“It's okay, you're doing a great job,” I reassured him. The feel of his hands against my skin was soothing… and extremely erotic. The familiar tendrils of desire began to swirl through my body and I could hear my own breathing grow quicker.
He finished up with the ointment and did up the bra, before pulling the t-shirt back down over my skin. I turned to face him and saw the look in his eyes when he returned my gaze. It was clear he was feeling the same heady desires as I did. “That was… interesting,” he said with a half-smile. And then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply, his cool hands resting on my hips as I snaked my arms up around his neck.
Too soon, he pushed me away a little and smiled down at me. “It's a while since I've had the opportunity to undo a bra,” he admitted.
“You apparently haven't lost the knack,” I responded, tamping down the surge of jealousy that rose at the thought.
“You have no idea… just how much more I would like to do with you,” he whispered huskily and his sweet aroma assaulted me, so close to my face. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply against my hair.
“I think I've got a pretty good idea,” I whispered back and kissed his cheek, holding him tightly against me. “They're probably the same ideas that cross my mind constantly.”
With a low growl, he pulled me into a close hug and I relished the scent of his skin against me. “I swear, love. I will never hurt you, as you have been hurt this past week. No matter what it takes, I'll keep you safe.”
He released me; catching my hand in his and leading me back through to the living room. We sat together on the couch, Lucas keeping my hand firmly clasped within his own.
“I can't believe how rapidly those claw marks are healing,” Acenith announced, eyeing the skin under my collarbone.
“Conal's ointment is making a huge difference,” I agreed.
“Jerome would very much like to discover what goes into that ointment,” Ben admitted. “Whatever it is, it has almost miraculous healing properties.”
“I guess he could analyze it,” I suggested.
Lucas shook his head. “You might be a sister of the Tremaine pack, but I doubt they'd be happy if we discovered what's in that ointment. I imagine they keep it a closely guarded secret.”
“I agree,” Thut announced. “Werewolves would not want us to know their business.” He was sitting on one of the couches with Amunet and the other two women who made up his small Kiss. Nephthys was the youngest physically of all the vampires – transformed at sixteen; she barely hit five feet tall. Her eyes were deep set and the color of turquoise, her chestnut hair hung straight to her shoulders. With skin the color of milk chocolate, she was a dazzling beauty. Preferring to be called Nellie, she was vivacious and funny, retaining a childlike innocence despite having been created more than eight hundred years before.
Tadinanefer sat beside Amunet, her legs crossed elegantly and showing off a great deal of stunning, coffee-colored skin beneath the short leather skirt she wore. Her rich brown eyes were heavily defined with black kohl and she wore her hair in a multitude of beaded plaits, which clicked as she turned her head from side to side. She preferred to be known as Jennifer in the modern age and was friendly and outgoing, and according to Acenith, an unrepentant flirt with any man who took notice of her. I imagined that would be a lot of men, as she was truly stunning.
“Did Armstrong hit you from the very beginning?” Jennifer asked quietly. She was appraising the yellowing bruises on my arm. It was clear she was curious, but worried about bringing up a subject I might not be comfortable with discussing.
“No, that came later. When he figured out I wasn't going to tell him what he wanted to know, he got angry. Initially he was pretending to be nice; he said if I told him about my ability, I could go home. But he got progressively angrier when I played dumb.”
“Did you know what he wanted from the beginning?” Ripley questioned. He was lounging on the other couch, an open book lying on his lap.
“I didn't. Not a clue,” I admitted. “I only guessed he was after my psychic ability. I was sure he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of kidnapping me for anything else, but I couldn't figure out why he would want it, or what he was going to do with it.”
“Conal said you were kept in that room we found you in, for most of the time,” Lucas added, squeezing my fingers.
A shiver rippled up my spine as I remembered that room. “It was freezing in there. Armstrong brought me upstairs when he wanted to talk to me. The first time, he had me brought up by that guy, Sebastian, the one who took me from here. I think that was the day after the wedding.” The image of what he'd done flashed through my mind and I shook my head, trying to block the image. It wasn't something I wanted to recall.
