B00XXAC6U6 EBOK (8 page)

“Ian, is it really necessary? Can’t we just make sure that I’m not around other unbonded mastyrs?”

He might have answered, but Davido called to him. Regan shifted to look past Ian and saw that Vojalie stood beside her man. The troll was grinning ear to ear and a warm blush suffused his wife’s face.

Vojalie held his arm, her eyes full of affection as she looked down at him.

Davido called out. “We must be going, Ian. Thank you for the cognac.” His smile broadened when he looked at Regan. “And I suggest you indulge your interest in the mastyr. Life is very short, even for us long-lived types. Make the most of every opportunity.”

And with the extraordinary power the troll possessed, the couple simply vanished.

“With so much ability between them,” Regan said, “why don’t they battle alongside us?”

“I’ve wondered the same thing, and I’ve asked Davido to intervene with Margetta, but he refuses. He said he made war for the first thousand years of his life, but promised himself never again. I guess if you’ve served that long as a warrior, it’s enough, no matter how many centuries you added to your belt after.”

He glanced behind him. “Listen, are you hungry? My housekeeper always keeps soup and some of her homemade bread stocked in my refrigerator.”

At the suggestion, she put a hand to her stomach. “I’m starved, so yes, I’d love some.”

He gestured with his hand for her to precede him. She led the way across the foyer to his great room, an open area of his house encompassing a north view of the mountains.

He directed her to sit at the island bar, where earlier he’d served her coffee, then moved easily from the pots and pans, to the fridge, and back. He was comfortable in the kitchen and Regan couldn’t help but smile. Ian had been a bachelor a long time, but when she’d dated him, he wouldn’t have spent a second building a fire and setting up the spit to roast some meat. He’d had staff back then to take care of him and he’d made use of them.

Though he had a housekeeper now, apparently he no longer minded doing some of the cooking.

“Did you make the coffee, too?”

“Sure.” He chuckled softly. “I know what you’re thinking. I remember how you went into the woods yourself so long ago and collected firewood. It pissed you off that I ordered my servants to the task.”

She smiled. “I was perfectly capable of scouring your land for some deadfall. And so were you.”

“You even started bringing your axe to my house.” The vegetable beef soup was heating in a pot on the stove and already smelled heavenly. Ian leaned on the island marble, his smile warm as he held her gaze.

“I’m a resourceful person,” she said, “though I will confess it’s much easier now with food grown in bulk and shipped to markets, with electricity and how about the microwave?”

Ian grinned. “One of my favorite things. That and cell phones. I mean, not everyone can communicate telepathically and I can reach any of my Guardsmen at any time. What did we do without all our gadgets?”

She shrugged but smiled. “We headed into the forest. Do you remember the time you brought down a buck?”

“Of course. Used my bow and arrow.”

“You shared it with the village, too, the one at the base of the Rim near the Peralin River. Pikon, I think, at least that’s what I remember. You know, I swear that’s when I fell in love with you.”

His brows rose. “Because I gave away venison I’d never be able to use?”

“You could have dried it. You didn’t have to share.”

He sighed, his gaze shifting past her but not appearing to land on anything particular. “I suppose, but it was a rough winter that year and some of the families had it hard. How could I not have shared? What kind of mastyr would that have made me?”

He turned back to his soup and using a wooden spoon, stirred slowly. He already had thick slices of bread all buttered and toasting in the oven.

Her gaze became fixed to the back of his head. Vojalie wasn’t entirely right that Regan didn’t know Ian. She knew he was generous and self-sacrificing as most vampire Guardsmen were.

Her heart got that swollen feeling again. She leaned her elbow on the cool marble, and dropped her chin into her hand. She had to repress a heavy sigh. She was close to mooning after the man all over again.

“I’ll do it, Ian, the protective blood streaks. I think it’s the smart thing to do. Maybe I can’t be bound to you right now, but I know we’ll be better off if we follow Mastyr Malik’s lead.”

