Dancing Dragon (16 page)

“We will see,
elska
. And are you in such a hurry to go back to your life? To your kindred vampire? You didn't look happy in the hotel and your vampire was nowhere to be seen. And if I am not mistaken you are leaving the country. Running,
elska
? Perhaps you are running to me and you don't even know it. You
are
mine.”

I laughed at him, a short, sharp bark of a laugh. “In your dreams, Lutin. I don't belong to you and never will. I belong to Michel.” Liar, liar pants on fire.

“It doesn't look that way. Where is your kindred? I think you have left him.”

“We're fighting, I haven't left him.” I put as much conviction into that statement as I could manage.

“You are no longer his, Lucinda and you know it.” Huh? He did know my name.

I wanted to argue, to say I was still Michel's, but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was, “Michel is still mine.” Freudian slip?

Lutin looked at me intently and then slowly smiled, flashing me his white, blunt teeth. I got the impression that particular smile was for when he was sizing up an opponent. Was I his opponent, or was it Michel?

“I'm going back to the hotel.” Perhaps if I said it as a statement I'd poof back to my room, hopefully fully clothed, but nothing like that happened.

“Do I need some pixie dust or something?” I asked, still staring down at myself and the sand around my knees.

“No.” Lutin's voice was soft. I chanced a glance at him. He seemed pensive, contemplative. “I shall court you,
elska
, I shall prove to you, that you are in fact mine.”

I stifled a sigh. He just
didn't
get it. He must have seen something of the frustration I was feeling on my face, because he added, “This is a concession on my part,
elska
, no fey would grant you this. I am showing you, that you can trust me. I have waited so long for my
elska
, it is difficult, but I will grant you this.”

Gee thanks. Not.

“Take my hand and I will take you back to your hotel.”

I didn't waste any time reaching for him, perhaps I should have thought about that, but Lutin, maybe because he
did
want to prove I could trust him, didn't try anything. Which also made me realise he could keep those pheromones or whatever the hell it was he did, under wraps.

In a flash of Light we were back in my hotel room. I was fully clothed again, so was Lutin and from the look on the clock, several hours had passed. He obviously hadn't played with time, only distance and space. Good to know.

I pulled my hand from his grasp quickly and rubbed it on my T-Shirt. It was intentionally rude, my patience had run out. I was tired, having had no sleep last night, but more than my bed, I wanted a bath. I could feel sand and salt on me, and Lutin. I wanted it all off.

I could tell he was watching me, unmoving, so I took a breath and said, “OK, thanks for the sun, but I want to be alone now.”

He laughed. “Dismissing a Prince.” He laughed again. “You really are something.”

Then before I realised what he was doing, I felt his lips on my own, his Light wrap around me and his warm breath against my cheeks as he whispered, “I give you certain allowances, because you are having trouble adjusting to your new role, but my patience will wear thin before too long,
elska
. I shall court you, as I have said, but be warned, it will not last an eternity and I will not accept no for an answer.”

With that he disappeared in another flash of Light and I battled the tremble through my body his touch had left for some time, before the call of a bath finally reached me and broke the spell he had left in his wake.

The bath was good, the small nap and room service meal I had later even better and before I knew it, Samson and I had boarded our plane and were on our way to Birmingham. I slept most of the journey, allowing Samson to glaze those passengers and staff in the business class area to keep their shades down, masking the sun's harmful rays. I even missed the two lay-overs. Samson handled it all. Where would I be without Samson?

He got up once towards the end of our flight, while he thought I was asleep, and I watched as he chatted up the stewardess and then surreptitiously took her into the serving area. He was gone a long time, much longer than a feeding should have taken and when he returned - with a sparkle in his eyes - and the hostess came out looking extremely happy, I noticed a few of her buttons astray and her once immaculate hair a little tipsy.

I flashed a glance at Samson and raised my eyebrows. He smiled, a stunning smile I hadn't seen on him before, it made his deep brown eyes flash with bronze and copper. And I noticed then, that his long blonde hair had come a little loose too. Naughty boy. I reached up absently and tucked a few strands behind his ear, his head leaned into my hand and then he turned his face and kissed my palm.

I'd never been attracted to Samson before, maybe it was a spill over from Lutin's visit, a residual of his influence still affecting me, but Samson must have seen something in my eyes, because his widened, just a fraction and his mouth parted, letting a shot of hot air came out in a rush.

“Mistress,” he said, softly.

His hand came up a little hesitantly to brush my cheek. I just stared at him, as though I was seeing him for the first time. He didn't look away, but let me see in his eyes, in the way he touched my face, that if I wanted him, he was mine.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts. “Fey,” was all I could get out. My inner monologue had started humming, a warning that could only mean one thing. I was not acting under my own cognition. Lutin had done something and I was about to pay the price.

