A Hunger Like No Other (28 page)

Was she jealous of the time Cassandra had spent with him?

“Look, Cassandra, I don't want to fight with you. And, yes, I do want to leave, but it would take a life-or-death situation for me to trust you with my escape.”

“I would vow no' to double-cross you.” She glanced down, then back. They both heard someone approaching. “You canna win here, vampire. You'll never be queen of our clan.”

“Apparently I already am.”

“A true queen would be able to walk in the sun with her king.” Cassandra's smile was too pleasant. “And give him
heirs.”

Emma didn't come close to stifling a wince.

C
assandra passing time with the vampire boded ill.

Bowe vaulted to the roof to move between them, staring Cassandra down with a menacing expression. “What are you speaking about?”

Cassandra said airily, “Girl stuff.”

That made Emmaline's face pale.

“I've discussed this with you once already. You must accept what's happened.” Bowe wasn't known among the clan for his subtlety, and certainly not for taking the time to explain things twice. If Cassandra had hurt the situation between Lachlain and Emma, Bowe would do his best to rectify it. He crossed to just inches in front of her. “Go away, Cass. I'll speak to her alone.”

She put her shoulders back. “No, I doona—”

He made his eyes turn as he growled low. He would do whatever was in his power to prevent his oldest friend from becoming like him, including hurling Cass from the roof. “Leave us.”

“I was through here anyway,” she said evenly, though she was backing swiftly away. “I'll just go visit with Lachlain while you two chat.”

Bowe was relieved to see that the vampire didn't like that idea at all, her brows drawn together, her eyes flickering. He
thought he'd never been so gladdened to see a woman's distress. Though he willed her to protest, Emmaline said nothing.

Before she dropped down, Cassandra called over her shoulder, “Remember my offer, vampire.”

When they were alone, Bowe asked, “And what did she offer?”

“It doesn't concern you.”

He gave her a threatening look as well.

But she just shrugged. “That has no effect on me. I know you can't hurt me or Lachlain would kick your ass six ways to Sunday. 'Kay?”

“You speak strangely.”

“If I had a dollar . . .” she said with a sigh.

Why had Lachlain made this creature sound
retiring
when he'd described her? “So if you will no' tell me whatever malicious seed Cassandra has planted, then do me the courtesy of walking with me awhile.”

“No, thanks. I'm busy.”

“Busy pacing a folly roof on a foggy night, ranting to yourself?”

“You've a keen gift for observation,” she said, turning from him.

“Speaking of gifts—one arrived for you during the day.”

She froze, turned slowly, and tilted her head at him. “A present?”

He barely concealed his surprise. Damn if the Valkyrie weren't as acquisitive as the Lore said.

“If you take a turn with me and listen, I'll show it to you.”

She nibbled her red bottom lip, fang showing, reminding him that she was still a vampire. The only other times he'd spoken with a vampire had been when he was torturing one.

“Okay. Five minutes. But only so I can see the gift.”

He reached out to help her down, but in one of the strangest movements he'd ever seen, she stepped from the roof, her next footfall as regular as if her last hadn't been fifteen feet above, but fifteen inches.

He stared, shook himself, then followed. As he started toward the stables, he began, “I ken you're angry with Lachlain. Is it more for lying to you, or because you found out what you are?”

“Not what I
am
, but what you people seem to
think
I am. As for my anger, split it down the middle—call it a day.”

“He lied for a reason. He is no' a dishonest man, in fact is known as the opposite, but he'll go to new lengths to keep you with him. And you
are
his mate.”

“Mate, schmate. I'm tired of hearing that!”

“I've warned Lachlain no' to be stubborn or stupid, and it sounds like I'll have to warn you as well.”

Her eyes fired silver with anger. Undaunted, he took her elbow and steered her into the stables. “Let's cut through the details and get to the meat. He's no' letting you go. Your family is going to want you back. There will be conflict. Unless you can convince them no' to fight.”

“You don't get it!” she snapped. “I won't have this problem because I don't want him!” She flung herself free. “And the next Lykae that grabs my elbow to steer loses a paw.”

She strode ahead of him down the lengthy run of stalls. Without any indication from him, she stopped and did a double take at the mare that had arrived this morning, then crossed over to gently run her hands down her muzzle. Strange that Emmaline would gravitate to the one that was hers alone. Damn grasping Valkyrie.

Her gaze flickered over the horse and she murmured,
“Hey, gorgeous,” and “Aren't you a sweetie?” She looked as if she was in love.

Irrationally feeling as though he was interrupting, Bowe continued, “I thought vampires had an innate ability to cut through bullshite. He's no' letting you go. He's a wealthy, attractive male, a
king,
who would spoil and protect you for the rest of your life. All you have to do is accept it.”

“Look, Bowen, I'm in no way a realist.” She'd leaned back against the stall gate with a knee drawn up, as if she'd been here a thousand times. Her arm curled under the mare's neck to pet the side of her face. “I can pretend with the best of them. I can pretend Lachlain's dishonesty didn't hurt. I can pretend I like it better here than I do in my own home and my own country, and I can even ignore the fact that his age is a
multiple
of mine. But I can't pretend that his entire clan won't hate me or that Lykae won't keep attacking me. And I can't pretend that my family will accept him, because they never will, and I would be forced to choose anyway.”

As she'd spoken, her expression had slowly ebbed from furious to stark. She wasn't telling him half of it. Her eyes were haunted. Lachlain's mate was spooked. Badly.