Afterward stacking up the toasted sour dough on a plate, he ladled soup into two bowls. He met her gaze. “That means a lot to me.”

She wished he wasn’t so damn handsome. Just looking at him sent desire skyrocketing.

He brought a bowl around for her as well as a spoon and napkin. “Dig in,” he said. “I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.”

~ ~ ~

Ian could hardly taste the soup. For some reason, the jasmine-lime scent Regan carried as a blood rose had invaded the kitchen, though he didn’t know why. The problem was his cock loved it, couldn’t get enough, and wouldn’t settle down especially knowing she’d be opening a vein soon to create the protective streaks on his arms. He almost groaned at the thought.

He dipped his spoon in the soup but didn’t dare look at Regan. And it didn’t help at all that she kept making her cooing sounds because she was enjoying her food. She might have a well-developed spiritual side and spent most of her time teaching in her fae retreat, but she was also extremely sensual.

She loved life, loved good food, and she adored sex.

He took a big bite of sour dough bread, hoping the flavors would mitigate her exquisite scent.

No such luck.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Not even a little.”

She chuckled. “This soup is to die for. My compliments to your housekeeper. And the bread, well, what can I say … heaven.”

“She’ll appreciate your compliments.”

When the meal was over, he did a quick clean-up of dishes. Regan brought the empty bowls, plates and spoons to him, but remained very quiet.

Glancing at her, he thought he understood why because he was feeling the same thing. He’d be piercing her vein soon and given the reality she was a blood rose, besides her seductive scent and their past history, sharp desire ran through him.

The heightened color on her cheeks as well as her flowery-lime scent spoke its own tale.

By the time he hung up his dish towel, he felt like a kid on a first date.

He caught her hand in his. “How about we get this over with before one of us explodes.”

She giggled. “I feel ridiculous, Ian, like I’m sixteen. I’m so nervous and we’re not even doing anything.”

He leaned close and spoke against her ear. “No, I’m just going to pierce the veins of your wrist. That’s all.” He rubbed his nose against her cheek, then pressed his lips to hers very gently.

When she pulled back, he stared into glimmering, doe eyes. “Where do you want to do this?” she asked.

“Out on the walkway if you’re game. I want to feel the fresh air flowing off the mountain.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

They had this in common, a love of the outdoors. Civilized life had a lot to offer, no question about that. But give him a full night spent in one of the Nine Realms’ many beautiful forests, and he was a happy man.

Of course, the last time he’d hiked for a few hours with Regan had been one of the happiest of his life. The rest, all which had happened at Raven’s Overlook, he wouldn’t think about right now.

Instead, he took her hand and led her through the living room to the sliding glass door and out onto the walkway overlooking Dark Gorge.

The air was fresh and cool, even chilly. But he felt hot from stem to stern and he knew it was because of Regan. His drive toward her had his sex ramped up, no question about that. Yet, this felt like more, like a new kind of power had begun to flow through him, a steady vibration of energy and heat, making him glad he wore only the tank right now, and not the Guard coat. He was warm enough as it was with the leather pants and thigh boots. The cool winter air helped as well.

Even Regan didn’t seem cold as she leaned against the sturdy wood railing and settled her gaze on the forested cliff opposite. It was early December now, not quite winter, but his elevation was low enough he rarely saw snow at his cliffside home. But the mountains were capped permanently now at least until mid-March, even April, depending on how cold the season would prove to be.

He moved next to her, then gently took her wrist in hand.

She met his gaze, hers as direct as ever. “You can feed as well if you need sustenance. You know I’m willing.”

He nodded, but his chest tightened as he looked down at her. What he really wanted to do was take the vein at her throat. But the thought of drinking from her neck hardened an already stiff arousal. At least the leathers kept him snug and not too exposed, but he had it bad.

He caught her chin and kissed her again, another soft touch of his lips to hers. “Thank you. And I’ll take you up on your offer.”

She shifted to make reaching her wrist a simple thing. He lifted her slender arm until he had the right angle above the collection of veins at the base of her palm. His fangs descended and his breathing took another difficult turn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this worked up before a bite.

