“Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea, to the open arms of the sea. Lonely rivers sigh wait for me, wait for me; I’ll be coming home, wait for me.”
And then just like that, the raven flew away, and the receiver shut down. The lights turned off, the speakers fell silent, and the melody ceased.
But the words still lingered…
“I’ll be coming home, wait for me.”
Deanna’s body literally shook.
They said she was his destiny.
And she was.
ten
Saber Alexiares checked his watch and smiled. It was six PM on Tuesday, forty-five minutes after sunset. Perfect. The silly kid—what was his name? Braden something or other—would be heading to the clinic to sit by Nachari’s bedside, or whatever the kid did when he was visiting the unlucky bastard; and the redheaded girl would be pulling into the driveway at any moment, back from her monthly hair appointment. He absently wondered how Salvatore Nistor knew all this shit—probably that ridiculous cube or something—but then he realized that he really didn’t care.
He was grateful, however, that the female was living at the wizard’s brownstone with the kid for a while, as opposed to staying at her permanent condo on the top floor of the Dark Moon Lodge. Trying to get next to her anywhere near that place would have been pointless at best. Too risky. Far too many sons of Jadon coming and going at all hours of the day and night.
Saber sneered, thinking about his natural enemy and the way they hovered over their females like bees around a honeycomb: hyper-protective, disgustingly macho, and just all-around annoying.
The sound of tires spinning over gravel caught his attention, and he turned to face the approaching vehicle: a flashy pink Corvette, quite the contrast to the traditional 1920s-style, brick-faced brownstone that the flashy car approached. He rolled his head on his shoulders, popped his neck, and tried to stretch his back while he waited for the ditzy girl to pull into the drive…and notice him. Even though the body he was wearing, so to speak, wasn’t real—it was more or less a mirage, a convincing illusion created and held by Salvatore Nistor’s Black Magic—it still felt a little odd. Ramsey Olaru was one huge, six-foot-five, muscled-up vamp; and while Saber was accustomed to carrying a lot of hard, tight muscle himself, it felt like he was wearing an extra fifty pounds, standing about five inches taller. The world just looked a little different from this vantage point.
No matter.
He sauntered across the front porch to a neat, bricked-in planter, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and copped a lean, waiting for the girl to pull up.
She was driving far too fast on her approach, but he figured that didn’t matter, either. She had an immortal body now and was living life to the fullest. He could almost respect that.
About five more seconds passed—the female absently bopping her head to the music and singing up a storm—before she finally glanced in his direction and instantly hit the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. She did a double-take, and Saber chuckled. He immediately registered the minor fluctuations in her body rhythms—an increased pulse, notable shallow breathing, and the distinct scent of raised pheromones. Looks like our Kristina finds the dark-blond, hazel-eyed Olaru brother both intimidating and handsome, he thought. This is going to be interesting.
She inched the car forward, pulling as far to the left as she could, before bringing it to a halt, all the while craning her neck to keep him in sight. She stepped out slowly, and he cracked his neck one more time.
Time to get in character.
As she shut the driver’s side door, rounded the hood, and ambled toward the porch, he frowned. “You don’t park in the garage?” Since Ramsey Olaru was one of three sentinels sworn to protect the citizens of Dark Moon Vale, Saber figured Ramsey’s first concern would be the girl’s safety—might as well make the performance believable.
“What?” she called back, her voice reflecting the potential for a gallon-sized attitude in a pint-sized body.
“Your car,” he repeated, inclining his head in the Corvette’s direction. “You should park it in the garage.”
Kristina looked back at the car for a moment and shrugged. “Oh, yeah, I guess…I mean, if you really think it matters.”
Saber nodded. “I do.”
“Fine,” she said, not seeming to care one way or the other. “I’ll do it next time.” She stopped about three feet in front of him. “So…what are you doing here?” She looked over his shoulder, then out at the yard, as if she expected to see someone else standing there. “It’s Rocky, right?”
He laughed out loud. “Ramsey.”
She blushed and shifted her weight nervously back and forth between her feet. “Oh…damn…sorry.” She forced a smile. “So, what are you doing here, Ramsey?” She wrung her hands together and then deliberately stopped fidgeting. “You’re one of Napolean’s dudes, right?”
He bit his lip. This had to be the most ridiculous thing the Dark Council had ever asked him to do. “I was looking for you,” he answered, cutting to the chase. Despite her brass exterior, the female was known to be insecure; and taking advantage of both characteristics would be Saber’s best weapon.Dudes?
“Me?” she asked. “Why? Is something wrong?” Her forehead creased with concern. “Has something changed with Nachari? Did something happen to Braden?” She immediately stepped toward the door and reached for the knob.
Saber reached out and placed a strong arm in front of her, blocking her path. “Slow down, girl—everything’s fine.”
She took a nervous step backward, retreating from the contact. “Okay…so then, what’s up?”
He shrugged his shoulders with an easy swagger. “Don’t know yet. I was hoping we might figure that out…together.”
