Blood Vengeance (Blood Curse Series Book 7) (9 page)

Tiffany nodded, feeling herself drawn in by the history. “Whatever happened to the wizard Fabien?”

Ramsey shrugged. “No one knows. Apparently, he took the princesses across the sea, placed them in an enchanted sleep to be awakened later by Prince Jadon, and no one ever heard from him again. Perhaps he traded his life for the power and magic he needed… nobody really knows.”

“And the princes?” Tiffany asked. She just had to know. “Whatever happened to them?”

Once again, Ramsey shrugged. “Same deal. Nobody knows for sure. Legend has it that they died in an epic battle back in Romania, that both warriors,
both vampires
, beheaded each other at the same exact moment, but no one has ever found their tombs.”

Tiffany clenched and unclenched her fists several times, trying to wring out her hands, release some tension. “
Shit
,” she murmured. What else could she say? “And the house of Jadon? How did it survive?”

Ramsey bit down on the toothpick,
hard
. “One word: Napolean.”

Tiffany braced her palms on the edge of her seat, angling her body even further forward, riveted by the tale. “Napolean?”

At this point, Ramsey pushed away from the wall, sauntered to the open armchair, and took a languorous seat. He placed both booted feet up on the ottoman and leaned back, once again crossing his arms in front of his chest. “When Jadon’s followers first got to North America, they were dealing with all the same crap as the house of Jaegar—they were also consumed by bloodlust and learning how to feed for the first time without inflicting wholesale slaughter, and while many of the males came directly to the Rocky Mountains, a lot more scattered from one end of the continent to the other. Over time, as more and more humans migrated to the New World, they also attracted and encouraged human vampire-hunting societies here. Since the house of Jadon’s males had to wait on their
destinies
”—he eyed her meaningfully—“they reproduced a lot more slowly, and a lot of males were taken by the Blood for failing to complete the requirements of their Blood Moons.” He placed one ankle on top of the other. “Luckily, they—
we
—had the sun
and
Napolean
, a time to regroup when the Dark Ones couldn’t hunt us, and a leader who would step forward and rebuild all that was once right with the ancient civilization, a leader who knew what that civilization once looked like.”

Tiffany twirled her fingers through her hair, tugging on several strands behind her ear, enraptured by the story. “So, how did you end up here… together… all in Dark Moon Vale? And what did Napolean do?”

Ramsey’s eyes lit up with both recognition and respect, and for the first time, Tiffany got a glimpse of why the powerful sentinel served the king with so much loyalty. “The numbers of first-generation males in both houses, the followers of Jaegar and the followers of Jadon, had dwindled down from thousands to hundreds, maybe even less, when Napolean took it upon himself to try and save our civilization. Rumor has it, he was partially influenced by one of the Silivasis’ ancestors after his own father died, and when that male passed away, he got real serious about reinventing the wheel: Apparently, he had made some sort of vow to this guy, Timaos. Anyhow, he slowly began to gather the males from one end of the mainland to the other, relocating them in one central place. He started to compile information, keep track of what worked and what didn’t, what we needed to exist as a self-contained civilization in a new world, and he began to envision a cohesive society where we could function as vampires while still remaining true to our celestial origins. In short, he invented the house of Jadon. He drafted the laws and the covenants. He had the best warriors train the others, and ultimately, he went back to Romania, to the original castle of King Sakarias, to set up the University. While we weren’t allowed to live there, there was nothing in the Curse prohibiting us from going back and forth, as long as we didn’t stay, reestablish our community in Europe. Basically, he saved our species from imminent extinction by carving out a way for us to live, a place for us to thrive, and a code of honor to live by.” He paused, as if wondering how much detail he should go into. “You may have noticed that there are a helluva lot more warriors than wizards, healers, or justices in Dark Moon Vale, right?”

Tiffany nodded. “I have.”