Samson glanced around the cabin, maybe thinking he'd spot Lutin somewhere on the plane, but he wasn't here, I could tell and that thought alone was a little scary. Whatever influence he was having over me, did not require him to be present. When Samson's head spun back to look at me, he'd got it. He understood and I saw a little of the light that had been in his eyes dim and a rueful smile grace his lovely lush lips.

“It was a pleasant thought, mistress, while it was mine. When did you see the fairy?”

“Earlier today, he brought me my room service,” I said, laughing quietly at the lunacy of it all. “Then he took me to the Bahamas and tried to seduce me. I think, I may still be a little under his effect.” I blushed slightly and then looked back in his eyes. “But," I licked my lips falling into the depths of those chocolate brown eyes again, "you are beautiful.”

He laughed, a lovely masculine rumble. Damn, everything he was doing was just so darn attractive. I squirmed slightly in my seat. Samson noticed, he's a vampire, they spot any change of emotion, any change of stance, any
thing
that would help them on their hunt, straight away.

“Let me try something, do you mind?” I had no idea what he was asking, but I trusted him, so nodded.

He turned toward me slightly, then reached over and placed a hand behind my head, his eyes never leaving mine. I was trapped, unable to breathe, unable to stop, but then the thought of stopping him just wasn't there, even if my inner monologue was shouting. He wasn't glazing me, he can't unless I let him in my mind, he's my vampire, he's part of my line, but he might as well have been. When his lips met mine I almost exploded, wrapping my arms around his neck and practically climbing out of my seat to get to him. He tried to pull back, to put some distance between us, but then I just bit him. A small bite on his bottom lip, enough to get any vampire's attention.

Shit, what the hell was I doing?

His tongue swept mine, his moan was low and throaty, and then we were eating each other like there was no tomorrow, all lips and tongue and teeth and hands and bodies. God knows what the other passengers or stewards were thinking, but no one stopped us, maybe because Samson had enough wherewithal to cast a little
Sanguis Vitam
in the air to cloak us, but I didn't really care, I had absolutely no control over the response of my body. And my mind baulked at that thought.

Fucking controlling men in my life. I swear, here and now, that I don't want to have another thing to do with any of them ever again.

I pushed back against his hold, I'm not sure how, maybe I used a little Light, but somehow it made Samson came to his senses and somehow he stopped kissing me back. I gasped at what had just transpired, the familiar feel of bile rising up my throat, then I jumped back off his lap, ignoring the fact that he had risen to the occasion despite having stopped participating and wrapped my seatbelt around my lap, securing it tightly.

“Shit,” I said, breathlessly.

“Indeed,” he replied, almost as breathless.

After a few awkward minutes of nothing being said, he finally announced, “Well, we know two things.”

“Two things?” I asked, chancing a glance at him and relieved to see he had on his usual Samson façade.

“Yes,” he said, taking a deep breath in and looking straight at me. “One, you are under the influence of a Fey Prince of
Ljósálfar
. And two,” - and here he blushed ever so slightly, must have been the recent fill of blood, and a wicked smile curved his lips - “you bloody well know how to kiss, mistress.”

I was a little pissed off that Samson had chosen to kiss me to test his suspicions. The anger at myself for having taken advantage of a vampire under my line, subject to my protection, was directed at him. If he hadn't have kissed me, would the influence Lutin had left behind have been activated to such a degree?

I pushed those thoughts aside, now was not the time to get bogged down by semantics. “How long will Lutin's influence last?” I asked, vaguely realising my hand had started massaging his thigh. I yelped, he looked a little pained and I promptly shoved my hands under my butt.

“I do not know.” He took a deep breath in and actually shifted further away from me in his seat. I would have been offended, but I was just so grateful. “You were not like this in the hotel room before we left, or while we waited to board the plane. What set the spell off, can you remember?”

I tried to settle my breathing and banish the images I had playing in my head - images that were totally not mine. Damn fairy fucking magic! I took a deep breath in to control myself and turned my head away from Samson, staring at the shuttered window beside me. After a few more deep breaths and a concerted effort to think of cold water and puppy dogs and pussy cats, I managed to replay the afternoon since Lutin had left, ending with Samson taking the stewardess into the galley and both returning dishevelled.

By the time I turned to tell Samson my conclusion, that it was only when I had seen the lust in both their eyes after returning to the cabin, that I had felt the undeniable attraction to him, he had my wrist in a firm grasp as I my hand hovered over his crotch.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” I exclaimed, unbuckling my seat belt and jumping up and away from his body.

We stared at each other for a moment, his eyes a little wild and most definitely excited, mine no doubt showing mortification and an equal amount of excitement. Shit. What the hell had Lutin done to me and why?

“I can't switch it off,” I panted, feeling like a trapped animal, about to be fed to the lions.

