State of Grace (Resurrection) (28 page)

‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ I quipped, trying to diffuse the electric current of our lust.

‘Grace.’ My name on his lips brought me up short. ‘I am serious,’ he said. ‘You fascinate me. You should not exist, yet you do.’

‘For me, it is you who should not exist
,’ I replied. ‘You belong in fairy tales, you are a myth, a legend. You should not be real, yet you are.’ I echoed his words. Then asked, ‘Is that why you let me live, knowing what I know?’

‘In part.’

‘And?’ I prompted. ‘What other reason?’

‘We will discuss this a
nother time,’ he replied firmly and I knew I would get no more out of him, for now.

‘What happens next
?’ He knew exactly what I meant.

‘I will find a way to keep you safe. To keep you near me.’

‘I could disappear at any moment,’ I warned. ‘I don’t have any control over it.’

‘I am very aware of that,’ he sighed. ‘However, for as long as you are here I will be responsible for your safety.’

‘There’s that conscience you don’t have,’ I teased.

He grunted noncommittally, reaching out to stroke my cheek with the back of his hand. My heart missed a beat at his touch.

‘I would not do this for any other human woman,’ he insisted and I believed him. ‘Will you trust me?’ His voice was so low I could hardly hear him.

‘Yes,’ I whispered, spellbound by his eyes.

‘Yet, you fear me still.’ It wasn’t a question, but I replied anyway.

‘Yes.’

‘As you should.’ He sounded forlorn.

We stared at one another for long sec
onds, his face inches from mine and I wanted him to kiss me and I was scared of what would happen if he did.

‘We should go,’ he said instead, and the spell was broken.

‘Where to ? Back to your cottage?’

‘We should, but it will be light soon. I will find somewhere for us to sleep here in the castle.’

‘Why? You can go out in daylight. You said so.’

‘True. But I would need to feed again, very soon, if I did.’ He waited for my reaction.

‘Ah,’ was all I could manage, the memory of another woman’s blood on his lips flickering across my internal vision.

‘You still cannot accept what I am,’ he observed.

I couldn’t say anything; it was partly true, but what I didn’t want to admit was a stab of jealously when I found him with another woman. And it bothered me that I was bothered. What on earth was I thinking of, getting all territorial over an imaginary vampire lover who had openly admitted it was not worth his while to become involved with humans, except as take-away food.

Chapter 12

As he led me towards a safe place to sleep for the day (I was beginning to feel I was becoming nocturnal, too), I was surprised at the amount of people awake and busy. Each time Roman warned me with a cool hand on my sleeve before a figure appeared out of the pre-dawn darkness, carrying or fetching, bleary-eyed and yawning. No one took any notice
of us, but Roman noticed them, well before he should have humanly been able. Belatedly something occurred to me.

‘You knew I was there, didn’t you?’ I accused. I didn’t have to explain what I meant, he understood immediately.

‘Yes.’

‘Then why…
? You said you were sorry I had to see that,’ my voice rose angrily. ‘You deliberately –’

‘Yes,
’ he interrupted. ‘I did, Eryres.’ He stopped, forcing me to turn to face him by gripping my shoulders. ‘You needed to truly understand and I am still not sure you do,’ he added gently. ‘I cannot protect you, spend so much time with you, be so close to you, without you knowing my true nature. Showing you was the best way. Better you see now, when I can control the situation than…’ he let the rest of the sentence hang.

‘Control the situation!’ I
squeaked. ‘You and Viktor! You set me up.’

‘I did,’ he admitted. ‘And next time you will not be so distraught.’

I was furious. ‘You are a bastard,’ I swore at him and stamped my foot in temper. ‘God dammit.’  A hand shot out and clamped powerfully over my mouth before I could utter another word.

‘Do not blaspheme,’ he warned quietly. ‘These people take their religion very seriously
, they will not tolerate blasphemy, taking their god’s names in vain. Do you understand? You need to be careful of what you say.’

I nodded, but when he released my mouth I hissed, ‘You are still a bastard.’

I licked my lips, finding the taste of his skin on my tongue.

‘My parents were wed,’ he said severely, taking my arm in a fir
m grip and marching me across the open cobbled area.

‘Devil spawn,’ I taunted.

