Chapter Three
Professor Dmitri Belakov, history teacher and Master vampire
of his own domain in the Midwest, arrived a few days later. Atticus, Lissa,
Ian, Marc and Kelly—since she couldn’t be left unguarded, though she had no
idea the men were taking turns looking after her—met Dmitri at a private air
strip not far from the vineyard. He’d flown himself in a very costly small jet
that allowed him to travel from the middle of the country to the West coast in
a matter of a few hours.
Marc had to be on hand to greet his fellow Master. The
Brotherhood was a loose organization, but they did like to observe tradition.
When one Master arrived in another’s territory it was only polite to make his
presence known through official channels. More than that, Dmitri and Marc were
old friends. They’d lived and worked together in centuries past, before
settling in the United States and becoming Masters in their own right.
Atticus and Ian had been part of the old group as well.
They’d spent a few merry centuries cavorting across Europe and the Middle East,
settling for decades at a time in different cities along the way. They’d
watched each other’s backs and shared both pleasure and peril too many times to
count. They’d formed strong bonds of friendship that could never be dismissed.
“It’s good to see you again,
mon ami
.” Marc gave
Dmitri the traditional European greeting of a kiss to both cheeks.
“It was time to visit my old friends. It’s nice being Master
of my domain, but there are not many of our kind on the prairie.” The men
laughed and then led the newcomer over to meet Lissa and Kelly, who’d waited by
the cars.
Dmitri—much to Marc’s amusement—made a fuss over Lissa,
annoying Atticus in the process. It was all part of the game these old comrades
had played many times in the past. Of course, now things were different. One of
their group had found his mate, and all the others were both happy for him and
jealous as hell. Such a drastic change deserved a little good-natured ribbing.
“
Enchante, madame
,” Dmitri purred, lifting Lissa’s
hand to his lips for a lingering kiss. Marc had watched his friend perfect that
Slavic charm over the centuries, and it didn’t hurt that Dmitri was easy on the
eyes. Women had fallen for his dark good looks for a long time, and Lissa
seemed to be no exception as she murmured a return greeting.
“You ride with Marc in the Lamborghini. I think we’ll all be
happier at the house where we can relax.” Atticus made a show of appropriating
his wife’s hand and tucking it firmly into the crook of his arm.
Atticus ushered his wife into their car, and Kelly got into
the back seat, but Marc noticed the look of longing she directed at the yellow
sports car when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could see how much she wanted
to ride in it, or better yet, drive it, but she denied herself the
pleasure—denying him in the process.
The car had come to represent something bigger. It had come
to symbolize the ongoing struggle between them. He tempted her, and she
refused. He flirted with her, and she rebuffed him. He wanted her, and she
pretended to be unaffected, but he knew it was just an act. The true victory
would be when she finally broke down and admitted it.
It hadn’t taken long for Dmitri to realize something was
going on between Marc and Kelly. He asked about it during the drive to the
vineyard.
“So who’s the girl?” Dmitri’s question was not unwelcome,
but Marc preferred not to discuss the more annoying aspects of his relationship
with the delectable Kelly. Still, he understood Dmitri’s interest in how Kelly
fit into their little group. He knew Lissa was Atticus’s mate, but Kelly was
unclaimed and yet part of the intimate circle. Marc should have expected the
question sooner or later.
“She is Lissa’s best friend. She had the unfortunate luck to
see me feeding from a man who had attacked Lissa before she moved in with
Atticus. Her mind is too strong to cloud sufficiently, considering that Lissa
refused to break ties with her, or any of her mortal friends for that matter.”
“So you’re watching her?”
“She’s working for Atticus at the vineyard and yes, we are
watching her, but for more than just her knowledge of our existence. There is a
further complication that I wished to discuss with you before we get to the house.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Lissa is slightly psychic.” Marc glanced over to gauge his
friend’s reaction to the news. “She had a vision of Kelly, covered in blood,
her throat savaged—most likely by one of our kind.”
“And you think to protect her from this possible future?”
“I must!” That came out a little more emphatically than Marc
would have wished, but Dmitri only raised one dark brow in his direction. “We
decided to have two of us with her at all times during the dark hours. Atticus
and Lissa are the two most unlikely to be the culprits, so they are primarily
responsible for keeping tabs on her, but they are also newlyweds…”
“Ah, I see.” Dmitri nodded with a wide grin. “Say no more.
