Chapter 29

T he next several hours are a blur. There's a brief meeting in the staging area at the mouth of the mountain headquarters entrance, where I discuss with Hesperion, Raphael, and Sorren the next steps and lines of communication and command structure. All three males have extensive military experience, obviously, so I defer to their recommendations as far as how to organize my small but growing force, as long as the emphasis is on encouraging cohesiveness across racial lines—well, not racial, but…god, we need a way to discuss mortals versus immortals, I think.

Raphael, now that he's blooded, is a different person, almost. I never saw him feed, but he clearly did and seems to be taking this whole thing in stride. The vampires all seem to listen to him and respect him, which makes him a natural choice for vampire relations liaison. I want to talk to him more and know more about him, but right now my only desire is to be alone with my mates and my coven.

To that end, there's a helicopter ride—my first, and exhilarating, despite my exhaustion and various injuries—from the Alps across Europe to a small airport in the middle of nowhere where we refuel for the trip across the Channel.

We pass north of London, but I can see it in the distance. Smoke rises in gray plumes. As I watch, there's a small orange flash and another plume of smoke. A purple flash—magic.

Unease gnaws at my belly. Part of me wants to land the helicopter down there and try to stop the fighting, or whatever it is that's happening.

You can't, Alistair says, across the link. You need to rest and recharge or you won't be any good to anyone. You need information and a strategy.

I know, I reply. I just…I can't help feeling guilty. Everyone warned me what would happen. And now it is.

I truly believe it would have happened anyway, he says. Immortals have been very unhappy for a long time. And with the mortal world as volatile as it is at the moment, something was going to happen at some point, somehow. Like you said to the Tribunal, our job going forward is to try to guide and make the best of it. Do what we can to help, and make it better, however we can.

Seems like an impossible job, I say, watching the smoke rise . I don't even know where to start.

You're not alone, dearest one. We'll figure it out, together.

I smile at him and go back to watching the smoke stain the sky.

An hour later, we're crossing over the patchwork quilt of rural England. Fields give way to a dense forest, and then the forest gives way to a clearing. At the center of the clearing—or rather, the broad, manicured lawn and rolling hills and hedgerow mazes of the estate—is the set of Downton Abbey. Or, so it appears. Three stories, several wings, pristine white stone with a dark roof, gravel lawn, lead-pane windows, turrets, towers, balconies…

"Alistair…" I breathe. "This place is… incredible ."

He smiles at me. "It really is something. Many of my memories of it are not…happy ones. But, I am eager to replace them with memories made with you, and my coven."

I glance at Caspian, in the row opposite. "Have you been here?"

He shakes his head. "No. None of us have. Alistair has always hated this place. He generally refuses to come."

"Hate is a strong word," Alistair says. "My father was a cold, hard, cruel man, even among vampires. I loathed him. I fled the moment I could and didn't return until my father's death in 1815. It has been long enough, however. It is time to return."

The helicopter settles on a vast expanse of grass in front of the massive mansion. The second helicopter, bearing Caleb's pack, lands not far away. A figure in a black suit emerges from the mansion and strides toward us as we disembark the aircraft and head for the house.

The figure is a tall, slender, elder male vampire with graying hair and a stern, serious bearing. "Your Lordship," he drawls in a crisp, upper-crust British accent. "You've graced us with your presence. And you've brought… friends." He eyes Caleb and then the rest of the pack, his eyes finally coming to rest on me, where they widen as his nostrils detect what I am.

Alistair claps the man on the shoulder. "Harry, old boy. Good to see you. Yes, I'm back. First, the public is no longer welcome. All tours of the main house and grounds are suspended. The gift shop and such can continue, and all agricultural activities obviously, but the main house is off-limits to everyone but the people you see here, and those we invite. House staff excepted of course."

Harry nods. "Certainly, sir." He glances at Caleb and lowers his voice. "And the…errr, shifters, sir?"

Alistair looks at Caleb, claps a hand over his heart dramatically, and gasps. "Why, Caleb, you're a shifter ! Did you know?"

Caleb's lips twitch. "I suspected."

Alistair chuckles. "The whole ‘turning into a wolf' bit gave it away, I imagine?"

"Could've been that, yeah."

Harry bristles. "Sir, I only meant—"

Alistair claps him on the shoulder again. "I know what you meant, Harry. Yes, they will be staying with us." He indicates me. "Do you know what she is, Harry?"

Harry frowns, subtly sniffing. "I hesitate to guess, sir."

