Shadow's Light (21 page)

She left with a curtsey, I was thinking it was for me and not Michel, because his jaw tightened when he saw her do it. Neither of us said a word of goodbye. Him, because he was angry. Me, because I had too many thoughts swirling around in my head.

“Michel,” I said quietly, removing the tray of food to the side of where I sat on the bed. He turned back towards me and I watched as he purposely re-schooled his features into a more pleasant mask. “She seems trustworthy and nothing I have read about
fīfrildi
said they were cruel or harmful fey. Why are you so uptight around her?”

He didn't answer immediately, just stood there breathing. A slow breath in, his chest rising and then a slow breath out, his chest deflating. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Sora's kind are low on the Fey structure. She herself would wish us no harm, but she is bound to the
Dökkálfa
Queen. She must do her bidding, she has no choice. It is similar to a command from me to my vampyres.” His face shadowed then, a Darkness creeping across his features. His vampires were no longer his, the Blood Bond that tied them to him had been broken when he 'died'. “At any time the Queen could use her to harm us. It would be against Sora's will, but she would do it. She has no choice.”

The way he spoke made me think he wasn't just speculating. “Sofiq has already tried that once, hasn't she?” I asked, getting up from the bed, sheet still wrapped around me, and walking over to lay a hand on his arm.

Michel looked down at my hand for a few seconds, organising his thoughts. Then placed his own hand above mine and took a deep breath in.

“Sofiq found it amusing to set Sora on me.”

I had a moment of various images splashing through my mind of Sora attacking Michel with her delicate hands. Her yellow wings fluttering frantically behind her. Then I remembered her pointy teeth.

“Did she bite you?” I demanded, my hand curling into a fist on the sleeve of his shirt. He slowly loosened my fingers, one by one and when my hand was again flat, lifted it to his mouth to kiss my palm. Above the cut his fangs had made earlier.

“Sofiq thought it would be amusing to watch Sora seduce me.” I sucked in a breath sharply at his words. “The girl is young, by fey standards. I doubt she has ever done anything like that in her life before. But, her inexperience was not an issue, Sofiq is old and had more than enough experience to direct Sora's moves. It was like watching a robot in motion, a very strong, determined robot, with a look of pure terror on her face. She knew what she was doing, but she could not stop it.” He looked away from me briefly, as though he didn't want to see the reaction on my face when he spoke again. “They have magic and they are strong. I was weak, I had not fed on a human for over two months at that stage. But, somehow, I fought her off. I saved Sora the mortification of her Queen's demands and angered Sofiq in the process. The consequences were not pretty, but Sora has taken a shine to me since then. Should the Queen attempt to use her in that way again, I do not think she would be so reluctant. It was her reluctance the first time that gave me the necessary strength to fight the spell.”

“That's why you're scared of her,” I said softly beside him. He turned back and kissed me on my forehead, lingering there a moment.

“I am scared of all of them and now you are here, I am petrified.”

Petrified, because they could use me against him. Or maybe worse, they could harm me in front of him. Take your pick, a level one
Sanguis Vitam
vampire would not take kindly to either scenario. Loss of control, not the number one favourite thing a powerful vampire likes to experience at all.

I pulled him around to face me directly and then wrapped my arms around his waist. Laying my head against his chest, I rubbed my cheek on his shirt, relishing the feel of his body's warmth beneath me.

“You're not alone anymore, Michel. You don't have to fight them on your own. I am, in case you have forgotten, a big, bad vampire hunter. And I've just added to my list of prey. The Fey don't know what they are up against.”

I could feel his chest vibrating with a silent laugh. His lips came down and kissed the top of my head.

“You are my hero,
ma douce
,” he said, his laughter now becoming audible. “I aspire to be just like you. So courageous. So strong. So capable.”

“Beautiful. Don't forget beautiful,” I added. His laughter rumbled louder in his chest.

He pulled back and placed a finger beneath my chin, raising my face up to look directly at his.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “Stunning. Out of this world.”

I pushed back against his chest, but I was smiling.

“That's enough, no need to get carried away,” I chided playfully.

“Isn't there?” He waggled his eyebrows at me and scooped me up in his arms.

Well, maybe a little carried away would be OK.

We made slow, beautiful love several times. We weren't capable of fast, hot and heavy, but slow and beautiful we could do. Several times. So, carried away was an understatement in fact. On the bed, on the floor. Against the wall. In the bath. Up on the vanity with the mirrors surrounding us, our sweat slicked bodies reflected back and candle light creating grooves and ridges over our skin that only insisted on further exploration. We couldn't stop touching each other, tasting each other. It was a compulsion we simply couldn't deny.

“You smell of me,” Michel murmured against the curve of my neck. He was standing, still wedged between my legs as I perched on top of the vanity in the bathroom.

I'm not sure if anyone here in
Álfheimr
would appreciate my scent. Vampires have keen noses, scent is important to them. Michel had spent the better part of the past few hours making sure I carried his scent. A type of marking, claiming me as his own. To any other vampire who crossed my path, if the
Sigillums
I wore of his didn't scare them off, his scent covering my entire body would. But the Fey? I wasn't so sure they would react the same way, if at all.