Just as Mariah had looked.

“What else is happening? Something else is upsetting you.”

“It's just . . . everything's . . .
overwhelming.”
She whispered the last.

“What is?”

She shook her head and her face turned hard. “I'm a private person and I don't even know you. Not to mention that you're Lachlain's best friend. I'm not telling you anything.”

“You can trust me. I will no' tell him anything you doona want me to.”

“I'm sorry, but right now Lykae are not exactly in my to-be-trusted column. What with all the lies and those pesky stranglings.”

He knew she was referring to Lachlain's actions as well, but said, “You held your own against Cassandra.”

“I don't want to live in a place where I have to
hold my own.
I don't want to live in a place where I'm attacked
or
bullied.”

Bowe sank down onto a bale of hay. “Lachlain canna find his brother. Cassandra is proving to be like a gnat in his ear. His leg ails him, and he can scarcely keep up with this new time he's been thrown into. Worse for him is that he canna make you happy.” He snared a piece of straw out and chewed the end, offering her another.

She glared. “I don't masticate, thank you.”

He shrugged. “I can take care of Cass. His leg will heal, he'll acclimate, and eventually Garreth will turn up. But none of this will matter if he canna make you content here.”

She turned to touch her forehead to the mare's and said in a soft voice, “I don't like that he hurts or is worried, but I can't simply tell myself to be happy here. It's just got to come.”

“It will if you give it time. Once he can shake off more of his past . . . troubles, you will find he's a good man.”

“I don't seem to have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“No' at all. So in the meantime, do you want me to tell you how to manage him better?”

“Manage
him?” she asked, facing him.

“Aye.”

She blinked at him. “I might have to hear this.”

“Understand that anything he does, he does with the ultimate goal of your happiness.” She parted her lips to disagree, but he spoke over her: “So if you are displeased with any measure he takes toward that end, you need only to voice that it's made you
un
happy.”

When she frowned, he asked, “How'd his lie make you feel?”

She looked down at the toe of her boot drawing circles in the packed dirt, and finally mumbled, “Betrayed. Hurt.”

“Think about this for a moment. How do you think he'd react if you simply told him that he'd hurt you?”

She lifted her head, staring at him for many moments.

He rose, dusted off his pants, then turned for the door, only pausing to say over his shoulder, “By the way, that's your horse.”

Before he faced forward, he saw the mare nose her hair and nearly knock her down.

*  *  *

“You will no' embrace an old friend?” Cassandra asked with a pout.

“If she were content to remain as such,” Lachlain answered impatiently. How long was Bowe going to be? He trusted Bowe with his life, and if pressed, he'd say even with something so important as his mate, but he was still restless waiting here.

Her arms were still opened. “It's been centuries, Lachlain.”

“If Emma walked in and saw us ‘embracing,' how do you think that would make her feel?”

Her arms dropped and she sank into a chair across from the desk. “No' like you think. Because
she
feels nothing for you. While I mourned your death as a widow would.”

“A waste of time on your part. Even if I'd died.”

“Bowe explained where you've been and what she is. She has no place here. You've been unwell and canna see how wrong this is.”

He couldn't even bring himself to anger, because he'd never been surer of anything than he was of Emma. He realized now that the reasons he'd continued to befriend Cassandra over the years no longer applied.

In the past, he'd felt sorry for her. Like him, she'd gone centuries without finding her mate, and he'd thought that, like him, she reacted to the lack in an unhealthy way. But whereas he'd sought out enemies, eagerly taking the forefront of every war and volunteering for any dangerous task abroad where he might stumble upon his mate, Cassandra had seized on him.

“Who was there for you when your da died? Your mother? Who helped you search for Heath?”

He exhaled wearily. “The entire clan.”

Her lips thinned, then she seemed to rally. “We have a history together. We are of the same
species.
Lachlain, what would your parents have thought about you taking a vampire as mate? And Garreth? Think of the shame this will bring him.”

Truthfully, Lachlain didn't know how his parents would have reacted. Before they'd died, they'd regretted that their sons had been unable to find their mates for so long, and had understood Lachlain's, the oldest son's, more obvious pain. But they'd also abhorred vampires—thought them malicious parasites and a blight on the earth. He couldn't say for Garreth, either. So instead, he answered, “I look forward to the day when you find your mate and you can think back on this and truly comprehend how ridiculous I find your words.”

Bowe ambled through the doorway then. At Lachlain's raised eyebrows, Bowe shrugged, as though the conversation with Emma hadn't been overly encouraging.

Harmann bustled in just after, perspiring, hectic, the complete opposite of cool, uncaring Bowe. “The staff is departing. I just wanted to check to see if you need anything else before I leave.”

“We'll be fine.”

“If you need anything, my number is programmed into the phone.”

“As if that helps me,” Lachlain muttered. He thought he'd been doing so well with learning the tools of this time, but the sheer amount of technology was daunting.

“Oh, and the packages that arrived today for your queen have been unpacked.”

“Harmann, go,” he ordered. Harmann looked as if he was ready to pass out.

He cast Lachlain a grateful expression and strode out the door.

“Gifts will no' sway her,” Cassandra pointed out in a churlish tone.

“I disagree,” Bowe answered, pulling a red apple from his jacket pocket and shining it on his shirt. “I've learned the
queen
does so like her gifts.”

When Lachlain raised his eyebrows, Bowe said, “Showed her the horse. Regret stealing your thunder.” He displayed no sign of regret.