Blood Destiny

by Tessa Dawn

  Jocelyn laughed. "No, Kagen, not at all."

  The three large vampires huddled over the baby like a small clan of cavemen warming themselves at a fire, gently touching, prodding, and talking to the child in the old language.

  Jocelyn wished she could understand their words, but what was unmistakable, what she could not miss, was the love and warmth in their eyes, the sing-song cadence in their voices, and the powerful protectiveness in their postures.

  And then Napolean Mondragon stirred.

  It was as if all the air in the room shifted into a sudden vacuum, parting like the red sea, making a path for the ancient Lord to approach the child.

  Jocelyn shuddered and Nathaniel placed a reassuring hand at the small of her waist.

  What is he going to do? she asked, enjoying their newfound telepathic communication.

  He is going to accept his name, so it can be recorded in the tome of our people, and then he is going to formally...receive...Storm's blood, as well as your own, into the house of Jadon.

  Our blood? Jocelyn began to feel a little woozy. She tried to hide the fear in her psychic voice but knew that she failed.

  Just a little, Nathaniel reassured. It will only hurt a little.

  Napolean carries the blood of every member of the house of Jadon in his veins, all those who have come before, and all those who are yet to come. As our Sovereign, he has access to all of the memories, knowledge, and history of each and every soul. He can find anyone living at will, and it is said that if it becomes necessary to protect the people, he can even reach out to those who have moved on to the Valley of Spirit and Light. Once Napolean has your blood, you will always be a member of the house of Jadon.

  Kagen and Nachari stepped back to make room for their Sovereign, who stood directly in front of Marquis and Storm, and Nathaniel ushered Jocelyn forward, positioning her at Marquis's left side even as he stood at his right.

  Is Marquis going to hold Storm? she asked.

  He is, Nathaniel answered.

  Why is that?

  Nathaniel smiled at his destiny...his mate. Marquis is the oldest living male of our bloodline, which makes him the head of our family.

  Jocelyn sighed and had to catch herself before rolling her eyes. Oh great!

  Napolean wore a pair of well-fitted black pants and a white silk shirt, the mixture of black and white drawing out the stark presence of silver in his eyes and hair. His face was like something one might find in an ancient temple—a sacred statue, carved and smoothed to perfection. He was the absolute personification of beauty.

  The subtle lines around his eyes were harsh with their reflection of history and timelessness, yet they were equally warm and gentle with wisdom. Napolean was power and nobility incarnate, and he wore a badge of dignity with an air of aristocracy. His eyes held the equal promise of justice and retribution for all those who sought his counsel.

  Jocelyn shivered and looked away from the powerful leader of her husband's people...her people. She hoped she wouldn't have too many more occasions to stand before him.

  Napolean turned to Nathaniel. "It is with great joy that I greet you this day, my brother, a fellow descendant of Jadon, an Ancient Master Warrior, mate to the daughter of Cassiopeia, father to this newborn son of Aquila, the eagle, who makes his home upon the celestial equator. What name have you chosen for this male?"

  Nathaniel's eyes beamed with pride. "Should it please you, milord, and find favor with the Celestial Beings, the son of Aquila is to be named Keitaro Storm Silivasi."

  Marquis shifted a bit.

  His head snapped up and his eyes met Nathaniel's. There was a faint hint of some emotion Jocelyn couldn't quite place before the powerful warrior regained his composure, blinked, and looked away. He bowed his head.

  Napolean reached out to take the baby from Marquis's arms. "The name pleases me, warrior, and there is no objection from the Celestial Beings."

  Jocelyn's heart began to race as the Sovereign leader bent his head and his fangs began to elongate. Nathaniel sent her a steady stream of warmth wrapped in a subtle warning—

  commanding her to stay still.

  Napolean pierced the child's wrist, vertically, along the vein, and the baby cried out as the powerful leader drank from his arm. After he sealed the wound with his venom, he held the child out in front of him and looked into his eyes. The baby immediately became quiet.

  "Welcome to the house of Jadon, Keitaro Storm Silivasi.

