“Lord and Lady Glennington aren’t vampires, according to Cecilia. It sounded almost as if they had her under some sort of control. They wanted money so they sold the amulet.” Savina went on to explain what she’d learned from Cecilia.
“There’s still the question of why I couldn’t sense her undeadness,” Max said with a frown. “She gave no hint about that?”
“No. But I wasn’t exactly trying to have a conversation with her—I was trying to keep from being bitten.”
Liam gave a short laugh. “My Aunt Evaline used to say that sort of thing to Auntie Mina, when Mina would complain that she didn’t get enough information before she staked a vampire.”
“It’s a fine line,” Max replied gravely. “Between that of information gathering and slaying. And I’m not certain I even want to know how you figured it out that Cecilia was an undead, Stoker.”
“It struck me after Savina left that I actually hadn’t shaken the hand of Aunt Cecilia. She’d sort of patted me on the arm when we were introduced, and I thought nothing of it. After she was—er—sick in the hall, I was inspired to utilize a new measuring device just to make certain, and—”
Max held up a hand. “That’s all I need to know. Now we’d best decide how to handle the disappearance of Great-Aunt Cecilia without giving away our true identities. And get the hell out of here.”
He looked meaningfully at Savina, who lifted her chin and turned haughtily away… though her cheeks flushed an unusually dark shade of pink.
Let the groveling commence.
NINE
~ Promise ~
“THIS IS A MUCH different holiday than the one I spent last year,” Savina commented.
It was very late that night, approaching midnight and the dawn of Christmas Day. She and Max were walking through a tiny, nameless village many miles from Knotwood Abbey. The houses and their residents were tucked away for the night and everything was still. Among the wisps of gray clouds, the moon glowed high and the stars shone bright—especially the one in the north. The Christmas star.
“For me as well,” he replied. “We… I… we have a lot to talk about, I think.”
She held his solid arm as they crunched through the thin layer of snow, thinking about how things had changed so radically in only a few hours. And yet, how uncertain was her future.
The three of them had decided to believe Cecilia that the amulet wasn’t at Knotwood Abbey, for the old woman had had no reason to lie, and her disgust with the situation had been genuine. The residual chill had left the back of Max’s neck, and he felt confident that the only undead creature who’d been on the property was now the pile of dust that once was Cecilia.
Now that the work had been done, none of them felt any reason to stay—and once the Glenningtons realized Aunt Cecilia was not only missing, but had been reduced to undead ash, that could compromise Max’s disguise as well as Savina’s cover. They didn’t want to risk any further exposure.
So they simply packed up their trunks and drove away in the night. Any guilt Savina might have felt about leaving Lady Glennington in the lurch—both with the amorous activities she’d planned with Max, or the excitement over her Christmas photography story—disappeared when she reminded herself that the lord and lady of Knotwood Abbey were Tutela members, had harbored a vampiress, and sold Rasputin’s amulet. It was better if none of them stuck around. Who knew how many other vampires or Tutela houseguests might be arriving for the holiday.
She and Max had parted ways with Liam later in the day. He’d taken his demotion to ex-husband of a celebrity photographer with humor and grace and seemed much more enthusiastic about returning to the Consilium in Rome to refine his vampire-sensing device than staying with Savina—at least now that Max was back in the picture.
She gave Liam a hug and accepted a kiss on her cheek. “Safe travels. How long will it take to get to London in this weather, do you think?”
“I’m thinking of a detour home first, to see my mother for Christmas. She was verra displeased I was going to be gone again this year, and Edinburgh isna far.” Apparently, even the thought of returning to Scotland made Liam’s burr become more pronounced. “Ye certain ye don’t want to come with me, lass?”
Savina smiled and shook her head. “Thank you. I’ve got other things to settle here.”
Liam nodded in understanding and drove off. Shortly after, Max disappeared for a while to send telegrams and, Savina suspected, to meet privately with Wayren. How Wayren, the mysterious woman who dressed like a medieval chatelaine, always knew where to find him, Savina didn’t know. She supposed when one was the Summas Gardella, as Max was—or would be, if he’d cease from going off on his own to brood (or hide)—one could contact Wayren as needed.
Savina had only met Wayren once, and the woman, though the epitome of grace and peacefulness, was nevertheless intimidating and unsettling.
Now, after what seemed like forever, she and Max were alone. If there weren’t such a divide between them—a two-year divide—Savina would be joyful and filled with contentment. After all, it was Christmas. And she was with Max, and he’d kissed her as if he were dying, back at Knotwood Abbey. There was no question how he felt about her: she’d seen the horror and fear in his eyes when he came upon her and Cecilia, felt the emotion shuddering through him as he held her. She’d melted at the intensity in his kiss, and it had taken every bit of control for her to act remote and calm after Liam interrupted them.
