Blood Father (Blood Curse Series) (31 page)

Arielle smoothed the front of her thigh-length tunic, glanced down at the comfortable black leggings she was wearing beneath the cascading frock, and drew in a deep, cleansing breath for courage. Kagen had promised to take her “shopping” for new clothes at the first available opportunity, and in the meantime, Jocelyn had offered to lend her several outfits from her own wardrobe. She reveled in the feel of the soft, pliable fabric and tried to still her racing heart as she reached for the doorknob outside Keitaro’s room and gently turned the handle.

“Hello,” she called softly, taking her first step into the room.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Standing ten feet away in front of an open window was the male, the vampire, she had known since childhood. Only, this man—this dashing, robust creature—looked nothing at all like the captive slave she had come to know over so many years in Mhier.

Keitaro looked positively vigorous.

His thick black hair shined with a light she had never seen in it before, the long, smooth locks gleaming with an almost purple-ish glow, and his chiseled features, so bronzed and etched with intensity, were smooth and relaxed, no longer beleaguered with pain. He stood to his full, imposing height and eagerly held out his arms, the threads of his modern clothes hugging his dynamic form like armor adorning an ancient knight. “Rielle…” He breathed her name like a prayer.

Arielle’s eyes filled with pressing tears, and she lost all sense of decorum. She darted across the room and flung herself into his arms, laughing joyously as he embraced her with zeal. “Keitaro! Oh my lords, look at you!” Her voice was positively giddy.

Keitaro chuckled low in his throat and spun her around, the power in his arms, the vigor in his back, the strength in his chest as stark as the radiance in his eyes. “Rielle,” he repeated, pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Finally, she stepped back from his embrace and regarded him with unconcealed appreciation. “You look amazing. You look…
healthy
.”

He smiled warmly and nodded. “As do you, daughter of my heart.”

Arielle glowed inside. She could hardly believe this moment was real. “Thank you.”

He gestured toward a soft armchair at the back of the room, strolled languidly toward it, and patted the cushion, encouraging her to take a seat; and then he sank down on a black-and-metal stool, opposite of the chair, and leaned in toward her, his eyes narrowing in rapt attention. “How is my son?” he asked eagerly. “How are you
and
my son?”

Arielle felt her face flush with heat, and she lowered her gaze to the floor. “We are…well…for now.”

“Well?” Keitaro pressed.

She bit her bottom lip and fidgeted with her hands. “
Very
…well.”

He smiled an ingratiating grin. “Good.
Good
. That’s what I wanted to hear. Then you are adjusting?”

She sighed and began to tug on her sleeve, turning the hem in and out several times before grasping it in the palm of her hand. “Oh, I don’t know if I would say that. I’m taking things one day—no,
one moment
—at a time.”

Keitaro nodded. “The gods could not ask anything more of you right now, Rielle—and neither could Kagen.”

She released the hem of her tunic, folded her hands in her lap, and practically vibrated with emotion. “Keitaro.” Her eyes filled with moisture once more, and she struggled to blink back the tears. “You are home…
free
…with your sons.” She held her hands up in wonder. “Can you believe it? Does any of this seem real?”

The dark brown irises of his eyes lit up with pleasure as he responded to her genuine joy
for him
with a healthy dose of his own. “I still have to pinch myself occasionally,” he said. “Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming—or I’m afraid that I’m still in Mhier—or perhaps I’ve died and gone to the spirit world.”

Arielle shook her head. “You’re not dreaming, Keitaro. And you’re not dead, either.”

“No,” he said with conviction. “I’m not.” He interlocked his fingers and shifted forward in his seat. “So, tell me everything.”

She shrugged and shook her head in wonderment. “I hardly know where to begin.” Deciding to start at the beginning, she took a deep breath and thought back to the last day in Mhier, the battle in King Thane’s arena, and the flight that led back to Dark Moon Vale. “How much did your sons share with you? About the events that took place in Mhier?”

“Quite a bit,” Keitaro said. “We haven’t had a lot of time to talk, but we’ve exchanged a great deal of information in the time that we’ve had.”

She nodded, relieved to hear it. “Then you know that the lycans found the Rebel Camp.” She looked away and tried feverishly to concentrate solely on the facts—the last thing she wanted was to imagine her friends’ demise. “Walker, Kade, even Echo…they’re gone.”

