Immortal Craving (Dark Dynasties) (19 page)

The thought sat poorly with him. He had seen humans who sought the vampires because they wanted the darkness. Bailey put up with the darkness to keep her friend. He just didn’t know how far she would go.

For anything—or anyone—that mattered to her.

“I’m sorry about this,” Bailey said, collecting herself quickly. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“You can stay safe,” Lily said, her voice gentling. “We’ll figure out how to accomplish that as quickly as we can. For now, you and the slobber king sit tight, okay?
Mi casa es su casa.
Raid the fridge. Get into my stuff. Just… stay here.”

“While you decide who to light on fire first.”

Lily’s smile was biting. “Damn right.”

“Then you got it,” Bailey said.

Tasmin watched the obvious warmth between the two women and felt a dull ache in his chest. There had been a time he’d had that. His pride had raised him, then turned him when they’d deemed him ready. He had known those men as brothers, as family. But they were gone.

He glanced at Anura and saw she’d been watching him, as though she knew what he was feeling. Tasmin had to turn away from the sympathy in her gaze. She’d had centuries to rebuild a life. He’d had six months that had been crippled by the
thing
he carried with him.

That made him alone in ways even she wouldn’t understand.

And it made the fragile connection he’d made with Bailey that much more precious. Right now, it was all he had.

Lily excused herself and swept from the room, and with her exit some of the pressure in the air eased. She wore her power so easily it was easy to forget that she had it, Tasmin realized. But to do so would be a mistake.

“Well,” Anura breathed, looking as though there were many places she would rather be than here. “We all know why I’m here. Shall we?”

She settled herself on the love seat, while Tasmin sat on the couch. Bailey hovered uncertainly by the wing chair, her big dog sitting beside her and panting happily. She’d removed her coat, and in her dirty, pale pink scrubs and sneakers, she looked unusually vulnerable… and very, very human.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You aren’t,” Tasmin said, surprised by how ill at ease she suddenly seemed. “You’re welcome to stay and hear this.”

Part of him, a big part, wanted her to stay. He wanted her to know that there was more to his past than just that miserable cave, than blackouts and wandering. But when Bailey looked between him and Anura, and then at the doorway through which Lily had just departed, her hand nervously fluttering up to tuck another loose wave back behind her ear, he could see she’d already made up her mind to go.

“No, that’s okay,” she said. Her smile looked forced. “You two need some time to yourselves, and I should get Grimm settled.”

Grimm looked perfectly settled, much as he did anywhere Tasmin had seen the dog, but he wouldn’t argue with her. Anura said nothing, simply watching the conversation with an inordinate amount of interest.

“Then… I’ll see you later.” He hoped it didn’t sound like as much of a question as he feared it did. He didn’t want to need to see her. Not that that changed anything.

Bailey’s relief was obvious. In the light, he could see the dark smudges beneath her eyes, leftovers from last night… probably the last week dealing with him. Guilt gnawed at him. She was human, she needed rest. And she needed a respite from what seemed to be a rapidly escalating situation here in her hometown.

“Yes,” she agreed, her smile easier now. “Later. Nice meeting you, Anura.”

Anura inclined her head regally. “The same.”

Bailey started to walk out the door, quietly urging Grimm along. The dog got up and amiably lumbered over to Tasmin instead.

“
Grimm
.”

He ignored her, looked thoughtfully at Tasmin with
his coffee-colored eyes, and then began the arduous process of piling his big, furry body up onto the couch beside him. Tasmin pressed his lips together, trying not to let his amusement show since Bailey looked utterly frustrated.

“Grimm, come
here
.”

The dog sighed and plopped his head in Tasmin’s lap.

Anura coughed softly to cover what was obviously a laugh.

“He’s fine,” Tasmin said. “I’ll bring him to you later.”

Bailey growled, threw up her hands, and left the room muttering unkind things about ill-behaved four-legged traitors.

When she was gone, Anura looked from the obstinate Newfoundland to Tasmin with keen interest.

“It isn’t the lion lying down with the lamb, but it’s close. Odd that he’d be so easy with you so quickly.”

Tasmin smiled and scratched behind Grimm’s ear. “She says he likes who he likes, and there’s no changing his mind. Who am I to argue about his taste?”

