Burning Skies (34 page)

Yes, goddammit, he’d wait, with three squadrons of death vampires. Then he’d take what he had already claimed for himself.

*   *   *

The only thing that ever really wearied Greaves was the moment a servant rebeled. Only then did he feel a sense of failure that very infrequently accompanied his efforts to subdue Second Earth. He did not mind a verbal battle with Endelle or even the effort to travel to various Territories through the night in order to secure new squads of death vampires to send to Phoenix Two. Nor did he mind the serious diplomatic twists and turns required to get a High Administrator to abandon Endelle’s administration and join his forces. He even tended to enjoy the farcical COPASS hearings.

But when one of those allied with him made these ridiculous power plays, like
summoning him
from other parts of the world, only then did he feel the desire to maim and kill.

He’d come close to taking Crace’s life, but for decades now he’d had a serious policy in place of always letting others do his dirty work. He needed his record clean, so clean it would be. Besides, he strongly suspected that Eldon Crace, despite his growth in surprising preternatural power as well as physical strength, would be his own undoing. If the vampire could get himself killed by stealing from the nest of a Warrior of the Blood, so much the better.

He folded back to Rio de Janeiro Two and begged the Brazilian High Administrator’s apologies for his lapse in manners at having to leave the negotiations so abruptly. He spoke Portuguese, of course. Fluently.

He had already maneuvered the woman from behind her desk, that seat of authority behind which he could not allow her to continue addressing her concerns. Some things were very simple when it came to managing a Coming Order.

She now sat in a chair and he stood in front of her. “As I was saying,” he said, noting again the large ruby she wore on the ring finger of her left hand, “I have a top-functioning mine in Burma near Mogok, which I would be only too happy to offer as a token of good faith. I want all my High Administrators to understand their importance to me personally as well as to my Geneva Round Table.” She was actually quite lovely and he sensed her …
arousal.
Very good.

He also saw the flash of light in her eye as he spoke of the ruby mine he owned. He shared that flash of light, of greed, of hunger, and he knew negotiations over the next few weeks, perhaps even days, would fare extremely well.

“You are most greatly generous,” she responded, her English less than perfect, but he appreciated the effort. His gaze drifted down the silk blouse she wore, unbuttoned at the third button. The signal was not lost to him, but he never mixed business with pleasure—unless of course he could put the High Administrator in thrall and slice her memories later, something he might just do. He was still irritated by the interview with Crace. A little relief would be welcome. She would find herself bruised afterward, inexplicably, but some things couldn’t be helped.

He tested her shields and was both stunned and pleased that, though she had many powers, shielding capacity was almost nonexistent. Well, it seemed he had just found a soothing balm for his recent encounter.

“May I sit down?” he asked.

She inclined her head. “Nothing would please me more.”

He smiled.

*   *   *

As Havily opened the door to the office, Marcus moved up the hall in her direction. He was a welcome sight after the usual harrowing encounter with Endelle.

She held the door for Alison and Parisa, the former talking in low tones to the ascendiate, her arm around her shoulders.

“How did it go?” Marcus asked, his hand touching her elbow.

“Oh, the usual,” Havily whispered. “But you should have seen Parisa. When Endelle punched at her from across the room with her powers, Parisa returned the favor and Endelle landed on her ass. I was shocked…”

The door opened. Oh. Shit. Preternatural hearing. She should have at least waited until she was back at the villa before she started gossiping about Endelle.

“Havily, tell me something,” Her Supremeness began.

She turned to face her employer. “Yes, Madame Endelle?” Could her voice get any higher?

“I’ve been thinking about this recent battle in Parisa’s courtyard, playing it over in my head. How the hell did Medichi know to show up exactly when he was needed? Thorne said he didn’t send him there. Do you know anything about that?”

Havily released a sigh of relief. She’d expected to get reamed because of what she’d been saying to Marcus. Instead, it was just about the courtyard incident. “That’s easy. I called him.” She tapped her forehead. “I have a link with Warrior Medichi. We set it up after I had the vision of Luken getting wounded. They were both concerned for my safety, and as it turned out they were right. That’s how Medichi … arrived … at the town house…” It struck Havily that Endelle would already have known all about this. And why was Endelle grinning?

When Endelle just lifted a brow then shut the door in her face, it took Havily a few seconds to realize exactly what Her Supremeness had meant by the whole thing and just how seriously Havily had erred.

She felt a rumbling beside her that quickly turned into a growl at her neck. Marcus’s hand found her nape and held her firmly. “Break that link now,” he cried.

She withheld a heavy sigh. If Endelle weren’t so damn powerful she’d plot how to get back at her, but the woman would probably know her plans before she could even form them.

Fine.

Now, what to do about the jealous beast beside her.

Down the hall, Alison and Parisa stood close together conversing. Alison gestured with flutters of her hands and Parisa smiled. In a few minutes, Havily had another meeting with the various committee heads to finalize both the Ambassadors Reception and the Festival.

“Break it now,” Marcus growled, adding resonance, which forced her to turn and face him.

“It’s no big deal,” she tried to reassure him. “And if memory serves, that link saved your ass.”

Those were so the wrong words to say to a Warrior of the Blood, on so many levels. That she would suggest Marcus wasn’t fully capable of defending himself or her or Parisa was unforgivable. So was challenging him about the right of another man to have possession of her mind, even in this small, superficial way. She might as well have trumpeted a call to arms.

The release of a torpedo of fennel caused her to gasp. She took a step back and weaved on her feet. She saw stars, she really did. Holy shit.

She glanced at Parisa and Alison. She met Alison’s gaze and sent,
Would you see to Parisa? I seem to have a situation.