Is it me, or is Alistair's accent more pronounced? I must say, I like it. Accents are hot.

God, I need my mates.

"She's a vaer, Harry. V-A-E-R. Half-fae, half-vampire. And part of my coven. In fact, she is now the lady of the Estate." He looks at me thoughtfully. "Her wishes and orders are to be carried out as if they came from me."

Harry's eyes widen. "Sir." He turns to me and bows at the waist. "Madam. Harold Quimby at your service. Harry, if you wish."

I smile at him as warmly as I can. "Harry. This place is amazing. You'll have to give me a tour and tell me its history." I lean close. "Something tells me I'll get better stories out of you than him." I gesture at Alistair with my thumb. "Did you know Alistair as a child?"

Harry's lips tighten, and then make a reluctant approximation of a smile. "Yes, madam. I have served his family for seven hundred years. I oversaw the building of this estate, and I have supervised its operations every day since." He glances at Alistair. "And young Master Alistair was a terror, I tell you. Especially when he came into his abilities."

I laugh. "Alistair? A terror? I don't believe you. He's so… proper ."

Alistair laughs. "If Mother could hear you call me proper, she'd die on the spot."

I grab Harry by the shoulders and lock eyes. "Just, please god, tell me you have an epic bathtub."

He tenses when I touch him, eyes widening, as if physical contact is taboo. "In point of fact, there are several bathtubs, madam. I could not venture to guess what makes one…epic…but I'm quite certain you'll find one to your liking."

"As long as I can stretch out in it and keep the water so hot it hurts until I turn into a raisin, then it's epic. A few candles and some bubbles wouldn't go amiss."

He smiles, faint but paternal. "I think that can be arranged, madam." He glances at Alistair. "The green room for her, sir?"

Alistair frowns. "The green room? Harry, did you not hear me? Maeve is the lady of the estate . She gets the east wing." He gestures at Caspian and Caleb. "Her mates will share the east wing with her. The rest of us will choose from the various other rooms."

Harry goes utterly still, his eyes bugging out of his head. "But…but sir . The east wing? You…it's your estate, sir. She's not even your mate."

Alistair's eyes harden and shadows writhe around him. "You overstep, Harold. It is my estate, as you correctly point out, and it is my decision that Maeve will have the east wing."

Harry steps back, pale and stammering. "Y-yes, sir. My apologies, sir." He bows at the waist in my direction. "Madam."

I frown at Alistair. "I don't need a whole wing, Alistair. I don't want to step on any toes. It's not a big deal."

Alistair softens, the shadows receding. "There are no toes to step on, my dearest one. You do need the wing. And I have never, could never, and will never occupy the east wing. It's where my mother and father lived when they were alive, and I can feel them there yet. Not to worry, it's all in my head—no hauntings here. I just have no interest in sleeping in the east wing." He cups the side of my face and rubs my lips with his tongue. "And besides, the bath in the east wing is, objectively, a work of art."

"Well then," I say, hooking my arm around his, "lead the way."

Another full hour later, we have toured the house. It's…well, descriptors fail. Magnificent? Glorious? Breathtaking? They all fall short.

The entrance and foyer are floored in black-and-white tiles, with a compass rose in the center of the foyer beneath a massive, intricate crystal chandelier, the compass rose inlaid with gold leaf and rubies and glamoured so that it acts as a true compass, rotating to show true north no matter which way you stand. Twin staircases frame the foyer and arc around and up to the second floor, with suits of armor—dented and scratched and tarnished from actual use hundreds of years ago, guarding the landing. Displays of axes and polearms and swords and shields adorn the walls, with small gold plaques beneath each set describing who used them and in which battle. Taxidermied animal heads appear here and there, but not just deer—lions, tigers, bears, rhinos, wildcats, lynx, wolves, eagles, hawks… Alistair pointed out that all the animals were hunted, stuffed, and mounted centuries ago, before the animals were endangered.

The floors of the hallways are carpeted in thick, plush, crimson carpet, the walls wood-paneled, the ceilings coffered in some places and painted with replicas of famous murals from around the world in other places. There's a cook's kitchen—a cold, echoing space full of ten-foot-wide hearths and a ten-burner wood-fired stove and a vast island with a six-inch-thick live-edge butcher block countertop… a place where you could cook to feed an army. There's also a secondary, smaller kitchen, newer, with modern appliances and cabinets, which also doesn't seem to get much use…not entirely shocking considering this estate was built by and for vampires. Harry explains that the place was built with every possible feature and convenience available, and has been updated throughout the centuries—so visitors and tourists have no reason to question the mortality of the owners.

