A Lady of the Realm (6 page)

By the time I made it out of the bathroom, Sasha was fully dressed. He didn’t do casual. Black dress pants with a silvery button down shirt and leather boots. His shoulder length hair combed back and tied at the nape of his neck. Disgusted with him, I glared around in general. He touched my arm as I passed him on the way to my backpack.

“My appointment’s been canceled. Would you like to take the Vette or the Porsche?”

“Neither,” I said firmly.

“I want to meet them,” he said. He avoided my eyes, dusting imaginary specks off his shirt.

“No, you don’t. They don’t like freaks, regardless of title.”

My mom was difficult. The gospel at the house was intolerance. The only good race was the human race. All others were bound for an eternity in a fiery pit. Regardless of her views, I felt a sort of obligation towards her.

“I’m coming.”

I heard the menacing tone he used. He’d given me an inch, no more. It was my turn to yield.

He cleared his throat. “You won’t be welcomed after you claim your title. You’re planning on telling her aren’t you?” he asked.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” I admitted.

This is what happens when you discuss things. Your own words come back to haunt you. My mom might not approve, but I wanted to let her know. She had a right, as the woman who gave birth to me, to know that I was alive. I was alive, healthy and relatively happy.

He’d have to come. “Fine. Do you have sunglasses? We’ll have to sneak you in.” Now I remember why I made that side note about friends being overrated.

“Pet, this is my Region. No one can keep me out if I chose to come in.” A pair of dark sunglasses materialized over his eyes. “But, I’ll humor you. Give me the address. A man of my position wouldn’t be caught dead on a train.” He smiled pleased; he’d once again won the battle of wills.

The ride wasn’t long with him in a good mood once more. I questioned him again about his brother, and he actually gave me more than monosyllable answers. They had some business to conclude before the start of the convention. Business, he wasn’t willing to share with me yet. I shrugged it off, not wanting to spoil the atmosphere.

Sasha parked the car across from my childhood home. His emotional aura intensified as he read the many signs on the front lawn. I didn’t want to comment.
I want my country back from the devils. A dead human is better than a live blood whore. Death is too good for the violet marauders. I’ll plant this boot up the fairy’s ass. We had it right with the burning stakes.
My parents had actually toned it down since the last time I was home.

The front of the house hadn’t changed much over the years. It was a small shotgun style home perfectly whitewashed and restored to its original condition. Rocking chairs littered the wraparound porch. The only modern touches were the windows and the front door.

The windows were modern and energy efficient with storm shutters that rolled down for hurricanes. The door was a massive dark oak with an inlay of a fleur-de-lis in light cherry wood. Mom was a huge Saints fan and loved the emblem that represented the team and the city. It was very New Orleanian.

“What?” I asked after seconds of nothing but silence.

“My father has given this community too much freedom. I do like the door,” he said, pointing towards the house.

“Yeah, I know. Mom loves the fleur-de-lis.”

It wasn’t only the door. The design topped every spoke of the black wrought iron fence. The pathway that led up to the front porch from the street was inlaid with them. Various sizes in different colored stones glistened with dew in the light.

I stepped out of the car. I wasn’t excited to be here. It was something I had to do before moving on. Grasping Sasha’s hand, I sprinted up the walkway tugging him along. I hoped no one noted his unusual gracefulness or the cherry red Porsche parked underneath the hanging limbs of the old oak tree. He rang the doorbell when we reached it, and I squeezed his hand.

“Please be nice, Sasha,” I implored.

He nuzzled the nape of my neck. “I’ll do my best, pet.”

Max, my stepdad, opened the door with a huge smile on his round, chubby face. He was dressed in his usual khaki shorts and white polo with his favorite penny loafers on. When he focused on Sasha, he choked.

His eyes popped wide open, sweat appearing on his forehead, beading and immediately trickling down his cheek. A dark red flush began to creep from his throat up his face. I glanced at Sasha. He had removed his glasses, and his eyes shone brilliant violet. He was smirking and the scar that ran across his left cheek twitched. I elbowed him harshly in the ribs and turned back towards Max.