Keitaro declined his head in a solemn nod, and then he used his feet to propel the stool forward on the tiny black wheels. When it came to rest in front of her, he reached out and took her hand in his. “I do know this, Rielle. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She let the words linger, taking them into her heart. Squeezing his hand, she said, “Thank you.
Thank you
. It’s just…it’s hard to believe…after all these years, the resistance is gone.”

“Indeed,” Keitaro replied. He waited in companionable silence, seeming to understand her need to process as they talked, and then he whispered in an eerily savage tone: “And King Thane, he is dead as well.” His eyes turned the color of liquid lava, and she literally felt a flash of heat shoot through his hand before it, once again, returned to a normal temperature. “But not before he took you…for a night.” There was no accusation in his voice, not even the hint of inflection; nevertheless, his meaning was clear:
What did that vile monster do to you
?

Arielle quickly shook her head. “He did not,” she said, her voice trailing off. “He never…” She met his eyes with a rock-hard stare. “Your son is the only man I’ve ever
known.
” She swallowed hard, feeling a bit like a teenager having a
birds
-
and
-
bees
chat with her father, but she knew that the information was important.

Keitaro squeezed her hand in reassurance. “But he hurt you…Thane did?”

Arielle raised her left shoulder in a show of disinterest. “Of course,” she whispered. “But it’s done.” She leaned forward and pitched her own voice in a lethal, feminine purr. “Kagen impaled him through the skull with the pommel of his own sword, and then he carved out his heart with a scalpel and tossed it on the ground like the garbage it was. It was a good death for a worthless hound.”

Keitaro’s jaw tightened. “Very fitting, indeed.” His own eyes blazed with contempt, and he ran his tongue along his upper teeth, as if to repel his fangs. “And Cain—the maggot that took my wife’s life—his heart ceased beating in the palm of my hand.” He stared off into the distance as if reliving the moment. “I am beholden to my sons, grateful for all that they did, but I will forever thank the gods for giving me that exquisite moment, for allowing my hands to be the ones that ushered that bastard into the underworld.”

Arielle
felt
the truth of his words and shivered. “And Teague is gone as well…the male who murdered my mother”—she sat back to consider her words carefully—“let’s just say that Kagen eviscerated him on the sands, but not before he neutered the worthless cur where he stood.”

Keitaro nodded with approval. “And Xavier?”

Arielle frowned. “I never saw him in the arena.”

“Nor did I,” Keitaro said. “Although the entire experience seems more like a dream, I’m afraid that General Matista lives on—although, I can assure you, if he does, he does not reside in the same world he used to.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Arielle agreed, grateful for that small concession.

“And General Gavin Morel?” Keitaro asked.

“Killed…by Marquis’s hand.”

“That’s what I thought,” Keitaro mumbled. He let out a deep breath and simply resided in the moment.

A pregnant silence settled over them then, as pure and unassuming as the driven snow, and then Arielle finally asked, “Will you or your sons go back to Mhier? Will you try to exterminate the lycans that are left?” She tried to conceal her dread, her fear, the thought of Kagen and his brothers going back into harm’s way—of Keitaro, yet again, returning to that cursed realm, just to take care of unfinished business. She knew that they were warriors at heart, that they lived by an unyielding code; yet and still, she’d had enough of lycans to last her ten lifetimes, and she prayed the Silivasis would just…stay home.

Keitaro shook his head emphatically. “No. I don’t think so.” His lips twitched in a reflexive scowl, and he let out a deep-throated snarl he didn’t appear aware of. “Nachari has already tried to reopen the portal, just to assess our options, determine our vulnerability, and from what he says, the spell no longer works.”

“What do you mean,
T
he
spell no longer works
?” Arielle asked, frowning.

“It means that the lycans have already sealed the gateway, altered the threshold; somehow, they’ve changed the energetic configuration so we can no longer get in.”

Arielle knitted her brow in dismay. Although she didn’t want the Silivasis to go after their common enemy, she didn’t like the idea of the lycans taking defensive action so quickly. It meant they were already reorganizing. She sighed, wanting to change the subject before she became too morose. She was no longer a rebel living in Mhier—what the lycans did or did not do was no longer her concern. “So”—she made her voice as cheery as possible—“tell me: What will you do next? Where will you go? Where will you live?”

