Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander (32 page)

“Yes,” Ryan said with a lightness she did not feel, “I appreciate your attention to detail.”

Aeron smiled his shark’s smile, his blue eyes examining her lithe form. “You could,” he suggested mildly, “simply give up and spare yourself a defeat.”

Ryan smiled at his arrogance. “And then what?”

Aeron’s eyes gleamed. “You could become my Second.”

“Hmm,” Ryan said, “A most attractive offer,” she said, indicating it was anything but. “But I think not.”

Aeron shrugged. “I expected as much,” he said without disappointment, “Which is why I went to the trouble of having these made.”

Ryan was curious in spite of herself. She moved to the case he held open before her. Two swords, both with a strange, gray-blue cast, lie on the bed of crushed velvet. She took one, wondering if she could decapitate him before he dropped the case. Instead she turned and swung the sword experimentally. It was heavy, but well-balanced. Its heft might favor Aeron, but its weight was not such that it would affect Ryan’s speed.

“Tantalum carbide graphite,” Aeron said, taking his own sword. “A composite material provided by the good scientists at Los Alamos Laboratory in New Mexico.” As she looked askance at him, he elaborated.

“You are not the only one who poaches upon the US Department of Defense.”

Ryan swung the sword again. “Yes, they do continually come up with new and innovative ways to destroy themselves.” She swung the sword in an arc, then slashed downward. It split the huge oak table in two with ease.

“One of the hardest materials known to mankind,” Aeron said, grinning wickedly. “I didn’t want our little game to end too soon.”

Ryan gazed at the deadly sharp edge of the blade. “Then let us not delay its commencement.”

Aeron smiled with obvious pleasure, then struck with lightning speed, delivering a blow that should have sliced the girl in two.

But it did not, because Ryan was no longer standing there. She was already moving with her own preternatural speed, delivering a devastating, slashing counter.

Aeron brought his sword up, blocking what should have been a mortal blow. Ryan quickly disengaged, stepping rearward, analyzing her opponent.

She had fought endless battles, and her greatest opponent had been her own father. But she had a mental link with Victor that allowed her to anticipate almost every move. Victor was the stronger, but Ryan’s skill had been equal, and her speed perhaps greater. It had created a balance between them that had resulted in battles of unmatched ferocity, with neither truly ever able to claim victory.

Ryan was far less certain of this outcome. She had never battled Aeron before, at least not with a sword. She knew that there was a streak of violent brutality in him that was unpredictable and dangerous. She found herself wishing for the deadly, quick beauty of the Katana.

But she had been born to the English broadsword, which quickly became evident when she launched a brilliant attack that Aeron barely deflected, backing six steps to do so.

He smiled, pleased, hefting the weight of his sword. “So, little one, you truly are the swordsman I have heard so much about.”

Ryan felt his influence cloud her mind, felt the mocking endearment pull her into a world that existed centuries before. She shook her head, clearing the images from her mind.

“I think that killing has become so impersonal,” Ryan said conversationally, shifting her footwork for his imminent attack, “I have always felt a sword delivered a much more intimate message.”

Aeron smiled, then again struck like lightning. It was Ryan’s turn to give ground, her sword flashing to meet the slashing arc of metal. When she had relinquished as much ground as she would, she locked swords with him, bringing him to an abrupt halt within inches of her face.

The two swords hovered between them, and Aeron took the opportunity to let his gaze linger on her lips. “So are intimacy and violence always so interrelated with you?”

Ryan stared back, amused. “That is your quality, not mine.”

Aeron returned the smile, his teeth flashing in the shadows. “Don’t be so sure, little one. You have quite a reputation yourself.”

Ryan stepped sideways and disengaged, using Aeron’s power against him as he was forced to step forward to maintain his balance. He still effortlessly blocked her next arcing attack, and she again danced out of the way of his slicing counter.

The two circled one another, mentally and physically testing the other. Neither appeared fatigued in any way, and it seemed that this contest could go on indefinitely.

Aeron struck again, delivering a devastating series of blows that Ryan countered with a dazzling defense. At the end of the series, Aeron sought to engage Ryan’s sword, but she slipped away, dancing a few feet beyond the reach of his sword. She grabbed a tapestry, flinging it upon his weapon, but he sliced through it without effort, slashing back at her with immense force. She again was just beyond the flashing blade, but this time she tumbled backward onto a couch as it caught her at the back of the knees.

Aeron’s sword was there and Ryan parried three times before the swords locked, and they were again face-to-face, this time with Ryan in a more vulnerable position on the settee.

“So do you remember this place, little one?” Aeron whispered through clenched teeth. “I believe you were sitting right there when you gave your life’s blood to me.”

This comment angered Ryan. “I did not give you anything,” she said, her own teeth clenched. “You may have taken it by force, but I offered you nothing.”

“Hmm,” Aeron said, examining her golden eyelashes and the high color tracing the line of her cheekbones. “Surely you realize by now that those subtleties are meaningless amongst our Kind.”