“What happened to that bastard?” Striker asked, his voice hard. “I wanted to kill him for what he did, but he wasn't at the compound.”
“Armstrong killed him. He'd been assuring me I wouldn't be harmed and I told him what Sebastian did. Armstrong called him into the room and ripped his throat out,” I explained. “I didn't understand at the time, but it was because of what he wanted from me. He didn't want me – touched in that way, because of what he was planning.”
There was silence for a few seconds and Lucas released his grip on my hand, pulling me into his arms for a reassuring hug. “You were very brave, Charlotte. Amazingly resilient. Conal told us you refused to give Armstrong what he wanted, no matter what he did to you.”
“I didn't understand initially, what he had planned to do. It was only when Conal was thrown into the room with me – he'd figured out what Armstrong was after. That he wanted to use my genetic makeup to try and create an army of shape shifters. Shape shifters who could summons spirits to do his bidding.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I knew he couldn't be given the information he wanted, it was too dangerous.”
“How much did Armstrong know?” Thut asked.
“I don't think he knew much.” I thought back over my conversations with the shifter. “He said he'd found out about me from one of those vampires who came here looking for Ambrose – they heard me talking to my Mom, but couldn't work out where she was, why she wasn't in the house when I took off into town. Armstrong had put two and two together, realized I had some sort of ability, but he sent Gerard DuBonet here to find out what it was. I guess he read something from me through physical contact, because he shook my hand on the morning of the wedding. But… he couldn't see exactly what it was; Armstrong told me that it was because I had it shielded.”
Lucas and Ben exchanged a look. “We think when you put the spirits in that mental box of yours, it's actually a shielding ability you have,” Lucas explained. “You seem to have the power to keep other people out of areas of your mind that you wish to keep private.”
“He got increasingly frustrated because I wasn't telling him anything about how it works. I wouldn't admit to him that I had the ability, because I figured he didn't know what he was looking for. And I was certain he didn't want to access it for any positive reasons.”
“And he told you we were all dead?” Acenith asked.
Remembering the shock and numbness I'd felt when Armstrong told me everyone I cared for was dead, was still intensely painful. “He did. He told me his men had come back after they'd taken me and killed all of you, all of the wedding guests.”
“But you didn't believe him?” Striker questioned. He was beside Marianne, his arm intertwined through hers.
“Initially, I was devastated. But after I'd had a little time to think about it, I decided what he'd told me was impossible.”
“Why's that, Lottie?” William was sitting on the floor in front of Gwynn, his long legs crossed casually at the ankles.
I thought about his question before answering. “I guess, because I know that you're so strong. I counted in my head, figuring out rough numbers of how many men Sebastian had with him. Logic dictated that his fifteen men, even if they were shape shifters, couldn't possibly take
on fifteen vampires, seven shape shifters and two hundred odd wedding guests. Somebody had to have survived.”
“Good thinking, my Charlotte,” Lucas kissed my cheek. “I'm so very proud of you.”
“So Conal was brought in because you wouldn't give up the information?” Ben questioned gently.
“Conal has a unique ability of his own,” I said, trembling a little at the memory. “He probed my mind, I don't understand how it works, but he could put his hand on my temples and I felt his fingers, as though they were really inside my head.”
“Conal felt dreadful about what he had to do, he told me it's an intensely painful procedure and he worried about what it would do to you,” Ben responded quietly.
I nodded. “It was awful. It literally felt as if his fingers – were probing inside my brain. He got into my box straight away, the first time he did it. But he didn't let on to Armstrong that he'd broken through my defenses. It cost him dearly; Armstrong beat him up, and then threw him in with me.”
“He said he probed you a second time,” Lucas added quietly.
