faces of her father and the guard. The gleam in Ross’s eyes pointed to the truth. As she suspected, he really did not believe Jericho an assassin.
He did believe the Lugh would have the werewolf killed.
As if on cue, he roared, “Leave us!”
A smirk on his lips, Ross bowed. He turned on his heels and walked out, taking the other guardsmen with him. They shut the door behind them, leaving Lia to face her father’s wrath.
He paced the room, watching her out of the corners of his eyes. When he stopped, he took a deep breath. “Explain yourself. You know what this means. How dangerous this is. You know, Aurelia!”
She glanced toward Jericho who shook his head at her. The eye looking at her had blown blood vessels in it, the iris tinged with a ring of red. She imagined he had multiple opportunities to let Ross know where he’d been. Why he wasn’t the assassin. As stubborn as ever, he’d remained silent.
“I don’t know, papa. I don’t know why I am not permitted to love who I want.” Her hands shook as she addressed him. She resisted the urge to curl them into balls. To do anything to distract her from facing him head on for the first time in her life.
“Don’t make this about Lucas! You could have married any number of men. You did not want any of them.”
She took a shaky step toward him. “Don’t! You never gave me that option. I did what you asked of me. Always. But I am telling you this now, if I can have what I want, then know that I want him.”
“Have you? Y-you haven’t fed from him, have you?” Lia didn’t answer, but he read the answer in her narrowed eyes. The Lugh threw his head back, shaking it in frustration. “My foolish, foolish child.”
He walked to the door and pounded on it. “Captain!”
When Ross opened it a moment later, the guard stuck his head in, but turned his attention first to Jericho and then Lia. “My Lugh?”
“Bring me an adult male werewolf. I don’t care which one. Just bring it here.”
Ross nodded curtly before closing the door again. Lia watched the exchange, her confusion growing. Deciding the matter not worth her attention at the moment, she dropped beside Jericho.
He still panted as if desperate for air. That’s when she noticed the large purple bruise across his ribcage. She had only a rudimentary grasp of medicine, but she guessed he suffered from broken ribs. She knelt beside him again.
“What have they done to you?” she asked softly.
Jericho leaned forward, resting his head against her neck. She caressed him with a gentle touch, her heart breaking for him. If her father watched, she couldn’t afford to care. She had to work on how she would get Jericho out of this room and away from Ross. The vampire’s motivation for keeping them apart was anyone’s guess, but at the first opportunity she would repay him for his treachery a thousand-fold.
Jericho said something undistinguishable. She leaned closer, putting her ear next to his mouth.
“It’s not too late for you… tell them…” he whispered.
“Shush, now. Just hold on to me.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and she pulled him as tight as she dared. She matched her breathing to his, inhaling and exhaling with him. Wanting to absorb some of the pain from him. She felt calmer, at peace with him in that moment. As if they were alone in the room. The two of them against the world.
The sound of the door opening broke the tranquility. Lia lifted her head to watch Ross lead one of the house servants into the room. The poor man’s eyes were as big and round as dinner plates as he took in the sight of her on the floor with Jericho. He was probably a few years younger than Lia. His thin hair needed washing and his clothes were a little better than thread-bare, but otherwise, he seemed well cared for.
The Lugh walked to where they sat and stood over them, his hands resting on his hips. “There is a reason we do not feed from werewolves, Aurelia. A rule we don’t break for good reason.”
“What reason, papa? What reason could support the way vampires treat them? The fact they can never rise to positions of importance.”
He shook his head. “Daughter, we are not so unkind as a species to despise them without cause. The fact of the matter is, we don’t feed from them because their blood is detrimental to us as a civilization.”
She looked up at him, trying to see past a red wall of anger. He no longer seemed upset, but her ire was just getting started. “What? What does ‘detrimental to us as a civilization’ mean?”
He searched her eyes. “You really don’t know, do you? Gods… you couldn’t… I’m sorry I never told you myself. When we say their blood is tainted, it’s literal. In most, maybe all, their blood has something in it which makes it addictive.”
Her heart began to thunder in her chest. The implications of what he told her could change everything she believed. “Addictive, how?”
“So addictive that a vampire once waged a war on those who kept him from his werewolf mate. After hundreds of thousands of lives were lost in that war, when the true cause—the denial of his addiction—was discovered, feeding from werewolves became forbidden.”
She glanced at Jericho and could see the apprehension in his face. She fought down her own fear because didn’t want to believe him. Could not believe him. “Why did I not know this?”
“I can’t answer that, Aurelia. But I will prove it to you.” His eyes softened, as if he empathized with her plight. He reached his hand out, indicating the servant should be brought forward. Reluctant, the man shuffled forward after being prodded by Ross.
The Lugh took the servant’s arm, raising his hand to Lia. “Drink,” he instructed.
Jericho reached forward and knocked the arm aside. He turned until his good eye was to her. The blood seeping into it made him look like evil personified. “You don’t have to do this, Lia. You don’t have anything to prove to him or to me.”