Kristina drew back. “Excuse me?”
He smiled then, slow and sexy. “You heard me.”
She started fidgeting again. “Um, I’m pretty sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He raised his arm above his head, resting it against the door frame, and leaned in closer. His posture was both inviting and intimidating. “Oh, I think you do.”
She looked almost irritated then—clearly defensive and definitely off-guard.
Good. He preferred to remain in control. He smiled. “Should I spell it out?”
She raised her auburn eyebrows. “Spell what out?”
“You. And me. Male and female. Both in the house of Jadon. Both unattached.” He chuckled low in his throat and moved back a bit, giving her a little room to breathe. A moment to let his words sink in. “I bet you can fill in the blanks,” he added.
Kristina swallowed convulsively and held out her hand as if to push him away. “Um, I’m pretty sure my brothers aren’t havin’ any of that. And neither is Napolean.”
Saber shrugged again. “Why not?” Before she could answer, he added, “And do you always do what Nathaniel, Marquis, and Kagen tell you to do?” He cocked his head to the side and stared at her, perplexed. “I didn’t take you for a yes-girl.”
She looked clearly bothered—if not directly insulted—but that was precisely what he wanted, to appeal to her pride. Being an incredible judge of character, Saber immediately saw Kristina as a ship without a harbor, a female who had been tossed even further out to sea by the recent turn of events: Her newfound family focused all their attention on Nachari and their mates, and she was left with a fifteen-year-old boy for companionship and nowhere to turn for attention. Under the circumstances, Saber didn’t need to be charming or even convincing—all he needed to do was stand in the gap.
“The way I see it,” he drawled, “there aren’t that many single people in the house of Jadon. Especially women like you—who were turned under unusual circumstances.” He reached out and boldly caught a lock of her curly red hair, letting it fall through his fingers slowly as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. “You’re not still thinking about spending time with human men, are you?”
She looke
d positively stunned. “I don’t know!” She put her hands on her hips. “That’s none of your business, really. And don’t you have a destiny somewhere to be concerned about?”
“Whoa,” he said, holding up both hands as if to surrender. “Back it up, sweetheart. No offense intended.” He used Ramsey’s striking hazel eyes and model good looks to their fullest advantage, holding Kristina’s surprised gaze while offering a sheepish—if not devilish—grin. “I will have a mate to think of someday; that’s true…” He reached out and brushed her chin briefly with the back of his finger. “As will you, I imagine. But not today.” He paused. “Maybe not for decades to come.”
She frowned and looked away. “And so you thought you could just materialize on my doorstep and what? Get the only unattached female vamp in the house of Jadon to give you some?”
Saber suppressed a chuckle. “Sweetie…” He spoke in a pacifying tone. “It’s not all about sex—why I’m here.” He tilted her chin upward with his hand. “Sometimes it’s just nice to have someone to talk to…to be with…to help pass the time.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to stand there and pretend your heart isn’t racing, your palms aren’t sweating, and your breath isn’t catching in your throat?” He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I know it is.”
She took two steps back, pressed flush against the front door, and wrapped her arms around her waist in a self-protective gesture. “Damn, Ramsey—are you always so direct?” She looked away. “So…I’m human. That doesn’t make me a fool. Or easy.”
He shook his head and laughed. “First of all, you’re not human, baby girl. And if I thought you were easy, I wouldn’t be here.” He took a step back then. “Believe it or not, I’m not all that easy myself.”
Now that got her attention.
Her eyes opened a little wider, and she appeared to be listening.
Thinking.
Perhaps even considering.
“Listen,” he said. He raised his arm to his mouth, scored his wrist with the tips of his fangs, and held it up to her as blood trickled down his arm. “Forget about all that other stuff for now. You’re hungry; I can sense it. Accept this offer of friendship…and feed.”
Kristina’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. She tried to back further away but had nowhere to go. “No!” she protested vehemently. “I can’t.”
“You can’t feed?” he asked.
“No…I mean, I can’t…with you. My brothers…” Her voice trailed off.
“Ah,” he nodded, feigning understanding. “The obedient little sister again.” He released his incisors, dripped healing venom over the gash to close it, and withdrew his arm. “I got it.”
Kristina frowned.
“That’s okay,” Saber quipped. “No worries. So I misjudged—no harm, no foul, right?”
Kristina seemed to be holding her breath, searching for a response. “Misjudged what?”
He didn’t hesitate in his blunt appraisal: “You. Where you’re at. What might be possible…between us.” He backed away, stepped down from the porch onto the first of five steps, and shrugged. “If feeding…and friendship…are not even possible, then there’s not a whole lot more to be said. My mistake.” He turned and took another step, knowing he was taking a calculated risk: She might just let him go—which would place him right back at square one as far as his mission was concerned—but he was betting she would stop him before it went that far. Theirs was likely the only meaningful contact she’d had with an adult—other than Braden or her family—in months; and it was more than likely the only offer she’d had from any male in the honorable house of Jadon, period. There wouldn’t be another one coming along any time soon.
