In the Dark (9 page)

“Rabbits are nice,” she said. Was Soren whispering to Julian about his Guardians, Steffen, or demons? He glanced at her, then quickly away. Were they talking about her?

“Faith?” Navarre called her name loudly.

She jumped, startled and embarrassed. “I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention.”

“Clearly.” His certainty came with a quirked eyebrow. “I lost you the moment Soren walked away. Shall we join them?”

“Please.” She took the arm he offered, allowing him to lead.

With each step, the better she heard them. The topic eluded her, until she heard her name.

“I'm making a mess of this with Faith,” Soren said to Julian. “I'm not a social man, never have been.”

“Problem being?” Julian asked.

“I haven't done a damn thing right.”

“What?” he asked, then shrugged. “She's fine.”

“She's here because I screwed up. She ran because I left her with Bareth and he scared her. Julian, I like her.”

“Ah, I see...” Julian looked up and must have seen her a few steps away. He greeted her with a cheerful smile. “We were just talking about you.”

She looked between the two, suspicious. Poor Soren had that classic deer-in-the-headlights look plastered across his face. “Should I be afraid?”

“No, but Soren should be. He asked if my wife, Yasmin, would take you shopping. She would be thrilled to drag you through every shop in the city,” he said, sending his version of a sly wink at Soren.

She got the distinct impression Soren had asked for help, though this might not be what he'd intended. If he wanted to be thoughtful, she'd bite. “You have shops here?”

“Many, and Yasmin would love your company. She'd also love seeing you spend Soren's money like a madwoman,” Julian said with a grin.

“I'll do my best.”

A short burst of laughter came from two small children, who raced through the dining hall. The boy ran, his smile positively impish as he glanced back at the young girl following him. The girl giggled, her round cheeks high and constantly smiling, dark curls bouncing with each step.

The boy looked up and skidded to a halt, barely avoiding a crash with Navarre. He reached out, caught the girl before she made the same mistake. With wide eyes, both children looked past the imposing lord, and their fearful gazes rested on Julian instead.

“Run, Ivette!” the boy yelled, and instantly she obeyed. He sent them a quick, bright smile, then followed her.

“Julian, were those your children?” Navarre asked.

“I do believe so. If you would excuse me, please. It's time for a chase.” Julian rolled up his sleeves and dashed after them.

Several minutes later Julian walked by the doorway with a giggling child under each arm. The love they shared as a family warmed her heart. She understood why Soren adored his home and protected these people so fiercely.

“Will I meet your wife, too?” she asked Navarre, looking forward to the prospect of female companionship with Julian's wife, not to mention shopping.

“I'm afraid not.” Navarre smiled sadly, gave them a short nod, and walked away.

“What did I say?” she asked.

“Navarre hasn't mated.”

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him.” Faith remembered Steffen, and as she did, concern creased her brow. “He won't, you know, be like Steffen?”

“No. Navarre won't walk into the sun. His people mean too much to him. Honestly, I believe they are what keeps him alive.”

She watched with Soren as Navarre made his way around the room, talking at least briefly with everyone present. “Is he looking for his mate?”

“Are you offering yourself as a candidate?” he asked, one eyebrow rising.

“Absolutely not. I only meant that if he knows what he wants, he should make an effort.”

“We should go,” he said, turning to leave. She looped her arm around his without being asked, and he looked completely surprised. “It's not that easy for us. Having a mate is not a simple church ceremony. It's a lifelong commitment. No outs. Our legends say the only pull greater than the sun is the love of your true mate.”

“How beautiful,” she said, followed by a wistful sigh.

“And sad. We lose many of our kind to sheer loneliness.” He dropped his head slightly.

Several chairs and loveseats lined the foyer outside the dining hall, each similarly framed by ornately carved wood. Funny, but not one of them seemed suitable for actual sitting. People lingered here, and many more trickled into the hallways.

She clung to Soren's arm as he cut a path through them. One man studied her from his seat ahead. His hair shifted against his shoulders as he turned his head, followed her intently with his gaze. Before she could consider being outraged, Soren pulled her close and literally growled at the man.

Hoping to gain Soren's attention, she cleared her throat delicately. It didn't work. On her second attempt, she grabbed his hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He glanced down at her, and she started walking. He could either stay by her side, or let go and get into a fight.

He kept his arm around her. Conflict averted, and point still made.

“Why are they looking at me like that?” she asked.

