Prince of Power (3 page)

The ritual that wizards used to claim a vampire's power was hideously disgusting, and Anton had been forced to participate twice. The first time, he'd gotten too sick from it for the power to even take hold. The second time he'd acquired this power to heal. He would never do it again.

He closed his eyes. Saw Tyra in his mind's eye, from all those weeks he'd watched her under his father's orders. Her kind face with that smooth golden skin, expressive brown eyes, and generous smile. Never in a million years would he forget the day it had hit home that his kind wasn't just killing a competing species of creature; they were killing
her
species
.
He'd vowed then to put an end to it, and he would. Shelter or not, whether Tyra was able to come back before he had to leave or not.

No question, he didn't have the level of supremacy his father had. But he'd learned to fight. He could use a weapon. And for all he knew, the Master presumed him dead. Perhaps he could employ the element of surprise. He'd have a shot to rid the world of his father's destruction and redeem himself for the damage he'd done.

But he'd only have one.

“Vitals are excellent. Can you make a fireball for me?”

Thad's doctor, Greg Brayden, stepped back from Tyra's seat on the edge of her bed and gave her that detached but expectant look all medical professionals seemed to have practiced to perfection.

Thad still didn't trust her worth a damn, but they had managed to broker an agreement: if Brayden cleared it, she could go back on active duty. More importantly, back to the shelter. She had some serious unfinished business there.

“Brayden, my powers are fine.” Well, that was the biggest, fattest, baldest lie she had ever told. Truth was, the initial burst of energy she'd gotten from that gulp of Anton's blood had been blown on her teleporting from the homeless shelter to her bedroom at her brother's royal estate. Since then, her body had resisted her with every move. If she flexed her powers again, she would sap what little get-up-and-go she had left. Instead of heading straight back to the shelter once she was finally free of prying eyes, she'd be forced to rest up first.

“It never hurts to check.”

She batted her eyelashes a little. “You don't want me to overtire myself, do you, Doctor?” When all else failed, a little flirting and levity rolled into one should work, right?

“A small one will be fine.”

Or not.

Brayden rested an elbow on her tall chest of drawers and gave a friendly smile. His thumb clicked the switch on the pen light he'd been flashing in her eyes. On. Off. On. Off. Waiting. It was clear that he didn't intend to take no for an answer.

Tyra grabbed a fistful of her rose-colored comforter. This whole business was getting old. “Jeez, Brayden. Even you don't trust me now?”

“No, that's still me.”

Tyra's head and neck made a slow swivel. Everything was a little stiff from that week-plus-long nap. Thad stood stock-still in her bedroom doorway with his forehead creased down the center and his shoulders jacked up to his ears. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his fatigues.

She didn't need her supercharged abilities to know that Thad was still pissed off about her disappearance. He used to stand that way when he was mad that she wouldn't play with him as a child.

“Thad, come on.”

“Make a fireball for the nice man, and then you can go back to your regularly scheduled habits of neglecting yourself until you collapse. Maybe the
next
time you'll be lucky and not wind up in torpor for days while our entire military is out combing the streets for you.”

Don't hold back, Thad. Tell me how you really feel
.

“Thad, I have apologized. I was saving lives.”

“Any of our other fighters could have carried those unconscious vampires, Ty.”

“I thought I could handle it.”

Thad's nostrils flared. The anger melted off his face, but what was left behind had her feeling like an even bigger shit-heel than she already did. Deep lines traversed his face, and in the early morning gray of her bedroom, the shadows accentuated dark hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes. It brought home what a strain her disappearance had put on everyone, and it also reminded her of the way that Anton had looked when she'd woken up.

It still seemed impossible that he had kept a vigil by her side the whole time. That was the stuff of fairy tales. Or the stuff of newspaper headlines that started “Dead Body Found…” So much depended on Anton's true intentions.

It still seemed impossible that she could trust him.

“Look, Ty. You are strong, stronger than most of us. I think it's easy for us all to forget that the flip side is how easily your fuse blows. This isn't the first time you've pushed your limits too far. It's only the first time you've gotten into real trouble for it. If you want to keep fighting, I need to know you can be trusted to tag out before you become a liability.”

Tyra opened her mouth and then closed it. Open. Close. Like a gasping, gaping fish. There was no way on earth that she could explain the reality: yes, she had pushed the envelope, but she hadn't gone over the edge until one of their sworn enemies had confessed to a recent stint of wizard stalking and then professed his love for her. Cuh-razy.

Her eyelids were at half-mast, but she held Thad's intent look. “I promise, Thad.”