He didn’t strike, yet. Instead, he took a long look at the night sky in a complete three-sixty to make sure there were no Invictus around.

Seeing nothing to mar the view of the stars, he reverted his attention to her arm. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his head and with a helluva lot of practice, struck to the right depth. Forming a seal over the punctures, he began to suck.

But the long groan that left Regan’s mouth did little to mitigate his other growing problem.

CHAPTER FOUR

Regan had fed plenty of vampires over the course of her centuries of living. And she’d fed Ian when they’d dated. But it had never been like this.

A soft vibration flowed over her entire body, full of desire and latent with power. More than at any other time in the past twenty-four hours, she felt in her bones she was a blood rose. Her destiny had come to her, maybe because of Ian, to provide a mastyr with blood rich enough to end forever his chronic blood starvation.

She was essentially a woman of service, so even if she hadn’t cared about Ian as much as she already did, she would have felt grateful to be able to help out.

Thank you, Regan.
He lifted his gaze to her, his nostrils working like bellows as he continued to drink from her.

She smiled. “You’re welcome. It means a lot to me that I’ve taken away your pain.”

He suckled for another minute, then eased away from her wrist, though he didn’t seal the wounds. He was about to use his finger to paint the lines on his skin, from his wrist to his elbow, when she stopped him.

“Allow me.” The vibration grew stronger. “Can you feel that?”

He still held her arm in a gentle clasp. His color was heightened despite the chilly air on the deck. “I can. What the hell is this between us, Regan?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I want you to seal the wrist wound. I think I need to do something else here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Using his tongue, he swiped over the two punctures on her wrist and the small incisions faded to nothing. “What do you have in mind?”

She offered the index finger of her right hand. “Bite me here.”

His eyes rolled in his head at her not-so-subtle command. His scent sharpened and she loved it, loved he was so into her. She planted her left hand on his bare shoulder. “I need to create the marks, so make it good.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I know, but I need a steady stream for this.”

His fangs descended once more and with a quick jab, he sliced open her finger. The sudden strike made her gasp, but she ignored the pain of the cut.

She slid her left hand down his arm and using her right forefinger, painted a slow line down the center of his forearm all the way to his wrist bone. Without Ian’s tongue to stop the bleeding, the cut flowed freely.

“Take some of this,” she said. “I want this to be right.” She held her forefinger up for him and he took it in his mouth, sucking once more. She didn’t stop him right away because she loved the look on his face, his eyes at half-mast, pupils dilated.

I need you, Regan.

She thought a clear intent would be best.
I’m with you all the way.

He groaned softly.
Tell me what to do. Is this enough of a mark?

She shook her head. “I’ll be making three on each arm, but I want to stop in between in order to keep the lines clean.”

She still held his arm as he nodded, then relinquished her finger. The blood flowed better because he’d suckled. As a vampire, he released chemicals when he drank to keep the body from healing the fang-wound until he was done.

She began the second mark, moving slowly down his arm. The line formed a slight angle to the original one. Once the line was complete, she stopped just as she’d said she would and had him suckle again. Each time, he got a hungry look in his eye which fed her own growing desire to be with him.

After a moment, she created the third line. When she was finished with his right arm, she repeated the process with his left.

When she was done, the same strange vibration flowed from her hand stronger than ever.

He stared at his arm. “I don’t recognize this vibration, Regan, do you?”

“No. It’s not familiar at all. But look at the lines. Sweet Goddess, what’s happening?”

Regan pulled his arm forward and peered at the stripes of blood. She’d expected them to melt, instead, they were transforming, shaping themselves into deep burgundy lines. “They look like tattoos.”

She had no idea if they were permanent or not, but her heart beat hard in her chest at the sight of them.

He caught her gaze. “You’ve marked me, Regan. Yet, somehow this has become more than just a simple warning to other mastyrs. And you’re dripping again.”

“What?”

He caught her finger in his hand and took it in his mouth.