“Well, that’s no accident,” Ramsey said. “While Napolean may have conceived of all four disciplines right from the start, his initial emphasis was straightforward: The house of Jaegar could reproduce at a far greater rate than we could, and in order to survive, we needed skilled Master Warriors, a lot of them, males who could fight better, stronger, faster, and with more efficiency than the Dark Ones. That took some serious training and time. It wasn’t until a few centuries ago, after we attained true stability and our numbers stabilized, that Napolean gave the nod to more than a handful of males to pursue the alternate disciplines. In other words, what you see now? It didn’t happen all at once. In fact, it took centuries to create the society you see today, but eventually, Napolean did it. And it’s worked ever since.” His eyes grew darker, more focused, and his upper lip drew back in a very subtle snarl. “For the longest time, we thought the Dark Ones were still scattered, living like animals in hidden caves and arroyos, but now we know better. They were right here…
beneath us
… all this time, and they developed their own advanced society, despite their degenerate ways.”

Tiffany took a moment to let it all sink in, the history, the implications. When she was finally ready to push on, she chose to address a more personal subject: “And so your parents—they lived during a time of great turmoil and danger, before things were as established as they are today?”

Ramsey nodded, seemingly impressed with her quick grasp of the account. “Exactly. The first few generations of vampires rarely survived the battles, the bloodlust, the Curse, or the vampire-hunting societies.” He shrugged, although it was not indifferent. “Kind of in the same way that early humans didn’t survive the plagues, childbirth, or territorial wars of expansion. It takes time and understanding, science and civilization, to learn and to evolve. Napolean is the only original male left from the time of the Blood Curse, and while my parents came a few generations later, Dark Moon Vale was not an established stronghold, a sanctuary for our kind, at the time. Like so many of the vampires who would now be over one or two thousand years old, they fell prey to the world we lived in, before we knew how to navigate it.”

Tiffany closed her eyes and tried to gentle her racing heart.

She had never given the history of the house of Jadon more than a cursory thought, and she was humbled by Napolean’s ingenuity as well as Ramsey’s retelling of the past. “I
am
sorry, Ramsey,” she said softly. “So sorry.”

At the mention of his name, his eyes locked unerringly with hers, and then he nodded in acknowledgment. But he didn’t speak.

“So, that’s why you serve the king so faithfully?”

Ramsey declined his head in a hard, definitive nod. “That’s why we
all
revere him so deeply.”

Tiffany understood. “And how did you come to be a sentinel?”

Ramsey’s features relaxed as he digested the question. “We volunteered… a long time ago.”

“You and your brothers?”

“Yeah.”

Okay, so he was getting a little more tight-lipped now. She held his gaze with unwavering determination. “What do you do? I mean, as sentinels?”

He made a speculative gesture with his hand, as if to say,
a little of this—a little of that
. In other words, he evaded the question.

She braced her elbows on the desk and leaned forward in persistence. “
Ramsey
, what do you do?”

He looked away and frowned, and then he stood up from the chair with the silent grace of a jungle cat and nearly slinked across the room to her desk, where he bent over, placed both hands flat on the top panel, and stared directly into her eyes. “Very rarely, but on occasion, there are members of the house of Jadon who do not comply with the laws.” His expression hardened. “I mete out justice for Napolean.” He held her gaze without blinking. “And also rarely, but not unheard of, there are humans who do not respect the boundaries, not just leftover vampire-hunting societies, but criminal types, those who”—he seemed to be searching for just the right word—“those who take an interest in the casino or our other financial holdings, those who hear about the precious gems, the mines, and want a piece of our wealth for themselves. I make them go away.” He licked his lips apathetically. “You already know that I hunt Dark Ones and fight lycans, when they occasionally rear their ugly heads, but I also do the king’s bidding, whatever it may be, whether that’s an execution, barring the door to the sacrificial chamber after a male has failed to fulfill the terms of his Blood Moon, or seeing to it that a firstborn, dark twin does not get a chance to grow up because his parents are having second thoughts. I’m a mercenary, an enforcer, and a protector. I make sure that the house of Jadon
survives
.”

Tiffany felt all at once nauseous, her stomach turning over in roiling waves.
Dear gods, he was a killer
, a straight-up killer. She had always known this on some level, but for some reason, his words had driven it home. She cupped her hand over her mouth to stifle any emotional outbursts, to try and hide her fear. She wanted to duck under the desk, run from the room, anything, just to get away from his fearsome presence. And she knew that it wasn’t fair.