I'd humour him though. “And you smell of me.” He growled, letting his fangs scrape down the length of my neck, not breaking skin, just tantalising it.

I could tell he was hungry. One feed from me was not enough to reverse ten months of fey blood and the occasional human thrown in for good measure. He may be able to rock my socks off without too much effort, but he was still not at full strength. If we had to face Sofiq in a few hours, he would need to feed again.

“After you have eaten,” he muttered in between nibbling on my ear lobe.

“You heard my thoughts?” I asked. I was sure I hadn't projected them. A wistful part of me woke up and held its breath in eager anticipation.

“No,
ma douce
. I know you well. You are concerned for me, you want to make things right.” The wistful part of my mind sniffed and returned to its little dark hole. We were no longer the joined kindred we once were and pining for it was a waste of friggin' time.

Michel kissed my cheek and pulled back to look at me. The blues in his eyes had taken on a lighter hue. I don't know what makes them do that. The indigo, violets and magenta they take on make sense, but occasionally they turn an azure blue like the Mediterranean Sea and I have no idea why. I always feel blessed when he looks at me with such vivid blue shining from his eyes.

“We will be fine,
ma douce
. I will let nothing harm you.”

I believed him, but I also knew there were scarier things out there than I had realised six months ago. Amicus appearing on our scene and introducing me to the Fey, had put paid to any notion that vampires were the Darkest of creatures in my world.

I sighed and let my head fall forward to rest on his and took a deep breath in. Scent to a Nosferatu is a personal thing. Add to that: scent to a Nosferatin is a personal thing too. Michel's hands ran up and down my sides waiting for me to have my fill.

“We should get dressed, Sora will be back soon,” I said quietly, not really wanting to step out of his embrace.

“She will not enter until she has to,” Michel murmured, not shifting from his position between my legs at all.

“What does that mean?” I asked, pulling back at last to look at him. His eyes had returned to the deep blue of the Atlantic Ocean. I felt like I had lost a precious treasure.

“The
Dökkálfa
are many things, but rule abider is their greatest trait. I have an understanding with my guards, including Sora, they are not to enter unless we are prepared for them to do so. Standing here naked in each others arms would not be
prepared for them to enter.
Sora will only enter at the last possible minute to get us ready to greet the Queen.”

I thought about that for a minute. Then realised, the only way she and the guards would know we were not prepared for them to enter would be if they could see what was happening inside the rooms. In a flash I was off the vanity, out of Michel's arms and in the dressing room stepping into the dress Sora had laid out for me.

Michel sauntered in more slowly and without a word began doing up the buttons at the back of my dress. Then when he had finally finished the fifty odd clasps on the beautifully constructed black and grey bodice, he kissed my neck, leaving his lips against my flesh as he spoke.

“You will get used to it,
ma douce
. You will learn to ignore that the shadows are watching, but never forget that they can hear.”

My body shook with tiny trembles of enormous amounts of rage. The gravity of that didn't escape me. I began twisting the silver bracelet that encircled my wrist. I used to do that to my ring when I was nervous. Twist it. Now I twist my bracelet when I am mad. Michel watched me for a moment and then started dressing himself.

I didn't move away, I couldn't even if I had wanted to. I was drawn to him by something altogether invisible, but stronger than any chains could ever be. I watched his slow, methodical moves and somehow his calm rubbed off on me. By the time he was fully dressed in black trousers - not too dissimilar to what he would wear in our realm - and a slightly puffy long sleeved back shirt left open at the neck, I had stopped spinning the bracelet.

The door to our room clicked open as Michel held my gaze, a small smile playing on the edge of his lips. I could smell my lunch as soon as Sora stepped into the main room. Michel and I didn't move however, just kept looking at each other as though nothing else existed at all.

Sora clearing her throat some time later broke the spell and I turned away from Michel and walked into the bedroom to face the little butterfly.

She was dressed in a black flowing summer dress with a black pinafore apron embossed with yellow flowers, that set off the yellow of her skin and wings nicely. I had got used to the
Dökkálfa
wearing black, grey and white only, the touch of yellow was a surprise. Sora looked cute and bright and innocent with that ever so softening of colours. She curtsied as I came fully into the room.

“Your Highness, I have brought your meal. Would you like me to braid your hair before or after you dine?” she asked as she came out of the curtsey.

There was no way I was going to go to any effort to conform to Sofiq's desires. The dress was unavoidable. I didn't have any of my hunter gear left with me. At least it was a dark colour. But, braiding my hair into an intricate design I would not normally wear, was just too much to contemplate.

“My hair will be fine, Sora. I'd just like to eat.” Luckily, I don't think the Fey can smell a lie. I wasn't in the slightest bit hungry. I didn't want to touch a morsel of food on that tray, but I knew I needed all the strength I could get. If not just for me, then for Michel, so he could feed from me again.

Michel of course, can smell a lie. His warm hand came to rest on the back of my neck letting me know he had picked up on the falsehood.

Sora looked a little uncomfortable, her eyes shifting to the shadows involuntarily. Always a dead give-away that she wanted to let me in on a secret, but she wasn't sure how to word it without getting caught.

