She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and smiled, and the entire room lit up from her grace. “Ask what you will, Napolean. I will do my best to answer.”
Napolean’s eyes were two haunted spheres as he forced his seemingly dry tongue to work. “Why did the gods allow the Curse?”
Andromeda sighed, and her heart rose and fell with the weight of the king’s fateful question. “Allow is not the correct word, my child. Alas, you of all souls know how creation works. Thoughts are deeds. Desires are actions. All That Is exists, in and of itself, as a blank canvas of quantum energy, merely awaiting a creator’s brush, the attractive energy of a creator’s attention, to manifest as a physical thing. As beloved beings, you were created with unassailable free will, to generate both wonders and horrors as you saw fit, and then to live in the wake of those choices. When Prince Jaegar and his men were sacrificing their women, destroying your civilization, where do you think all that pain and anguish and turmoil went? The hatred and vengeance, the inconsolable sorrow, that festered for so many years? The tangible energy of suffering that beset so many souls?
“You and I both know the first law of thermodynamics: Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it may only change forms and flow from one place to another. The collective energy of the slain—the fear, anger, and despair—flowed from the blood-soaked hands of your ancestors to the living will of the slain. It magnified, took root, and rose in the form of the Curse. And much like I have done today, the cosmic deities could not interfere with free will. They could, however, see to its balance. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I believe even Sir Isaac Newton, a mere human being, understood this truth. And so it was then, and shall forever be, Prince Jaegar manifested great destruction; Prince Jadon manifested equal mercy; and the celestial gods and the dark lords played our miniscule roles in allowing balance, only balance, Napolean, not the Curse or its vengeful destruction. That wasn’t ours to touch.”
Napolean shut his eyes and hung his head. “So it may never be undone?”
Andromeda smiled once more, though her eyes were brimming with reflection and even a little sorrow. “On this plane, this earth, time is an agreed-upon construct: the past, the present, and the future. You may use the power of your now to create great and horrible things tomorrow, but you may not go back in time. For you are but sentient beings, not gods, bound by the laws that govern the planet surrounding you.” Her multicolored eyes lit up with a sudden spark of interest, and she immediately furrowed her brow. Without stopping to explain, she spun around in a harsh circle, glared at Salvatore, and regarded Tiffany’s resting body. “Forgive me, my son, but our discussion has come to an end.” She cast an almost wicked glance at her brother, at Lord Ademordna, and smirked. And then she turned toward Ramsey Olaru and smiled.
“Think quickly, my son. Be the warrior that you are. There is yet another way to achieve our balance.”
And just like that, the room disappeared.
twenty
Without warning or preamble, Ramsey Olaru was back in Tall Pines Village Park.
He had just emptied his clip into Tawni; Tiffany was crouched down behind him, and Salvatore Nistor—the vampire, not the demon—was chewing his way through Ramsey’s arm, frothing at the mouth.
Great celestial goddess, Andromeda; it was all happening again!
The deity had turned back the hands of time!
And she had left Ramsey’s memory intact!
Ramsey dropped the machine gun, drew back his good arm, and punched Salvatore dead between the eyes, sending him spiraling backward from the force of the blow. And then he rolled across the grass, grabbed his trident in mid-turn, and sprang to his feet, his left arm hanging limply at his side.
Only this time, he didn’t stalk Salvatore in order to attack.
He called out to Saber Alexiares on a private, telepathic bandwidth and marshaled the soldier with a shout: Saber! It’s Ramsey. I’m on the southern end of Tall Pines Park, battling Salvatore Nistor. Come to my aid at once!
The soldier shimmered into view so quickly, his appearance took Ramsey aback. “Holy shit!” Ramsey swore, and then he waved the trident in Salvatore’s direction. “Keep that son of a bitch busy, no matter what else occurs!”
Saber nodded his head and growled a wicked purr. He cast a sidelong glance at Ramsey, taking note of his damaged arm, and then immediately turned his attention to the Dark One and smiled.
Ramsey chose to let it go, if only for the moment.
He had to leave Salvatore in Saber’s capable hands.
The north end of the park virtually filled with Master Warriors, vampires from the house of Jadon, and Ramsey knew they were there in reply to his previous call, an earlier moment in time.
It was of no matter.
He knew what was coming next.