“Calm down, Luce,” Samson said, a little too in control for my liking. This was not a situation that engendered control. “You need to be separated from me until whatever has switched the spell on has passed. I'll move seats, so you can be alone.”

He stood up stiffly and went to walk away, before I could stop myself, my hand was resting on his arm, my body against the length of his. He growled at my proximity and then when he turned to face me, swallowed noticeably.

“Sit down and buckle yourself in,” he instructed through gritted teeth.

My inner monologue was screaming inside my head. I wanted to scream alongside it. "Help me," I pleaded to my vampire.

He nodded and turned back towards me, grasping my hands before they acted of their own accord. Gently he guided me back into my seat, a small muscle on the side of his jaw flickering with the effort it took not to respond to my body. Maybe I was letting off pheromones, similar to what I suspected the fairy prince let off when around me. Maybe that was part of his influence, part of the spell, or whatever it was, he had left in his wake. Samson loomed over me, with both hands holding my arms to the armrests of my chair, his face level with mine, his brown eyes flashing bronze and copper, ochre and mahogany.

“Lower your shields,” he demanded, voice tight.

I pouted and leaned forward brushing my lips across his. Fuck!

“God damn it, Lucinda, let me in,” he said, pulling away from my touch.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I felt his fingers on my jaw, stilling my movement. He was trying to help me. I wanted him to help, even if my body just wanted
him
. With what felt like a monumental amount of willpower, I managed to lower my shields, all the while using my inner monologue to guide me, to focus me on my mental walls of protection and not on the call of my body and the Fey spell. Somehow I still managed to maintain some semblance of control and not obliterate the shields completely.

“That's it," he whispered, relieved. "Now look at me.” I fell into the beauty of those deep brown and copper eyes, letting the world sweep away, just focusing on the touch of his fingers on my jaw, his warm breath washing across my fevered skin, his familiar and safe face before me.

“Sleep.” His words sounded thick and multi-layered, power tingled in the air and triggered an automatic response in my mind, one I couldn't fight, wouldn't fight and suddenly sleeping sounded like a mighty fine idea. I drifted off to dreamland, Samson's touch disappearing, my hands falling to my lap and his soft words in my ear whispering, “My apologies, mistress, sweet dreams.”

I woke as the plane touched down at Birmingham
Airport
. My head felt fuzzy, my lips parched and my throat dry and then the images of what I had almost done came crashing in and I groaned. A water bottle was thrust in my hand. I took a grateful swig, but refused to open my eyes. I could feel the blush racing up my neck and over my cheeks. Bloody hell. Samson. My vampire, my responsibility, my line and I had almost taken advantage of him, right here on a plane full of passengers. And he would have let me.

I groaned again at that thought. He'd probably let me do anything to him and welcome it with open arms. I could hear movement around us, bodies shifting, overhead luggage compartments snapping open, then finally Samson's voice.

“We need to disembark now, mistress.”

I took a deep breath in and opened my eyes, prepared for some uncontrollable blast of heat and lust to wash over me at the look of him. He was standing in the aisle, looking at me with concern creasing his brow, but he was just Samson. No longer the body I needed to possess with my desire. Just my Samson. I let the breath of air out and relaxed my shoulders. I noticed, he relaxed his stance too.

“Thank you,” I said, knowing damn well that my thanks was for more than just telling me we needed to disembark. He knew too and just smiled and nodded, reaching out a hand, hesitantly, to help me stand.

“We might laugh about this all one day,” I said to him, as I took his offered hand and stood gingerly to my feet.

“No doubt we'll refer to it as,
we will always have Air Emirates,
” he said. A play on:
we will always have Paris
from the
Casablanca
movie, I supposed. His smile was teasing, a little more of the Samson I knew coming back.

I offered a small smile in return, I was still feeling extremely embarrassed about the whole episode, despite my attempts to lighten the mood.

“You have nothing to feel awkward about, mistress, you have been bespelled,” he said softly behind me, as we waited to exit the plane.

“You don't think it's over, it could happen again?” I asked, but didn't bother to look at him over my shoulder, it was easier to talk about this and not look into his handsome face.

“Most likely. Fey magic is the most enduring of all. It will not be a one-time-use-only kind of thing.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“We could contact Michel.” He sounded very uncertain of how that would be received. I couldn't blame him, what was he thinking?

“Are you mad?” I did turn to look at him then. “Why would I want Michel to know about this?” I could just imagine what Michel's response would be. Uncontrolled
vampyre
fury and some form of punishment befitting the crime.

“I only suggest it, so that should the spell be activated again, you would have someone nearby of your choosing, to... ah... fulfil your needs.”

Oh, I got it, he thought next time I wouldn't be able to stop myself, an extremely unwanted thought, and Michel would be someone I would be OK with having uncontrolled, animalistic, carnal sex with. Not in this lifetime. Well at least, not in this new lifetime.

