by Gaja J. Kos
The same inclination had begun to grow inside her, in a way, almost proportionally to her power. The people that surrounded her, the people she loved... They were her friends in the deepest, most meaningful sense, yet there was a kind of detachment lurking between them.
With the pack, she had experienced what it meant to be connected—to understand every grievance, every ounce of joy without the need to explain. Because they had all felt it at one time or another.
But this… How could she share death with those who knew it only through the tips of their claws and the snapping of their teeth? Even Serafina, for all her magic, could only touch the flesh, but never the soul.
Seeing the way Veles had regarded her, Rose understood. She may not have wanted to admit it back then, but she had understood.
Two sides of the same coin. Different, yet connected.
Only the bond wasn’t as simple as he had made it out to be that day.
The god’s voice was a hoarse whisper as he said, “I suspected, for a moment, but I pushed the thought away quicker than it could fully form. What Mokoš said, finding a true consort… I never dared to believe it was anything but her own individual experience. And your energy was still so young, so fragile and tainted with my own…”
He fell quiet, gaze lingering on their entwined fingers.
“I should have known from the moment I offered you aid. I could have chosen any member of your pack to form our liaison… The reasoning that I reached out to you because you come from the bloodline of Mokoš seems so weak now.” The god smiled faintly. “Though the desire to bed you did play a large part in my decision.”
Even as she blinked past the promise of tears, Rose snickered. “You did try rather hard…”
A flicker of mischief sparked in his’ eyes as he met her gaze. “Oh, come now, wolfie. It didn’t take you long to experience just how hard I can be.”
“If we’re talking truths, then I guess I have to admit it was those pointed toothpicks of yours that sealed the deal.” She chuckled.
His jaw dropped, and he gave her a wounded look but failed to keep the corners of his lips from flicking upwards.
“You know you want to show them,” Rose teased, a grin of her own stretching across her face.
Her grin widened as his expression turned into a smile, that damned, self-assured, smoldering smile, flashing her those beautiful fangs.
“Knew you couldn’t resist.” She beamed, then jumped as the left strap of her tank top disintegrated. “Motherfucker.” She glared at him, but the god only chuckled.
The easiness of the sound and the intimacy succeeded in flushing her cheeks until they were burning with fire. Warmth spread from her core, the black jeans suddenly too tight against her skin.
The thought of burning them off was dangerously inviting.
A small part of her cursed herself for the reaction she had no control over, but it felt too good, too normal in the shitstorm her life had turned out to be not to enjoy the moment.
“I don’t know how long it will take me to forgive you,” she said, deciding to speak the truth, as difficult as it was. As much as her body was striving to make her forget. “But I’m willing to try, Veles.”
The subtle ache in her chest grew as his whole face brightened, even as faint traces of disbelief still shaped his features. Only this time, the ache was good.
And the warmth of the god’s hand in hers anchored the small hope that perhaps they would truly make it.
Through whatever the future threw their way. Together.
Rose scooted around the table, the god’s eyes following her every move. Ignoring the surprise written on the beautiful planes of his face and embedded in the flickering of olive embers, she nestled herself in his lap.
Golden light sizzled through her, reveling in the feel of the god’s body against hers as much as she was herself.
“So… Yes?” she asked him, a single corner of her lips quirking up.
The answer was already written in the details of his carved features, but she wanted to hear it. Wanted that smooth, seductive voice to caress her ears with the single word that meant everything.
“Yes,” the god breathed, angling his head to brush the tip of his nose against her neck. “Yes.”
Chapter 28
Evelin was cradling Til in her arms, watching Mark as he prepared dinner. The were had been mostly silent ever since she returned from Pia’s, the quiet of the house only made worse by Rafael’s absence.
“It’s for the best,” Evelin said, observing Mark’s broad back as he fried some bacon in the pan.
“What is?” the were replied without turning around.
“That Rafael isn’t here…”
It hurt her to say it. She missed her cub. Missed his beautiful white fur, as well as the blond baby boy she had just gotten to know. The scent that lingered drilled into her like a painful reminder each time she inhaled it. She didn’t need Mark’s resentment on top of everything else.
“It’s only a matter of time before the vampires and Upirs start coming after our families…”
Mark paused in his cooking, likely at the sorrowful tone of her voice. The bacon sizzled in the pan, but the were’s eyes were now on her.
“You mean to send Til away, as well?”
His question was dry, and she had to force herself to remember that he wasn’t angry. Not with her, at least.
In a way, Mark was the more sensitive one. Her own childhood hadn’t taken away her capacity to love, but it had made her ruthless, willing to do whatever it took to protect her own, no matter how difficult the decision was.
She might have had a hard time on the way to Pia’s, but by the time she drove back home, she put a lid on those destructive emotions. They still lurked within her—something so strong couldn’t be eradicated completely—however, she didn’t allow them to cloud her judgment.
The only thing that mattered was the way forward. And for that, she needed a clear mind.
“I only have to nurse him for two more weeks, at most…” she said.
“And then?”
When she didn’t answer, Mark turned off the stove and walked over to her. He kneeled by her chair, gently brushing his fingers against Til’s soft skin.