There's a pantry bigger than most houses, a side-by-side walk-in refrigerator and freezer stocked with every kind of food imaginable. A parlor with antique furniture for entertaining guests, a billiards room, a smoking room, a movie theater larger than most commercial ones, and a library to rival the one in Beauty and the Beast —three stories, with rolling ladders and balconies and reading nooks, each shelf stuffed with antiques and first editions and classics, hardcovers and paperbacks—thousands of books on every subject and in every genre.

"This was my mother's pride and joy, and her life's work," Alistair says. "It's the largest private library in England, and I believe one of the largest private libraries in the world."

"It's truly incredible, Alistair," I breathe, standing in the middle and just spinning in circles, trying to take it all in, feeling like Belle when she first sees the Beast's library.

The last thing I'm shown is the east wing. It's truly an entire wing of the house, occupying all three floors with private stairs to access the upper stories. The main floor houses the bedroom and bathroom, each of which is the size of a standard American single-family home, at least. The bedroom features a four-poster bed older than the United States by a few hundred years, large enough for four people to lie side by side and not touch each other. A huge sea chest sits at the foot of the bed, and a pair of huge hand-carved armoires flank the doorway to the powder room—just a toilet and sink to serve the bedroom. A fireplace large enough that I can stand up inside it with my arms spread faces the bed with a pair of suits of armor standing guard on either side.

The bathroom is truly a BATH-room, and is the pièce de résistance of the wing. It occupies several thousand square feet, every surface wrapped in the finest marble. Three-way full-length mirrors for admiring your eternally perfect body in one corner, with a cozy sitting area nearby, centered on a small fireplace. Deep sinks with gracefully arching faucets, the fixtures all gold and capped in rubies. A false-front hidden cabinet hides a towel-warmer, which uses a fae glamour rather than mortal technology. There's a shower, of course, with twin rainfall heads and at least a dozen horizontal sprayers, long benches, nooks for soap and such, and enough space to throw a football around if you were so inclined.

And then there's the…tub. Which, really, is a pool—the kind of thing you see in movies but which I didn't think actually existed. It occupies its own separate room, lit by torches flickering with soft blue-white fae flame, and a thousand candles glamoured to never go out or drip wax. The pool is wreathed in steam so dense I can't make out the far walls, but Alistair tells me there are nooks to sit and relax in, as well as a section near the back with a hot waterfall for washing and rinsing. It's waist-deep in most places, with a deeper section you can actually swim in, and a dedicated cold-plunge pool, the whole kept at a steady hundred and four degrees by more fae glamourwork.

I nearly cry just looking at it.

Alistair wraps his arms around me from behind—the most physical familiarity he's ever shown me. "This is why I wanted you to have the east wing, my darling," he murmurs. "After all you've done and been through, you deserve it."

I choke on emotion. "I haven't been clean in so long. Since New York. I know it's just a big bathtub, but…being clean right now? In this?" I turn in his arms and wrap mine around his neck. "It's the greatest gift you could have given me."

I check in, mentally, with Caleb as I lift on my toes and mate my mouth with Alistair's, taking his tongue in my mouth and moaning as he traces my lips and teeth with his tongue.

Caleb expresses joy at my pleasure—heat, as he watches me kiss Alistair.

I realize the tour—which began with all of us plus the pack, has dwindled to just Caspian, Caleb, and Alistair.

Alistair pulls back from the kiss, eyes blacked out with need. He frames my face in his hands. "Bathe. Rest. Connect with your mates."

I cup his cheek. "I need you, too, Alistair. Fin and Stirling, as well. Not just Cas and Caleb."

He smiles at me, putting his hand against mine on his face. "I know, my dearest one. I know. But you need them first, and more. When you are ready, call for us. We will come to you."

I speak directly to his mind, privately, my eyes locked on his. Will you share your body with me, this time, Alistair?

He frowns. I'm not your mate, Maeve.

I don't care. Caleb and I talked about this, and I…I'm not a vampire. I make my own rules. And I'm not content with what's been, between us, so far. You, Fin, and Stirling, I mean. I want more. I want everything.

And Caspian? And Caleb?

It was Caleb who asked me why I was holding back with you guys. And I'll talk to Caspian.

We're not mated. I…I don't know, Maeve.