“Max, you all right?” A dumb question since I could see he wasn’t. He was wheezing for breath as he clutched his chest. I pounded on his back, steering him into the foyer. He sat down rigidly, fumbling in his pocket until he came out with a handkerchief, which he promptly used to mop his forehead.

“I think … I … I just need a moment, Beth dear. It’s good to see you.” He finally blurted out, his eyes dancing between Sasha and me.

Mom rushed around the corner. She gasped and Max held a hand out, waving it around anxiously.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay,” he said, fighting for air. I ran into the kitchen, bringing back a glass of water. Max took it, his hand shaking violently. I waited for him to swallow, suddenly aware of how old he looked. Surely so many wrinkles didn’t happen overnight.

Mom came forward and kissed both of my cheeks.

“I wanted to surprise you guys,” I said.

Mom gave an unladylike snort under her breath. “We’re surprised honey, believe me, we’re surprised,” she said.

I began with the introductions. “Mom, Max, this is my friend, Sasha. Sasha these are my parents, Max and Betty.”

Sasha stepped forward, taking my mom’s hand and bringing it to his lips. He grasped my dad’s hand and shook it heartily. Sasha’s energy spiked at least five degrees when they shook hands.

“It’s been a long time, Maxwell,” Sasha’s accent was thick. He spoke down to my father, who was clutching the handkerchief as if it could ward off evil.

“You know each other?” My tone was acidic.

Most citizens in Old World communities wouldn’t know who ruled their Regions. The communities didn’t have communication with the outside world. They didn’t have TV or news coverage or internet or anything that might pollute the minds of the young. They had leaders who dealt with the freaks.

I knew Max taught multicultural studies in the community higher learning centers. His lectures leaned on the side of death to all non-humans. He was a popular speaker. Mom slapped me straight at the age of fifteen when I told Max he was an asshole for keeping me in the Middle Ages.

My parents were a united front when it came to denying me information about my biological father. I didn’t even know his name, just that he was a DeDe. I was told my witch bloodline was wicked, and I should repent if my soul was to be saved. My mom had repented, after giving birth to me. Talk about timing. She wanted me to follow her example.

I found out about my dad through accident. Nola, a semi witch, had let it slip years ago at a typical catfight in the schoolyard. After a surprisingly good left hook followed by a hard jab, Nola was on the ground. Blood and sweat dripped on her white school shirt.

She wiped her bloody mouth as I stood over her ready to knock her back down if she so much as thought about getting up. Yeah, I’d always had a temper. She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Lady DeDe?"

My parents didn’t know how I was getting my information. If they had, I suspected Nola would’ve ended up missing. Nola’s grandmother had schooled her in the old ways of the witch. Nola knew who I was because she belonged to me. Nola would share what she learned, and I would question my parents. Every day. Usually with the same results.

They denied everything or flat out refused to talk to me. The beatings I received for my sassy mouth weren’t enough to deter my single-minded obsession. I didn’t care when they called me a stupid little girl. I ignored them when I graduated to stupid girl. I vowed to leave when they said I’d die a stupid whore.

“Don’t kill the ladies, Lord Alek. They know nothing.” Max mumbled hastily against his handkerchief.

“Now you talk?” I asked. I hid the smile behind my hand.

“A lie. Your witch wife knows all.”

It was about time my parents had a put—down. Sasha morphed into the monster of legends. His eyes glowed violet as he stared at Max. The energy in the room bristled with anger.

“Betty is born again, she renounced her House,” Max didn’t bother to refute the accusation.

“How?” Sasha asked.

He gestured wildly in my direction.

“She’s mine.” My mom moved between the men. Her hands were on her hips, her chin held high, and she looked directly at Sasha with scorn. “I’m the one you want to question, Max is just her stepfather.”

My mom was seething. I couldn’t blame her. I knew their views on the other races. I’d just brought the devil incarnate to their house with a smile.

“Where’s her father?” Sasha asked.

His cold words carried in the air. I’d never heard him like this. I’d never seen him act so inhuman. My hormones hit first gear. Jeesh. I took a step back. This wasn’t the time for me to fantasize about the dangerous elf.

“It was a one-night stand Lord Alek. I never got his name. Imagine my surprise when she came out with DeDe blood. I renounced my House and moved here to keep my only daughter safe. She wasn’t meant to find out any of it.”