The icy blue of her brother's stare was immutable. No, she was talking to Thad the king now. Her baby brother had grown up while she was away on her unscheduled vacation. And in part, she had forced that on him.

So, okay. She would play nicely for right now. Tyra focused her mind and a tiny flame flickered in her palm, nothing more than a tea-light votive could power. But lo, there was fire.

“Is that all you can do?”

She narrowed her eyes at Brayden. “You said a small one was fine.”

He smiled evenly. “I'm just trying to assess your energy levels.”

Tyra made a point of sitting straighter. She held out her hand again. A moment of intense concentration and the heat of her palm built, gathered, and fanned out until her palm and all five fingers were engulfed in flame. She blew it out with a puff of air, shaking her hand to clear the smoke trail.

Let's see how he likes them apples
.

“Don't need to be a show-off, Ty.” Thad came forward. His few inches of height advantage and scornful glare were sufficiently intimidating when he stood over her like that. He turned to Brayden. “Got everything you need, Doc?”

Brayden's head bobbed. He backed out quietly. Ever the polite gentleman, the young doctor made a point of turning the knob on his way out so the door closed with little more than a subtle tap of wood against the frame.

Tyra's hand dropped to the bed. Damn, she needed to lie down now. She was going to regret that little display she had made. Originally her hope had been to head straight back to the shelter once she was free from prying eyes. She rolled her head around on her shoulders, pretending to unkink tired neck muscles, while she surreptitiously checked the clock on her bedside table. She'd already been gone from the shelter overnight. Maybe she could make it a power nap.

Thad's shadow fell over her. He sat next to her and hooked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her sideways for a too-tight squeeze. Perhaps her baby brother was still around after all.

“I was so worried about you. I'm glad you're back, Ty.” Another quick squeeze around her shoulders and he jumped to his feet, heading for the door. “I can see that you're exhausted. Get some rest.”

She gave her best effort at returning his smile. “I'm glad to be back, Thad.”

Lying to him like this made her ill.

***

Alexia raced through the forested grounds surrounding the estate, feet pounding the ground beneath her. She sped as fast as her legs could manage, her chest burning and her breath gasping in shallow pants that echoed in her own ears like a chugging locomotive. Her nose and lungs burned with the effort of drawing breath, and her heart burned like it might explode out of her.

Dawn broke overhead in a wash of pinks and grays. She was human, so the sun's rays wouldn't hurt her, but the royal estate was eerily dead for miles during the day. Creepy and lonely, especially outdoors. As the only person living in a community full of vampires, she was all stocked up on creepy and lonely as it was. These vamps might not be the kind of pasty undead creatures you saw in horror movies, but she was constantly reminded of her outsider status.

The back of the mansion loomed up ahead, and the double doors of the rear entrance beckoned to her. Almost. Almost.
Almost…

Alexia's hand smacked the keypad and punched in the now-familiar security code automatically. By the time the little indicator light had changed from red to green, her other arm had reached to wrench open the door. She slipped in and pulled it shut behind her as quietly as she could. The heavy drapes that covered the windowed doors were down for the day to keep the sun out, and it was a struggle not to feel suffocated when they hit her in the face.

“Oh, God,” she whispered to herself.

Hands braced on her knees, she needed all of her willpower not to collapse right there in the back hall. It was a good thing the household was all in bed asleep by now.

Alexia straightened and tugged the hem of her shirt up to wipe the sweat from her face. Her lungs burned, but she could breathe.

“Shouldn't be out by yourself past dawn, Alexia.”

“Holy shit, Lee.”

She jerked her top down to find the source of the voice, even though she recognized it right away. The few times she had heard him speak were enough to burn it into her memory. Her haste caused her to lose her footing, and she fell with an extremely unladylike thud against the pristine white wall.

“Jesus Christ. You scared the crap out of me.”

Thad's bodyguard was very much as she remembered him: tall, broad, and extremely unnerving. He stood against the opposite wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His normally tan skin was sort of ashy, and he looked quite tired but otherwise as gorgeous as before. Damn him. The hall chandelier cast a dim yellow glow, and a sheen of water dotted the top of his marine-style haircut like he had showered recently. Instead of what she thought of as his badass street-fighting clothes, jeans stretched across his muscular thighs and a soft, gray waffle henley shirt almost gave him the appearance of casual.

Almost.

He used his chin to gesture toward the door. “What were you doing out there?”

Like it was any business of his. “Jogging. Where the hell have you even been?”

His brow creased and his blue-green eyes narrowed at her. “That wasn't jogging. Jogging is what folks do at the park with their dogs and their headphones and their velour tracksuits and shit. The way you barreled into the back hall was a scene in a horror movie where the big-chested airhead runs to escape the masked man with the chainsaw.”