Alison glanced her direction, lifted her brow when her gaze shifted to Marcus, then guided Parisa into the executive dining room. She closed the door with a quick snap.

Before Marcus gave vent to the rage so evident in the way his light brown eyes were almost glowing, Havily jerked her head in the direction of her office. She moved with preternatural speed, pulled the door open and went inside. She knew he’d followed with the same blast of speed because his thighs were up against her, shoving at her, each step of the way.

Oh, boy was she in for it now.

Before she could open her mouth to either protest or explain, he had her pinned against the wall. Though the front part of her office had glass windows, the south wall was solid and separated her from the entire administrative pool. Only if someone happened to walk by could they be seen. The plate-glass window on the east wall was open to nothing but miles of desert.

His body was pressed the full length of hers, and the release of all this aggression had tainted his fennel scent with such a heavy dose of pheromones that her knees no longer existed. “Break it,” he whispered deep into her ear.

His breath, his fennel, the erotic feeling of being pinned by this warrior, caused Havily to breathe in light little gasps. Dammit, she was panting. How quickly the man could sex her up. Not only that, she couldn’t form a single rational thought. Instead, she wondered if she ought to just fold off her slacks and her thong and let him take care of business. That he was a hard length grinding between her legs wasn’t a surprise.

What was it she had meant to say to him?

“No one takes your blood,” he said, measuring each word, his breath still driving into her ear, “and no one gets inside your head.” He drew his hips back slightly, and his hand went low as he caught her between her thighs. He cupped her … hard … and it felt so good. “And no one gets in here.”
All of this,
he sent,
your mind, your body, your blood … these belong to me. Do … you … understand?

Havily opened her mouth to speak, knowing she should argue, maybe set some boundaries, but his lips were on hers and his tongue took possession of her mouth in hard thrusts. After a moment, his cock once more formed a powerful ridge against her. He drew back but just enough to meet her gaze. “Break the connection.” He ground his teeth. “Now. I need this.”

“I can’t,” she responded breathless. “I would, but I don’t know how. I think Medichi has to do it. Besides, I’m still not certain if it’s a good idea.”

He growled and pressed his hips against hers. “Not an option,” he said. “Let’s go back to the villa. I’ll wake him up and we’ll get this thing taken care of.”

“Marcus,” she whispered, turning her head. “I have a meeting. It’s important, especially after the warning Leto gave you about the Ambassadors Festival. Besides, Medichi should sleep. You of all people know how important that is.”

He was breathing against her neck and licked her throat.

She groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. She would love to just throw away all her responsibilities, even her sense of what was right in this situation, but there was a little more at stake than the
breh-hedden
’s absurd call on them both.

She wedged her hands against his chest and pushed. Reluctantly, he gave way and stepped back, if not very far.

“Come to the meeting with me,” she said. “And as soon as I can I’ll sever the link, but I must conduct this meeting now.”

He closed his eyes and she watched the struggle. The hands clenched on her arms gripped too hard. His jaw ground back and forth and he forced several deep breaths.

“Fine,” he muttered, at long last, but his face had a ruddy color. “But I’m not happy about this.”

“No shit,” she whispered. That made his expression soften a little, since she rarely used profanity.

The meeting, however, did not flow quite as smoothly as she had hoped, but that was to be expected with one pissed-off-looking warrior vampire leaning against the door as though he barred all the other vampires from leaving.

Despite his brooding presence and the way his gaze followed her no matter which direction she moved, Havily listened to reports from each of her heads and had a good sense that both the reception, to be held on the following night, and the Festival in two days’ time were well in hand. She would have expected nothing less. She had chosen her people with great care.

Finally, she broached the matter of security. Endelle wanted Leto’s warning known, without revealing the source. She kept the message succinct, then added, “Given the attack on Warrior Luken, there is strong reason to suspect we’re talking about an incendiary threat, probably in the air.”

The head of security, the Militia colonel by the name of Seriffe—and one powerful warrior—sat forward in his chair. He had short black hair, dark eyes, and a deep olive complexion. He was almost as big as Marcus. “So what are we talking about?” he asked. “Are we talking about during the barge parade or the following spectacle? Maybe the fireworks? The route is fifteen miles long and even though we’ll have ten thousand Militia Warriors on the ground and another five hundred in the skies patrolling, how the hell are we to watch every movement, especially along the fireworks battery lines? Did this source indicate if there were concerns about the reception?”

Havily glanced at Marcus. She lifted a brow. Marcus had heard Leto. He would know that answer.

Marcus leaned away from the door and stood upright. He took a deep breath and some of his broody demeanor fell away. He shook off the effects of the
breh-hedden
and assumed his most professional manner, very in control, very much the man who had met her in the lobby of his building and escorted her upstairs to his office. Had that only been a couple of days ago? “The source referred specifically to the fireworks display. Nothing was said of the reception.”

“Well, that’s something then,” the colonel stated. “So we’ll focus our efforts on the fireworks batteries in the White Tanks. Beyond that, we’ll have to rely on the vigilance of our Militia Warriors to report any undue activity.”

Havily glanced at Marcus, at the slash of brows over light brown eyes, and a strong sensation of admiration rose in her chest. She hadn’t wanted to feel this way about him, that on top of the
breh-hedden
’s call for communion, she could actually admire the man, but so she did. He had tremendous presence, the kind a man emitted when he’d been used to governing, in this case, a large number of corporations. His gaze shifted to hers abruptly. His eyes narrowed; then a faint smile and a nod of his chin gave evidence that her sudden emotion had communicated in no doubt a release of what he kept calling
honeysuckle.