by Anne Schlea
At that, Kristoff laughs. She’s right. Dinah, ever the matriarch of her clan, mends wounds in battle and cares for the sick and dying. She finds homes for orphaned children and advises queens. In time of human wars, she had been known to don the habit of the nuns to start hospitals and care for the impoverished.
But never in the centuries he’d known her had Dinah ever picked up a weapon in war.
At first, she’d allowed her vampire mate Terrin to defend her honor and body from enemies. Later, after his death, her sons took up the cause to protect her. In his world, leaders are chosen by acts of aggression – the strongest lead. The warriors willing to fight and win in battle become kings. How Dinah had become head of her clan is a mystery.
Kristoff suspects Antonia’s unwillingness to take control of her family came from being reared in the immortal life by Dinah. Until very recently, Antonia had been docile, first following Terrin and then allowing Arthur and Zartan to rule her family in her stead. She’d been more interested in dressing the part of a pretty consort and holding a place in court than in ruling or fighting with her clan, despite being well trained to defend herself by both Terrin and Zartan.
In those days, Dinah mothered her clan instead of ruling it; the Silverblades are more docile and introspective while the Clan of the Raven fought and defended them. Dinah allowed her sons to fight when necessary until she finally took over as matriarch when Zartan disappeared to the Orient to found his own family. It was into this world that Dinah brought Antonia – a home created by the combined families of Terrin’s Ravens and Dinah’s Silverblades, existing very much like a single tribe or family in their hilltop Italian fortress.
Dinah reared the young vampires; Terrin defended them.
It’s the only way of life Antonia would have ever known until now. Even in the cold days of the second war, the war that drove Antonia from her family and into hiding, Antonia followed Zartan across the battlefield not as a warrior but as a Red Cross nurse.
That is the kind of daughter Dinah would raise, not the warrior that Runa is.
“Of course.” He smiles. “Let’s get changed and I’ll show you where we can spar.”
Kristoff grunts as his back slams against the floor for the third time that afternoon, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He has a few bruises to show for his efforts, not to mention uncountable missed calls at his desk, but the glow in Runa’s eyes is worth every moment, broken capillary, and irritated business acquaintance.
“Is that better?” Out of breath and leaning over with her hands on her knees, her hair had started to come out of its braid to form a halo around her head. The silver in her eyes swirls urgently, the energy trapped in her body looking for escape; but Runa had wanted to learn to fight without the power – to fight like a vampire.
“Much.” He reaches a hand toward her, allowing her to pull him from the floor. Inspecting the bruise on the back of his bicep, he smiles. “This one is going to hurt in the morning.”
“Is that good?” Runa raises an eyebrow before she moves across the room to the pile of towels and water bottles.
“If I were a real opponent? Not hurting in the morning because you’re not alive to feel is better.” He watches her wipe sweat from her face, inappropriately wondering how frequently a valkyrie sweats. With her gift, the need to fight hand-to-hand seems useless. “For today’s exercise, it’s very good.”
Runa drops the towel into a bin on the floor and picks up a bottle of water. Downing the whole thing, she sits on the bench, stretching her arms and back carefully. She’s used muscles today that have been dormant for weeks. “Thanks for doing this today. I don’t think I’ve ever had a sparring partner before.”
“Why need one?” He takes his own towel to wipe off his face. He’ll need to shower, sweat runs down his back under his already wet shirt. “Normally you can knock anyone on their ass before they can get close enough to touch you. Not that I mind teaching you, but why?”
“My sisters will have to decide soon if they want to join the vampire war.” She shrugs, picks up a new bottle, and drinks more water. It quickly joins the other empty bottle in the trash. “We have a unique way of coming to an agreement on such things, and our powers don’t work on each other.”
“So, you can’t zap Torhild into unconsciousness?” Kristoff smiles and asks the question playfully. He doesn’t miss, however, Runa’s honesty. This might be the most transparent admission she’s ever made about her sisters.