Alexia sucked down some more oxygen and pushed away from the wall, stepping toward him with all the bravado she could muster despite over a foot in height difference between them. Her pulse gave an extra hard kick when she got close to him.

“Seriously, Lee. You have been gone for like a week. You left without any word to anyone, and Thad has been going out of his mind. Everybody has. Does he know you're back yet?”

His head dipped. “Not that it's any business of yours, but Tyra and I got back to the estate last night. We decided it was best to get cleaned up and rested before we announced our presence. I just came over from her place.”

“Tyra's back too? And you stayed with her last night?” There was no reason in the world for that to bother her. None. At all.

“That she is
.
” Lee pushed off and started to turn from her. His boot steps left subtle impressions in the flowered carpet. “Listen,” he continued. “I mean it, Alexia. You shouldn't be out by yourself during daylight hours.”

Nnng
. You could have played music with her tightly strung neck muscles. No freaking way was he telling her what she could and couldn't do, or when she could or couldn't do it. She took a step and planted her feet wide, making a grab for his arm. Her fingers barely snagged his shirt, but that was enough to irritate him, judging from the flash in his eyes. Score one for the short girl.

“What the hell are you talking about? I'm on a two-hundred-acre estate that is protected by both a human security system and vampire hoodoo. What could possibly happen?”

Truthfully, thanks to a growing problem with insomnia, Alexia's sleep cycles were wacky these days. Typically she was back inside the mansion before it was fully light outside. She'd poke a fork in her own eye, though, before she defended herself to Lee.

He shrugged. “Can't be too careful.” He reached out and chucked her under the chin. Like a kid, for fuck's sake. “Already had to use my blood to save your ass once. Don't go wasting it by being stupid.” And with that, he turned again and headed down the hallway.

Alexia was speechless. God
damn
him. She snorted quietly. What an unbelievable asshole. So Lee had saved her life and ever since then she'd had some sort of stupid little crush thing going for the big bastard. But he was an arrogant jerk and she was
so
over it. She threw her shoulders back and straightened her spine to begin the long march down the hall to her room.

The confident display felt important even if he wasn't there to witness it.

When Dr. Brayden had come up through the tunnels that morning to assist with Theresa's birth, he'd given word that the search for the king's sister and Lee was resolved. Good news, but Xander was disappointed to have missed all the action. It was his own fault, though. Besides, he'd been witnessing life-or-death drama of a different nature entirely.

So much blood.

And the screams.

Xander had never been party to anything so horrific. All the times he'd done battle against the wizards, and yet he hadn't even had the stomach to watch the outcome of the terror in that room.

He bowed his head quietly and prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in anymore. He was perched uncomfortably in a rust-colored leather chair that was not his own, murmuring words that were equally rusty and foreign, when Theresa's bedroom door off to his left clicked open.

“Alexander.”

He lifted his head. Greg Brayden took a seat across from him. The normally neat doctor looked as if someone had tossed him into a clothes dryer for a few cycles. “Brayden. How is everything?”

“The midwife is stitching her up.” The doctor lowered his head. “I know. It always looks like a great deal of blood loss, but I think she's going to be fine.”

Xander cleared his throat, willing away the lump he couldn't swallow around. “Thank goodness.”

Brayden closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. Lucky she made it. She's been through an awful lot.”

Xander cleared his throat again. That lump wouldn't go away. He toed at the dark brown carpet with his boot. “Absolutely.” Though he never would have admitted it to a soul, his body shook a little. Theresa had recently lost her mate in battle. The sight of all that blood and the midwife's grim facial expressions, along with quietly whispered words like “tearing” and “breech” had been enough to push Xander from the room.

All that screaming…

During every day of his guard duty in this house, the cozy living room with its rust-colored leather furniture and flat-screen television had reminded Xander that his friend and fellow soldier, who had clearly picked out the furnishings, would never be coming back. Theresa's mate would never be coming back. That child's father… would never know him.

The idea of leaving that newborn without any parents was more than Xander could handle. He himself had grown up without a family. He'd had someone to raise him, sure. But to not have someone who truly claimed you as their own? A child deserved love.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Brayden must have stood while he wasn't looking, because then a hand landed on his shoulder and a voice spoke low in his ear. “She's going to need to feed, my friend.”

The temperature in the room dropped. Funny how somebody you barely knew was suddenly your friend when they needed to deliver bad news. “And why are you telling me?” As if he needed to ask.