It will be no hardship to help keep an eye on the lovely Kelly.”
“So long as it’s just an eye. She is Lissa’s best friend,
and I have been strictly ordered to keep my hands to myself. That goes double
for you, my friend.”
“You? The great Master? Ordered around in your own domain.
What has this world come to?” Dmitri burst out laughing as Marc had intended.
Better to treat this all as a laughing matter, as long as Dmitri got the
message.
“Laugh if you like, but you’ll soon see that Lissa has sharp
fangs when it comes to her mortal friends, and Atticus will do just about
anything she asks. Since I am living with them while my house is being
renovated, I can do no other than follow the rules they lay out for their
house. They’ve put Kelly firmly off the menu.”
“A shame.” Dmitri gazed out the window at the passing
scenery. “She is a beautiful woman.”
Marc felt his hackles rise and did his best to fight the
reaction.
“Beautiful, yes. But also off limits.
N’est-ce
pas?
”
“
Oui, mon ami
.
I understand and
will abide by your wishes in your territory.”
At the vineyard, they gathered in the large living room
while Atticus poured out one of his prize-winning vintages for them. Kelly felt
a little conspicuous being the only mortal in the room, but Lissa had asked her
specifically to stay so she wouldn’t be the only woman present. Six of one or a
half dozen of the other, Kelly thought, realizing that women in general were
probably far too preoccupied about being the odd woman out in any situation.
She shrugged, accepted the delicious wine and sat back to
listen to what promised to be a fascinating conversation. Kelly had thought a
lot about immortality since Lissa’s wedding and subsequent change. She’d worked
at the vineyard for some time and dealt daily with Atticus, Lissa and even
Marc, but she’d never really had the opportunity to just sit and observe
Atticus talking with his friends—especially not friends
this old.
“So what brings you to California?” Atticus asked Dmitri as
he handed him a glass of burgundy.
Dmitri frowned as he accepted the crystal goblet. “My house
was sold.”
“What?” Marc was the first to voice the confusion that
filled the room.
“I thought it was clever to keep my stronghold beneath that
old farmhouse,” Dmitri said with a trace of bitterness. “I had an agreement
with the farmer and his descendents and it worked well for centuries, but the
last of the line never married and recently passed on to the next realm. His
land was sold before I could act. Damned lawyers.” The curse was muttered into
his glass as Dmitri took a bracing swallow of the delicious wine.
Atticus laughed, drawing attention. “Now, now, Dmitri. I
seem to recall you played at being a barrister once upon a time.”
“That was a very long time ago, Atticus, as you well know.
I’m a professor of history now.”
“So where were you that you didn’t know of the goings on
until after the sale?” Ian asked. “I thought the University kept you close to
your territory most of the time.”
“I was on sabbatical last semester, visiting friends in
Europe, supposedly researching a book on the Tudors.”
“A lusty lot they were, eh? Nothing like the current insipid
batch,” Marc said, the spark of memory in his eye. It floored Kelly to think
that these men might actually have known those long-dead kings and queens of
England.
“You’ve got that right,” Dmitri said, raising his glass to
Marc. “To Henry.”
The men repeated the toast, and Kelly shot a wide-eyed look
to Lissa, who looked just as surprised. Lissa shrugged and raised her glass as
well, joining in the toast as Kelly did the same.
“Ah, but I see we’ve shocked the ladies. Forgive me.” Dmitri
bowed his head slightly in Lissa and Kelly’s direction.
“Come off it, Dmitri,” Marc chastised his friend. “We all
know you were going for shock value. It’s so rare that we get to speak freely
among mortals, or recent converts.” He nodded to Lissa. “Dmitri currently
peddles his knowledge of the past as a history professor, if you can believe
it.”
“I am writing a book on Henry and his descendents for the
University, but I didn’t really need to do research on the subject. My trip was
more for pleasure than anything else,” Dmitri clarified.
“So you actually knew Henry the Eighth of England?” Kelly
asked, feeling brave.
