Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander (26 page)

Aeron gazed down at the girl, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Once again he was caught between cold fury and pure lust. He wasn’t certain if he wanted to leap across the table and snap her spine or leap across the table and take her to bed. The thought of doing both, perhaps not in that order, gave him great pleasure.

Ryan held Aeron’s gaze, her amusement evident. Try either, her expression said, and you may not survive the attempt.

Aeron smiled, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. When he spoke, his words surprised just about everyone in the room.

“Would you care to join me for a drink in my chambers?”

Ryan was not surprised by the invitation but by the very public way it was offered. It was as if suddenly she and Aeron were the only ones in the room. She raised an eyebrow.

“And what are we drinking?” she asked.

Aeron allowed his gaze to flicker to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Whatever you would like.”

The tension in the room was palpable. Ever attuned to the subtle, sensual interplay amongst their Kind, all were fully aware of the dark dance the two were engaged in. They were also very aware of the underlying power struggle taking place. Whoever yielded to temptation first might not survive the outing.

“Very well,” Ryan said. “I will join you shortly.”

Without waiting for permission, Ryan stood. She glanced at Marilyn, who seemed amused by their exchange. Marilyn was unconcerned, jealousy a known but infrequently experienced emotion with her. As Ryan unwound from her seated position, Marilyn took the opportunity to admire the girl’s physical form. She knew whom she was betting on between the two combatants.

Ryan nodded to Kusunoki and Ala, who both returned the gesture. Ryan then looked to Abigail, holding her gaze for a long moment. Abigail’s expression was impassive.

Ryan then turned, as did Edward, and both disappeared.

Ryan stood before the ornate double doors, but before she could knock, the door whispered open. Aeron stood in the doorway.

“Welcome back, my love.”

Ryan brushed by him, raising an eyebrow at the somewhat sarcastic endearment. Out of the many words she could use to describe their relationship, love wasn’t on the list.

Aeron followed her into the room, offering her a place on the settee. She ignored the offer and instead settled into a chair across from him. He sat down as well.

Ryan’s eyes drifted downward to the small table between them. The chess board sat there, the twisted pieces in the positions of their last parting. Ryan assessed the positions for a moment, then leaned forward, moving a bishop across the board.

Aeron eyed the piece. It was a curious move, almost completely at random. He evaluated the overall positions a second time to make certain he was not missing something, then moved his queen into a position of attack. There was no defense for the bishop; he would take it on the next move, or the one after that.

Ryan leaned back, unconcerned for the vulnerability of the chess piece. She locked gazes with Aeron, who was openly examining her, his eyes lingering on her lips, then caressing her throat. He allowed his gaze to flick down her body, noting once again how perfectly she was formed.

“Would you like me to disrobe?” Ryan asked, her amusement evident.

“Yes, would you?” Aeron said.

“Perhaps another time,” Ryan said.

“Another time,” Aeron agreed, his voice drifting off. He was thoughtful for a moment, then spoke.

“So you are the product of Victor’s union with a human woman.”

Ryan was wary of the sudden change in direction of the conversation. Despite her attempt at an outwardly cool demeanor, she felt her jaw clench. “The circumstances of my birth are public record from the trial.”

Aeron smiled his shark’s smile. “Unfortunately I was not at your trial, although I’m quite certain I would have enjoyed the proceedings.” Aeron savored the thought for a moment. “And I certainly would have come up with a different punishment for you than returning you to Victor.”

Ryan looked away, as if dismissing the conversation, but Aeron would have none of it.

“So is it true?” he asked softly.

“Is what true?” Ryan asked, unable to quell her irritation.

Aeron did not alter his conspiratorial whisper. “Am I the one who set those Memories free?”

Ryan’s jaw again clenched, and Aeron thought she was going to refuse to answer. Without moving, he reached out to her, allowing the full power of his influence to settle on her.

Ryan felt the embrace, felt the pull, both welcome and unwelcome. She tried to shrug it off but was unable, and the encirclement tightened. She felt herself flashing back to the first time she had met Aeron, when he had taken her so easily. Although she was much more powerful, so was he, and it seemed their battle had only changed by degree.

Ryan shook her head, uncertain where such defeatist thoughts were coming from. She looked Aeron in the eye.

“Yes,” she said simply, “When you fed upon me, you released Memories that I myself had not seen.”

Aeron took pleasure in the admission, but was relentless. “And so how did it feel, to see your dear father rape and kill your mother?”

Ryan’s jaw clenched tighter, and she avoided those piercing blue eyes. But they found the answers that they were looking for.

“Ah,” Aeron said with satisfaction. “That’s right. You have such an extraordinary ability to look into the minds of others. So you didn’t merely see your father do it, you experienced it firsthand. So I guess my question should be, how did it feel to rape and kill your own mother?”

Faster than any eye could see, Ryan was across the table and upon him, one hand clenching his shirtfront, the other his throat. “I have my mother’s blood too, you bastard. Maybe you should ask me how it felt to be her.”

Aeron was fascinated as he turned this improbability over in his mind. He ignored the tightening hand at his throat, continuing his train of thought aloud “So you experienced it from both perspectives. You were both the rapist and the raped, and ultimately the progeny from that forced union.”