Brayden had always seemed like a mild-mannered gentleman. Quiet. Professional. But his stare was hard at that moment. “You recently lost a mate yourself. You know how difficult this is going to be for her. Doubly so because she just went through the pain and exhaustion of bringing life into the world. She needs to heal from that, Alexander.”

Xander opened and closed his fists. The doctor's insistence on referring to him by his full name was grating. “Then you understand why I don't want to be the one to do it,
Gregory
. Can you not get somebody else? Blood Service?”

His head fell back in the chair. If only Brayden would leave and he could get some rest. Admittedly, he tired easily these days, even while on guard duty. He ought to feed. He knew he ought to. But he couldn't. It meant betraying Tam. He wasn't ready.

Brayden's hand tightened its grip on his shoulder. “Think how Theresa must feel. Her mate's death was only a couple of weeks ago. She gave birth a few hours ago. To a baby she'll have to raise alone.”

Something invisible punched Xander in the chest. He was wrong here, and he was being selfish. Still, he wasn't sure he could handle another female drinking from him. The very thought of it made him want to jump out of his skin.

The universe or perhaps even God himself decided that Xander's uncertainty needed a nudge. Once again the bedroom door opened, and out walked the midwife. Her dark clothes were wet and disheveled, her braid askew, but she was carrying the most perfect baby boy Xander had ever laid eyes upon. Okay, its face was a little splotchy, but whatever. Perfect all the same.

“My assistant is performing a cleansing ritual, and then mom needs to rest. So someone has to hold him for a bit.” The tall female smiled broadly and leaned down to hand the child to Xander as if the matter had already been decided.

The baby was swaddled in a muslin blanket with its head covered in a blue cap and was sleeping soundly with his lips formed into a tiny pout. Xander couldn't believe how something that would someday be as large as he was fit into the whole of his two palms side by side.

“Support his head,” she murmured.

The miniscule body was surprisingly warm but feather-light. Xander's giant hands and leather-jacket-clad arms weren't at all worthy to be holding this soft bundle.

“He's been nursed, so he should sleep awhile. If he starts to wake, though, you can take him back to her for more milk,” said the midwife.

Xander chewed his lip. “Not blood?” How stupid that he didn't even know what babies ate or drank.

The corners of her eyes crinkled. She smiled broadly. “He'll begin teething sometime between two and nine months of age. Front teeth first, like humans. When his milk fangs come in, then he can start weaning to blood and solid foods like a big boy.” The female bustled with blankets and bags as she not so quietly made her exit.
I
thought
that
Theresa
needed
to
sleep?

That stuff with the baby teeth sounded complicated. Xander was glad not to have things like that to worry about. He was barely aware of Brayden's hand squeezing his shoulder again but he looked up, and their stares bored into each other again.

He would never, from this moment on, think of Brayden as mild-mannered.

The doctor glanced pointedly down at the baby, over to the closed bedroom door, and then back at Xander. “I'm not going to call Blood Service,” he hissed. “It should be somebody she knows. She deserves that much.” Brayden pulled his hand away, reaching for his coat and his bag. “You've been here on guard duty. You've kept her company since Eamon's death. Better than anyone else, you can relate to what she's feeling. I think it would be best if you were the one to give her blood. If you can't manage it, I'll do it.”

The bundle in Xander's hands twitched and made a cranky whine in its sleep.
So
much
upheaval
from
such
a
little
thing.
He shook his head, even as he tucked the child closer to his body. He placed one too-large hand on the baby's chest, and it rose and fell with each breath the infant took. “I'll do it,” he said.

***

“Going somewhere?”

When Tyra teleported into Anton's room at the shelter, his back was turned. He froze mid-action, like a kid caught with porn. He released the red handles of the black garbage bag into which he'd been tossing a few meager items and turned around.

“Nice luggage,” Tyra said. Hell, she was as incensed that he was packing to leave as she was surprised that he wasn't gone yet. Her intended short power nap? Turned out her body had needed some serious refueling, even after the long hibernation there in Anton's room. She'd wound up sleeping an entire day and night. Tyra was stronger than most vampires, but the flip side of her strength and her multiple powers was that she burned through her energy more easily as well.

She studied his face. The time and distance she'd been gone had allowed uncertainty to creep in. Mistrust. A debriefing from Lee revealed that during her extended power nap he'd been hunting down Anton's father himself. Some sort of tip that he'd been cagey about going into the details of. As they'd always suspected, there had been traps, tricks, and decoys once Lee had finally found what he'd thought was the actual wizard hidey-hole. The news had been a heavy splash of cold water for Tyra—another reminder that she couldn't afford to take Anton at face value. She'd shown up here wondering if the next time they crossed paths she might be forced to erase his memory or kill him.