He tossed his trident with a flick of his wrist, twirled it around like a baton, and rotated it into the center of his hand, and then he pretended to stalk toward Salvatore, along with Saber. His muscles twitched; his chest heaved with determination; and his knuckles turned white from his murderous grasp on the weapon.
And then just like before, everything happened at once.
Tiffany shifted to get up, and Tawni stirred, rising like a ghost from the grave.
A brittle leaf, left over from autumn, crunched beneath Tiffany’s hand, and Ramsey made his move. He sprang into the air, meeting Tawni in midstride, just as the wicked female was hurtling through the park at his destiny. Her eyes grew wide with horror and disbelief as Ramsey thrust his trident into her heart. “Surprise, surprise, witch!” He twisted the crude implement to the right, and then the left, even as he used a searing beam from his retinas to carve a wicked gash in her throat. He didn’t stop until her head fell from her shoulders and her heart sat at the end of his spikes.
Tawni’s dismembered body fell to the ground; Ramsey landed softly on his feet, and he immediately made his way to Tiffany.
She was cowering in the grass where he’d left her, her face a mask of unconcealed terror, and her mouth was still hanging open, suspended in a scream.
“Sh,” he whispered softly, tossing the trident aside and extending his healthy hand to help her up. “It’s over, baby. Everything’s okay. I’ve got you.” He pulled her to her feet in one swift tug and crushed her to his chest, tightening both arms around her.
Pain be damned.
Tiffany gasped for air. She arched her back in an awkward curve, her arms hanging to her side, and tried to gain some space. “Thank you, Ramsey.” She swallowed convulsively as he held her even closer. “But… uh… um… I can’t breathe!”
Ramsey released her waist and cupped her by her cheeks, his rough thumbs caressing her jaw. “Hell’s fire, Blondie.” He stared into her glorious eyes like it was the first time he had beheld the sun and fought to contain his emotion. His eyes were moistening with tears. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Oh, baby,” he breathed. And then he swept her once more into his arms.
He just didn’t care…
Tiffany stiffened and drew back her head, nearly straining her neck. “Uh, Ramsey? Are you all right?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, angel. I’m better than I’ve ever been before.” And then he placed one hand on the small of her back, anchored the other in her hair, and bent her over to kiss her.
*
Tiffany reeled from the shocking yet powerful sensation of Ramsey’s chiseled lips pressed tightly and ardently against hers, sealed in a nearly desperate kiss, and then she tried not to panic.
What the hell was going on?
Why was he acting like this?
Their relationship had not gone there, at least not yet.
She blinked several times, glancing furtively about the park, peeking beyond Ramsey’s cheeks. The sentinel seemed to be oblivious, and holy mother of passion, the male could kiss like a fallen angel! But still, there were warriors everywhere. They might still be in danger. Ramsey had jus
t skewered and beheaded Tawni, and what the hell was that all about anyway? The woman had turned out to be some sort of vampire!
None of it made any sense.
Her head still spinning from the sudden turn of events, Tiffany planted both hands firmly on Ramsey’s chest and shoved him sharply back, breaking the fervent kiss.
He didn’t seem at all dismayed.
In fact, he just stood there like a prowling lion, staring at her like she was a steak, and he hadn’t eaten for a year.
“Ramsey,” she tried again. “What are you doing?” Before he could answer, she started to ramble, her nerves finally getting the best of her. “Oh, gods, I’m so, so sorry.” She shook out her hands like she had something disgusting on them as she, once again, glanced around the park. “I did all this, didn’t I?” She blanched and ran a nervous hand through her hair. “Tawni wasn’t who she said she was. Oh my gosh; that’s like the understatement of the year! She was a freakin’ blood-sucker! But how?” She spun around in an anxious circle, taking in more of the chaotic scene. “And Salvatore; I thought he was going to kill you. To kill me! Oh God, where’s Phoenix?” She pressed the side of her hand against her brow and strained to get a better look. And then she saw Brooke in the distance, holding the child in her arms. “Brooke! Brookie!” She waved her arms frantically through the air, but her voice got lost in the din with so many vampires all around them. “Holy shit, half the house of Jadon is here.” She planted her palms on her knees and tried to calm her nerves. “What have I done?”