“Damned right he knew him. This fool,” Marc gestured toward
Dmitri with his goblet, “was sent to England in hopes of marrying into the
family. Just because he was born the nephew of old Ivan.”
“Who wasn’t so Terrible,” Ian and Atticus said in unison,
deadpan. A moment later all four men burst into laughter. It was apparently an
old joke among them.
Kelly had always liked history and if she remembered
correctly, Ivan the Terrible had been coroneted the first Tsar of Russia at
roughly the same time that Henry VIII died in England. Was it possible she was
speaking to Russian royalty? Judging by the sparkle in Dmitri’s eyes as he held
her gaze, it was more than possible. It was fact.
“I can only assume by the charming look of horror on your
pretty face that you’ve figured out just how old and decrepit I truly am,”
Dmitri said, giving her a jaunty salute.
The man was hardly decrepit. He was a hunk. Gorgeous,
aristocratic features, sparkling, lively eyes and a muscular figure that was
everything masculine proved he was anything but decrepit, though he was very,
very old.
Kelly realized that everyone was looking at her expectantly.
She had no idea how to respond, but she had to come up with something.
“I take it none of the Tudor heirs would have you for a
husband, so you must’ve still been…mortal…at that time.” She’d almost said
“human”, and she knew by now how much they hated that distinction.
“Ah. You see to the heart of the matter. I was indeed mortal
when I went to that sceptered isle. When I eventually returned to Mother
Russia, I was not. But that is a tale for another day.” Dmitri polished off the
remainder of his wine and rose to pour himself a refill.
“So what are you going to do about your home?” Marc asked,
and Kelly was grateful for his change of subject.
She’d unwittingly hit on a sore point of some kind. Or maybe
it was just too personal a thing to share with a new acquaintance. She wasn’t
sure if the story of how someone became a vampire was a taboo subject or not.
She’d have to ask Atticus about it the next time she caught him alone. Or
better yet, ask Lissa to ask her husband.
Dmitri settled into his chair in a lazy sprawl. “I have no
choice but to wait and see who moves in above me, then gauge my next move from
there. I won’t give up my home easily, but if there is no other way, I may soon
be looking for a new place to live.”
“Isn’t it kind of…uh…quiet, living out on the prairie by
yourself?” Lissa asked. Kelly had talked with Lissa about the way she seemed to
know all kinds of things she shouldn’t and was shocked to learn that Lissa and
her new husband shared their thoughts. It seemed Lissa was calling once again
on the knowledge of her new spouse.
“I value my privacy,” Dmitri answered in gentle tones.
“There are not as many of us out there and my territory is larger, if less
populated. There are lots of other supernaturals though, and therefore safety
is something I cannot take for granted. That’s why I built my home underground.
There is little possibility anyone—be they
were
, fey or mage—could sneak
up on me where I currently live. I like the arrangement, and I will be very put
out if the new owner proves troublesome.”
Kelly didn’t like to think about the poor person who’d
unwittingly bought the Master vampire’s lair. Dmitri might be handsome and
urbane on the surface, but she had no doubt he could be every bit as savage as
Marc. She would never forget the sight of Marc’s fangs, red with fresh blood as
he lifted them out of a man’s neck.
Sure, the man had been crazy and he’d tried to kill both
Lissa and Kelly only moments before, but still, it was a rude introduction to
the world of the supernatural. Kelly had just had another. Dmitri’s casual mention
of “
were
, fey or mage” made her wonder just what—or who
¾
else might be out there. But she wasn’t
going to ask. No, she’d already made enough waves for one night.
Chapter Four
When the party broke up about an hour before dawn, Marc
found Kelly on the veranda. The night was still, the stars cold in the dark
sky. It was the time of night he loved best.
“I see we had the same idea.” He spoke in low tones to
compliment the quiet of the pre-dawn hour, but Kelly still jumped. He’d snuck
up on her again, much to his amusement. He loved the way she gasped when he
caught her unawares.
“What are you doing out here?”
He liked the breathless quality of her voice. It made him
think of forbidden things. Things he’d like to do to her and with her that were
put firmly off limits by Atticus and Lissa. Marc would be a poor guest indeed
if he took advantage of their hospitality—and their other guest—but oh, how he
wished he could forget his principles for a few minutes. Just long enough to
see if Kelly’s lips tasted as luscious as they looked.