“Please, Lord Alek, we’re willing to fully cooperate with you,” Max said.

“
You
care for the
witch
?” Sasha asked.

Human emotions and motives were hard for some of the races. Fear, anger, and lust were no—brainers. But the complicated stuff, like empathy and love, where difficult for many to understand.

“More than my own life.” Max’s gravelly voice whispered.

Sasha stood rigidly for several seconds as the sweat trickled down Max’s face. He nodded to himself and pulled out his phone. He didn’t bother raising his head as he replied in an incredibly cordial tone.

“This is how we’re going to handle our unexpected reunion. We’re going to have a real good time today. You,” he stabbed a finger at Max’s chest, “will behave as if all is perfect in the world. At some time during the day, you’ll take us to your study. We’ll resume our conversation there.”

Max nodded. Grateful for whatever mercy he received. Mom tsked.

“You’ll not forget your manners when in my house. Titles can be checked at the door.”

Sasha stopped fiddling with his phone. His head came up, and he smiled. “Pardon my rudeness, ma’am,” he said.

She humphed, “I’ll make a pot of coffee and whip up a salad. Beth, come help with the crawfish, and Max stop blubbering; if Lord Alek were upset, we’d be dead.”

“Thanks,” I whispered to Sasha when I kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I want answers while we’re here. Work on that.”

Today was going better than I expected. My mom was in her own happy little world. Max, the color returning to his cheeks, was subdued and quiet. I would get some answers and enjoy a good meal without throwing one item.

“Your will is my command,” Sasha said.

*

Four hours later, we were back at his place. Alone. We didn’t tarry at my parent’s home more than necessary. I ate crawfish and Bananas Foster while mom and Max spilled the beans. I didn’t get much more information than I already knew. I was the DeDe heir, entitled to an infamous title and lots of revenue from the leading witch House. The same House my mom renounced.

Mom turned on the waterspout when I told her I was going before the council to make my claim. Luckily, she’d used the method one too many times for it to be effective. I simply handed her a tissue and told her to keep it.

“Sasha … I feel … odd,” I said.

I ran my fingers through his golden red hair. His proximity, the vivid violet orbs staring at me, made me feel strange.

He knew what I was referring to. I could feel, sense, his awareness of our new intimacy. Never before had a man affected me as he did. Hell, I always could feel the emotions of the men I fucked. It was one of my best gifts, the ability to sense, to know, what the men wanted. But, I never cared. I used men. I didn’t care about men.

“It might be love,” he said quietly.

“Do be serious,” I said under my breath.

I couldn’t put my finger on it. It all happened after we joined, after our bodies became one. I couldn’t disentangle his feelings from mine. I pushed, prodded, tried to slither and separate, but I couldn’t do it.

I ran a hand up his chest, circling his nipple as it tightened. I snorted at the idea of love. He didn’t know the meaning of love. I didn’t know the meaning of love. Love was some selfless emotion humans imagined. Nothing about my relationship with the elf was selfless. If he couldn’t help me, if he couldn’t use me, I wouldn’t be here.

“I thought you said you had good instincts,” he said, his hand cradling my chin.

“I do,” I said with a smile. I bent forward to brush my lips against his. He thawed, his breathing coming faster.

“Minx…”

I pushed him down roughly and climbed on top, slumping forward to meet his intense gaze. Running a finger down his cheek, I traced his scar and gave his lips a light kiss.

Our clothes were discarded in fifteen seconds flat. A feat I was sure never to replicate again. He flipped me over, looming above me in the night as I scooted up on the covers. My stall tactics didn’t work. He pulled me back down, closer, and planted fiery kisses on my breast. He became rougher pinching my nipples between his fingers. His hands moved lower on my body, squeezing and teasing the flesh in sync with each fierce bite upon my breasts. I breathed in deeply, enthralled once again with the scent of burnt sandalwood and something I couldn’t readily name.

Damn me.
The thought was unbidden and savage. I must have moaned something aloud because he grabbed a fistful of hair in one hand and made me look into his eyes. They were black, bottomless orbs. Anger, blind hunger, blazed from their depths and scorched my soul.