Icarus; The Kindred (A Paranormal Romance) (5 page)

We are both spent and shaking when he moves down, his palms leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Just before he sinks his teeth into my inner thigh, he says roughly, "Tell me you want this. Say my real name."

Tristan …

I am lost, swimming in the feel of Trinity drawing from me, when I hear a roar in my head that's an equal measure of pain and fury—Jacelynd.

"Let
me see your arm," Trinity says as he reaches over my lap. He rolls my arm over and unwraps the gauze. Because I was going through withdrawal, there will be a scar on my arm, just like there was on Quinn's. I don't want Trinity to know that the wound is still sore so I suppress a flinch as the tape sticks. "This is sadistic," he huffs. "You weren't awake for this were you?"

"I wasn't awake for much of anything." I can't get over the fact that he just asked me to address him using his real name. He hates his real name. I was told under no circumstances to ever use it. Ever. And now he asks me to say it in the middle of having sex? WTF doesn't even begin to cover it. "Why did you ask me to use your real name? I thought you hated it?"

"I don't hate it. And I have my reasons. For now, let's concentrate on getting you home. We can talk about that later."

"Do you want me to drive? I don't mind."

"No." He guides me to his black Hummer (H1 if you want to get specific) with a hand on the small of my back. I'm not a huge fan of his choice of vehicles in general, but tonight I'm grateful for the illegally tinted windows. You know, just in case we don't make it back before daybreak.

As we pull away from the house he asks, "Did you see your captors? What they looked like, what they were wearing? Anything you can remember will be useful in finding them."

Showing all of my cards to someone as powerful as Trinity is never a good idea, so I do what any red-blooded vampire would do. I lie. "I only saw two." I go on to describe Quinn and Damian, but don't reveal their names. "Why did they do this? What do they want from me?"

Trinity buys my ignorance. "Kindred off the dose too long can't tell what's real and what's not. I don't have a good answer for what they would want from you, other than your level of skill as an assassin. I doubt that I'll ever understand vampires like that. Immortality isn't a choice; in this world it's a burden and at the same time a miraculous blessing. What we do, all of us who have taken oaths and joined a higher calling, is for the good of our world … our kind. By sacrificing everything, our social life, our sanity, even our freedom at times, we are keeping others safe and allowing them to enjoy those liberties. Jessica, I know it feels like you're chained to this life, but you have abilities that not every Kindred has, skills that can be used to benefit those without."

I nod and start to feel a little calmer. At least he is making more sense than Jacelynd and Quinn.

"
We
are the good guys. Don't ever forget that." He takes one hand off the wheel and touches my cheek. This is unusual for him, this tenderness. Nothing about his personality is kind or sensitive.

"If I'm such a skilled assassin, how did they manage to grab me so easily? They hit me once and I was out. Once, Trinity."

Trinity grips the wheel in his hands. "They must have been watching you for a long time to know when and where you were most vulnerable. You can't blame yourself for that. I've told you a thousand times that your shithole apartment isn't safe. Do you believe me now?"

"Safe from what … humans? Death Dealers aren't smart enough to hunt during the day and any human who comes into my humble abode without my permission is nothing more than a conveniently delivered meal."

Trinity glances at me sideways. "What have I told you about killing humans? They're more useful to us alive. If every vampire killed with every feeding, we'd obliterate our food source."

I shrug. "We can drink from each other."

"Makes us weak, you know this."

"You never hesitate to take from me, or vice versa."

"That's different. You're different. I've already told you that."

Didn't Quinn say something about Blake being different, too? "Do you know anything about my last assignment?"

"No, it was assigned after I left for Chicago. Why?"

"Blake Christianson. I was sent to retrieve him, not kill him … it wasn't a normal mission. You didn't know anything about that?"

Trinity's lip curls back like a dog about to snarl, but he doesn't immediately respond. After a few minutes of silence he says, "I wasn't aware you'd been pulled from the reserves. Did they mention Blake, the guys who kidnapped you?"

I nod, but don't enlighten him further. He doesn't press me on it and this bothers me. Maybe I'm just being hypersensitive.

The road is desolate, stretching for what seems to be an eternity. The night is quiet, the sky clear and bright with stars. I flex my hands, trying to understand why my fingers ache so badly.

Holy shit, they're cold!

I am shivering, which shouldn't be happening. Vampires don't experience cold like this. We can overheat, but it doesn't work the other way around. Chilly sure, but my bones feel cold. Trinity has now noticed.

"You're cold." He takes one of my hands in his and a look of displeasure flashes across his face. He drops my hand and flips off the air conditioning, then presses his palm against the back of my neck. I think he is about to say something comforting, but he jerks the car to a sliding stop at the side of the road.