“They're unmated.” He'd said the last word like it left a foul taste in his mouth. Head ducked, he spoke softly against her ear. “And they know you're human.”

“They want...” she began, but couldn't focus on how to form words as his lips moved deliciously over her ear.

“Your blood.” His blunt clarification was a cold splash of reality.

“You only feed from humans?” She eyed the next two men they passed warily, feeling like live bait in a tiger cage.

“No, but you're a rarity here, a delicacy. I have no illusions they would be kind if they took from you. That's why I gave you the knife.” He shifted his hand from her shoulder and covered her neck, shielding her from any lingering stares. His hand rested there intimately, possessively.

Faith smiled. For some reason, she found his jealousy extremely flattering. She didn't care for the thought of any one else taking blood from her, but with Soren by her side, she didn't fear for her safety. With his thumb, he gently stroked her neck, soothing her. She enjoyed his comforting touch, and maybe even needed it.

But tonight had not been the first time she'd met vampires of the opposite sex. “No one looked at me like that last night in the training center.”

A muscle moved in his jaw, and he looked away from her, then answered, “A bare throat publicly announces you want the man you're with, and that once you get home, he'll be taking your vein.”

“Okay.” Wow, that was a newsflash. “If the neck thing screams that I'm into you, then why are they not getting the hint?”

“Because we're not mated,” he whispered. “If I were not by your side, you'd be giving them an open invitation.”

She smacked him square in the chest. “Why did you let me leave your home with my hair up?”

Soren stopped, faced her. Slid his hand down her arm and took hold of her hand. “I needed every man in the dining hall to think you want only me and to believe I'm taking your vein tonight. Vampires are often respectful when they see mutual desire. I used your ignorance to help keep you safe.” He tipped his head slightly as he studied her. “You held your head high and carried yourself like you were born to this life. Having knowledge of the gesture would have made you self-conscious.”

“I was self-conscious. I didn't fit in.” Without the customary ball gown, her confidence had taken a nosedive, but Soren had easily built it back up.

“You did,” he said, not sounding pleased, put his arm around her shoulders, and headed home.

Each step left the dining room and bustling corridors farther behind. Now they were alone, and the silence here seemed strange. More so as a man approached, his boots hitting the stones with a heavy, even stride. His downcast face and sweeping hair barely hid his burn-scarred face.

“Osric,” Soren acknowledged him.

The man gave no response, and Soren didn't elaborate. The short exchanged reminded her that she was here to stay.

They arrived at his home, and the steady support of his hand fell away from her neck as he closed the door. She heard him lock the door soundly, and stepped away from him and into the bedroom, where she kicked off her heels one by one.

“I'm exhausted.” She stretched from side to side, then searched for the pins in her hair. “How long do you think it will be before I adjust to your reversed days and nights?”

“Not long,” he said, suddenly behind her.

The heat of his body enveloped her from shoulders to hips, and she nearly jumped as his hands settled on her arms.

Her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She wanted his hands on her, his arms around her, but he hadn't budged. Maybe he waited for her response.

She leaned back, and he required no more encouragement. Head dropped, he hovered with his lips over her shoulder. She shivered, his heated breath skating across her skin. Soren kissed her there, the warm pressure penetrating her thin sweater. Then he slowly, sweetly, moved inch by delicious inch, but didn't stop at the base of her neck. He kissed his way higher, until his lips played below her ear.

“Are you going to take my...” She couldn't bring herself to say the word blood, and as he pinched her earlobe between his lips, lost the word entirely.

“I'll take anything you're willing to give me.” His deep voice sent uncontrollable shivers through her, and she chased them with a soft sigh. He made every female bone in her body yearn to let him truly have anything.

Then, with tenderness, he nipped at her neck. Her eyes snapped open, a sharp awareness cutting viciously through her bliss. He had no emotional ties to her. She was being used. He wanted the blood she could give him.

She pulled away from him, tense and still, no longer pliant. Too many other males had eyed her neck tonight, craving the same thing as Soren.

Unable to look him in the eye, she ducked away, taking long steps until she reached the bathroom, then she locked the door behind her. She needed time to think. Or maybe to forget how the bottom dropped out of her stomach whenever he held her.

She clung to the hope of forgetfulness. After all, she'd completely overlooked his species, until his teeth had grazed her neck.

She turned on the faucet and drew a bath. The steam swirling above the water promised a less complicated kind of comfort. She'd soak, and relax until her fingers wrinkled and the tension left her muscles.