“I wanted to ask Nikolai and Nadia if they were willing to leave Ljubljana with him, but I know what their answer will be. One of them will want to stay here to aid us while the other leaves with the cub. I don’t have the heart to separate them, Mark.”
She had thought about it for so long, turning the possibilities over and over again in her head until her temples began to screech.
“So what are our options?” Mark asked, looking up at her with his deep brown eyes. The sorrow within them raked down the walls of her defenses with steel-tipped claws.
Rebuilding the gashes, one painful inch at a time, she trailed her hand along Mark’s beard. “The twins’ parents.”
He cocked his head to the side. “You want to send Til to Munich?”
“The core of everything that’s happening is here. With us staying in Ljubljana, I doubt the rogues will bother looking in Germany for ways to bring us down. It’ll spread them too thin.”
“So why not send both cubs there?”
She closed her eyes. She had taken Rafael to Pia’s without telling Mark what she learned from Sander—only that he should remain out of sight. That with everybody as rattled up as they were, a shapeshifting White, bearing the mark of Psoglav’s second in command, would never succeed in escaping their attention.
She knew she’d have to tell him eventually. However, she hoped there would be time to deliver the news to him gently. Nothing but wishful thinking.
Taking a deep breath, she met the were’s gaze.
“The ancient magic he carries… Like Rose.” She sighed, bringing up the werewolf to hopefully make Mark understand better. “The way his whole body is wired is something that shouldn’t exist.”
Her chest aching, she watched as the
realization took form in Mark’s eyes. “Who? Who will oppose his existence?”
“The Keepers.” Her voice broke into a soft sob as the words left her mouth. He stilled, the violence that pulsed from him so thick she could taste it on her tongue. “We can’t keep both of them together. If the bastards come for Rafael…”
“Pia knows this?” was all Mark said.
“Yes.” She nodded. “She knows, and she accepted him nonetheless. Her house is remote, and she isn’t linked directly to our family, so that gives us a bit of an advantage. At the very least it buys us time until we can figure out how to present our case to the Keepers that Rafael isn’t a threat—that he’s not some wolf-man hybrid, though the bastards were more than willing to leave Psoglav’s lackey on our hands…”
Mark exhaled, running his hand through his thick hair. Repeatedly.
“Sander is still looking into it,” she added, hoping to calm the werewolf. “I still don’t know why, but he seems adamant to save the cub. He would have kept him himself, but the Kolduny were against the notion. They didn’t want to be dragged into our fight. Apparently, even Serafina is walking a very thin line with them for allying herself with Rose…”
The look in his eyes told her with perfect clarity what he thought of the magic wielders.
“How much time do we have?”
She stifled a sob, leaning forward to press her forehead against his hair. “Not enough.”
Jürgen dropped Katja off at Mora with a kiss that curled her toes despite the dark thoughts pressing on her mind. She walked into the bar, glad to see their security was still in place. After Zarja had her face-to-face with the owner for not handling the rattled vamp meeting, the man had hired two bouncers to kick out any troublemakers before the situation even had the chance to get out of control. Although Katja wasn’t convinced the measure was sufficient to keep all rotten apples out, it at least made them civilized.
Mora was a no-attack zone; however, that was a far cry from the solid guarantee of safety Pri Sojenicah promised. A part of her wished she had told Dragan to meet her there, but the stubbornness within her refused to give up the chance to run a check on Mora’s patrons.
Besides, her choice of location seemed to be favorable for Dragan.
She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips.
He was already waiting inside, in her direct line of sight, yet completely oblivious to her arrival. Leaning on the counter with a single elbow, Dragan was chatting up a handsome-looking vamp, looking more than handsome himself. Clad in a light gray V-neck tee and faded slim jeans, he was hardly the vampire Katja had met all those months ago—the vamp that had been her enemy, then became her friend.
She smiled at the sight, glad that with everything the vamp had been through since his partner’s death, there was a spark of life rekindling within him. Of course, regular sessions with Mark had helped immensely, and the werewolf stuck to their weekly schedule even with all the pack matters he was dealing with.
She admired his dedication, but even more so, she marveled at the progress the pair had made. If she had lost Jürgen… She’d continue to bathe the world in blood long after she frayed the flesh off his killer’s bones.
Chills crawled down her spine, slithering into her core.
She looked at Dragan again, at the easy smile resting on his lips and the slightly angled body posture that made his attraction to the hunky vamp beautifully transparent. Despite the somewhat voyeuristic vibe, she couldn’t stop staring.
As much as the Upirs wanted to turn the very air into a deadly mix of fear and violence, they were powerless to snuff out what people truly sought.
She straightened her shoulders, the resolve sinking in even deeper. She and Jürgen would go to the city hall. They would pick out a date, get married alone without anybody stealing the crumbs of their day for themselves. And if the shit of the world became unmanageable, she would die lucky enough to have experienced it all with the man she loved.
An odd kind of serenity wove through her. Even if they didn’t last until Jürgen became a bitter, bickering old were who took beer with his breakfast, they would still have more than either of them had hoped for.