  May your life be filled with peace, triumph, and purpose. May your path always be blessed."

  He gave the child back to Marquis, who kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Welcome to our family, Keitaro Storm Silivasi, and to the house of Jadon. May your life be filled with peace, triumph, and purpose. May your path always be blessed."

  Kagen took the child then, as the next eldest male relative, and repeated the welcome. Once Nachari had done the same, the child was handed back to Nathaniel, who pulled Jocelyn to his side, sliding her protectively under his arm.

  Napolean addressed them both. "By the laws which govern the house of Jadon, I accept your union as the divine will of the gods and hereby sanction your mating. Jocelyn Levi Silivasi, do you come now of your own free will to enter the house of Jadon?"

  Jocelyn swallowed hard, a lump in her throat, and looked at Nathaniel.

  I do, Nathaniel whispered in her mind.

  "I do," she said.

  Hold out your wrist, Nathaniel instructed.

  Jocelyn cringed, and then tried to smile, as she tentatively turned her arm over and extended it to the intimidating nobleman.

  Napolean's answering smile could have rivaled the moon and the stars for its brilliance. He took her arm with exquisite gentleness and bent his head, long locks of shimmering silver and black falling all around them. And then he pierced her vein cleanly, his teeth sinking deep, his lips forming a tight seal over her arm. His mouth pulled at her vein with a steady drag, but he remained gentle...and oddly, the presence of his lips against her skin flooded her with peace.

  Nathaniel stirred, a slight growl reverberating in his throat.

  He looked down at the ground then, instantly ashamed of the territorial response to Napolean touching Jocelyn.

  Napolean released his hold, removed his fangs, and sealed the wound. When he turned to glance at Nathaniel there was an understanding gleam in his eyes, and he laughed softly.

  "Congratulations," he said to the couple, and just like that, the short ceremony was over.

  The brothers crowded in again, trying to get to Storm, and Jocelyn stepped away, allowing them to have their bonding time. No one saw Napolean leave. He was just gone.

  And then another voice interrupted the clamor, the sound of a young male repeatedly clearing his throat.

  Jocelyn turned to find Braden Bratianu standing at the outskirts of the circle trying to get a look at the baby. In all the intensity of the ceremony, she hadn't even noticed he was there.

  "Braden!" she cried, her voice strong with emotion. "I can't believe you're here. It is so nice to see you." She immediately ran over to the young vampire and grasped him by both shoulders, giving him a warm, unsolicited hug of affection.

  Braden hugged her back like he wasn't quite sure whether to fully embrace her or duck and run, especially with the older Master Vampires watching, but his eyes revealed his pleasure.

  And the child looked completely healed: Not a single sign of his injuries remained.

  "Kagen!" Jocelyn exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "You did such a wonderful job taking care of him. Thank you."

  Kagen smiled. "Not at all."

  Marquis stepped away from the circle then and regarded Braden, looking him up and down several times. The child raised his chin, squared his shoulders, and blinked his eyes, bravely anticipating whatever was coming.

  Braden was dressed a little more appropriately than the last time he had been at the house: no more collar, cape, and makeup. However, he seemed to have adopted a new and im
proved vampire warrior look, sort of like a character out of The Matrix, complete with heavy black boots; a long, flowing trench coat; black denim jeans; and a thin black turtleneck...as if he were leaning a little more toward being a soldier than a count.

  Jocelyn laughed as she watched Marquis slowly circle the child, studying the intense new outfit. And then to her immense surprise, Marquis leaned over, snatched the boy up by the arms, flung him high into the air, and caught him in a great big bear hug. "Now that's more like it, son!"

  The Master Warrior's voice was strong and proud, and Braden's eyes positively lit up behind the unexpected praise and public show of affection.

  Braden laughed with excitement. "I'm gonna be a warrior like you when I go to The University." His eyes were wide, bright, and full of hope.

  Marquis set the child down and ruffled his hair. "Excellent choice." He turned to look in the direction of Kagen and Nachari. "No more sissy healers and wizards in this clan."

  Nachari chuckled. "If I recall, I wasn't too sissy to help you orchestrate a particularly important battle the other day."