Big, fat flakes were just beginning to fall, and the air was crisp and cold, and she was with the man she loved.
But there was just so much… so much to contend with. And so when he said they had much to talk about, Savina didn’t really know where to begin. So she prevaricated. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” he replied. “I thought you wanted me to grovel.” His attempt at humor fell flat for both of them, and Savina felt his arm tighten beneath her grip.
“I don’t think groveling is going to help,” she said on a long out-breath. “It was a long two years, Max.”
“For me too, Savina. You might not believe it, but it was. And it was senseless.” He stopped, which forced her to halt as well.
“Was it?” She turned her face up at him, and her heart squeezed and thumped as she looked at his dear, familiar, handsome face. Dark from pain and tight with determination, punctuated by slashing brows and delicious lips, intense black eyes and a square jaw. The very sight of him—now clean-shaven and back to the Max she knew—made her warm with love.
But.
“Yes. Utterly senseless,” he said.
She slipped her hand from his arm and began walking again. Every part of her wanted him—but there were too many questions. Too much hurt.
“There was a night back in February,” he said, crunching along next to her. “It was like this, but wet. Freezing cold, and bloody wet. I was in London, living as Melke, and I was standing at the window of my room wondering what the hell I’d done—to you, to me, to Macey. And I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. And so… I just went on. It was… easier. Yet… I despised myself.”
Savina realized they were at the door of a small church. Its doors were open, and a soft golden glow spilled onto the snow—the only sign of life in the entire village.
Perhaps here was the place to say what she needed to say. What would have to be wrung from deep inside her: truth and decision.
She stopped in the glow and faced him once more. “I still love you, Max.”
His face, which had been taut and harsh, as if braced for the worst, shifted and he gave something like a quiet shudder. His eyes closed, then opened. “I thought maybe—”
She shook her head, stopping him. “I love you, but I can’t go through this again. I’m not willing to go through this again.”
He didn’t seem able to move his eyes from hers. “What are you saying?”
She could fairly feel the tension and fear emanating from him.
Fear?
From Max Denton?
/>
“What if you leave again? What if you decide again that you need to be alone, that you don’t want me around, that you—”
“I never didn’t want you around, Savina. Never.” His voice was tight and low. “It wasn’t that. It was—”
“Yes, I know. The fear that something would happen to me like it did with Felicia. The same thing you fear about Macey—which is why you’ve been a terrible father.” He winced when she said the words, but Savina had no reason to hold back. If he didn’t understand this, if he didn’t take responsibility for his actions, then they could never be together.
“I don’t deny that I’ve been… lacking in that way.”
“Even the letters you’ve written her—have you even sent them?”
His expression turned forbidding. “In a manner of speaking.”
Savina shook her head. Tears burned her eyes. Her heart squeezed. “Oh, Max, I understand your fear that something will happen to someone you care about, because, dammit, I lived with it, fearing for you, every day we were together, every time you would leave to go out at night to hunt for the undead… and for every damned day of the two years you were gone. You aren’t the only one to care about someone and to fear their loss.”
“I don’t just bloody damned care about you—I love you.”
That stunned her. He’d never said those words before. Never in the year and a half they were together.
But it wasn’t enough.
“When did you decide that you loved me?” she retorted, keeping her voice calm and soft. “Just now, when you realized it wasn’t going to be so damn easy to get back into my bed?”
“When I left. The day I left. I realized I didn’t want to be without you… ever. That I wasn’t certain I could go on if something happened to you. And so… I left. To prove to myself that I could.”
She could hardly keep from railing at him. “That is the most ridiculous, cowardly, absurd thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
Touched by the golden glow from the church, his face was miserable: dark, tight, shadowed. “I’m not proud of it. But it’s the truth. And after I left, I didn’t know how to come back. I thought after a while it’d be easier to do what I had to do alone… and I thought you’d move on.”
“I did move on, Max. I just didn’t know whether you left me voluntarily or not. That you didn’t contact me on purpose. But now I do.” She blinked hard and reached up to touch his face. Even now, it was warm beneath her cold, bare hand. “I love you, Max. I probably always will. But I’m not willing to take the chance of you leaving me again the minute you get scared. I can handle the dangers of your life, but I can’t—won’t—accept your choice to be a coward.”
She turned, but instead of walking back to the small inn where they had rooms, she went inside the church. It was straight and tiny, with no more than four or five rows of wooden benches. Candles of all sizes flickered and danced in their holders: red, white, gold, blue. They surrounded the dais, where the Nativity scene was arranged. A hint of scent—myrrh and frankinsence—hung in the air. The moon shone down through the small blue and white stained glass window, casting cool illumination beyond the circle of golden candlelight.