It worked too well, and she woke much later surrounded by tepid water, the scent of lavender thick in the air. She stepped out of the tub, making a point to avoid the clock. After slipping on her pajamas, she left the bathroom and tiptoed to bed.

An odd noise broke through the room, stopping her in her tracks. She held her breath, waiting. The noise came again, soft and rumbling. It almost sounded like snoring. She followed the sound, and found Soren sleeping in the chair he'd slept in the night before.

She hadn't escaped him as she'd soaked in the secluded tub. Soren drew her in with his kindness and consideration, captured her with his touch. He'd become a permanent fixture in her mind and memories. He could have hurt her or taken what he wanted, and yet he hadn't. Maybe he didn't want anything from her, didn't want
her
. Anyone could provide blood for him, but the idea of him wanting only her blood was hard to swallow.

She tiptoed closer and stood between his outstretched legs. He didn't move. A small nightlight gave the room an orange glow, the light playing across his face. She reached out, touched his cheek. The rough shadow of whiskers scraped her fingers. She brushed her fingers through his dark hair. He felt like a regular man, and yet was something else entirely.

“You don't have to wait until I sleep to touch me,” he said, eyes still closed.

With a yelp, she retreated backward until the bed hit her legs, forcing her knees to buckle. Luckily she landed on the mattress, though without an ounce of grace.

“Go ahead, do what you want. I promise not to move a muscle.” He smiled wickedly.

She pulled her feet off the floor and plunged them between the covers, turned her back to him.

“No? Perhaps some other time,” he teased, without opening his eyes

Chapter 9

Soren hurried home, hoping to get there before Faith woke. Thursdays were always a mixture of lies, exhaustion, and time management. He'd lived like this for over a year now, as had Elin. The doctor's daughter, a petite beauty, was his midday Thursday appointment.

Long after the Guardians left the chateau above, abandoning it to the sun's rays, they would meet in the spacious ballroom. Thick curtains clung to the windows, blocking out daylight.

He'd never tell a soul about their private meetings, and neither would she. If anyone discovered Elin took lessons in the art of combat, it would be disastrous. No repercussions would fall on him for teaching her, but for a female, fighting of any sort was social suicide. Friends would reject her. Males wouldn't consider her for a mate. Her family might even disown her.

Elin understood the consequences, and still wanted to learn. Each Thursday they battled, and she continued to surprise him with her commitment and skill. She was improving.

He was late again, and would have enough time to rinse off his perspiration in the shower, throw on a change of clothes and run out the door. He relied on Faith to keep her promise and remain here, and it felt entirely odd. However, she could not be trusted with his secret concerning Elin. Faith would be awake by now, and if she asked where he'd been, he would have to lie for the sake of Elin's safety.

He rushed into his home, slammed the door behind him. Wide eyed, Faith hopped out of his way as he barreled through then marched straight into the bathroom. He needed to get in and out fast to avoid an incriminating conversation.

* * * *

The shower flipped on, and for a moment, Faith stared at the door. Hadn't he already showered for the night?

A few minutes later, the water stopped running and the bathroom door unlatched, opening a crack, but Soren didn't come out. She peeked in. He had a towel wrapped around his hips, and standing before the mirror, ruffled his fingers through his wet hair. Sure, she'd seen a few half naked men up close in her lifetime, but none of them had physically worked for a living. Soren did, and it showed.

He caught her glazed stare in the mirror and grinned. Busted.

Soren sent her a playful wink, then turned back to the mirror. “Your breakfast should be here in a few minutes.”

He'd done it on purpose. He didn't need to know how much his bare flesh affected her. Her attraction to him last night had unsettled her, even more so after she'd factored in his vampire genealogy. Today seemed to be headed in a similar direction.

A knock came at the door, thankfully. She opened it, and a man hurried in and set a small tray on the coffee table. After giving her a short bow, he left.

Beneath the tray's lid were all sorts of fruits and fruit-filled pastries. She'd just popped a whole strawberry in her mouth, when Soren came from the bathroom. The earthy, herbal smell of his soap wafted through the room.

There was something reassuring in the way he moved with such purpose. A busy and important man here, he carried himself with quiet confidence. Soren tucked his shirt in quickly, then walked to the wall and hefted a large battleaxe from its perch.

“You're not going to use that on those boys, are you?” she asked, horrified.

“Damn straight, I am. And they're lucky it'll be me they face instead of someone who means to kill them with it,” he said, resting the thing over his shoulder.