"Why would you lie to me?" The line of his jaw is rigid, his eyes dark and turbulent. He's never looked at me this way. "God, I expected you to, but then I thought you'd come to your senses. Apparently not."

"Lie to you? Has everyone lost their mind but me? It's probably the withdrawal."

More importantly, how did he know that I lied?

"No!" he barks, "You were with more than just Quinn and Damian. What aren't you telling me?"

"I … wait, I never said their names. I never told you their names."

"Jessica, I am risking everything to save your life. I have, for ten years, done everything in my power to give the world to you and you turn on me the first time you have the chance."

Jacelynd's cryptic answer to my question about sleeping without nightmares returns …
Exactly ten years ago today.

Trinity opens his door and gets out and I don't know what else to do but to do the same. This might have something to do with the fact that he took the keys out of the ignition. He walks ahead of me, toward the beach. He is standing very still on the shore when I approach him.

"I'm still trying to deal with this," I yell, "make some kind of sense out of what happened. If I'd done as you're accusing me, I would still be with them. I wouldn't have called you. I'm risking just as much by trusting you with my life."

He turns around. "What have I done that's led you to believe that I would do anything
but
give my life for you? I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I didn't even want to take you on as an assassin—very few women ever make it through training. But I did and you have held me at arm's length ever since."

Confessions of any nature aren't typical for Trinity. I don't know what to do with this. I am still freezing. In some way, it feels like Trinity's blood is what's doing this—like it's invading where warmth had been, chasing it away. I don't realize how much I am shaking until he breaks down and pulls me to him. I'm crying
again,
for the first time ever in Trinity's presence and it clearly affects him.

He hugs me tightly to his chest and rubs his hands in a failing attempt to bring warmth back to my limbs. "Ssh ssh, I know, I'm an asshole. I didn't mean that the way it came out."

I couldn't stop crying right now if I wanted to. Everything—the confusion, the pain and the weight of what's happened—has become too much to bear. Too many questions have gone unanswered. I'm way too far from my comfort zone.

I can't do this.

My vision spins and I feel weak. And I hurt, emotionally. My insides are in knots and thinking straight is out of the question.

You are stronger than any of us thought,
Jacelynd says,
stronger than I thought. Just hold on a little longer. I love you.

"Stop!" I scream, falling out of Trinity's arms to the sand. He doesn't immediately realize that I'm not talking to him. "Please!"

I'm sobbing!
Shit.
I'm sobbing like some snot-nosed teenager crying over her boyfriend dumping her at the prom. What the hell has happened to me?

I rock back and forth, my head in my hands. Trinity sinks to his knees and grips my arms, then leans in and kisses me, his lips so soft on mine that it stuns me.

"Do you remember that first assignment?" he asks.

It was a waking nightmare. One of those moments when you wonder how many body parts you can live without. "Yes. I remember."

"You held it together when grown men right next to you were losing it. Don't let Jacelynd destroy what you've worked so hard for."

"How do you know his name?"

Trinity pulls me to my feet. "I think it's time you were told the truth about High Coven."

The next couple of days are a blur.
I don't hear Jacelynd anymore, not since we made it to Trinity's house. Which, for the record, might as well be Wayne Manor. Of all the non-stereotypical places in my vampire life, this actually does fit somewhere in the deep-rooted, well-established vampire scenario. But, like I said earlier, I can't tell you with any level of certainty how old Trinity actually is. He's referenced things from time to time as first-hand experiences that pre-date anything from my modern history class, so I am assuming old means practically ancient. This doesn't bother me in the least—I've always liked older men.

My life is odd now that I can't go out in daylight. I remember sitting on the beach a few summers ago, wishing I could still have alcohol. Had I known I would find myself in this position, I would have soaked up the sunshine. Hindsight's a bitch.

Speaking of hindsight—Trinity took the liberty of having my belongings removed from my apartment, so it was all at his place when we arrived. I thought it was a bold move, considering the conversation we had before he drove out of town that went something like, "No, I won't marry you, Trinity, but thanks for asking." I guess he assumed that when I called him from Florida, it meant that I'd changed my mind. Near-death experiences can have that effect, I guess.

I have so many questions that I want answered, but in the back of my mind are the consequences of questioning the Coven and the powers that be. It's bad enough that I've agreed to go with Trinity to meet with the other clerics. It's never been the clerics themselves who instill fear in the hearts of all Kindred. They simply carry out the will of the Seer Cleric. He controls everything in our shadowed world, decides the fate of others like he decides what to eat for breakfast and his reputation is one of questionable temperament. The idea of going before him is what justly brings true fear to my heart.

