Bond of Darkness (39 page)

They met the big, black pickup in front of the main house, where the drive made a great circular sweep before a spectacular view of the eastern valleys. Gray Wolf and Rough Bear stood in the house's shadows with the rest of his vampiros. Compañero snipers lined the roofline in an honor guard for their leader, while prosaico warriors marked the driveway's edge.

The sky was dark and the evening star was fading. The house's front was in shadows, they were counting the minutes until the sun rose.

The last time he'd come here at dawn was when Lucien Saint-Gerard had brought Shelby Durant as a young cachorra, only to see her die. Here were the same men, in exactly the same formation, at the same time… Shadows whispered over his skin.

The muddy truck jerked to a stop on the macadam drive's east side. Rafael strode eagerly forward, leaving Grania and Jean-Marie behind on the steps.

Ethan flung open the door, his chambray shirt and jeans filthy beyond belief.

Rafael frowned.
Si
, he could accept mud. But the blood wasn't Ethan's, nor did it belong to a vampiro.

Ethan's mouth tightened and he bowed awkwardly to Rafael, while remaining in the truck. "Master."

He hadn't publicly addressed Rafael as that in decades, not since before he became a vampiro.

Rafael's expression hardened into a wary watchfulness, while Ethan stepped out, flung his seat forward, and turned back to the pickup's shadowed interior.

But when Rafael's
dulce
Grania took his hand, he kissed her fingers and held on to them desperately. She was the
luz de su vida
, the light of his life. No matter if everything else turned strange and unpredictable, he could face anything with her at his side.

Ethan produced a silvery cocoon, a bundle wrapped in layers of survival blanket, out of the truck. His face was hard edged, engraved in exhaustion and bitter resolve. But his head came up, his green-gold eyes steady. He held his burden close and carefully, as if it contained everything in the world to him.

Its scent was female, that of an incredibly young cachorra. She was alive.

Crania's breath hissed out.

Ethan dropped to his knees before Rafael and laid her at Rafael's feet.
¿Ay de mi
, what was he doing?

Terrified for a reason he wouldn't admit even to himself, Rafael's nostrils flared and he took a deeper sniff.

The vampiro's blood on the cachorra—the creador who'd sired her—was Ethan. How could he have betrayed him like this? Rafael had to have only his own hijos in Texas, so he could totally trust them lest he be destroyed, as he'd killed his own creador thanks to his creador's sloppiness in enforcing the bond.

That was the reason for the First Law. If he let Ethan give El Abrazo, where would it stop? Who could he trust? Would he ever believe Grania was truly safe in a world where brutality like Madame Celeste's was commonplace?

Rafael growled, baring his fangs completely. His men came to attention with a firm stomp but didn't draw their weapons.

Ethan lowered his head, baring his neck to his patron and the laws he'd flouted.

"This is Ranger Stephanie Reynolds, who has worked with me, for our esfera, for many years," he said carefully. "She was mortally wounded in tonight's fight and I, I…" He stopped, his throat working. "I couldn't stand to see her hurting," he choked out.

He loves her
, Grania whispered.

That is unimportant compared to the laws he has broken!

What would you have done to be with me, in Toledo?

Rafael's mouth abruptly closed on a sharp retort. How many times throughout those tortured centuries in that stinking cellar, had he sworn he'd do anything for another hour with his lady? Risk any trial? Dare any haughty lord?

"Let me see your face," Rafael snapped, playing for time. "I must be sure I am speaking to an hijo of Texas, not an imposter."

Ethan sat up but didn't rise, choosing to settle on his heels. Rafael's army was motionless and silent, making the predawn breeze sound like a herd of stampeding longhorns.

"I know I don't have a place to bring her safely through La Lujuria or the strength, let alone the skill." Ethan's voice was hoarse but his words were clear. "Will you please give her a home, out of compassion for a good woman? She'd be an excellent addition to the mesnaderos."

Rafael barely caught his jaw before it gaped most unattractively. Ethan was asking him to raise his hija? To bring her through La Lujuria when the blood bond would be most firmly established? Reynolds would be loyal to him after that, not Ethan.