Ramsey placed a firm but gentle hand on her back and sent a soothing stream of energy into her core, even as Saber Alexiares approached from the south. “Calm down, Blondie,” Ramsey said. “Just take a deep breath.” He laughed aloud—actually made a sound that was akin to joy—and increased the pressure on her back. “Soldier,” he said to Saber, as the arrogant vampire approached.
“Salvatore got away,” Saber bit out angrily. He sauntered up to Ramsey’s side, his eerie black-and-red locks sweeping the tops of his shoulders as he walked, and planted his feet a shoulder’s width apart. “That cowardly bastard took one good look at what you did to that—that female— and headed for the hills. I got a few good licks in before he vanished, though.” He massaged his jaw with his left hand, drawing attention to several nasty cuts along his cheek. He opened his right fist, and several locks of Salvatore’s bloody mane fell from his palm to the grass. “Hell, I think I scalped the piece of shit.”
Ramsey’s eyes grew dark and enigmatic, unlike anything Tiffany had ever seen in his expression before. He was staring at Saber like some long-lost brother, like the male had wandered for forty years in the desert and had just this moment come home. “Thanks for getting my back.” His voice was unusually emotive.
Saber furrowed his brow and shrugged with indifference. “Of course. Always.” He snarled then. “Just sorry we couldn’t kill the bastard this round.”
Ramsey tilted his head in an indulgent gesture. “You didn’t have much warning.”
Saber nodded. “True. True.”
And then Ramsey did the oddest thing. He placed his right hand on Saber’s shoulder and just stared into his eyes. When he finally decided to speak, he asked him the strangest question: “What do you remember?”
Saber cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?” He sounded more confused than sarcastic. When Ramsey didn’t reply, Saber pursed his lips. “I remember getting ready to feed my mate when you ramrodded your way into my head and told me to get my ass to the park, post haste. What am I supposed to remember?”
Ramsey looked away and frowned. “Nothing. Not a thing. Just… checking.”
Saber raised his eyebrows and frowned. “You good?”
Ramsey nodded. “Yeah… yep.” He pointed his forefinger at a stiff blade of grass and crooked his finger. The blade snapped loose from the root, shot into the air, and landed in his hand. He stuffed it between his lips and worked it into the corner of his mouth. “You do know,” Ramsey said, pausing to consider his words, “that I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t implicitly trust you, right?” He sighed and flicked the blade of grass with his tongue. “Not with my destiny’s life on the line. Not when the queen and the prince were in peril. I mean, you get that, right?”
Saber shifted his weight from one foot to the other and grew quiet. After several pregnant moments had passed, he brushed some grass off his pants, perhaps for a lack of anything better to do. “Yeah, I get it. Why?”
Ramsey cleared his throat. “Because it’s important—that you know.” He curled his fingers into a fist and placed it against his heart in a rare gesture of affection.
Saber literally started. “Ah’ight,” he said. When Ramsey continued to stand there, just staring, he added, “So, what now? You wanna kiss me or something?” Saber’s mouth turned up in a smile, or a scowl, depending on one’s perspective.
Ramsey barked out a deep, masculine laugh. “Hell no, dragon. I’ll leave that for Vanya.” He drew Tiffany upright, hauled her to his side, and gave her the most ravenous look she had ever seen. “I’ve got other… interests.”
Okay, so this was getting out of hand.
In fact, it was bordering on exploitation.
On a scale from one to ten, the weirdness was reaching a twelve, and Ramsey was acting way out of character. Maybe he had bumped his head in the midst of all the turmoil. Tiffany shot him a questioning glance through her peripheral vision, hoping to send him an unspoken message: Calm down, Conan. I’m really not feeling the Me Tarzan—You My Jane thing.
Saber pretended not to notice. He gave Tiffany a cursory nod and then turned his attention back to Ramsey. “I get it. S’ all good.” He held out his hand, and the warriors exchanged some primitive, masculine handshake before Saber turned to walk away. Stopping to look back over his shoulder, he gestured toward Ramsey’s left arm with his chin and grimaced. “You need to get that fixed.” He shuddered. “That’s nasty.”
Ramsey chuckled. “Yeah, well, you should take a look in the mirror as well.” He drew an invisible circle around his face to emphasize his point, and Saber rolled his eyes. “Be well, warrior,” the vampire called in a formal register.