We are on the way to High Coven. Trinity is in the back seat with me while one of his numerous employees drives. He is dressed in his usual attire—black button-up shirt, dark slacks and a thin leather jacket. I personally prefer sweats or at least jeans but I figured that was the wrong attire to wear to an execution, so I went with the conservative gray turtle neck, soft black leather pants and a black wool riding coat. Now, before you go accusing me of being stereotypical again, let me remind you that December in Alexandria, Virginia, is cold for humans, let alone a physiologically challenged vampire. These are the warmest clothes I own.

I've never seen High Coven, few assassins and even fewer of your average bloodsuckers have. From the estate, we are about forty-five minutes or so from the D.C. metropolitan area with traffic, so it doesn't take us long to get into the city. I don't want to do this. I wouldn't say it scares me, but I sure as shit wouldn't be doing it voluntarily.

Belladonna appears to be an average upper-middle class home on the Potomac River, but where we wind up totally throws me. I was expecting a run-down mansion or abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The subway, maybe.

"You're joking, right?" I ask, watching the smile spread across Trinity's face as we pull into the parking lot closest to several of the national monuments. He could be—I hated the movie
National Treasure
.

He comes around and waits until the driver has opened my door before saying, "You'll see."

We walk until we come to the Lincoln Memorial, where a handful of tourists are milling around. I can't decide if this is his sick idea of a prank or not. "This is fifteen shades of absurd. You can't be serious." I watch as a young couple totes around a sleeping toddler, taking pictures and chatting about tomorrow's agenda. "
Are
you serious?"

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he loops his arm around mine and escorts me to the back of Lincoln's chair, where we stand for a full two minutes. After the young couple leaves and a handful of new visitors arrive, he winks at me and rests his hand on what I would swear was ordinary monument material. It lights up in a circular pattern when he places his hand on it and I watch dumbfounded as a door materializes. The part of my brain that initiates sarcasm is temporarily out of order and I follow him languidly.

We walk down a long flight of narrow stairs and enter a sturdy underground structure. If I didn't know better, I would think we were in a regular above-ground building. Okay—minus the windows.

"Under the Lincoln Monument? Whose idea was that and how the hell did they pull it off?"

"It isn't below the monument, it's below the White House. This is just one of fifteen tunnels that lead there. We're not far now."

The crack I made about High Coven being the vampiric White House wasn't supposed to be literal.

"I don't get it," I murmur.

"You will. Come on."

He could have told me this, you know.

We eventually approach another gateway; this one has guards who don't question his presence, which makes me a little nervous. I know he's one of the clerics, but still. It opens into a well-lit chamber, filled with rather somber men who appear to have been waiting on us. I suddenly understand the saying "chills ran down my spine"; it's not my skin that shivers—it's my soul.

Trinity doesn't take a seat where I expect him to, nor does he tell me to remain quiet while we wait on some other power to approach the center of the room. Instead, all eyes turn to us, all bodies rise and all heads bow as he leads me to the center. Even then, it's when one of the seated clerics addresses him as Lord Tristan that I realize what's happening.

Trinity dismisses them and we are left standing in the room alone.

I can't speak. How daft must I be to miss that the guy I've been involved with is … well, God? Our hierarchy isn't a democracy. There is a council, but it doesn't function like any human council I know of—it's more akin to a king's advisory.
Jesus Christ. This can't be happening.

"
Lord
Tristan? You're the Seer Cleric," I force the words.

He takes my hand. "I've brought you here because I want you to understand that you aren't in any danger of judgment. You never were. The Rebellion doesn't know that Trinity and Lord Tristan are one and the same. Though, I'm guessing Jacelynd has made the connection now that the wars of our past have been, shall we say, reignited."

"You were only a mentor," I say softly, trying hard to absorb all of this. "You took orders from others. I was there."

"That was how it had to be. This is for the good of our kind. Nothing you see here is against the oaths that you willingly swore when you became an assassin."

I recall Jacelynd's words.
We haven't truly been in power over our own people in nearly five hundred years.

Trinity continues, "There are factions that would destroy us, that would destroy this," he gestures around us, "what we have bled and fought to obtain. An alliance may very well exist between us and humankind, those few who know of our existence, but it will not last. We've known that unavoidable fact for centuries. We are powerful, evidenced by our presence below the most protected place in America. We have a hand in every major government in the world, all things religious and political, but just as Rome fell, so can we if we aren't swift to take those who would question us to justice … if we don't firmly establish our dominance in this world."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"You weren't ready to hear it."

My skin tingles … those were Jacelynd's exact words when I questioned his identity.