"And you?" he asked, as haughtily and noncommittally as possible.

"My life is forfeit by the laws of Texas." Ethan shrugged, the lines in his face deepening. "I will walk into the dawn or you may kill me in any way you wish. All I care about is Steve."

Rafael frowned and fought not to chew his lip. Lose Ethan, the hijo who'd shown him how to build an army of vampiros to hold Texas? Stalwart, aggravating, but ultimately reliable Ethan? Especially for something he'd have done himself, given the chance.

Plus, the lady was a personage he would have eagerly recruited if she'd only been a man.

Ethan was entirely correct in his estimation of his creador's softness toward ladies: He could not easily kill a woman and would therefore adopt Ethan's cachorra, bringing her into Compostela. However, the odds were miniscule that any female would survive La Lujuria, especially the first few hours. Her only slim chance was if her beloved was with her the entire time.

But that siege of the mind and body was far, far worse than what Blanche had faced at Toledo all those centuries ago. He would have hewn his way through armies to be with her, yet her death hadn't been guaranteed—as Ethan's Ranger's death was a near certainty now.

Yet the agonies he'd suffered of how he'd failed her because he hadn't stood beside her—still suffered, in fact!

Grania gently rubbed her thumb over his hand, a delicate reminder they were united at last, as they had not been seven centuries ago. He quickly twisted his hand, capturing her fingers. In a few centuries, he might not be as greedy for reassurance. Perhaps.

Could he deny Ethan the chance to stand beside his lady in her hour of need, the chance he and Blanche had never had?

Madre de Dios
, if she died during La Lujuria, Ethan deserved to face that trial with her.

But how to present it to his other men without seeming a weak fool?

He spun to face them, standing between Grania and Ethan. A quick, brutal command brought his hijo to his feet, with the Ranger in his arms.

"¡Mis hijos y compañeros!"

Boots and guns clanked in acknowledgment when all his men came to full attention. Jean-Marie's and Luis's eyes scrutinized him particularly closely.

"I was previously introduced to the work Ranger Stephanie Reynolds of the Texas Rangers has done for Texas. Some of you have already had the honor to work with her and personally know her deeds."

The silence was intense, sharp enough he could hear every drop falling into the great fountain.

"Do you agree she is worthy to join us?"

"Yes!" shouted Rough Bear, echoed a second later by Hennessy and Jean-Marie. A roar of acclaim went up from the crowd.

Rafael inclined his head, a little surprised by the strength of their approval. But perhaps the lady's participation in tonight's combat explained it.

Grania's soft chuckle briefly touched his mind.

"After her injuries in tonight's great battle, my alferez mayor gave her El Abrazo and brought her home to us. I welcome her as a vampira of Texas"—Ethan gasped—"And hija of Ethan."

Ethan's head whipped around to stare at him, hazel eyes wide with incredulous joy.

"I add one condition to this," Rafael said sternly. "As you know, anyone who breaks the laws will be executed. In this case, should the lady break the law, her creador will also be killed."

"I swear to you, it will not be a problem," Ethan protested, bowing.

Rafael shot him a disbelieving glare.
So you would have said yesterday, idiot, about this situation
! he retorted.

Ethan gritted his teeth, while Rafael's army erupted in cheers.

"But we have less than an hour to protect your Doña Stephanie from the cruel dawn," Rafael said, pleased to be gracious now he'd reinforced his position as patron. "Take her to the Rose Suite, where we have always housed our most honored guests. It is completely soundproofed and she should be entirely safe."
It also contains no memories of any cachorro's awaken-big
, he added,
to haunt your future
.

Ethan nodded thoughtfully and started to turn, shifting his darling closer to his heart.

"After you're finished, wash up and come find me. You will need to feed well and have much to learn if she is to have any hope of surviving. She will remember nothing of tonight, which may be a blessing."

Despite his best attempt at regal benevolence, Rafael's voice roughened slightly on the last word. Ethan flinched, his jaw tightening, but said nothing more before he left.

What are their chances, darling
? Grania asked softly.

Hers? They are essentially nil
, querida.
Worse than yours, since you'd already started to become my compañera when you were given El Abrazo
.