“You have a point. But would your enemies really use an axe?”

He shrugged, surveyed the tray of food. “Not that I'm aware of, but I refuse to let the boys be ignorant.”

He snatched a blueberry muffin and headed for the door.

“Wait for me,” she said, running after him.

“Today you're staying here. Yasmin will be by soon to take you shopping. Get anything you want.”

“But I...”

“I mean it, Faith. Anything you want. Buy a whole new wardrobe. Redecorate my home, if it makes you happy.”

“Are you sure?” What man in his right mind would give a woman carte blanche to redecorate his entire house? Especially when many items here must have belonged to his parents. She'd feel odd, removing anything that was his, but an addition or two couldn't hurt.

“I trust you. But if you plan on taking down the weapons, wait until I return.”

“Because they were your father's?” she asked, finding it hard to believe he would allow anyone to move them.

“They were, but I don't want you getting hurt with one. They're old, heavy, and I keep them sharpened,” he said, and waited expectantly for her agreement.

“Got it. No playing with the crossbows and broadswords.” She gave him a thumbs up.

“Good girl,” he said, readjusting the battleaxe over his shoulder. “I'll be back after last meal.”

“All right.”

He'd walked out the door, when with a sudden urge to make him smile overcame her, and she ran to the door and called out his name. Halfway down the hall, he turned toward her.

“Can I wear the Viking helmet?” she asked.

A grin broke across his face. His eyes sparkled. “Absolutely.”

She closed the door, pleased that she'd pushed away the itch to be shy. When he smiled and she was the cause, her stomach did funny flip-flops. Plus, he'd been sweet enough to send her shopping.

Now she faced an outing with a woman she'd never met. A vampire. She was nervous, but women being women, a common ground was always shopping, right? She rummaged through her suitcase in search of shopping clothes, a concept only a woman would understand.

Pulling on her nicest underwear and socks, she quickly made the switch. Slip-on-shoes were a must. She had no intentions of tying laces or zipping boots all day. Lastly, she pulled on a shirt with a wide collar. The wider the collar, the less the hair got mussed. She looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the dark red shirt over her hips.

A knock sounded at the door and she swung it open. In the doorway stood a perfectly poised and beautiful woman. Her long black hair curled in thick waves with half of them piled on top of her head, giving her the look of a sultry Roman goddess.

“Hi, I'm Yasmin,” the woman greeted her. “Julian said your name is Faith. Did he get it right?”

“Yes.”

“Bravo for him. I was certain he hadn't paid attention again.” She smiled, one of those secret smiles married women seemed to have when gossiping about the men in their lives. “Ready to make Soren regretful?”

“I would be, but he left in such a hurry and didn't give me any money. I'm sorry. I guess I'm window-shopping today.”

“Oh, you've a lot to learn, my dear. The shops in Balinese are nothing like your stores above. All you have to do is drop Soren's name and they'll send him the bill. You'll have a ton of sway in the shops since you're attached to a powerful man.” Yasmin turned from the doorway, leading the way.

“Oh, no. We're not actually attached,” Faith corrected, walking beside her.

“Really?” Yasmin gave her a disbelieving look. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever been told what you are, what your position is here in our world?” she asked gently.

“He said I belonged to him.” She held her breath. What had he kept from her?

“You are his, but what you are is a servant. His servant. We don't like to use the word slave, but in essence, that's what you are,” she said in a quiet tone. “It has nothing to do with you personally, it is simply the unavoidable role of a human in our world.”

That bastard! Being stuck here and being his personal blood donor was one thing, but a slave? “I don't know what to say. I want to scream, cry, and then take one of those damn weapons off his wall and chop him in half.”

“Don't be angry with him, Faith,” Yasmin said in a patient, motherly tone.

“I am angry.”

“Let me tell you something honestly. Julian told me he's never seen a vampire male show genuine care and concern for a human. Soren is the only exception.” Yasmin took her arm, pulled her to a stop. “Faith, he treats you as if you are his mate, his wife.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“Servants wear drab brown clothing, yet you are allowed your own. Today he sent you shopping, with an aristocrat, no less. You sat between Soren and Lord Navarre in the dining hall, but servants are not permitted to attend unless they're serving food. I also heard, Soren defended you against some powerful council members. Julian didn't say in what way, but he said the display made it evident to everyone present that he cares for you a great deal.” Yasmin patted her arm and continued walking, and patiently let her digest the information. “My point, Faith, is that he treats you as his mate because he wants you for his mate.”