“I wish.” She chuckles, then stands to stretch. The long lines of her arms reach over her head. “Sadly, if I zap her, then her own body will simply absorb the energy. Not only won’t I hurt her, but I’d give her the advantage of some of my energy.”
“Instead, you fight?” He stands next to her, mirroring her posture as he reaches his arms up to force his back to crack. “Interesting way to settle disputes.”
“You have no idea.” Ending her stretches, Runa takes a deep, happy breath. She stands with her eyes closed for a moment. “I think I’m going to take a bath.”
“I’m sure your muscles will appreciate it.” Kristoff takes the hint and reaches for his room key. It’s well after dark, but he hasn’t eaten since a quick bite at lunch and he suspects Runa hasn’t eaten since breakfast. “Do you want me to have dinner brought up tonight?”
“Actually, can we order pizza in?” She gestures for him to lead the way out of the workout room. “From that place down the street? The one with the really good noodles?”
“Your wish, my command.” Before they reach the elevator, he pauses. Runa seems good, calm. Strong. She’ll be fine if he swings by his office to grab some reports. “Do you mind if we stop in my office a moment?”
Immediately, any exhaustion fades from Runa’s eyes. He hadn’t taken her into his office when he gave her the tour of the hotel. This floor holds his private training room, the weapons room for his men, and his personal business office. “Your office?”
“I don’t know if I should let you in here, there’s no telling what kind of trouble you might cause me.” He grins when she sticks her lip out in a pout, then opens the door.
His office faces the main street in front of the building, a glorious view of the city’s most treasured live performance theaters. In the daytime, he can watch workers prepare the national historic registry building for the night’s show – sweeping the sidewalks, polishing the glass, checking the hundreds of tiny lights to be sure none are out. Restaurants along the street put out sidewalk signs with drink and appetizer specials. Now, the signs have changed to after-theater dessert specials waiting for the night’s show to end.
In front of the window is Kristoff’s desk, a polished mahogany piece of artwork that had required a window to be removed and a large crane to be used to get it into the room. The antique had travelled with him from his office in Moscow. All that sits atop the desk now is his second laptop, which he flips open and leaves to power up. He has no guest chairs in his office, since he usually meets business associates downstairs in the foyer of the hotel or in the business office on the first floor, but an elegant sofa rests against one wall. A large painting of a Russian village at night, with a bonfire circled by dancing villagers in period clothing, hangs above the sofa.
Kristoff opens a cabinet located on the wall facing the sofa to reveal a small refrigerator. He takes out a bottle of enhanced water and hands it to Runa. “Drink this while you wait, the electrolytes will help your system recover.”
“You stock your office with Gatorade?” She rolls her eyes but complies in opening the bottle to take a drink. “How boring.”
“You will notice this office is directly next door to that work out room.” He chides her and takes his own from the fridge. Then he sits behind the desk to check a few files. “You’ll thank me later when you’re not exhausted.”
Runa doesn’t argue with him. She flops down on the sofa, still drinking the liquid, and studies the painting above the sofa. “What is this? I don’t reco
gnize it.”
“It’s an unknown artist.” He hedges and hopes she doesn’t ask any more questions. He should have known she’d pick up on the one thing in the office he doesn’t want her asking questions about. “You wouldn’t have known him.”
“That is depressing, I have higher expectations of your taste.” Frowning, she stands up and looks closer. “Where is this? It looks familiar.”
“You’ve been everywhere, Runa, I’m sure everything looks familiar.” Mentally, Kristoff curses. He never should have brought her into this room. But then, he never thought she’d think twice about that painting.
“No, I’ve been here.” She reaches out as if to touch one of the dancing figures, blond hair swirling around her, and then turns her eyes from the painting to him. They narrow. “Why are you avoiding the question?”
Caught. Before he replies, Kristoff finishes a few keystrokes to move the necessary money to the American banks, then saves his program and closes the computer. He could have done this later. There was no need to rush. Maybe he wanted Runa to see that painting.