I walked over to the little
fīfrildi
and took hold of her hands in mine. I leant in and kissed her cheek lightly and said in a normal voice, “The food looks splendid.” As close to a thank you as she would get and also allowing her a chance to whisper in return should she choose to.

She nodded and said in a quiet voice, “The Queen will expect you to be presented as per protocol. Only Sofiq wears her hair down in her presence.”

I nodded. “Will you get in trouble?”

Her eyes shot up to mine, gold flecks glinting in the yellows that surrounded the pitch black pupil.  “Not I, Princess. But, you may.”

I nodded again, satisfied that she couldn't lie. As long as Sora would not be punished for my insubordination, I could handle it. Sofiq held all the cards. We were in her territory, alive only by her discretion. We had to level the playing field somehow in order to bargain with her at all. Wearing my hair how I liked was a pitiful ruse. But, it was a show of my strength. I didn't have my Light to call on, just what little attitude I had left to me now.

“That is good to know, Sora. I'll eat now.” This not thanking someone was hard and it made me sound way more privileged than I liked. I was no princess. I shook my head and walked over to the chairs in the corner where Sora had set down the tray of food.

When I sat and glanced back up at the yellow butterfly, I noticed her looking at Michel and the small nod he gave her in return. Then she curtsied again and left the room. Michel came and sat down beside me, crossing his legs at the knee and placing one relaxed arm along the back of the sofa behind my shoulders, to watch me eat.

“What were you promising Sora with that nod?” I asked, picking up a small pastry that smelled, I reluctantly decided, divine.

Michel chuckled. “You do not miss a thing, do you ?” He sighed. “I was promising her that I would convince you to wear your hair up.”

I placed the delicious pastry back on the tray a little harder than I had intended. “And what argument are you going to use?” I asked, stiffly.

He laughed out loud then and let his eyes roam the length of my body languidly. “I am not
Dökkálfa
,
ma douce
. I
can
lie.”

It took a second for me to register what he was implying. He had no intention of convincing me to wear my hair up. He'd only told Sora that, to get the girl to leave. I smiled slowly back at him and picked the pastry up again to eat. It was good.

In a matter of minutes, I had finished the tray of food. Which momentarily surprised me, considering I had been quite sure I wasn't in the slightest bit hungry. But, I had to give it to the fairies, they could cook. The food was amazing. It melted in your mouth and lingered in a delightful way, making your taste buds tingle and your body crave more. One bite led to another. And then another. And another. And before I knew it, the whole tray was done and Michel was chuckling ever so slightly beside me. A look of utter satisfaction on his face.

Not that he had made me eat the bloody food. He'd just sat there and watched me gorge myself on pastries and cakes and mini sandwiches and fruit salad covered in a dangerously calorie laden syrup. I glared at him and he just chuckled back.

The door clicked open before we'd even finished our staring match and Sora floated in.

“It is time, Your Highness, Michel. The Queen has requested your presence.”

I shot to my feet and glanced at Michel. He looked almost his normal self. Handsome, powerful, charming. Magnificent. But, I knew he was capable of presenting a picture of competent ease, even when he lacked the strength to be so. Something about level one
Sanguis Vitam
master vampires enabled them to hide their weaknesses. I could appreciate that, but I would not allow him to face Sofiq again without a boost in his strength.

I turned to the little fairy. “Give us a minute please, Sora.”

Her wings began fluttering faster and faster in her agitation. “The Queen expects your attendance immediately, Your Highness.”

“One minute and I'm sure Queen Sofiq would not begrudge her
guests
a minute to prepare themselves for her presence. It is only fitting, is it not?” My hand had gone up to my hair as I spoke those words. A slight of hand, making the little butterfly believe I intended to do something about my hair as she had requested.

Sora nodded slowly and curtsied. “One minute, Your Highness,” she whispered and fluttered from the room. The door clicked locked behind her.

Michel had me wrapped in his arms in the next second, his mouth coasting over my neck, laying delicate kisses above my pulse point. He knew as well as I, that Sora would take the time-frame literally. He didn't waste time and let his fangs slide in over his
Sigillum
to the blood vessel below.

He hadn't moved us to the sofa, so we were still standing. The sting of his bite immediately replaced with a love so pure it made my knees go out from beneath me. He tightened his hold around my waist and continued to draw blood from me as quickly and painlessly as he could. A groan accompanied every pull of blood. A reaction to drinking from me he couldn't hide, no matter what.

Just over half a minute later he withdrew and licked the punctures closed. His breathing was slightly ragged as his forehead lay against mine. My breathing wasn't much better. One minute. I should have asked for ten times that.

Michel's chest began to rumble with a low laughter.
I heard that. Ten minutes? Is that all you think it would take?
His thoughts whispered in my mind and his body moulded against the length of mine further. Michel was not one for quick sex, but ten minutes would have done me just fine. He laughed harder at the thoughts that were so obviously being projected from my mind.

Sora came back in the room then, regardless of our positions. I guessed this covered the “entering only when she has to” part of her rules. We had passed the stage where our privacy outweighed her orders to bring us to the Queen. I couldn't blame her. We'd delayed enough.