  Nathaniel gave Marquis a knowing glance of approval as if the warriors knew something they hadn't shared with Jocelyn.

  Kagen chimed in: "And I believe it was my sissy handiwork that patched that kid back together."

  Marquis growled. "Whatever." He grabbed Braden by the arm. "Come on, son. I need to catch some fresh air. Care to join me?"

  Braden followed the huge vampire out to the patio like a baby duckling following its mother, positively beaming from one ear to the other, while Kagen and Nachari just looked at each other in stunned surprise and shook their heads.

  Jocelyn watched as they went.

  Marquis had clearly found a new buddy, and it didn't take a psychologist to figure out why: Braden Bratianu had saved Jocelyn's life, and in doing so, he had saved both Nathaniel and Storm. Despite all of his rough edges, Marquis had a heart of gold—and a powerful code of honor. The enormous male was the devoted head of his family.

  Her new family...

  And she was beginning to wonder how she had ever done without them.

  Her life had seemed full before, but it had only been a pitiful imitation of the real thing—

  The real thing was right here....

  In Nathaniel's dark, loving eyes and his strong, waiting arms. In Nachari's richly textured brilliance. In Kagen's peaceful, expert caretaking. In Marquis's terrifying, overbearing displays of...love. Even in little Braden's bright-eyed wonder and hope for acceptance.

  And of course, there was that perfect little miracle she had been given: Aquila, the eagle, her own little Storm.

  "Jocelyn!" Nachari's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I think Storm—"

  "I think he...did something." Nathaniel grimaced. He was standing next to his brothers, holding Storm out an arm's length away from his body, the child cradled neatly in the palm of his hand.

  Nachari wrinkled his perfect nose. "Oh yeah, someone needs to do something with him." He took a step back. "Is he supposed to do that already?"

  Nathaniel called out toward the hallway, "Alejandra?

  Colette?" When there was no answer, he tried to pass the baby to Nachari.

  Nachari held up both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "Isn't that kid supposed to drink blood?"

  Kagen frowned. "He'll start feeding around age five. Until then, he has to use his digestive system and take nutrients from human food."

  Seemingly pleased that Kagen knew what he was talking about, Nathaniel tried to pass the baby to him.

  Kagen looked both ways, like maybe Nathaniel had mistaken him for some other brother he didn't know about.

  When it became abundantly clear that Nathaniel, indeed, meant him, he waved his arm in the air. "Jocelyn!"

  Jocelyn rolled her eyes and laughed.

  Three large male vampires—one, an Ancient Master Warrior; another, an Ancient Master Healer; and the third, a Master Wizard—all brought to their knees by a one-day-old infant who had apparently soiled his diaper.

  "You three are pathetic," she remarked as she took Storm from Nathaniel and cradled the child lovingly against her breast. "And Nathaniel, I would rather you not hold the baby away from your body like a baseball in a glove. You could've dropped him."

  Nathaniel shook his head adamantly. "Never, my love."

  When she met his eyes, his smile was radiant...his relief apparent. "And that charming smile will get you nowhere."

  Nathaniel laughed and all three males began to walk toward the living room.

  Jocelyn cleared her throat. "Where do you think you're going?"

  Nachari inclined his head in the direction of the sofa. "We'll just wait for you over there."

  "We'll be in the living room," Nathaniel concurred.

  "No," Jocelyn chastised, "you will not. You will all follow me to the changing table. It's about time you big, brave cavemen learn how to change a diaper."

  Kagen frowned. "Now that wasn't necessary, little sister."

  He tried to put a hint of authority in his voice.

  Nachari nodded his agreement. "Obviously, Nathaniel needs to learn, but we're...I'm cool."

  Jocelyn sighed in exasperation. She glared at Kagen. "It is necessary." She rolled her eyes at Nachari. "And you're not cool; you're pitiful. You're both coming with Nathaniel to learn how to change your nephew's diaper, and that's that." All of a sudden a wicked smile swept across her mouth. She purposely bared her fangs and snapped.

  All three men jumped back, startled.

