Chapter 28

28

I n their bed, Lachlain lay on his side, stroking the backs of his fingers from her navel up between her soft breasts and down again. Electricity charged the air and after last night, he now knew it was for her.

He didn't understand how she could still desire him or why she seemed so pleased with him. He'd woken with a heavy regret for his actions. She had been more than he'd ever dreamed, so beautiful, so passionate, and he'd finally claimed her. Again and again. Beneath the full moon, she'd given him unimaginable, mind-boggling pleasure—and a soul-deep feeling of connection with her.

She'd given these things, but he'd taken her virginity on the ground in the woods like the beast she thought him, shoving into her delicate flesh. He thought... he thought he'd made her scream with pain.

Then he'd marked her neck savagely. She could never see his mark—no one but a Lykae could—or feel it, but she would carry this frenzied brand forever. The Lykae would forever know upon seeing it that he had been out of his mind with lust for her. Or they would reason he'd done it to such a degree as an overtly hostile threat to other males. Both would be true.

Yet in spite of all this, the lass seemed pleased with him, chattering happily, reaching up with a dreamy expression to caress the side of his face.

"You have no' drunk today. Are you thirsty?"

"For some reason, no." Then she smiled brightly. "Probably because I stole so much yesterday."

"Saucy lass." He leaned down and nuzzled her breast, making her jump. "And you know it's freely given." He grasped her chin and met her eyes. "You do know that, do you no'? Anytime you need to drink, even if I'm asleep, I want you to take."

"You really like it?"

"Like is no' the word I'd use."

"You'd heal faster if I didn't."

"Maybe, but my recovery would no' be so sweet."

Still she was insistent. "Lachlain, sometimes I feel like a ball and chain around your ankle." Before he could protest, she said, "You asked me the first time I drank if I thought you would turn me to a Lykae. Could you?"

He tensed when he saw she was serious. "Emma, you know no living being can change without dying first." The catalyst for the transformation among the vampires, the ghouls, the wraiths, among all of them, was death. "I would have to turn fully, give myself up to it, and then kill you, hoping that you got infected so you could be reborn." Praying that she accepted a piece of the beast into her body and that it would roar to life within her—but not too strongly. "And if you survived, you'd be locked away for years until you could control the... possession." Most took a decade. Some never gained control.

With her shoulders curving in miserably, she muttered, "And still it almost sounds worth it to me. I hate being a vampire. I hate being hated. "

"Becoming a Lykae would no' alter that—just would give you a new set of enemies. We're no' exactly universally loved in the Lore. Besides, even were it done with the snap of my fingers, I would no' do it."

"You wouldn't change that I'm a vampire?" she asked, her tone disbelieving. "It would be so much simpler!"

"Bugger simple. It's made you what you are, and I would no' change a single thing about you. And besides, you're no' even wholly a vampire." Going to his knees, he scooped her up against his chest. He ran the tip of his finger over the point of her ear, then nipped it with his teeth, making her shiver. "You think I dinna see the sky you gave me last night?"

She blushed, a shy smile coaxed forth, then buried her face in his shoulder.

If he hadn't seen the lightning, he'd never have believed it. Crystal clear sky, moon heavy, and yet bolts had streaked wildly over it like a net, the light fading so slowly from one. He hadn't realized at first that they mirrored her cries. "That's always been rumored to be a Valkyrie trait, but none of us knew for certain."

"The men who see it don't usually, well, live, if they're the type to tell about it."

He raised his brows at that, then said, "You are no vampire. You have your lightning and your eyes grow silver. You're unique to all the world."

She grimaced. "In other words—a freak."

***

"No, doona say that. You're just your own entity, I believe." As Lachlain eased her back in his arms, the corners of his lips quirked. "You're my wee halfling."

She punched his shoulder.

"And I like the lightning. I'll know you're never feigning it." He kissed her, but he was grinning, so she punched him again.

"Oooh! I wish you'd never seen it!"

He gave her a lewd smirk. "If I'm outside and feel a charge in the air, I'll know to come running to you. You'll have me trained in a day." He was clearly thinking of all the scenarios. "I'm glad we live so far from towns."

We live.

He frowned. "But you were in a coven. Everyone would know if you brought yourself to come. No' a lot of privacy."

He spoke so bluntly—he was so aggravating! Face back against his chest, she snapped, "I didn't have to worry about that!"

"What do you mean? You never saw even when you touched yourself?"

She gasped, relieved he couldn't see her face. But of course, he leaned her back, not allowing her to look away. "No, Emma. I want to know. I need to understand everything about you."