Everything was so damned blurry through her tears.
She loved him. She wanted to be with him. But she didn’t want to be destroyed.
It was self-preservation that kept her kneeling and hunched, there in the church, determined and stiff and agonized. Because if she turned back to Max… if he even touched her once more, she’d go with him. And she wouldn’t look back… until her heart was shattered again.
Max Denton might be the greatest vampire hunter living, he could be the most unselfish of men, sacrificing his life to protect others, the bravest, strongest, best person… but if he wasn’t capable of relationships or honesty with her, how could she be with him?
But, dammit, maybe Savina was selfish herself, for wanting even more from a man who gave so much. Who’d already given one love.
A warm, familiar hand came to rest on her shoulder. Damn. He was back. Her resolve was disintegrating rapidly. Am I expecting too much from a man who gives everything?
She rose, blinking tears, blind, sad—and yet desperate for him.
“Savina,” he said, taking her hands in his. His eyes were steady, dark, grave. “I love you.”
“I know that, Max—”
He kept talking, his voice firm and intense. “I can’t promise I won’t ever leave you again. There is so much out of my control, so much I can’t predict. But I can promise—and I do, here and now on this night… “ He sank onto one knee, still holding her with his eyes, lifting her cold hands to kiss them. “I promise you, Savina Eleiasa, that I will never run away from you. No matter how much I love you. No matter how much you mean to me. I’ll never run from you—from us—again.”
And that, Savina realized, as she pulled him to his feet and slid into his arms—as she found home, safety, comfort—that was enough for her, for now. For tonight.
For this Christmas.
EPILOGUE
~ Journey ~
Four months later—April 1926
The Consilium
Rome
“IT’S TRUE. ISCARIOT has the amulet.”
The words weren’t exactly what Max wanted to hear, but he wasn’t surprised. Evil attracted and gained evil, just as the divine attracted and gained good, and that’s how it would always be.
“And your source is solid?” he asked. “You’ve been able to confirm this?”
Paolo, the Keeper of the Consilium and Bellitano’s right-hand man, nodded. “There’s no doubt. The amulet was obtained months ago—likely not long after the photograph of Lady Glennington appeared in the Times. There was much talk about it among the undead in New York and Chicago. In fact, it was the cause of significant in-fighting between Iscariot and Count Alvisi.”
“Who’s your source?”
“Sebastian Vioget, of course. As well as Alphonsus, who actually has more information because he is infiltrating the Tutela there.”
Max frowned. Alphonsus. He wasn’t certain how much he trusted the bastard. He’d given the man a chance to prove himself, and now he’d have to see how it worked out.
“It seems Alvisi is dead, thanks to an altercation at a place in Chicago called The Blood Club,” continued Paolo. “But Iscariot is alive—so to speak—and well.”
“And he has the amulet.”
“Yes.”
Iscariot with the amulet was bad enough, but Iscariot with the amulet in Chicago, where Macey lived, was terrifying on many levels.
Max set his jaw grimly. “I’m going to America. Chicago, to be exact. I have a friend there, an Irish bloke I knew from the war. He’ll give me a place to stay.”
Even as he made the announcement, Max’s insides were in turmoil. It wasn’t the thought of facing Nicholas Iscariot—armed with the amulet or not—that made him weak-kneed and nauseated.
It was seeing his daughter again… .after fourteen years of silence.
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About the Author
COLLEEN GLEASON is an award-winning, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has written more than thirty novels in a variety of genres.
If you would like to read about how Max Denton and Savina Eleiasa met, check out the short novel Raging Dawn. If you would like to read more about the Gardella Vampire Hunters, begin with The Rest Falls Away, the first book in the series—offered free at most retailers. More about Max Denton’s daughter Macey can be found in the trilogy Roaring Midnight, Roaring Shadows and the forthcoming Roaring Dawn.
Find Colleen online at:
Website: http://www.colleengleason.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/colleen.gleason
Twitter: @colleengleason
Instagram: @colleengleason
TRISTAN’S ESCAPE
A Belador Novella
Dianna Love
Cop
yright © 2015 Dianna Love Snell
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Tristan’s Escape: Novella from the Belador urban fantasy world
Holidays stink when you’re alone, but the only woman Tristan ever cared for betrayed him years ago. Sucker that he is, Tristan teleports another Alterant to Atlanta in December so the guy can propose to his girlfriend, and walks straight into an ambush ...along with the woman Tristan vowed would pay for his five years of imprisonment. Now he has to choose between saving her and losing his freedom forever, but once he has her back in his arms, no one else is going to touch her.
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 13