He restrained a chuckle.
Kristina would be hard-pressed to let Ramsey go. Any needy female would.
He let the silence between them linger for a moment, and then he cleared two more steps. “I’m sorry if I offended—or frightened—you, Kristina. That was never my intention.” With that, he took the remaining step in a casual leap and began to stroll down the walk.
“Wait,” she whispered.
Her voice was barely audible, but Saber heard her loud and clear. He stopped dead in his tracks and stifled a smile. Slowly turning around, he met her tentative gaze. “What’s up?”
She sighed in exasperation. “I’m not trying to say…anything…one way or the other. It’s just that I don’t know what—hell, I didn’t even know your name ten minutes ago. I haven’t had time to think.”
He smiled regretfully. “A vampire shouldn’t have to think to feed, Kristina. It should just come natural.” He held up both hands. “Hey, it’s cool. Truly. Your conversion was how long ago? Just over four months? So you’re not ready yet—there’s no shame in that, baby girl.” He inclined his head toward the front door. “You take care, okay?” He turned around again, but not before he saw her eyes flash momentarily red.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Since you know so much about everything, just go then.”
He bit his lip to keep from smiling. He had her. Hesitating, he looked down at the ground and pretended to grapple with some internal frustration. When he finally turned around to face her, his expression was one of confused anticipation: “I’m having a hard time reading your signals here, Kristina. Do you want me to go, or do you want me to stay?”
She opened her mouth to speak and then faltered, unable to give him a clear yes or no answer, and he knew he had pushed her as far as she was able to go. In the space of a heartbeat, he scored his wrist a second time, materialized in front of her, and held the offering out a second time. “Feed, sweetheart.” A blood exchange would do more to foster intimacy than sex ever could; besides, she would be dead long before she acquired enough skill to track him. So there was really no risk in feeding her.
She reached up hesitantly and took his arm in her hands. While her approach was as awkward as it was inexperienced—he was accustomed to soldiers who struck the jugular with force—she managed to sink her fangs deep enough to take a healthy, drugging pull. And then she sighed with relief. As the full potency of his blood flowed into her, her eyes fell half shut, and she almost moaned from the pleasure of it.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he whispered. “Take what you need.”
He waited silently as she drank her fill, all the while considering the situation: If his mission had been only to seduce her—or simpler yet, to take her by force and dispatch her—he could have pulled that off easily; but as it stood, Oskar and Salvatore had instructed him to get close to her, gain enough of her trust to discover her secrets, get inside of her head—which was something he had never had to do before—so, in a way, both of them were selling their souls in the encounter.
Before he could contemplate any further, Kristina withdrew her fangs, clumsily sealed the wound, and released her hold on his arm. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked away, embarrassed. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
He was about to ask her to invite him in—at the least, get the invitation out of her so he could come and go as he pleased, if needed—but then he thought better of it. The girl was uncomfortable now, almost as if they’d just had meaningless sex. “You all right?” he asked.
She nodded, insincerely. “Yeah…I’m cool.”
He gently grasped her chin in his hand and tilted her head up to force her gaze. “Are you sure?”
She looked away but nodded. “Yeah…I’m sure.”
Turning her head back with his hand, he bent over leisurely and pressed his mouth to hers. Careful to keep the kiss both gentle and short, he pulled away ever so slowly and whispered, “Friendship is a good thing, Kristina. Relax.” And then he took her keys, placed the largest one in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open. His skin began to burn as it crossed the threshold absent of an invitation, but he ignored the sensation and quickly tucked his hand behind his back before she could notice. “Go inside,” he suggested. “I’ll see you another time.”
She looked surpr
ised.
Relieved.
More than a little confused…
But she stepped inside the brownstone.
“Sleep well, baby girl,” he called after her.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay…you, too.” And with that, she shut the door behind her.
Saber smiled, letting out a slow, deep breath. Damn, that had been like pulling teeth. But worth it, he figured. As far he was concerned, it might be a little touch and go going forward, yet she was more or less putty in his hands. He waited a moment before dematerializing. In truth, he couldn’t wait to shed Ramsey’s unfamiliar skin and get back to the colony, to his own kind, but he didn’t want to seem too rushed in case she was peeking through the peephole.
All in all, he thought, Salvatore had done a pretty good job of maintaining Ramsey’s persona for him—cloaking his own physical appearance for such an extended period of time. Just the same, his soul was reeling from the experience.
Killing—he understood.
Preying on the weak—nothing more than an automatic reflex, as easy as passing time.
But talking, flirting, and sidling up to a female—all easy, nice, and respectful?
That bullshit was for the birds.
Kristina shut the door behind her and fell back against it, trying to catch her breath: Ramsey Olaru? One of Napolean’s sentinels?
Was she dreaming?
Never, in all her life, had a man that fine or that important wanted her…for anything. Even Marquis had only picked her because he had no choice. And before that, it had been Dirk—for years—a confusing mix of love, abuse, and way too much need.