His shoulders were shaking and I realised he was laughing at me. It only infuriated me more. ‘I hate you, you blood-sucking excuse for a man. You’re no better than a mosquito.’

I stomped angrily next to him. He was still laughing silently.

‘Aye. Feisty,’ he chuckled.

‘I’ll show you feisty.’ I stopped dead and stamped on his foot. It was like kicking a small truck. He didn’t even flinch. I, on the other hand, hoped I hadn’t chipped a bone.

‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’ I cried, hopping on one leg. ‘You broke my foot!’

‘If there was any breaking done, you did it to yourself,’ he pointed out, reasonably. ‘I did not ask you to stamp on me. Let me see.’ He bent over, his hands feeling my foot through the thick leather. I held on to his shoulder for support, trying to ignore the way his muscles flexed under my hands.

‘Wiggle your toes,’ he instructed, and I duly wiggled.

‘Nothing broken,’ he diagnosed, letting my foot gently down to the cobbles. He straightened up, and, r
eluctantly I let go of him. I caught a swift gleam of canines and knew my nearness had affected him, too. He swiftly retracted them, and I wondered exactly how much control he had over them.

‘Here, this will do.’ The sun was just rising on a light, clear
, crisp day as he pushed open a door at the top of a flight of wooden steps on the outside of a stone built building across the far side of the castle. I could smell horse.

‘We are above the forge,’ he ex
plained. ‘Stable boys and pages sleep here. It is safe enough: they have awakened and have started their day.’

The room was filled with bales of hay and rusty tools. I recognised
scythes, chisels and hammers and horse shoes littered the floor, resting amongst the loose, sweet-smelling straw. Clothing and blankets were rolled neatly and piled into a corner and I there were indentations in the straw where sleeping bodies had lain. He closed the door, plunging us into gloom.

Roman broke open
a fresh bale and spread the pile into a rough bed. Hands at his neck, he loosened his cloak and draped it over the dried grasses.

‘Will you sleep here, too,’ I asked. ‘If sleep is the right word.’

‘Close enough,’ he conceded, then added, ‘Next to you.’

My heart jumped into my throat at the thought. He mistook the thundering of my pulse in my neck. ‘I will not harm you,’ he repeated for the umpteenth time.

‘I know you won’t.’ And I did. Against all reason I trusted him to keep his word.

Taking off my wimple (what an ugly thing it was, too – didn’t do anything for me at all), I sank down onto the makeshift bed and he sat beside me. I envied
him his grace, watching his lithe movement out of the corner of my eye. He lay full length and closed his eyes. I took a moment to drink in his perfection: there was light enough for that, then I settled down, the smell of the hay mingling with his individual perfume, soothing and calming me. In spite of that, I was far from sleepy.

‘You need to rest,’ he urged, his eyes still closed. His lids were tinged with purple and his thick dark lashes rested against his cheeks. I listened in vain for his breathing. He la
y so still, and if I hadn’t known better I would have thought he was unconscious. Or dead.

‘What?’ His exasperation was clear.

‘Nothing.’ I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. His closeness unsettled me. I was acutely aware of his body lying next to mine. The memory of his hands on my skin kept intruding into my thoughts. Sounds filtered up from the forge below, the thick walls muffling the strike of metal on iron. Voices were muted by the timbers beneath us. A church bell struck. Then my stomach gurgled loudly and his eyes snapped open.

‘Forgive me. Although I am around humans nightly, I forget their needs. I will bring you food.’ He sat up in one fluid movement, and was out of the door before I could open my mouth to protest.
I sat up bewildered at the speed he could move, both physically and mentally. If he had been human we probably would have discussed the necessity of going back out to find something to eat, I would have argued that I could last until we woke, he would have countered that I would sleep better if I had something in my stomach… and so on. You just didn’t get the chance of that kind of interaction with Roman: he thought, then he acted, all at the speed of light.

I felt vulnerable without him. The soothing sounds of men at work took on a more sinister
quality. I scrambled to my feet, imagining the thud of boots on wood as my hiding place was discovered and dread filled me when I realised the footsteps were not my imagination.

The door slammed open and three burly men powered into the room. They were unarmed and looking at their hard faces I guessed they had no need to carry weapons. These m
en could take care of themselves in a fight and they probably wouldn’t need anything more than their fists to do so.