Keitaro chuckled at the sudden change of subject, and the deep, melodious sound cut through the tension like a magic blade. He arched his back to stretch. “Eventually, I want to visit my old dwelling, the place where I lived with Serena, the home where the boys grew up. Marquis says it’s still standing and in fairly good condition. Although it’s empty, the boys have kept it clean and aired out.” He sighed heavily. “But it will take some time to work up the courage….even for a visit.”

Arielle considered Keitaro’s words and smiled—there was nothing she could say to lessen his pain, to make the transition easier—but she couldn’t help but react to his endearing choice of phrasing.

“This makes you smile?” he asked, curiously.

She shrugged. “I’m sorry, Keitaro. It’s just…”

“It’s just?”

She laughed aloud then. “It’s just that you keep referring to the biggest, scariest, most intimidating males I’ve ever met as
the boys
.” She waved her hand and nodded. “I guess it just makes it all so real, who they are
to you
, who they’ve always been.
Of course
, these fearsome vampires are your boys.” She shifted in her seat, tightened her grip on his hand, and met his seeking gaze with one of compassion. “I’m sorry about Shelby,” she whispered. “That your reunion does not include your wife…or your youngest son.”

Keitaro nodded gravely, and then he squeezed her hands as if to draw strength from her touch. “Thank you.” He looked off into the distance. “This life has certainly been harsh—I dare say cruel and unfair. When I am ready, when I am able, I will also visit Shelby’s grave…” He blinked back a tear and stiffened. “But there is much to celebrate: I have three grandsons”—he cocked his eyebrows and smirked—“soon to be four, and I have three beautiful daughters and a lifetime of new memories to make with my sons.”

Arielle felt her face grow pale. It was as if all the blood had rushed out of her body as she thought about Keitaro’s words:
soon to be four
.

“Arielle?”

“Where will you live, then?” she asked, quickly changing the subject before he could delve any deeper.

He measured her warily, scanned her eyes like a hawk—no doubt, seeing entirely too much—and then he released her hand and sat back on the stool. “For now, I will take turns staying at Nathaniel’s estate, Marquis’s farmhouse, and Nachari’s brownstone. Jocelyn, Ciopori, and Deanna have made it abundantly clear that they expect me to spend all my waking hours recovering, and visiting with my grandchildren.”

Arielle’s eyes widened in alarm. “Recovering? Are you still ill? Is there still any danger—”

“No, Rielle,” Keitaro reassured her. “
I
’m
fine
, but my kids seem to think I should hobble along, taking slow, measured steps for the next century or so.”

Arielle laughed and tilted her head to the side. “Well, you can’t really blame them,
us
. We just want you here for a very, very long time.”

Keitaro smiled. “Indeed.” He grew quiet again, and Arielle let the moment linger.

“So,” she finally said, “that still doesn’t answer the question: What will you do?”

Keitaro patted her softly on the knee. “Not sure. At first, I think I will take the kids up on their offer—spend every waking moment getting reacquainted with my family—learn all there is to know about my sons’ lives and their mates…my grandsons. But, I don’t make any pretense that it will be enough to sustain me: I will speak with Napolean about taking a role in the valley’s protection, in the security of our people. Doubtless, I will want to help with matters pertaining to the lycan: their capture, our defense, their eventual extermination.”

Arielle held her tongue. There was really nothing to add to that statement—the world,
e
very world
, would be better off without the Lycanthrope.

“Now then,” Keitaro said, interrupting her thoughts. “Enough with the small talk. As I understand it, you still have twenty-three days left in Kagen’s Blood Moon: How are you handling all of this? What is happening with you and my son?”

Arielle winced. She loved Keitaro dearly—and that was truly the understatement of the decade—but she didn’t know if she could discuss something so personal, so intimate and vulnerable, with the father of her heart. She thought back to her days in Mhier, to all the many hours she had spent in the slave encampment, looking up to the vampire, clinging to their bond like a lifeline. She remembered all the nights she had snuck into his tent, after escaping her own enslavement, in order to treat his wounds…in order to tend his soul. “Do you remember when I was still a child, maybe ten or eleven, and I worked in the slave camp? When I carried all that water and food?”