She was secretive, shy. That damn voice inside her was insisting she share. "Lightning is constant over the manor—any marked emotion triggers it, and so many live there. And anyway, before last night, I've never, um, well"—she struggled with the word—"come."

His eyes widened. He was . . . delighted.

"It was very distressing for me."

"I doona understand."

"I've heard that the most twisted vampires have subjugated that need. Blood is all they desire, and those are the ones that drink to kill with such greed." She stared past him. "Not being able to was terrifying for me. Every day I feared I would be like them. "

"No' able to." He brushed her hair back from her forehead. "I dinna know. I thought you had some kind of Valkyrie control over yourself. I dinna know it was involuntary."

She must be using a gallon of blood blushing tonight.

"It's no' surprising you could no'."

She looked at him with hurt.

"No, no, if you were young and dinna know how, and then it dinna happen... you would start to feel pressure each time."

She nodded, stunned he saw so much. That was exactly what had occurred.

"You will never be like those vampires. Emma, you are nothing like them."

"How can you be so certain?"

"You are kind and gentle. You feel compassion. I would no' want you so strongly if I dinna know these things."

"But the Instinct forces you to want me. You said before that you had to keep me with you."

"Is that what you think?" He cupped her face. "The Instinct guides me to what I want and need. It directed me to the one woman I could make a life with. No matter what, it would always be you for me, but without the Instinct, I would never have recognized you as my mate because you are other. I would no' have given us a chance—and never forced you to."

"You say all of this like my mind's made up."

His expression grew grave, his eyes bleak. "Is it no'?"

"Well, what if it wasn't?"

He palmed the back of her neck, his eyes flickering blue. "You canna speak lightly of this."

"Has it never happened?" she whispered .

"Aye. Bowen."

She wriggled from his grasp, curling up against the headboard. "I thought you said his mate died."

"She did. As she ran from him."

"Oh, my gods. What did he do?"

"He became devoid of feeling, more a walking corpse than Demestriu even. You would doom me to that."

"But if you want to build a life with me, mine involves my family. You said you'd take me there. Why not now? Just get it over with."

"I have to do something first."

"You're going to get revenge, aren't you?"

"Aye."

"It's that important to you?"

"I canna be right without it."

"What Demestriu did to you must've been awful."

A muscle ticked in his cheek. "I will no' tell you, so doona play to find out."

"You always want me to tell you my secrets, but you won't share one that affects both of us."

"I will never share this."

Giving him her side, she hugged her legs tighter to her chest. "You want your revenge more than you want me."

"I will no' be what you need until I set this right."

"People who go after Demestriu don't come back."

"I did," he said smugly, with all his considerable arrogance.

Could he be lucky twice? He couldn't not come back. "So, do you plan to leave me here when you go mete out your retribution?"

"Aye, I would trust your safety only to my brother Garreth. "

"Leaving the little lady back at the keep?" She laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "Sometimes I'm stunned by what a time capsule you are."

He frowned, obviously not understanding her.

"Even if I could be convinced to kick my heels up here, this plan has a flaw. The coven is busy with their own difficulties, but there's only so much time before they will come for me. Or worse."

"What do you mean, or worse?"

"They'll find a way to hurt you. Find a weakness and exploit it like a scourge. They just won't stop. Isn't there a group of Lykae living in the next parish over? My aunt, the one I love best in the world, could attack them with a viciousness that would stagger you."

He ground his teeth. "You know what bothers me most about what you said? I should be the one you love best in the world. Me."

She gasped at the words and the surprise feeling that flashed through her all the way to her toes.

"And of the other, if anyone in my clan is weak enough to be captured or killed by wee fey... women, then they needed to be culled from the pack anyway."

That statement brought her crash-landing back into the conversation. "They are small and fey looking. They also kill vampires regularly. My aunt Kaderin has destroyed hundreds of them."

His lips curled. "An auntie tells you tales."

"There's proof."

"Did they sign a paper right before she worked their heads off?"

She sighed, and when she didn't answer, he leaned forward and squeezed her foot. "When Kaderin kills, she snaps out a fang—to be strung with the others. The line runs the length of her room."

"All you're doing is endearing her to me. Remember, I'll see every one of them dead."

"How can you say that when I am one? Or part of one. Whatever you want to call it! One of them is my father." He opened his mouth to speak, but she said, "You can't spare him only. Because I don't know who he was... or is. That's why I was in Paris searching for information."