“He didn't have any choice. Armstrong was determined to get what he wanted and Conal told him he'd broken through one defense, but I had another one in place and he couldn't see what my ability was. It was a lie of course, Conal said it to buy time, but it meant he had to probe my mind again.”
“Did you consider using the spirits, to see if they would help you get out of there?” Gwynn asked.
“The thought crossed my mind, but I couldn't let Armstrong know about them. Once he'd confirmed what he thought I could do, he would have gone ahead with his plan to produce his psychic shape shifters. If I'd opened my mind to the spirits, tried to escape and failed, he would have known exactly what he had. It seemed smarter to keep the spirits shut away, try to find some other way of escaping.” I found myself shaking; reliving the memories of the past week was taking its toll.
“Pretty gutsy, Lott, for a human girl,” Striker remarked smugly. “I'm proud of you, kiddo.” He winked at me, his eyes gleaming with pride.
“And I am impressed,” Thut said in his heavily accented English. “I was very surprised by what Lucas revealed after your kidnapping. You have indeed been gifted with a powerful psychic ability.”
I cringed inwardly. “I'm not likely to be kidnapped by you guys in the near future, am I?”
Thut threw his head back and laughed uproariously. “You are indeed an amazing human, Charlotte.” His humor disappeared and he gazed at me solemnly, his almost-black eyes serious. “We will protect your secret. We are… how you say… allies with the Tine Kiss. However, I would like the opportunity to experience your abilities, if you would agree.”
I nodded thoughtfully. Safety was now high on my list of concerns but Lucas had reassured me of Thut's loyalty and I believed him. “I think I might have thought of some ways to keep myself safe, ways I can use my… gift.”
“What sort of ways?” Lucas questioned.
I glanced towards the windows, where the darkness was impenetrable. “Let's wait until tomorrow and I'll show you,” I suggested with a tight smile.
Chapter 16: Complications of Love
When I woke the following morning, I was in far too much pain to do anything, my plans to show everyone my strategy delayed until I recovered. Every square inch of skin ached and I spent more time in bed than out of it, under express orders from Jerome, who'd been called to visit and confined me to bed until further notice with a gruff order and threats about what he'd do to me if I didn't follow those orders.
Lucas spent hours with me, content to lay by my side while I slept, or quietly talking with me during my waking hours. For a girl who'd struggled with insomnia for so long, sleep was now a constant companion as I recovered from the traumas of recent times. Jerome was concerned about my constant exhaustion and thought I might be suffering from mild anemia after losing so much blood. Rowena was given instructions on the iron-rich foods I was to consume at mealtimes and Jerome provided iron supplements along with protein and calcium-rich shakes, which were delivered on a regular basis.
Usually when I woke, Lucas was beside me, his fingers twisting softly through my hair, so it was a surprise when I opened my eyes to find him gone and Acenith in his place one afternoon. She was leaning against the headboard, and smiled warmly.
“Lucas has gone to feed.”
“It's about time,” I announced, rubbing my eyes. “I've been trying to convince him to go since yesterday.”
“He can be very stubborn. Men are all the same.” There was an edge of annoyance in her voice, unusual for the usually peaceful Acenith.
I edged up in bed slowly, allowing bruised muscles plenty of warning before I settled gently against the pillows Acenith had plumped. “Wanna talk about it?”
She sighed heavily, her gaze flickering towards the window. “Ripley is an ass.”
I raised my eyebrows, taken aback by her abrupt admission. Since moving into Lucas's home, I'd sensed the dynamics between Ripley and Acenith, long before I'd spoken to Ripley's mother. Ripley treated Acenith as if she were his younger sister. While his attention was caring and loving, it was strictly platonic between them, at least, from his point of view. Watching Acenith quietly from the sidelines, those stunning green eyes told a completely different story. “Are you in love with him?” I questioned.
She turned back towards me, her eyes wide. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not to everyone,” I hurried to reassure her. “But I've seen how you look at him, when you think no one is watching.”