And as she eyed Dragan while stalking towards the far wall through the crowd, she genuinely wished him the same.
The corner table she had chosen offered a perfect view of the room, as well as the main entrance—it was something she had involuntarily picked up from Jürgen over time, though she had to admit that, lately, the additional precautions seemed like a wise move. Even in a no-attack zone, you had to be vigilant to not be overheard.
The young, dark-haired waitress Katja knew by sight approached her table. She ordered a tall glass of blood and watched the girl make her way towards the bar, weaving through the patrons with expert skill. Her gaze shifted back to Dragan as the waitress moved past him.
The thin vamp was writing something down on his phone—something the eye candy was dictating softly, almost whispering into his ear. With a satisfied nod, Dragan put away his cellphone and leaned back against the counter. The pair exchanged more words, seeming more comfortable with one another with each passing second before Dragan turned to scan the room, his eyes halting when they met hers.
She winked at him, unable to stop herself.
Even from this distance, the light blush that crept up the vampire’s cheeks was clear. Dragan turned to the dashing vampire, giving him a small smile before he pushed himself off the high stool and moved towards her, a glass of blood in his hand. He was practically swaggering.
She snickered and threw one arm across the backrest. “He looks good.”
Dragan scowled at her, but she ignored him.
“I knew I kept dragging you out here for a reason,” she crooned, and this time, he burst out laughing.
It was so nice to see him in good spirits. To see him come back after being on the brink of death… Relief was too weak a word to describe what she felt, knowing the vampire had calmed down after his initial outburst. Not because he was working with Rose and the pack instead of them—though that was a welcomed change all on its own—but because it had allowed him to move forward.
She understood just how important and how terrifyingly difficult that first step was. After all, she could have easily gotten lost in her own rage all those decades ago, erasing who she was. The blindness and bloodcraze would make her barely anything more than a traditional. Perhaps worse. But instead, she had learned to accept the past for what it was and honed that wild wrath into a meticulous weapon to be used when she desired it.
Dragan, from the looks of it, was on his way to doing the same.
“I have to say,” she said with a snicker, eying the hunk of vampire Dragan had been chatting up, “you do have excellent taste.”
Tall, muscular, with dark skin and tattoos that decorated his arms, he truly was nothing but pure eye candy of the best kind.
“Look who’s talking,” the vamp shot back, giving her another dazzling smile.
Two in a row. Even when the subject she came to discuss was far from pleasant, the rush of happiness inside her couldn’t be dampened. Sometimes, it was the little battles that mattered the most.
She eyed the waitress that was slowly making her way back towards their table and waited until the woman left before she spoke, not wanting to stall any longer than was necessary. After all, she had her folder to get back to and a lunch date with Jürgen to balance out the good and the bad.
“I’ll keep this short, so you can get back to that wet dream man of yours…”
He snorted, but his eyes were nothing but serious as he met Katja’s gaze. “I guess the shit grew from knee-deep to…?”
“I can’t even call it neck-deep. It’s more like we’re inhaling it.”
“Shit.”
“You don’t say.”
He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “What do you need from me?”
Taking a sip of her blood, she twirled the glass
absentmindedly, the strong aroma brushing against her senses. “I have reason to believe Barle has been rounding up vamps again…”
“The ass that organized the march through Tivoli?” he asked, looking somewhat surprised.
She exhaled wearily, but her breath was laced with violence. “The one and only.”
“I thought the weres roughed him up,” he murmured more to himself than out loud.
“Evelin impaled him on her claws.”
“Should’ve taken his head off…” he commented matter-of-factly.
She dipped her chin in agreement. “As it is, his name popped up on a list I’ve been given of all the possible individuals involved.”
The vamp tilted his head to the side. “List? I want in.”
“Dragan…” she began, but the vampire stopped her before she could go on.
“I want in, Katja. I’ve been your go-to man for information ever since I’ve…gotten better. I messed up. I was afraid and messed up the life of someone who was just as pissed-scared as I was.”
She shook her head, but the vamp continued.
“If you don’t need assistance, or if you don’t trust me enough, that’s fine. But if that’s not the case…”
She groaned. This wasn’t how she had envisioned the meeting. He was wonderful at providing information that was passed around freely in the right circles. Looping him in would tear the vamp from the safe, neutral zone and plunge him straight into the front lines.
“Dragan, if you do this, you are broadcasting loud and clear where your allegiance lies. Things will only get worse… And not all of us will make it.”
The vampire looked at her as if she was speaking a different language. He placed one finger on the wooden surface of the table, pinning her with his stare. “Do you believe I’ve been helping you all this time just because I wanted to clear my conscience?”
“No—”
“I don’t want to live in a world where your—what did you call them?—traditional twentyfourhourlies are the new norm. It’ll do nothing but throw us in the dark ages. And if the vamps are too foolish and blood-driven to see where all of this is leading, I know that there are other species that oppose the terror over humans. For their own benefit, if not for the humans themselves. Vamp supremacy will be bloodier in more ways than just the food they intend to slaughter.”