“That is a village near the maji border in Russia, called Novgorod.” Kristoff stands up and approaches the painting, just as he had a hundred times before when he’d been thinking about her. Only this time, she’s here standing beside him. “It depicts Kupola Night many centuries ago.”
“I danced at a Kupola Night once.” Runa smiles at the memory, not making the connection yet. “It was great fun, the dominant vampire sent two of his goons to get me, but I was too fast. I had some fun with the goons before the night was over.”
“I was quite relieved when they returned terribly hung over but not dead. I, of course, punished them for their indiscretion, but was glad to have them back none the less.” Keeping his eyes on the painting, he waits for her to respond. He can see her looking from the painting to him and back again. “That’s the first night I ever saw you.”
“No.” She shakes her head slowly, clearly trying to remember the Kupola Night in more detail. Her brow furrows and her eyes squint at the painting. “We met that night in Paris when I almost stabbed you.”
“That’s the first night we met, yes.” Tentatively, Kristoff reaches over to lay his hand on the small of her back. “But this was the first time I saw you. Flowers in your hair, laughing as you danced around the bonfire. You’d invaded my territory without a request, I was quite put out.”
“I had no idea.” Runa pulls her eyes from the painting to look at him, her expression one of shock. “How did you remember?”
“I never forgot.” He smiles, then runs a gentle finger along her jaw. “Finding you became something of a dilemma for me after that night. I was angry at you for taking my men and fascinated by you at the same time. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kill you or kiss you. Meeting you again in Paris was quite by accident, but with similar ramifications. As you can see, not much has changed in my life.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned this.” Reaching up, Runa touches a finger lightly to Kristoff’s lips.
“And scare you away?” Playfully, he nips at her finger which makes her laugh. “Not a chance.”
Suddenly, Runa leans forward and kisses him lightly on the lips. She hovers in front of him, then turns and laces her fingers through his. “Come on. I want to take that bath and you have pizza to go find.”
Smiling, Kristoff turns off the lights and closes the office door behind them. As they walk toward the elevator to return to the suite, he realizes he feels light and relaxed for the first time in weeks. He needed her to know how much she means to him; how much he loves her. Maybe the painting will begin to show her.
Maybe if she understands then she’ll stay when this is all over.
When they step into the elevator, rather than moving as far away from him as the space will allow, Runa presses her back gently against his shoulder. Smiling, he reaches an arm around her shoulders as the doors close.
Chapter 9
Runa blinks against sunshine’s harsh assault on her eyes. When was the last time she’d been outdoors? How many weeks?
“Come on.” Kristoff grabs her hand and tugs her toward the parking deck. He nods at the valet as they pass. “It will do you good to get out. We’ll take a ride up to the mountains and be back by sunset. There’s no risk.”
Hanging back, Runa watches him move. He’s wearing his biker boots, jeans, and a black t-shirt under a riding jacket. She knows he has a Glock tucked under the jacket, but doubts anyone else would notice. She assumes most anyone else would be focused on his body as he walks away. That’s what she’d be doing.
“Did you get my car?” She focuses back on the matter at hand. Fresh air. Sunshine. Outside of the city on a…date? Since when do they date? They hook up. Dinner, sometimes the opera. A few nights in a hotel. Move on.
“Nope.” He keeps moving farther into the garage, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket while they walk.
“You can’t seriously expect me to ride on the back of your motorcycle.” She tries to stop, but his hand gripping hers keeps her moving. Although, in truth, the idea of being pressed up firmly behind Kristoff on that bike has its appeal. She smiles. It’s nice to know that part of her brain is starting to come back online. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”
“Nope.” He drops her hand and looks back over his shoulder at her with a grin. Then he tosses her the keys. “I expect you to ride your own.”