"What of your mother?"

"I know more about what she was doing a thousand years ago than I do about when she was pregnant with me. We do know that she lived in Paris for some time with my father. Just the fact that I insisted on traveling alone should tell you how important discovering more is to me."

"Then I will help you. When I return and after you see your family, we will solve this."

He was so assured it would be done. So says the king. "What was your mother's name? I know the names of about twenty or so Valkyries. Even know some legends told around a fire. Was she another bloodthirsty witch like Furie? Does she have a trailing name like Myst the Coveted or Daniela the Ice Maiden? The Beheader, perhaps? The Castrator?"

She sighed, weary of this. "Her name was Helen. Just Helen."

"I never heard of her." He grew quiet, then said, "And your last name? Troy? At least your aunts have a sense of humor."

Her gaze flickered over his face.

"Oh, no. No' going to believe that one. Helen of Troy was human at best. Most likely a myth or a character in a play. "

She shook her head. "Nope. She was Helen of Troy by way of the country of Lydia. She's no more a myth than my aunt Atalanta in New Zealand or my aunt Guinevere, of Camelot legend, in Seattle. They came first. The warped stories come after."

"But... Helen? At least that explains your looks," he muttered, clearly shocked. "Why in the hell would she stoop to a vampire?"

She flinched. "Listen to your disgust. Stoop to my father, you mean." She grasped her forehead with her fingers. "What if he is Demestriu? Have you ever thought about that?"

"Demestriu? I know that is no' the case. I will help you find your father—you will have your questions answered. I vow it. But you are no' his."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're gentle and beautiful and sane. His issue would be like him." His eyes grew blue. "Malevolent, filthy parasites that belong in hell."

A chill crept up her spine. To hate so deeply ... it would have to spill over to any vampire. "We're kidding ourselves, Lachlain. This will never work between us," she said, in a defeated tone.

His brows drew together at her words as if astounded she felt that way. But how could he be? "Yes, it will work. We've trials to overcome, but they will be overcome."

When he said it like that, without the minutest hint of doubt, she almost believed disparate beings like themselves could make this a go. Almost. She ventured a reassuring expression for him, but didn't think she pulled it off.

He suddenly rasped, "Christ, lass, I will no' argue with you when I've been too long to find you." He cupped her face with both hands. "Let's speak of this no more. I have something I want to show you."

He lifted her from the bed, setting her on her feet. Though she was naked, he led her toward the bedroom door.

"I need to put on a nightgown!"

"No one's here."

"Lachlain! I'm not walking around willy-nilly naked. Okay?"

His lips curled as if he found her modesty endearing. "Then go put on the silk I'll soon be ripping from you. You've no respect for your clothing."

She glowered, crossed to her dresser, and chose a gown. When she turned back, he'd slung on a pair of jeans. She'd realized that he'd begun trying to make her feel more comfortable. Of course, he still often insisted that she "stretch herself."

He escorted her downstairs, then past the gallery, until they approached what had to be the end of the castle. He covered her eyes with his hands, leading her into a room that felt moist and smelled lush.

When he removed his hands, she gasped.

Glass walls, glass ceiling. He'd taken her to an ancient solarium, but the light it captured was the moon's, illuminating all that grew within.

"Flowers. Blooming flowers," she breathed in disbelief. "A night garden."

***

Emma turned to him, bottom lip trembling. "For me?"

Always for you. All things for you. He coughed into his fist. "All your own."

"How did you know?" She leapt into his arms, hugging him hard—she really was getting to be a strong wee lass. She whispered her thanks in his ear, with little teasing kisses, easing the empty, feral desperation still clinging to him. He'd been stunned by her surety that they would end.

After last night and today, he'd hoped their bond had been cemented. He was lost for her, yet she dared envision a future without him? When she scrambled down, he reluctantly released her.

He simply had to use every means at his disposal to convince her. As she flitted back and forth among the plants, gently skimming her fingertips down the slick leaves, he wanted to convince her right then and there.

When she brought one bloom to her lips, closing her eyes in bliss, his gut tightened with want. He forced himself to lie back on a long chair and give her free leave, but he felt like a voyeur as he watched her.

She stood on tiptoe against a marble counter to reach the hanging plants strung above. Her short shift rose, flashing glimpses of her white thighs—until he could take it no longer.

He stalked up behind her to clench her hips.

In a breathy voice, she asked, "You're going to make love to me again, aren't you?"

He lifted her onto the counter, tore off her shift, then pressed her naked body back into the blooms.