“Now is that any way to talk to a fellow lover of the
night?” He moved to stand next to her at the wall overlooking the peaceful
vineyard in the distance. “You do love it, don’t you? The dark right before
dawn. The silent hour of the night becoming day. I mean you no harm, Kelly.
Surely you know that. Don’t fear me.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Marc, but you do make me
uncomfortable.” Kelly turned her gaze to the vineyard. “To answer your
question, I do love this time of night. I never realized how beautiful it was
before. I was always asleep at this time, before I came to work for Atticus.”
“And your world has been turned upside down by the discovery
of the supernatural.”
She sighed, and he longed to put his arm around her. The
instinct to comfort this puzzling female was different and unlike anything he’d
felt in centuries.
“What did Dmitri mean when he talked about ‘
were
, fey
or mage’ tonight?”
“Caught that, did you?” Marc liked her quick mind. It was
one of the more enticing aspects of her personality he’d come to appreciate
during his time at Atticus’s home. “We are but one of the many kinds of
supernatural beings that inhabit this realm. There are
were
creatures of
all kinds, a few fey who occasionally visit or some that even prefer this mortal
realm to their own and a very few mortals who have magical abilities. Your
friend Lissa has a tiny bit of magic within her. You call it psychic ability,
but it’s really just a manifestation of mortal magic.”
“Psychic ability is magic.” Kelly repeated his statement as
if considering its flavor. “Huh. But she’s not a magician. She can’t produce a
rabbit out of a hat on command.”
“It’s true, Lissa doesn’t seem to have control over when or
how she receives visions, but there are some mortals who are very adept at
controlling their inner magic and some gifted people who can tap into the magic
of other realms.”
“That’s amazing. When you say
were
creatures, you mean
like
were
wolves?”
The warring notes of fear and fascination in her voice both
amused and alarmed him. “Wolves, hawks, big cats, all kinds of predators. If
you ever encounter any of these other supernaturals, be very careful, Kelly.
Like us, not all are good, and most have strict rules of behavior that aren’t
anything you’re used to in the mortal world.”
“How so?” Kelly faced him without a shred of her usual
reserve. Marc liked the way she sought his opinion and asked questions. This
was perhaps the first real conversation they’d had since they’d first met. He
liked it. More than he probably should have.
“
Weres
live by archaic rules. Most are predator
species and as such, they have pecking orders, so to speak. Most have Alphas
that rule the rest.”
“Sort of the way you’re Master over all the other vampires
in this region?”
“Almost like that, but our Brotherhood is a much looser
arrangement than the
were
hierarchy. We choose to abide by the Master’s
will wherever we choose to settle. The
weres
have familial packs, tribes
and clans, dictated by their species and location. They seldom travel far from
their home and within the group, leadership is often chosen based on bloody
battles between competing Alphas. Many are fights to the death.”
He could read the growing unease on Kelly’s face and knew it
was time to change the subject. In all likelihood, she’d never come across a
were
.
There were a few in the area, but they tended to give bloodletters a wide
berth.
“We don’t interact much,” Marc said, touching her cheek and
drawing her gaze to his. “Most of the supernatural beings don’t get along with
each other. Few, if any, get along with us in particular because of what their
blood does to us.”
“What does it do?” He dropped his hand as she spoke, but he
was glad to have her full attention. Just hours before, she would have been
screaming bloody murder for such a simple, yet intimate touch.
“Shifter and mage blood is considered a delicacy. It’s rare
that we get a chance to sample from either of those unless the person in
question agrees. They seldom agree.” He cracked a smile, charmed when she
returned the gesture. “Fey blood is too strong for us, generally speaking. The
power it packs can act as a poison, but the lure is great. Half-fey, now,
that’s another story. The magic of the other realms flowing through half-fey
blood is diluted enough for us to drink, but potent enough to give us a boost
of power few of us ever experience. It’s a temporary effect, according to
legend, but it’s rumored to be the biggest rush an immortal can experience in
this realm. But half-fey are even rarer than mages or shifters and they are
more powerful than either of the others. Unless they are willing—for whatever
reason—to share their blood, there’s almost no chance for one of us to ever
sample that kind of power.”