He clears the last car at the end of the row and stops in front of two sleek, powerful motorcycles. One, Runa recognizes as Kristoff’s own Triumph Bonneville. Painted jet black, the machine is a beast. It’s big, powerful, and fast. Beautifully polished and probably wiped down by the valet every time it comes in; Kristoff loves this bike. She watches him run a hand lovingly across the seat to pick up the waiting helmet.
Beyond his bike is a second, smaller model. This one, sleeker and painted a matte silver, is a Triumph street bike. While Runa knows his can run fast on the open road, this second bike is built for speed, quick turns, and agility. Just being near it makes her body hum. She looks up at him, an eyebrow raised, understanding why he’d made such a big deal of her wearing the boots he’d bought her, jeans, and her leather jacket.
“I thought you’d like it.” He shrugs a shoulder lightly. “Since you’re not driving around a fragile human, a bike seems more your style.”
Runa picks up the helmet someone had left waiting on the seat and runs a hand along the handlebar. The bike is beautiful; it makes her heart race. She knows she should admonish him for such an expensive gift. Instead she looks at him, helmet in her hand. “Do I really have to wear the helmet?”
“If you want to ride in Georgia without being pulled over.” He slides his own in place. “Since you probably don’t have a license, you should put the helmet on. Come on, let’s hit the road.”
Smiling, but doing her best to not let Kristoff see how delighted she is with the gift, she hops on and starts the machine. It’s engine roars, giving her another burst of adrenaline and energy. The bike is perfect, her body molds to it like it had been created for her, reacting to her movements with precision and grace.
Oh, yeah, this is exactly what she needs.
Once Kristoff is confident she’s got the hang of it in the parking lot, he leads her up from the underground parking and to the main street. They do a few laps around the slower moving, city streets until she gives him a thumbs up.
Although it had been years since the last time Runa rode a bike, it comes back to her easily.
Finally, he rounds a corner and takes them onto the interstate.
They ride north, taking the highway until it drops from eight lanes to three, then from three to two, and finally, at a stop light sixty miles from Kristoff’s hotel, it collapses into a normal two-lane road meandering through the countryside. The flat Piedmont Plateau had ended miles behind them, leaving Runa to enjoy the rise and fall of the Appalachian foothills under the tires of her bike.
Kristoff had chosen well for her. The bike seems to mold to her body, vibrating lightly under her legs, breathing life into her soul for the first time in weeks. Today, she feels not just awake, but alive. The sunshine and wind wash away the pain and memories of her time under the care of the nosferatu, refreshing her love of life and a carefree joy she’d forgotten. Feeling seems to be returning to her mind and emotions start to run through her. The numb shell surrounding her starts to crack and fall away.
Ahead of her, she watches Kristoff on his bike. She doesn’t know where he’s guiding them or if he’s only riding until they run out of road. A part of her would like that – to keep going until the road ends, only to turn right or left and ride unstopped until the end of the world. With a start, Runa realizes she wants to run. For the first time in her life, she wants to leave behind the vampires, her sisters, and the battle. To do what? No idea. But she wants something different.
Kristoff suddenly veers to the left when the road they’re on does finally find its end. He banks through a stop sign and onto an even smaller road with farms and small homes on the left and the right. They’re deep in the country now, the grand houses and new subdivisions of the Atlanta metro area far behind them.
Runa follows behind, keeping pace as he slows to accommodate a narrower road with many more twists and turns. She wonders where he’s going since it’s clear from the multiple turns that he has a destination in mind, but then she dismisses the thought. She doesn’t care, as long as it isn’t where she’s been.
He finally pulls onto a narrow, mostly gravel road that leads past fields of grapevines to a winery hidden away in the north Georgia mountains. He parks his bike among dozens of cars parked in a line on the grass along the road and waits patiently for Runa to pull hers in beside him.
Dismounting from the bike, Runa takes her helmet off to throw her arms around Kristoff in a ridiculously human move. He stumbles back a few steps, laughs, and then tightens his arms around her. One of his gloved hands comes up to rest against her cheek as she kisses him enthusiastically.