"Jessica, you're one of the best assassins I've ever known. You kill cleanly and without conscience. In the last ten years, you've never once questioned your role in any of this … if anything, you've thrived under our guidance. You've never doubted High Coven or its purpose. This is your reward for such loyalty. You've seen my power, the things I can do that no other Kindred can do. You've asked for years about obtaining those powers. Today, I grant you that gift."

A door opens behind us and two men in black emerge. One of them carries a silver tray with two goblets on it, the other an ornate knife.

"I saw the fear in your eyes when we stood on that shoreline. I don't ever want to see it again. I openly confess my love for you and my want to spend … to give you the gifts that only I can give you. Do now as I ask and you will share those powers." The men stand on either side of me as Trinity speaks. "Don't deny me, Jessica. Don't deny yourself what you desire." He takes the dagger and slices open his hand. "Drink my blood now, as it is dedicated to you and you will know what it's like to truly be alive."

He takes my hand and does the same, spilling my blood into the second goblet. He closes his eyes and says, "As it is within, let it be without. Eternal thirst begotten of eternal love. As one tethered to another, forever seal these souls." He hands me the first goblet, with his blood, to drink, then mirrors my actions with the other.

The blood changes as it reaches my throat—it grows sweeter, warmer.

Trinity says, "Repeat these words in your mind as I say them,
Fortai dunam eirtha tulet.
"

I hesitate for a fraction of a second, something welling in my gut, before the blood rushes to my head.
Fortai dunam eirtha tulet.

No!
Jacelynd screams,
Jessica!

I
lie awake at Trinity's side the next morning and wonder,
What have I done?

There is no voice to answer my questioning. Only a void that feels like a portion of my heart has been cut away. Trinity opens his eyes and wraps his arm around my waist. I glance down, noting the rays of light as they stream through the window and paint our skin with gold ribbons.

And with that, I find a whole new understanding of the word "swiftly." It's like I am instantly on the floor in the corner of the room farthest from the window, my breath coming in frightened gasps. I rake my hands over my body, searching for anywhere that feels tender.

"It's all right," Trinity says sleepily. He comes to me and offers his hand. "Stand up."

I hesitate, but after he gives me a stern look, I let him pull me to my feet. "The dosing sph … "

He cuts me off by affectionately guiding me to the sunlight.

"How … " I don't even know what to ask.

"Just as my identity was kept secret, so is the real purpose of Icarus. The myth of sunlight came around ages ago and it has served as an easy cover for the real purpose of Icarus. Icarus is way to keep track of all Kindred. It also regulates procreation, among other things. You're high enough in the ranks now to finally know the truth."

Vicious burns mar my back and if I close my eyes, I can still feel the pain, which means I was conscious when I suffered the trauma. "My burns … from ten years ago. I was told it was an accident, after I was turned, before I was brought here. That had to be a lie. You knew," I murmur. "You knew what they were going to do and you sanctioned it. And I'm not the only one who has burns that are supposedly from sunlight. Why would you let this happen?"

Because our blood combined is unlike anything in this world, Jess.

Trinity's voice shakes me to my core as I hear him as I once heard Jacelynd. The repercussions of what this means rip through me.

"This is how you knew, you evil son of a bitch." Guilt surfaces as I recount the last few days. "How you knew I'd been with Jacelynd, how you knew their names. It isn't just about the Rebellion is it?"

"The past doesn't matter now. You have a life before you that you haven't dared dream of before. So much lies ahead for us." I've never seen Trinity excited about anything, at least not to this extent. "The Rebellion and all those humans who have made our lives so difficult since we came into this world are about to learn who truly has the upper hand here. But I'm on a tight schedule this morning and I don't have time to lay this out for you. We'll talk about it when I get home."

I shake my head, numb. "I don't understand."

He ignores me for a time, going about his daily routine of pulling out clothes to wear and laying them on the bed. I'm frozen where I stand.

Trinity tucks his shirt into his overpriced slacks and threads his belt through the loops. "I can tell that you aren't going to let this go until you hear what you
think
you want to hear. Everything Jacelynd told you about your relationship with him is true. Irrelevant, but true. What is relevant is my past with Jacelynd. Bad blood between us, pardon the pun." He looks at me with gleaming triumph in his eyes. "I have simply taken back what is rightfully mine."

There is so much flooding my senses right now that I don't even know where to begin. "Trinity, quit messing with me! What are you talking about? What relationship?"

Trinity stops shuffling around and dumbly stares at me. "He wasn't lying to you when he said that you were his wife. I don't know what else he told you, but there's no way in hell that he didn't tell you that."

I can't breathe.
Jacelynd is my husband?