After all, Ramsey Olaru had shown her three very important things that afternoon: First, that he wasn’t some barbaric caveman who could only spit out one-syllable words. He was intelligent as hell, even eloquent, when he wanted to be, both articulate and organized. Second, that he was as loyal as the day was long, and despite the brutal nature of his work, he was driven by an internal code based on his own intrinsic idea of right and wrong. And last, that he had overcome great tragedy in his own life. He wasn’t impervious to what it meant to suffer.

And all that had to count for something, didn’t it?

Yet and still, Tiffany remained terrified.

Why her?

Why had the gods chosen her for this particular, petrifying male?

She glanced up into his bottomless hazel eyes and struggled to hold his gaze. “And now you want me to be a part of that world, of your world, knowing what it’s about?”

He shook his head slowly, the object in his mouth going still. “No, baby girl, never that. I don’t want you to share in the brutality or the ugliness. Never,
ever
that.”

She frowned, confused. “Then what? What do you want from me?”

He removed the toothpick from his mouth and leaned in so close that, for a moment, she actually thought he was going to kiss her—she prayed that he wouldn’t.

She just wasn’t ready.

Oh gods
, was she ever
not ready
…

“I want you to do for me what Napolean did for the house of Jadon,” he said evenly, his typical rasp, softened a bit.

She held his searing gaze, and it felt like the air simply left her body. “And what’s that?” Her words were barely audible.

“I want you to provide me with a sanctuary from all the madness.”

Tiffany sat back in her chair and gulped. She had to create some distance between them. She had to get out of that room. “Ramsey, I… I—”

“And in return”—he spoke over her, his voice as close to a whisper as it had ever been before—“I promise to give you the world, Tiffany Matthews. To insulate you from all the stress and uncertainty of life, to protect you from even the thought of disappointment.”

She reeled in her seat.

She pushed back against the floor with her toes until the stubborn chair rolled a couple feet away, and then she stood up abruptly, rounded the desk, and hightailed it out of the room.

It was childish.

Maybe even immature or beneath her, but she just couldn’t help it.

Ramsey was right on her heels.

He caught her by the arm, spun her around, and pulled her beneath his powerful frame, her much narrower shoulders folding effortlessly into his broad, all-encompassing chest.

“Ramsey,
please
… ”

“Shh,” he instructed. “Don’t run.” He kept his left arm at his side, even as his right arm slipped around her middle, pulling her tighter into his chest, and then he nuzzled his chin in her hair. “Don’t think.” He kissed the top of her head. “Can you feel my heart beating, Miss Matthews?”

She gulped again.

“I do have one, you know,” he said in a satin voice. “And it is yours.” He lowered his head until his warm breath wafted over her earlobe. “I want you, Tiffany. And not just because the gods have decreed it. Not just because my life now depends upon it, but because of your rebellious spirit, because of your incredible eyes, because the entire universe lights up when you smile.” He pulled back a bit, giving her some room to breathe. “The first time I met you, I was working, making sure that the king’s Blood Moon went off without a hitch. I remember erasing your memories and sending you back on your way to San Francisco, but I didn’t have time to stop and enjoy the view. The first time I
really saw you
was several months later, at Napolean’s mansion. You were sitting on the sofa in the front room in a pair of killer stilettos. You had half a dozen toys wrapped up in your arms, a ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear, and your makeup was smeared along the corner of your left eye. And I said to myself,
Holy shit, Ramsey; now that’s one fine-as-hell woman
. If I hadn’t been bound by this Curse, and you hadn’t been the queen’s best friend, I would have been all kinds of all over you.” He chuckled deep in his throat. “Point is:
I want you
, Tiffany. And I always have.”

Tiffany’s stomach did a tiny little flip, and she lifted her chin to gaze up at him—she couldn’t help it, and she couldn’t avoid it. She felt like a moth drawn to an infernal flame, and her heart literally fluttered in her chest. “I d-d-don’t even know what to say.”