Ramsey nodded in kind. “Be well… dragon.”
Saber sniggered, and then he simply disappeared.
Tiffany bit her bottom lip and wrapped both arms around her waist before Ramsey could snatch her up again, or worse, plant another one of those hot-as-hell, but unsolicited kisses on her mouth, and she sighed. “So… are you really ticked off, or just a little ticked off?”
He leaned in closer. “At you?”
She nodded, feeling like a heel. “I swear to you, I had no idea. About Tawni, I mean.” She twiddled her thumbs. “I can’t believe I was that stupid. I fell right into their trap.” She shuddered, involuntarily. “So many people could’ve been hurt… or worse.”
Ramsey grew unnaturally still. Something dark and ominous flashed through his eyes, and then he purposely pushed it way. “Vampires,” he corrected.
“What?”
“So many vampires could have been hurt.” He spit out the blade of grass and turned to grasp her by both shoulders. “But they weren’t.” He reached down, took her hand in his, and rotated his thumb along the center of her palm, once again, growing distant. “You weren’t.”
Tiffany didn’t know how to answer. This was not at all like Ramsey, this rare, emotional bent. Sure, he was typically serious as a heart attack about hunting, serving the king, and protecting the house of Jadon, but this was something else. She stared at him for a moment, taking careful note of his posture. His shoulders were squared directly to hers in an open invitation. His head was tilted at an attentive angle, as if he was afraid he might miss some subtle signal, and his legs were planted just far enough apart to create a cradle for her smaller body. It was like he was protecting her, but from what? Finally, she whispered, “Just the same, I am sorry for creating this mess. I truly am.”
&nb
sp; He smiled. “It’s not on you, Blondie. I should’ve never let it happen. But trust me, things are about to change.”
Tiffany drew back, all at once uneasy. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
He tilted his head to the side and stared at her for a moment, and then he stiffened and blinked. “It means I’m going to talk to Napolean, debrief the other warriors—spend a moment with my brothers—and then we’re gonna get the hell out of here.” He held up his hand to silence any protest as he expanded his explanation. “You go give Brooke a hug and spend a little time with Phoenix, and then I’m taking you home.”
Tiffany practically shrieked in alarm. “Okay… I get that part, but you’re still making me a little uneasy. What are you implying, Ramsey? Things are going to be different, how?”
His deep hazel eyes darkened with intensity, and his mouth grew taut and pensive. “It’s all about time, baby doll.”
She frowned. “What? Time? How?”
“Time,” he repeated. “There’s no more time to play around.”
Her mouth grew suddenly dry and she gulped. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her heart restricted in her chest.
Ramsey pitched forward until their bodies were nearly touching, and then he slowly lowered his head, the movement as graceful as it was intimidating. His breath was both sweet and warm as his lips hovered just inches away from hers.
She trembled, afraid to even blink.
Something was clearly different about the male, but for the life of her, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It was as if he had taken command. As if something deep inside of him, both primordial and dominant, was rapidly rising to the surface. As if the predator had marked his prey. She only knew that Ramsey Olaru was no longer playing games, not that he ever had. The warrior inside him—the sentinel—was clearly taking charge, and he would not be deterred by a woman.
By his woman.
He locked his gaze with hers, and she felt an undeniable stream of energy pass between them. “You are my destiny, Tiffany Matthews. The gods gave you to me to protect, to value, and to claim. And I’ve been tiptoeing around this Blood Moon like a fledgling, trying to take it easy, when it’s my nature to take it hard. Trying to move things forward at a laid-back pace, when it’s my duty to get things done. Trying to give us plenty of time, when time is never promised, not to anyone.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “No more, Blondie.” Perhaps without meaning to, he growled like a leopard, purring deep in his throat, and then he flashed the barest hint of fangs. “I am going to make you want me.” He leaned in closer, if that was even possible, and the subtle shift in posture was an unmistakable play for power—his body all but enveloped hers. “I’m going to make you need me.” He reached out, as if it were his gods-given right, and traced the outline of her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “By this time tomorrow, you’re going to beg me to convert you. And I will. I will.” He turned his head to the side, bent over, and whispered in her ear, his voice a deep, husky rasp of promise. “But not before I make you scream my name, so I know that you want it.”