“No,” I said, returning my gaze to the passenger before me waiting to get off the plane. “There has to be another way to counter it. To control the impulse should it arise again.”

We started walking forward and Samson didn't say anything until we were on the bridge from the plane to the terminal and walking side by side.

"You allowed me to influence you once, we can only hope that I can do that again, should the need arise."

I was all for that idea. The more we didn't actively think about the spell, the better. And if it did come and bite us on the arse, we could just do the glazing thing all over again. God, I hoped that would work, because it had been a close thing. So close, in fact, that I felt my stomach lurch in fear all over again at the thought.

I pushed thoughts of the Fey spell and Lutin aside. Thoughts of the fact that Samson had appeared very interested in the offer, before he had realised I was not myself, aside. Thoughts of Michel and controlling men in my life, aside. I pushed everything I could aside and concentrated on the evening ahead.

Samson hired a car and we were soon on our way to Tewkesbury. Even though it was night time, I managed to take in the country roads around us. The rolling countryside, stone walled paddocks, quaint thatched roofed houses. It hadn't taken us long to get out of the city and make our way down the M5 directly to Tewkesbury. Once we branched off onto A38 the sights of rural England invaded my mind. It was a welcome relief from all of the distractions of the past 24 hours. I loved the scenery and only wished I could see it all in the light of day.

"So, how did you know this relation of mine?" I asked as we neared our final destination.

"He was a friend," Samson replied, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "I met him in Gloucester, there is a strong vampire holding there. He was Gloucester's Nosferatin."

"So, why is he buried in Tewkesbury?"

"His extended family was from there. Close enough to Gloucester to keep in touch with him every few years, but far enough away from the vampires to keep from harm." He chanced a glance at me briefly then. "This is your ancestral home, Luce. This is where the Baxter line of Nosferatins come from."

I glanced around at the old streets we were now travelling down slowly. The buildings looked ancient. White washed walls with black wooden cross beams, Tudor style, I think they call it. Their upper stories hanging out over the footpaths, looking a little unstable and crooked in the light of the moon, the roads narrow and in parts still cobbled. It was delightful. There was a river running along beside us. I watched as the lights from nearby windows reflected back into the slow moving waters beneath.

"It's the River Avon," Samson said, noticing where my gaze had taken me. "The River Severn also meets here. This is a Saxon village, been here since the 7th Century. Your ancestors have no doubt been here since then too."

Wow, I couldn't fathom that sort of time-frame. But the
Iunctio
had been in
Lutetia
,
or the
Île de la Cité,
in Paris since about 52AD
.
So the idea that my family line could be traced back to 7th Century Tewkesbury was not much of a leap, was it?

Samson pulled the car up next to the most gorgeous, enormous church-like building. But this was bigger than any church I had ever seen.

"The Tewkesbury Abbey," Samson offered, turning the car ignition off. We both sat silently, staring up at the stone structure before us. It dwarfed our little car. I could spot wear and tear, slight crumbling on the corners, discolouration across its broad shape. Even in the dark this was all evident, but the dark made the Abbey seem magical. Strategically placed lighting enhancing its façade. Lights lit up the enormous arched stained glass window at one end, and again the squared central structure sticking out of the the gabled roof. There appeared to be so many coloured windows around the entire building, lights glinting off the blues and greens and reds. It was impressive. But I was guessing we hadn't come here for the Abbey itself.

I opened my door and climbed out of the car, immediately sensing some kind of pull. I couldn't place it, but it was familiar. I could only guess some part of me, something within my blood, recognised where I was.

I swallowed roughly, thinking this was perhaps the most important thing I had ever done. Important to who I was, anyway.

"Come on," Samson said, taking my hand in his and leading the way around the back of the Abbey to what had to be a very old cemetery. The gravestones were pitted and some even leaning at an angle, but the area around them all was well maintained.

Samson knew exactly where he was heading, had he visited this grave before? Not much longer and we were standing in front of a nondescript ancient looking headstone. The writing was covered in a thin film of lichen. The edges of the tombstone was pitted and worn. It was impossible to tell what it said. I felt a little deflated at that.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "I hadn't realised it would be so hard to read." He shrugged. "It's been over a hundred years since I last came to pay my respects."

I sighed, it would have been nice to read my ancestor's inscription, to know what his family had chosen to engrave here after his death.

Samson glanced around at the dark night sky. The fact that the moon had decided to hide behind a large cloud didn't help our vision in the slightest.

"Maybe your Light would help?" he offered. It was worth a go, although I was sure all the illumination would provide was a better look at the fungus on the headstone. I gathered a small smattering of Light inside - there was no point making a spectacle of ourselves - and then let it shine out in a concentrated beam from the tips of my fingers towards the inscription on the tombstone. The instant my Light was released that pull I had felt earlier practically screamed to me, humming throughout my body.