  With a low, feminine growl, she hissed, "Get moving, boys!"

  As the three vampires fell silently into line, Jocelyn glanced down at her perfect Storm. The baby's eyes were beaming up at her, his little body wiggling with excitement.

  And he was grinning from ear to ear.

  Epilogue

  Marquis Silivasi stood silently in the shadows. He watched as the last of the humans made their way from the graveside ceremony following Joelle Parker's funeral. He had come to pay his respects but was unable to face the human family whose lineage he had known for centuries. Having to tell Kevin Parker the news of his daughter's death had been one of the worst moments of Marquis's life, and he had lived a very, very long time. His regret was insufferable, his shame for being unable to save her...almost unbearable.

  Shimmering out of view, he materialized deep within the Dark Moon Forest at yet another recent grave site—that of his little brother, Shelby. It was the first time he had visited the final resting place since the tragic loss. The first time he had seen the simple white granite marker lying over the desolate plot: Shelby Silivasi. Honored Brother and Beloved Twin.

  Marquis ran a trembling hand through his thick black hair.

  The pressing moisture of crimson tears stung his deeply troubled eyes. Shelby had only been five-hundred years old when he died, the same age as his twin, Nachari, but the difference was, Nachari had lived to graduate the Romanian University. Nachari had lived to reach his status as a Master Wizard.

  Shelby, on the other hand, had stopped just short of receiving an honored distinction because he had found his blood destiny: the one human woman chosen by the gods to be his mate. His one opportunity to avoid the ultimate curse of his kind.

  Dalia Montano.

  And fulfilling the demands of the Blood Curse, securing his future with the human female, had been far more important than completing his studies. Shelby had planned to return to Romania as soon as the blood sacrifice was made, yet the young fledgling had failed at both of his tasks.

  Marquis knew he was the one to blame.

  He should have been more vigilant.

  He should never have let down his guard.

  Things had just gone so smoothly—so unbelievably seamless—between Shelby and Dalia that no one had foreseen Valentine Nistor's wicked scheme.

  It wasn't an excuse. Marquis was an Ancient. He should have known better.

  Marquis balled his hands int
o two tight fists, struggling to contain the rage—the gut-wrenching heartache—that threatened to consume him. The sky above him had already turned as black as night, and the wind was picking up into a fierce howl. He had to keep it together.

  He kicked at the cold forest ground, causing a not so subtle tremor in the earth beneath him in an effort not to cry out. The vengeance he had finally exacted on Valentine was nothing against the breadth of this loss.

  Celestial gods, how could this have happened!

  And it wasn't just that Shelby would have been a Master, an achievement borne of four-hundred years of studies; he would have been a Master Warrior...like Marquis. And that meant Marquis would have been in charge of his little brother's ongoing training. It would have been the first time in four-hundred and seventy-nine years—since their father's presumed death—that Marquis would have shared his day-today existence with another being.

  The first time in four-hundred and seventy-nine years that Marquis Silivasi would not have been alone.

  Marquis knelt before the simple white slab of granite, his head bowed in reverence.

  So much loss.

  He had seen so many warriors needlessly slain over his lifetime as a result of the wretched curse, a pronouncement made upon generations of males for a sin committed so long ago that the fallen warriors didn't even remember the crime.

  They only knew that when the Blood Moon came, they had thirty days....

  One opportunity in an otherwise eternal existence to gain the one human woman who might save them from the ultimate fate of their kind. One month to obtain a chance at life, create the possibility for love, and acquire the blessing of a family.

  Thirty days to live or die.

  Marquis shook his head. What was the purpose of being a warrior...of being an Ancient...if he couldn't even protect the ones he loved? What was the purpose of surviving this long when his life had been nothing but time, education, endless battles...and loss? And why hadn't that one opportunity to love—to share such a barren existence—ever been given to him?

  He was so very weary of living.

  Like a slowly boiling cauldron of water, Marquis's body began to tremble with the depth of his anguish. His lungs began to heave, and his heart began to pound from so much rage and injustice, until finally, he could no longer contain his grief, and the pain of a lifetime spilled over.