And his
? Her blue eyes were fixed desperately on his. He hated to give her the only answer he knew.

I wish I thought he had much. But since he was willing to bring her back to me, to give her even a chance of surviving La Lujuria, while believing I'd kill him for breaking Texas's first law
, he growled and slapped his thigh, taking out his anguish on a bit of dust,
well, he's bound up everything he has in her
.

We will pray for them tonight, Rafael
. A single tear hung on Grania's eyelash before she blinked it fiercely away.

"Dismiss the men, Rough Bear," Rafael snapped with unnecessary force. Perhaps there was something more he could teach Ethan, which would give him a better chance.

Ethan slowly circled the great suite, ticking off its virtues on his fingers. The room was a magnificent example of the finest modern Scandinavian design—vast expanses of smoothly polished woods, with only brilliant rugs to break up the incredible perfection. Even the great bed was a pristine sweep of the smoothest silk, except for the raven-haired beauty sleeping in its center.

Once he'd seen this suite as a proffered guarantee of security—after all, who could possibly bug anything so immaculate?—but now he thanked God for its privacy. For the layers of soundproofing hidden behind the paneled walls and steel shutters, plus their complete lack of distractions.

Any sound, however small, could destroy his darling now, or any bit of light. But Steve wouldn't start screaming here because a chandelier's pendants danced together, their crystal harmony becoming a cacophony of dragons' teeth tearing her apart.

She would awaken with a vampira's full sensitivity but, unlike a man, she would try to understand every sense all at once. Vampiros usually focused on a single thing, the goal they'd held when they'd received El Abrazo.

But he hadn't even been able to promise Steve who she'd awaken with, when he gave her El Abrazo! How could she have kept a single image to guide and protect her now? Her chances were so damn small…

He snarled and thrust the thought away, clenching his fists. Any fear now would be a certain death sentence for her.

Her first meal was the most critical, since it taught her the emotions she'd need for the rest of her life. If she learned to hunger for terror—he shuddered, remembering the many ways Devol had invoked that feeling in his prey—then Don Rafael would have to kill Steve tomorrow. God help him, Ethan would understand, too—even if it sent him walking into the sun afterward.

No, he had to be confident tonight, certain she'd survive.

Above all else, she needed to recognize him and accept him as her creador—and perhaps one day her cónyuge, the greatest joy of all. They'd been lovers for fifteen years. She knew his body the way she knew no other man's. Surely she could come willingly to him now, as easily as she had at Calatrava when she'd walked away from those greedy idiots in the bar.

After all, she'd accepted El Abrazo despite her concerns over his undue familiarity with the darker side of the law.

He must remember the night at Calatrava and believe she'd come to him again the same way, as innocently as she slept now. If she had enough sanity to say his name, all would be well, even though she'd received El Abrazo in a hurry. He'd have time later to teach her how to shapeshift her teeth into fangs, like most young cachorros.

Her body had earlier cleansed itself of its prosaica aspects, violently but naturally. Ethan had masturbated a few minutes ago, inspired by memories of their first time together to fill the room with lustful scents, as a lure to her most primal being.

Was there anything else he could do for her? He spun, calculating the room's potential, which sent his hair whispering against his nape. For a moment, he almost felt her fingers playing with it. He glanced over at her, smiling.

Dear God, she'd pushed back the sheet and a light sweat had formed on her skin. She was about to awaken.

For the first time since he'd stood at his nephew's grave and said good-bye to his last relative, he crossed himself and said a quick prayer.

He bit down hard on his lip, sending blood welling over his chin. Something stirred in the darkest recesses of his mind, as if not even aware how to touch him.

Blood and lust, my darling
—
any time and as much as you want
, he silently promised her.
Come to me, my Stephanie Amanda, and drink your fill
.

Ethan crossed the room back to her in a few, quick strides and slipped under the covers, gathering her to him. He twined their legs together, uniting them gently but intimately. He'd never dared dream of being one with her at Compostela Ranch.

But she was limp, doll-like in his arms, not at all the fierce cop he'd always known. He whispered into her hair, barely daring to croon her name. "Steve, darling."