“His taste mirrors hers,” Anura said, and tilted her head at him, her almond eyes alight with keen interest. “You plan to stay among the Lilim, then?”

That gave him pause. “I… hadn’t thought much about it,” he admitted. He’d been too consumed with just getting through each day. “Why do you ask?”

Anura raised finely arched eyebrows. “I’ve already seen you wrapped around the queen’s best friend. Bay Harper is well loved here. You have to know that’s not a great choice for a dalliance.”

“That’s not any of your business,” Tasmin growled, caught off guard by Anura’s frankness. He supposed he shouldn’t have been. The woman had driven Rai half-mad
with her opinions when she’d been around in his time. It had just been so long… he’d forgotten. But she was doing a fine job reminding him.

Anura shrugged. “No, it’s not, really. Just be careful, or the Rakshasa really will be extinct.”

“I can worry about that on my own,” Tasmin said flatly. He couldn’t imagine a future yet. He didn’t want to expect something that he very well might not have. Finding out what was possible… that was why Anura had been asked here. He leaned forward and asked the question that had plagued him almost since his awakening.

“What happened to all of them, Anura? Where did they go?”

Her smile faltered. “They’re dead. Long dead. You know that by now.”

“That’s the only thing I know,” he replied. Grimm’s soft fur beneath his hand was soothing, a welcome balm to wounds that had not yet healed. “I want to know when, how. Why.”

Anura blew out an unsteady breath and looked away.

“When Lily told me about you, asked me to come… I almost couldn’t. I was so worried you’d look like him. I know that’s stupid. Every Rakshasa was as individual as anyone else. But it’s been so long, part of me thought you might even—”

She stopped abruptly, and Tasmin was fairly sure she’d hoped he was Rai, that some twist of fate had spared her lover after all. Rai had been a good leader, strong and competent and wise. Maybe he would have been better able to handle what had been done to him, Tasmin thought. Perhaps he’d been chosen for the cave because he was younger, weaker.

And his doubts helped no one, he reminded himself. What was done was done.

“He was a good man,” Tasmin offered. It was inadequate, but it was the truth. The longer he looked at Anura, the more he recalled her occasional visits as an emissary of her dynasty. His pride had an uneasy alliance with the Empusae. The relationship between Anura and Rai, he remembered, had reflected that. The two had bickered incessantly when she was there.

It didn’t actually surprise him that they’d finally gotten together.

“I… thank you. Yes, he was.” Anura shook her head, the dark waves shifting over her shoulders. “I mean no offense by this, Tasmin, but seeing you brings back things I thought I’d forgotten. Things I’d rather forget.”

“I’m sorry for that. But those are things I need to know.”

Anura flinched. Still, she answered him. “Arsinöe killed them all. Every last one. By her orders or by her own hand, she made sure that every last Rakshasa was dust,” Anura said, her voice flat. “It was a terrible time, one of the darkest I can remember… and that’s saying something. Trust me on this one thing, Tasmin. It was a blessing you weren’t able to see it. You wouldn’t have survived it.”

“Maybe—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “You wouldn’t have. She was merciless. I wasn’t sure she would spare
me
, honestly. I carry your mark, after all.” Unbidden, she pulled down the neck of her sweater to reveal the torch of the Empusae held by the lion’s paw, a unique blending of their dynasty marks as singular as the pairing between her and Rai had been. Her smile was bitter.

“Fortunately for me, I’m now technically mixed-blood scum. So I seem to have fallen beneath her notice.”

The grief hit him without warning. It was one of those odd things… He had mourned deeply for weeks after emerging from the cave and discovering that everyone had vanished. The worst of that had ebbed. But at different times, the grief would return, creeping up behind him and then taking him down in an ambush that left him shaken and reeling. He still saw their faces, his brothers. Heard their voices. But they were lost to him now, continuing on their own journeys. He would not know them again.

Seeing that final imprint of his pride brother on Anura’s olive skin, the only trace of Rai remaining in the world, hurt in a way nothing else had.

“I’m sorry. So sorry they’re gone,” he said, his voice barely a rasp.