“He said I was his the other day, but I thought he was being protective or egotistical.” A lump had risen in her throat. Perhaps he'd only been protecting his property.

“Tell me exactly what happened.” Her eyes brightened at the prospect of girly gossip.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. How exactly had the event unfolded? Oh, yes. “One of the men meant to toss me out of the training center. Soren stopped him, threw him to the ground, and gave a serious lecture on touching another man's woman. He had a short temper with those boys after that.”

Yasmin clapped several times, beaming. “I'm right. I knew it. He's hooked on you.”

“I don't think so. Soren seems a good man, a gentleman. Perhaps it is in his nature to protect, and he would take care of someone weaker than himself, which I am by two counts. Female and human.” What Yasmin said made sense, but was not completely convincing. Soren had been good to her, true, but she wouldn't mistake kindness and consideration for affection. Especially if she was just a servant in this world.

“Perhaps, but do open your eyes to the possibility,” Yasmin said, ushering her into an elevator.

After a moment, the elevator doors opened one floor lower, and Faith hesitated. On the level where Soren lived, everything was calm, orderly, and decorated in a wealthy fashion. Here the corridors bustled with people, and although the same flat gray stone covered the floors, unique designs separated the doorways of each shop. An entirely different world.

This corridor stretched on, an underground mall filled with people hopping from shop to shop. Faith couldn't stop staring at each door they passed. One shop looked like someone's home, complete with a couple curved steps leading to the door. Another had a glass storefront with a rotating door in the center.

Her favorite had been the store for children's attire. The front brickwork had been painted brightly, and the top half of the door was wide open, but the bottom half remained shut. The clever little gate penned in the rambunctious children.

Yasmin rubbed her hands together. “What are we looking for?”

“I have no idea. I'm having fun just being here,” she said as she turned around to watch a woman pass by with hundreds of braids twisted through her hair. “Soren said to get anything I want.”

“He didn't,” Yasmin said, with a look of complete amazement.

“He practically demanded it.”

“Then you simply must have anything you want.” Yasmin paused, a finger on her chin. “Julian said you didn't wear a dress to dinner the other night. We should start with the necessities.”

“I'd rather not. I'm not much of a dress kind of girl.” She shook her head, images of the peach gown returning to haunt her.

“Maybe not, but certain events such as dining with the lord of the city require proper attire. At least two would make a good start.” Yasmin eagerly pulled her into a shop with crystal teardrops swaying in the narrow windows.

Yasmin went straight for the racks, but Faith held back. This was awkward. First, she didn't like frilly things. Second, she didn't have the height to pull off most of these gowns. It was depressing, but Yasmin refused to let her sulk. Like a professional shopper, she displayed one after another for her inspection.

Faith turned down a frothy and feminine pink gown, and a sleek black with a neckline that dropped to her bellybutton. Not in a million years would she touch either of those.

However, they did find an intriguing green dress with a beaded hemline, and Yasmin persuaded her to buy a red satin that showed off a great deal of her back. The idea of wearing a gown held such romance, but she had never been the type. Her practicality demanded she cling to her blue jeans.

“Which one will you wear tonight?” Yasmin still shifted the hangers left and right, making sure she hadn't missed a great find.

“Tonight? Why, what's tonight?”

“Soren didn't tell you? Tonight two of his students become Guardians. It's a grand and private ceremony. Students who do not advance won't be aware of what's happening tonight,” she said, relinquishing the hunt.

“Now they can swing their swords around like barbarians, right?” Faith asked, lifting her gowns onto the counter.

“You've got it.” Yasmin laughed.

“Then the red one seems appropriate,” she said with a smirk.

“Hello, Yasmin.” The clerk behind the counter greeted Yasmin with a warm smile. “Will these be on Julian's account?”

“Yes, these three. The other two?” Yasmin elbowed her, prompting her to speak up.

“Soren's account, please,” she said, guilt already creeping in over the expensive purchase.

“The red will be perfect.” Yasmin looked past her, and her smile faded.

A tall, slender woman brought up a dress and placed it onto the long counter beside Faith. Following Yasmin's hesitant gaze, she was shocked to see a woman inspecting her closely.

“You must be Soren's new toy I've heard so much about,” the woman said, displeasure dripping from her voice, her sleek hair unmoving as she turned her head toward her.

“E-excuse m-me?” She sputtered. Who just says something like that out loud? She was no one's toy!