‘This her?’ the one in front asked.

A figure behind him stepped forward, peered at me short-sightedly and nodded. ‘That’s her alright.’ His voice was gruff. All three were clothed in belted tabards and chainmail hoods pushed back off their bare heads to drape around their necks. They smelled of leather and wood-smoke, overlain with male sweat and curbed violence.

All three stared at my hair.

‘I hopes for your sake you ain’t a nun,’ the one I assumed to be their leader growled roughly.

Eyes wide with fea
r, I said nothing. My legs trembled and I forced myself to stand firm.

‘Bring her,’ Gruff Voice commanded and the other two, one of them smiling lecherously, stepped forward, either side of me. The one on my right bent to retrieve my wimple.

‘Here,’ he said, not unkindly, pushing the material into my hands. ‘Put this on and make yourself more respectable.’

With visibly shaking fingers I slipped it over my hair and tried to get it to stay on my head, jamming the woven braid over my temples. It was wonky but at least it was on. The man on my left watched me avidly, his
dirty gaze latching on to the rise and fall of my breasts as I lifted my hands to fix the scarf. My skin crawled with distaste.

Then m
y arms were seized and fingers dug into my flesh. The man on my left extended his thumb to rub the side of my breast and I cried out in dismay and disgust. My eyes darted repeatedly to the door expecting, hoping, to see Roman, or even Viktor, but neither vampire appeared.

‘Where are you taking me?’ I squawked, my voice sounding thin and scared. ‘What have I
done?’ I didn’t need to ask – I already knew. Somehow they had found out that Godfrey’s death hadn’t been an accident. My only thought was to try to protect Roman: after all, he had only been protecting me. I gulped and steeled myself to lie. I would say I had killed Godfrey. I would have to come up with a believable story, but for the life of me I couldn’t think what that could be. Who would believe I could best a man well-versed in the art of fighting, and so much stronger than me?

Feet hardly touching the steps, I was dragged down the wooden staircase, the man in charge leading the way. We moved quickly and if I hadn’t been held up by the men on either side I would have fallen. The
one on the left leaned in close and the stench of rotten teeth made me gag.

‘Lord Brychan wants a word.’ I gave a disgusted cry when his tongue swiped up my cheek. The bile rose in my throat and I struggled not to be sick.

As we reached the cobbles I managed to persuade my feet to work, to stay upright. Conscious of people around me who had stopped to stare, I turned my head frantically searching for that one familiar face.

I found it! His paleness in the early morning light was shocking amongst the sea of grimy weather
-beaten faces. He was corpse-still, frozen in time and space, like a photograph. I looked over my shoulder trying to keep him in sight as I was dragged past. His eyes burned into mine with a terrible ferocity, and just as I was hustled out of sight, his lips moved. ‘I will come for you,’ he mouthed.

That’s what worried me. I didn’
t want him to risk himself for me. I had no doubts about his strength or swiftness, but he was improbably outnumbered. I didn’t realise, at that time, just how incredibly strong a vampire is – he could have decimated the castle in minutes, killing every living thing within its walls – so my main concern then was for his safety (and of course my own). I was preparing to be badly hurt. I wasn’t going to think about worse than hurt. One step at a time.

People crowded behind us as we hurried through the porch doors and into the great hall. Men, mostly, were at their breakfast. Plates of breads, cheeses, apples and cold cuts of meat were scat
tered over the tables and everyone helped themselves, grabbing a hunk of bread or a slice of meat, as they passed, strapping on tabards, or buckling belts. There was plenty of yawning, stretching and scratching as men prepared for another busy day, soldiering. A few women at the far end were gathering up the rushes that lay on the floor, brushes in hands. The shutters over the tiny windows had been thrown open and although light lanced through the hall in slanted shafts and columns, the room was gloomier than at night due to the narrowness of the windows and the lack of lit candles. The fire was out and the dais was empty.

Lord Brychan sat with his men, spooning honey onto a hunk of bread. The background hum of voices hushed as I was pulled through the hall and flung to the floor in front o
f him. Sharp pain flared in both knees as I hit the stone and I cried out at the sudden hurt.