Anura’s eyes glittered in the dim light. “As am I. I would say more than you could know, but… you
do
know. I thought maybe there would be some comfort in that. Instead, it just reminds me of how lost I was after it happened.” She sighed. “I have no insight, Tasmin. Arsinöe destroys things because she can. She hates the animal-shifters because she needs to feel superior to things that are different from herself. She chose the Rakshasa because your power made her uneasy… and because she saw a way to do it.”

The rage and sorrow he felt were bone deep. To his horror, he could feel whatever lurked in that hole inside himself stir, responding to all of the toxic emotion. Tasmin tried to close it off, to at least find a productive way to deal with it.

It was nearly impossible.

“They were my brothers, Anura,” he said. “I couldn’t fight for them. Maybe I can avenge them.”

She looked wistful. “That would take destroying the entire Ptolemy dynasty. I’ve wished for that a million times over the years.” Anura turned her gaze toward the open doorway. “Now, though, I think the opportunity is finally coming. I always thought I’d be excited about it. Instead, I just worry about who else she’ll break before all is said and done. It’s a mark of having gotten older, I guess. I moved on in some ways, learned to care about other people again. I value their lives more than I value revenge.” A faint smile. “Not that I’ll cry when Lily crushes Arsinöe beneath one very nice boot heel.”

“That should have been done
then
. Why did no one try to stop her when she was hunting us?” Tasmin asked, feeling slightly ill knowing that his people had been exterminated while the other dynasties had simply looked on.

Anura’s voice turned bitter. “They were distracted. The North American Council was still in the process of forming, leaders were haggling over territory, the old European guard was furiously lobbying to keep the power centralized in the traditional territories… and Vlad Dracul was very busy muscling his way into legitimacy, which was making heads explode everywhere. The Rakshasa were so different from the rest… You all kept so much to yourselves, every pride its own little sovereign nation. You never spoke with one voice, and when the deaths began to pile up, it was awhile before you learned to scream for help with one voice.” She rolled her shoulders restlessly. “By then, of course, it was too late. I will say that when the dust settled and it became clear just what Arsinöe had
done, there was agreement—quiet agreement—that such a thing wouldn’t be tolerated again.” She looked away. “I wish I could say I believed it.”

It was hard to hear. Harder, actually, than he’d expected, even if there were no surprises. But there was more Tasmin needed to be able to put it to rest within himself. He would hear it all once, and then never again. It was a vow he made to himself.

“And my pride? Rai?”

“He and the rest of your pride had found what they thought was a good hiding place, an out-of-the-way temple removed from the bulk of the fighting that was going on. They thought they would make it there. It was sacred ground, and secluded. He sent a message to me… so hopeful it would be all right after all…”

Anura trailed off, then shook her head. “Rai was wrong. She found them, or her people did. But Arsinöe finished them, from what I understand. Because they truly were the last. I wasn’t there. I wish I could have been there. Maybe I could have helped. I was away when she found them, looking for a place to take us all out of country. My own dynasty had disowned me by then, of course, but I still had the support of plenty of my sisters.” She laughed softly, humorlessly. “I’d found somewhere for all of us, actually. A place with plenty of room to run, a safe place. Quiet. But it didn’t matter.”

Her eyes were far off, remembering. Tasmin felt his own slow-burning rage grow hotter, both on her behalf, and his brothers’. Their lives had been destroyed, taken. And for what? Because they were too powerful. Because they couldn’t be controlled.

Because Arsinöe had always feared and loathed the
power of any vampire who could harness the abilities of the beasts. And, as Anura had said, simply because she could.

“Are you sure they’re gone?” Tasmin asked, his voice sounding hoarse and strange to his own ears. “Maybe they were hidden like me. Maybe there are more of us out there.”

Anura looked pained.

“Maybe there are, Tasmin. But not Rai. I felt him go. When you’re bonded… I can’t explain the sensation to you. But I felt the tie between us sever the moment he died.” Her eyes slipped shut. “The pain was… nothing I can describe. No, I knew. And I knew the Rakshasa were gone.” She opened her almond eyes and pinned him with them. “Until you. And now you have the story you wanted. Now I want
your
story in return. How did you escape?”