Ryan shoved him away in disgust, standing abruptly. “Whatever perverse pleasure you are getting from this conversation is over. Your hospitality is sorely lacking.”

She made as if to leave, but it was Aeron’s turn to use his preternatural speed. He stood and grabbed her arm, turning her forcefully to face him. He twisted the arm behind her, causing her to press up against him. They were now face to face, centimeters apart. His eyes lingered on her lips, then traced the line of her cheekbone, then moved to the throbbing vein in her neck. He leaned forward, brushing his lips across the blood vessel straining under the skin.

Ryan’s fury had stoked her bloodlust, perhaps Aeron’s intention all along. Rage and desire were at times so physiologically alike for their Kind, it was hard to differentiate between the two. She forcibly clamped her jaw shut, grinding the teeth to keep them from rending his flesh.

Aeron twisted the arm tighter, creating the other paradox of their physiology; the very fine line between pleasure and pain. They were now so close their lips were nearly touching.

“So, my dear,” he whispered, “do you think you are capable of reproducing as your father did?”

Ryan leaned tantalizingly close, nearly brushing his lips, then pulled away. “Even if I am capable of reproducing,” she said, quietly sarcastic, “what makes you think you are?”

Aeron merely smiled at the insult. He again allowed his eyes to linger on her lips. “I’m not certain,” he said, “but I shall enjoy trying.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed at the prospect, but she would not give him the satisfaction of a reply.

Aeron continued. “And lest there be any confusion, my dear, we will try.”

He released her and Ryan stepped back, flexing the arm he had twisted. Her shoulder settled back into place with an audible pop. She gave him a look indicating his proposal was the least likely thing to occur in her lifetime, then moved to the chessboard. Without hesitation, she moved a knight over a space and then up, ignoring the sacrifice of the castle.

Then, without a backward glance at him, she left the room.

She quickly met up with Edward in Victor’s chambers.

“Will you be staying the evening, my lord?” Edward asked politely.

“No, I don’t think so, Edward. I’m going to be spending some time in Europe. It will be some of my more enjoyable hunting,” she said, her expression dark as she thought about Aeron. Her head hurt, and she winced as pain shot across her temple.

Edward noted the gesture. “Still recovering from your fall?”

Ryan frowned. “I imagine so, although I have been hurt worse and healed faster. This seems very strange.” She turned as if to leave. “It makes me feel a good more empathy for my father after I tried to kill him.”

She had taken two steps when her own words stopped her cold. She stood there for a moment, her thoughts racing. Empathy. Her father’s pain. Her pain.

“Is something wrong, my lord?” Edward asked.

She slowly turned to him. “I need to get above ground and get a secure signal to Dr. Ryerson.”

They had barely lifted off the runway when Ryan opened the video line. The screen showed static for a few seconds, then sprang to life. Susan Ryerson was on the screen.

“Ryan, what is it?”

Although the technology was state-of-the-art, there was still a slight delay due to the distance the signal had to travel, and due to the encryption process it went through. Ryan was impatient with the delay.

“Have you found anything regarding my father?”

Susan was concerned. Ryan seemed slightly agitated, which was very unusual for her.

“No, I’m following up on several promising leads, but I still haven’t identified anything I think might be causing his illness.”

Ryan shook her head. “You need to change your strategy.”

Susan ran her fingers through her red hair, a gesture betraying her apprehension. “What do you mean?”

“You need to stop looking for something that’s different between my father and I and start looking for something that’s the same.”

It took a few seconds for Ryan’s words to sink in, and when they did, Susan’s concern grew exponentially. “Ryan, are you all right?”

Ryan nodded, visibly angry. “Yes, I’m fine for right now. And I’m on my way there, now. But start looking for something that I may have transmitted to my father, or that he might have transmitted to me, and that I myself might be infected with.”

It seemed the hidden runway had barely settled beneath the sea before Ryan was striding into the laboratory. Susan looked up from her microscope and Ryan noted how exhausted she looked.

“It seems you were right,” Susan said.

“About-?” Ryan asked.

“Whatever is affecting your father is probably beginning to affect you as well.”

Ryan settled heavily into a chair. “How can you tell?”

“I took your advice, and no longer eliminated the possibility that you could both be infected, which caused me to revisit the data from the mitochondria. Instead of comparing Victor’s DNA to yours, I compared his current DNA to an older sample of his DNA. What I found is amazing, even for your anatomies.”

Susan again placed a few slides on the overhead projector, and Ryan gazed at the smug little organelles as Susan continued. “The mitochondrial DNA is mutating, and at an astonishing rate. Normal mitochondria can mutate over years, centuries, and sometimes over millions of years. But yours is mutating so fast that I can’t measure it with even the most advanced techniques—the typing is just too slow.”

“If Victor’s DNA is mutating,” Ryan asked uncertainly, “Then how can his and mine still be the same?”

Susan could not keep the incredulity from her voice. “Because yours is mutating as well. And it’s mutating in an identical fashion to Victor’s, which is why I missed it.” Susan put up another chart. “I compared blood samples taken from you on the same dates that Victor’s had been taken. Your and Victor’s mitochondrial DNA profiles on the first date were identical, and the profiles on the second date, although dramatically different from the first date, were still identical.”

“How can that be?” Ryan asked.