I don't care that we're not technically mate-bonded. I don't love Caspian and Caleb more just because there's some magical connection we didn't choose—it just happened. I love you, Alistair. You've shown me love, and care, and kindness, and thoughtfulness, and loyalty, and wisdom, and selflessness. I love you, and I want to express that with you.

Bloodtears pool in the corners of his eyes. I love you, Maeve. Words cannot express what it means to me to hear that from you. After Libby, I… He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, bloodtears staining his cheeks in crimson trails. I never thought I'd love again.

I kiss his cheeks, licking away the blood, and then kiss his tear ducts and taste blood. I only want what you feel comfortable sharing with me, Alistair. I won't push. But please just know that I desire you. All of you.

He cups my head as I kiss away his tears while speaking to his mind. I love you, and I've felt desire for you since the moment I saw you. I just…I'm so old compared to you. And at first, you seemed so mortal, so young. But now, all I see is a beautiful, powerful, regal woman. Immortal. A queen. A woman whose body and mind and soul I would spend my eternity worshipping.

I laugh out loud, sniffing. "God, Alistair. You really know how to woo a girl."

He frames my face in his hands and kisses me softly, slowly. "I must see to our other guests."

I wipe his cheeks dry with my fingers. "Go. I'll call for you later."

"I shall await your summons most eagerly, my queen," he says, grinning at me.

"Oh shut up with the queen bullshit," I laugh, pushing him away. "I'm still just regular old Maeve."

He lets me push him so he trips backward. "As you wish, my queen."

I laugh as he exits the bathing chamber.

My laughter fades as I take in my mates, standing side by side, arms crossed, both smiling, watching me with Alistair.

"What?" I ask.

Caspian shrugs. "You, smiling, and laughing? Doesn't get much better than that."

Caleb rumbles in agreement. "You deserve joy."

"It's not weird for you to watch me kiss him?" I ask.

Caspian shakes his head. "I like it. He needs it. He's held himself somewhat apart for as long as I've known him, and I've always gotten the sense that deep down, he's lonely. You bring him out of his shell. He's mourned Libby for two hundred and fifty years. It's time for him to start moving on."

I look at Caleb, and he just shrugs. "I told you what I think."

I cross to Caspian. Take his hands. "What if I want to be with him, Fin, and Stirling, as I am with you?"

His brows knit but in thought rather than disapproval. "You mean…mate with them?"

I nod. "Make love. Truly be with them. With all of you. Maybe not all of you all at once, all the time. I don't know. I just…I love you all, each in your own ways, and I…" I reach for Caleb and pull him close, and now Caspian is in front of me and Caleb is behind me, their heat and hardness and huge bodies enveloping me—well, Caleb is heat, and Caspian is ice…a delicious contrast.

"I know that you were upset at first, about Caleb. And I don't want to hurt you or make you jealous, I just—"

He silences me with a kiss. "No, my love. I was surprised. Confused. I was mad with the bloodmate sickness. It was…I've come to terms with it. I see that he makes you happy. He makes you powerful. When you went into The Dreaming, down in the cells after breaking that ward, you wouldn't respond. You were catatonic and cold as ice. Caleb went in and brought you back, and it became clear to all of us that you needed us. You needed the physical connection to anchor you, to bring you back. Caleb knew that and gave you what you needed. He protected you and kept you safe and brought you back to me. I'm grateful to him. And it will be my great privilege to share your love with him."

"My love is infinite, Caspian. For you. For him. For Fin, and Stirling, and Alistair. It doesn't multiply or divide—it simply is ."

Caleb just growls. "Enough talk. I need you."

I laugh, a breathy, eager sound, and turn my face to capture his lips. His mouth plunders mine, and Caspian nicks the back of my neck with a fang and licks it to send his venom sizzling through my body.

Caleb nips my lower lip and then releases me. "Get rid of that armor," he commands.

Caspian moves to stand beside Caleb as I step back, only now realizing I'm still clad in the blood armor—now dented, scorched, and torn.

I send maya through my body, into my skin, and into the blood. Turn the armor into liquid and then command my body to absorb it. My skin soaks it up and my veins flood with fresh blood, my prana surging and swelling.

Eyes, hair, and tattoos glowing white, I stand naked in front of my mates, pain forgotten, exhaustion burned away, need blazing in every pore, every nerve, every synapse.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Caleb growls. "Come here."

I shake my head and wade backward down the steps into the scalding water, sinking into it until it's at my chin and kicking away.

"Come and get me," I tease.