Acenith slumped – unusual for a vampire, they just weren't the slumping types and normally sat with excellent posture – but there was no other word for it. She looked so utterly defeated, sadness visible in her green eyes as she clasped her hands in her lap. “Do you think he's noticed?”
“No, I don't think so. I've never seen any sign of it,” I reassured her. Then I had a thought. “But can't he read your mind?”
Acenith swore, suddenly and viciously, in her native French. I couldn't understand the words, but they were definitely in a foreign language and definitely sounded like cussing. It was so unlike Acenith that I ended up staring at her, at a loss.
She inhaled deeply and slumped even further into the pillows. “It is true, I have loved that man for three hundred and fifty years, but no more. I will not allow myself to continue wanting him, when he so obviously doesn't want me.”
“You can't stop yourself from loving someone, even if you want to. We can't help how we feel, Acenith,” I said carefully.
She lowered her gaze, pressing her hands together in tight fists. “For someone so young, you are so very smart,” she admitted with a sigh.
I brushed my fingers over her hand and she released the fierce grip she had on her clasped fingers, to wrap one of her hands around mine. “What has happened, to make you so angry today?” I questioned softly. I wasn't sure what to do with this angry and fragile Acenith, but I wanted to try and help her. She was my friend and I loved her.
“Ripley has taken Jennifer down to the stables, to his little hideaway. I saw them together, earlier today. He was kissing her, and when he drew her into the stables, I knew he intended to make love to her. Whilst Jennifer is my friend, our friend…” Her usually American-sounding voice had a distinct French accent to it, as though she couldn't moderate her voice when she was so upset emotionally. “…she is a lover of men, vivacious and attractive. It is not her fault she wants Ripley, it is just what she does. It means nothing to her, nor to him.”
“You mean… it's just fun?” I was way out of my depth here and wondering how much help I could possibly be.
“Oui. The American term is 'friends with benefits'. They see each other occasionally; they make love. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Have you ever told Ripley how you feel about him?”
For a long time she remained silent, and I was certain she wasn't going to answer, but then she spoke. “Yes, I have told R
ipley,” she confirmed with a heavy sigh. “But he considers me off-limits.”
“Why?”
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound, with no happy emotion behind it. “You know Ripley created me?”
I nodded, rubbing my thumb across the back of her hand.
She sighed, turning her focus back towards the window before she began to speak again. “When I was human, living in Montsegur, I was a healer amongst the villagers. I was practiced in the use of herbs for medicinal purposes and of course in those times, that was all the medicine we had. Whilst many used the barbaric practice of bloodletting to treat patients, I was using my herbs to treat people with fevers or other maladies such as infected wounds, with some success. I was also the village midwife and my potions helped the women with the difficulties of delivering their babies.” She frowned, her pretty features showing distress she'd held close for centuries. “Whilst I was fortunate enough to help heal some people, others succumbed to their injuries. Some of the babies died during childbirth, it was an era in which things could go wrong, swiftly, and we knew nothing of the mechanics of helping to deliver the child, outside of receiving it when the mère pushed it out. The villagers were suspicious of what I did and some of them believed I was practicing witchcraft. When people I tried to help died, the rumors began to spread and our local priest, Father Jaquille, was one of the most vocal.”
“I imagine in the seventeenth century, that was a bad thing.” I knew it was a time when the witch trials had been at their peak - our own persecution of supposed witches in Salem, Massachusetts had been nothing compared to what happened in some countries in Europe.
She nodded, squeezing my fingers gently. “My sister Marguerite was very pious, devoted to God and the Church. When Father Jaquille made his suspicions known to Marguerite, she prayed for me, every single day.” Her voice grew softer as her eyes grew more distant and I was certain she was seeing the images from a time so far in the past. “Marguerite was easily swayed by the Father and his accusations; she was so very young and a true believer. When Father Jaquille swore to her he'd seen me practicing witchcraft and that my eyes had burned red, Marguerite thought her only choice was to turn me over to the authorities, to help save my soul from eternal damnation.”
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