Anton shrugged. “You know how it is. They don't exactly bust out the good stuff for you around here. Some older lady—Beverly, I think her name was—felt bad about kicking me out and rustled up some spare clothes.”

Wait. “
What?
” She cringed. That had come out much louder than intended. Tyra checked the door lock. Dropping her voice, she said, “What do you mean they're kicking you out? I was the volunteer who checked you in. You should have more time.”

He shrugged again. Males and their noncommittal gestures. “That Beverly woman came and said someone else was scheduled to move into this room today. In fact…” The flannel sleeve of his shirt slid down when he pointed up to the wire-covered clock on the wall. Why was he wearing a watch with a smashed face?

“She said I had until eight a.m. to pack, so I'm running short on time to make myself scarce. Computer mix-up or policy change or something. She wasn't clear. I didn't think it mattered. Wasn't much option about it either way. You look so much better.” He managed a smile, but it seemed forced. Those eyes of his were always so intense and serious. Then again, this encounter was incredibly awkward for both of them.

Despite the awkwardness and the weird… whatever it was between them, the corner of her mouth gave a little twitch in reply. “Well, given that you last saw me coming off a week and a half in torpor, the bar wasn't set very high.”

He, on the other hand, still looked weary and wrung out. At the same time, his body was on high alert. His muscles were strung tight, his shoulders tense, fingers twitchy. Was he waiting for her to attack him or something?

If he was, it was a legitimate expectation. So why did that bother her? She stepped forward and then stopped short. Her hand lifted to brush a stray curl from her face, but she stopped in the middle of the nervous gesture and dropped her hand to her side. Instead she clasped her fingers behind her back.

There were a lot of questions to ask. She certainly hadn't counted on the shelter kicking him out, and it wasn't like she could go and make a big stink about it. As far as anybody else at the shelter knew, she'd left to go on vacation the night she disappeared. “Sit with me,” she said.

“Sure.” Anton sat with an unceremonious crinkle on the plastic bag that he'd been given to use as a makeshift suitcase.

“Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?”

He shook his head. “I told you—oh.” His eyes widened in understanding when the tips of Tyra's fingers rested lightly on his forearm. His gray eyes were sharp when they focused on hers. “You can read my mind or something when you touch me, can't you?”

Her skin heated. “Not your thoughts, exactly. I mean, if you started to recite a cooking recipe in your head I wouldn't suddenly know how to make your granny's famous clam chowder. Mostly vague impressions. Emotions. Things like that.” It was one of those random, offhand comments, but it brought forward a rush of unanticipated sadness from Anton.

Tyra nearly smacked herself on the head. They didn't know much about the wizard race, but it would stand to reason that he probably hadn't been raised by what she thought of as a family. No grandmother. No home-cooked clam chowder. “I'm sorry,” Tyra said.

“It's… don't apologize to me. It's fine.” His arm twitched under her fingers. “Well, don't apologize, anyway.”

K. Time to change the subject. “Look, I know you already told me, but please. Explain to me again what's going on here. The whole situation with your father and why you were following me. I need to hear it now, when I'm healthy and lucid.” Comparatively, at least. She paused to study his face. There was a lot going on behind those eyes of his, despite the weariness in them. “And yes, I need to feel it. It's the only way we'll both be able to trust here.”

“I won't be able to read your emotions,” he said.

She wasn't the one with the evil lineage, thank you very much. The back of her neck tightened. “I will be straight with you as long as you're straight with me. Can we agree on that much?”

“Huh. Sure.” A grimace spread over his face and his hands rubbed his thighs like they were sweaty or something. “I kept an eye on you while you were in a coma. Torpor. Whatever it was you called it. When you woke up, you threatened to kill me and then disappeared without another word.

“Now you're telling me I should hand you my blind faith? Unlike you, I've barely slept in a week and I'm not the one who's armed.” He glanced pointedly at her ankle holster. “I've already told you I'm willing to offer my help to you, Tyra, but you have to admit that I'm at a disadvantage in the trust department.”

Though delivered in calm, even tones, his words might as well have been a slap across the face. Forgetting herself completely, Tyra pulled her hand away. Neither of them spoke, and heat built in her chest as anger bubbled up. It wasn't like he didn't have a point, but—

But what? He was exactly, completely, one hundred percent right. Nevertheless, wow, did it piss her off.
Brush
it
off, Ty. You're here for information.

“Okay. Let's just do this.” With a deep breath, Tyra flexed her fingers and rubbed her hands together to get a little energy going. She was about to touch him again when a knock sounded at the door.