“But…”
“Don’t doubt us, Lia.”
*
The smile she gave him pumped new life into his heart. She cocked her head, the grin almost as lopsided. “And it’s because I don’t doubt us that I have to do this. To prove him wrong.”
She swallowed hard before she released him. When she stood, she turned to the servant. Jericho’s heart pounded, but he watched when she approached the other werewolf, her smile comforting and warm. And he loved her then. Loved her with all that he was.
“Thank you,” she said to the man who still looked ready to bolt. “I’ll make this as brief as I can. Would it be alright if I feed from you?”
Trust her to ask first. Her father ordered the frightened man into the situation, but she made it seem as if he had a choice.
Jericho pushed against the wall, forcing himself to stand. Lia started to his side, but he raised a hand to stop her. He wasn’t done yet. She needed to finish what her father wanted so they could move forward. The proverbial cat was out of the bag. No telling what each of the next few minutes would bring.
Ross prodded the werewolf again. The thin servant took a few reluctant steps forward in Lia’s direction. He raised his hand of his own volition when she reached for him. She gave the servant another reassuring smile before glancing at her father.
Her beautiful blue eyes looked at Jericho when she bit into the man’s wrist.
Jericho watched her, mesmerized and disbelieving. He couldn’t believe it. Would not believe what existed between them could be explained away by something he carried in his blood. Something that made him chemically irresistible to vampires. To her.
He held his breath as he watched, his pulse slowing in time. She pulled once—twice—three times from his wrist, never dropping her gaze. By the time she finally pulled away, licking the wound closed, his pulse slowed to barely a crawl.
She took a step forward with a smile on her face. “It’s not true,” she whispered, her face a palate of disbelief. “Nothing happened! An old wives’ tale perhaps…”
Jubilance wiped away as her eyebrows furrowed. Lia swayed where she stood, and he cursed under his breath, certain his pulse had come to a dead stop. She appeared to struggle to keep her eyes on him, as if something within her fought a hypnotic lull.
When she stumbled, he rushed to her side, catching her before she crumpled to the ground. Pain shot through his abdomen like lightning at the sudden rush of movement, but he didn’t have time to focus on it. Lowering her to the concrete floor felt as if someone ground glass into his chest and side. He gritted his teeth through the pain, his attention riveted to her frightening pallor.
“Lia?” He wiped a trace of red staining the corner of her mouth. “Talk to me, love. What’s wrong?”
“B-bad bl-blood.”
When he glanced up, the young werewolf was backing away, his face as ashen as hers. Wide eyes kept cutting between Ross and the prima lux, the looks pleading and confused.
Jericho’s wolf growled low and ominous within him. “What have you done?” he barked.
“He said to drink it,” the young werewolf whined.
“Who? Who said to drink what?”
Ross cut in. “My Lugh, the healers…”
Jericho ignored him. “Who?” If he wasn’t holding Lia in his arms, he would have crossed the room to throttle the words from the werewolf.
“Aurelia?” Jericho peered over his shoulder long enough to see fear shadowing the Lugh’s face as he watched his daughter fading. The older man turned to Ross and yelled, “Detain that wolf, now!”
Lia’s father looked down on Jericho. “I’m getting my healers. Don’t… I’ll be right back.” His voice softer, he said to her, “Hold on, Aurelia. Hold on.”
At the same time Ross scruffed the werewolf, the Lugh dematerialized. He heard the men scuffling near the doorway, but Jericho f
ixed his attention on Lia. He knew Ross would have the man thrown into one of the adjacent cells.
If she died, the five-inch thick walls wouldn’t be haven enough to keep Jericho out.
He prayed under his breath. Pleaded with the gods to show him how to fix this. Her ragged breathing was some small measure of comfort, but he didn’t know how long she would fight against the poison in her system. Surely, it was some sort of poison the werewolf drank before she fed from him. Time moved at a glacial pace and he prayed again that the Lugh would arrive with his healers in time.
Her lips trembled as she said something. Too soft for even his sensitive hearing, he leaned closer.
“I… loved you,” she gasped out.
His throat dried up and he blinked back stinging in his eyes. She had to fight.
Jericho swept his mouth over her warm forehead. “Stay with me, Lia. Just a minute more, stay with me!”
He faltered when a series of percussions rocked the walls surrounding them.
Gods… no, no, no!
He recognized the devastating impact. Years in the Lugh’s service oriented him all too well to the effects of well-placed explosions. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. It just couldn’t be happening.
When another ripple forced him to cover her as best he could with his body, he heard the soft wheeze of her breath escape. The walls shook around them, dust clouds forming in the air.
He pulled away to glance at her again. Lia’s eyelids were closed, her breathing slowing. A new pain seized him in his chest as he watched the life slowly seep out of her.
Around them, the walls vibrated from another blast.
“Lia?” He shook her when she didn’t respond.
Please—oh gods, please…
A final blast sounded from overhead. Jericho had just enough time to look up at the section of ceiling as it fell toward them before he covered her with his body.
Gods…