“You mean fey as in fairies? Little pixies like Tinkerbell?”
Kelly’s nose scrunched up in the cutest way when she was puzzled. Marc had to
resist the urge to kiss the freckled tip.
“Actually, they are fairly normal looking to our eyes, at
least as they manifest themselves in this realm. The half-fey are, of course,
also half-human, so they look just like you or me, but perhaps more beautiful
than the average person. There is a Glamour of magic about them that makes them
very visually appealing.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“No, Kelly.” He cupped her cheek, unable to resist the pull
of her presence any longer. Marc moved closer, aligning his body with hers.
“You’re fascinating. You’re the most beautiful mortal I’ve encountered in many
years—inside and out.”
He dipped his head, placing a chaste kiss on her upturned
nose, as he’d longed to do. Her quivering response made him dare more. Pulling
her into his arms, he went lower, to kiss her lips as he’d wanted to do for
weeks.
She was just as delicious as every dream he’d had of this
moment. And he’d spent a lot of time dreaming about the delectable Kelly.
As the kiss deepened, so did his desire. He’d never been so
enflamed by a woman, so devastated by a mere kiss. She tasted of honey and
wine, a rare combination that tempted his senses almost beyond reason. She
tasted of life.
The only thing that could make this moment better would be
if she allowed him to taste of her essence…her blood.
It was too much too soon. Marc knew that deep in his soul,
where his restraint was rooted in long years of patience. He would have her,
but it would be elsewhere—away from his friend’s home, where he wasn’t beholden
to respect the rules Atticus had set forth.
But she tasted divine. Marc lost track of time as he kissed
the only woman he’d been this attracted to in more years than he could count.
She fit in his arms as if she’d been designed to his exact specifications. She
yielded to his mastery in the most delightful way and her little moans of
pleasure were the sexiest he’d ever heard.
Only one thing could pull him from the sublime feel of her
kiss…
The sun.
As the very first rays of dawn kissed the eastern sky, Marc
knew his moment out of time with Kelly was at an end. He pulled back, regret
filling his world.
“I haven’t been tempted to stay out this late in many long
years, but I’m glad my first vision of dawn in centuries was with you,
ma
cherie
.”
Kelly’s beautiful blue eyes held the glaze of someone dazed
with pleasure for a few precious moments more. Then realization of his
predicament clouded her expression with worry.
“Get inside, Marc!” Kelly took his hand in her much smaller
one and dragged him toward the door to the house. He went willingly, perplexed
and charmed that she’d try to protect him.
Her reaction shocked him. She actually seemed to be anxious
on his behalf and willing to push him inside, following close after to slam the
door on the threatening light. She didn’t stop herding him until they were well
within the windowless hallway that ringed the inside of the home Atticus had
designed.
“That was close.” She slammed the door to the hall and leaned
against it. Her pulse beat hard in her neck as reaction set in. Marc didn’t
know what to make of her, but the visible pounding of her blood against her
pale skin had him licking his lips, eager for a taste.
He moved close, blinded for a moment by the hunger that grew
inside him until it was nearly uncontrollable. Kelly’s eyes widened in fear as
he advanced on her. His fangs elongated as bloodlust and instinct overrode his
saner side.
Marc wasn’t sure what he’d have done if Dmitri hadn’t chosen
that moment to clear his throat. Marc looked up to find Dmitri watching him
with narrowed eyes from the other end of the long hall.
A tense minute passed as Dmitri held his gaze, one raised
eyebrow speaking volumes. At length, Marc pulled back. This was wrong. He saw
that now. In a crisis of passion he’d let his impulses overcome his better
sense, but oh, it had been sublime while it had lasted.
Marc drew back, away from Kelly. She trembled in reaction,
fear lighting her beautiful eyes. Fear he had put there. Marc felt lower than
pond scum.
“
Je suis désolé, ma petite.
I’m
sorry.” With those last whispered words, he backed away putting even more
distance between himself and temptation. It was sunrise. He could feel the sun
weakening him already. Lesser bloodletters would soon be down for the day, and
the threat to Kelly would ease.
Nodding to Dmitri, Marc left her, realizing with a sinking
heart that the only threat to her in this house was himself.