This comment infuriated Ryan and she found the strength to push him back, striking at him once more. He easily parried, amused by her fury. It did make her noticeably stronger, he noted. An interesting phenomenon.

Ryan stood, her sword extended to him in challenge. She was up to his psychological manipulation, and could return it in kind. “You offered me your blood,” she reminded him, “you could simply allow my weapon to find its mark.”

The tip of her sword hovered near the veins in his throat. Aeron was amused and aroused, but undeceived. “An interesting proposal. I somehow think the bloodletting would not be what I had in mind.”

He smashed her sword away, again going on the attack, and Ryan yet again danced out of his reach, seeking an opening. She shifted her footwork, preparing to launch another flurry of blows, when a strange look passed over her features. The virus in her system stirred and a wave of dizziness overtook her.

Aeron smiled.

In an instant he lunged forward. Ryan brought her sword up with blinding speed, parrying the blow, as well as the multitude that followed it. She stepped backward with impossible grace, countering each slashing attack as she was pushed rearward.

But the outcome of the series was inevitable, and had not been in question from the very first strike. For in that momentary weakness, Aeron had gained a fraction of a second, and that was all he needed. In each subsequent paired move, the consequence of that lost instant was mirrored and magnified until culminating in the very last blow in which he drove his sword through her midsection.

Ryan stared into his ice-blue eyes which were filled with a malevolent amusement. She glanced down at the sword which was buried up to its hilt just beneath her ribs, impaling her in exactly the spot that had never healed, pinning her to the wall behind her. He had trapped the wrist of her sword hand against the wall with his free hand.

Aeron let his eyes drift downward to the blood that began to stream from the wound. He very slowly, excruciatingly, twisted the blade, inflicting even greater damage to the wounded area, increasing the blood flow.

Ryan closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was again staring into ice blue eyes. She gathered her strength.

“That,” she said evenly, “was cheating.”

Aeron could no longer control himself. His desire for this one was all-consuming. He sliced into her neck with his perfect teeth, drawing her blood into his body even as it flowed downward from the wound he had inflicted.

The intensity of contact was agonizing, and Ryan’s vision went white, then black. It was a torturous combination of pleasure and pain. The bond with Aeron was immediate and unbearably intense.

Aeron’s heart staggered at the powerful onslaught, but even so it seemed he could not get enough of this girl, could not get close enough to her. He could take every fiery drop of her blood and he would still desire her in ways he could not fathom.

It took every ounce of his willpower to pull away. She looked at him, the deepening languor from his feeding and her injuries evident in her eyes. But even then, remarkably that spark of ever-present amusement was evident in their blue-green depths. He grasped the hilt of the sword and yanked it from her torso, causing her to fall forward onto him, grasping him for support. He lifted her into his arms, surprised at how light she was, and placed his lips on the wound from the sword.

He carried her to the sofa, the place he had seduced her so many centuries before, and was instantly upon her again. His teeth returned to the artery in her neck, taking the blood that flowed with such force. He was astonished at how powerful she had become in the few centuries that had passed, realizing that this ‘boy’ had become a magnificent creature.

She no longer fought him, relaxing against her will, and he held her less harshly, although no less tightly. Her hand actually curled onto his, and in her dazed state, she clutched his hand like a child. He gazed at the hand, feeling the oddest mixture of emotions.

He wanted to maim her, he wanted to consume her, he wanted to utterly destroy her.

He also wanted to own her, to protect her, to utterly possess her. And more than anything, he wanted her to want him.

He leaned away, and with his perfect fingernails gashed his own neck. The blood began to flow down his collarbone, then down his chest, seeping into his white shirt. The girl opened her eyes as he watched her intently.

Ryan took one look at the blood and moaned in anguish, turning away. She could not do this. She could not take this man’s blood, knowing that if she did a part of her would be lost forever.

Aeron’s eyes gleamed. The girl did want him. As desperately as he wanted her. He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

“What’s the matter, little one?” he whispered.

Ryan shook her head, trying to get him out of her mind. There was no hope for her if she allowed him into her body.

“Are you afraid of what you might find?”

Ryan felt utter hopelessness. She could not fight the desire that raged through her, did not even want to.

“I know what I will find,” she said, inevitability in her tone.

She leaned upward and placed her lips on the stream of blood, following it to the open vein. Aeron shifted, helping her into position, and gasped when her lips touched his skin.

The pleasure was agonizing, her feeding a torment and dark gift. She drew the blood from his bursting veins, pulling it into her body with a hunger that matched his own. He could feel her heart drive his as the two organs fought for dominance and control.

As lost as he was to her in that moment, he was not going to allow her any advantage. As she fed from his neck, he turned her wrist and sliced into it, completing the union. The blood flowed from one to another, and then back again, finding its own dark rhythm and pulse.

And the mental bond was extraordinary. Aeron could see her entire life, laid before him in a manner that went far beyond mere intimacy. And she could see his, every nuance, every detail. There was no way to hide, no manner in which they could conceal themselves from the other. It was too much to process, a dizzying array of centuries flashing across the mental landscape in seconds.

Ryan was suddenly in the blood-red netherworld, as was Aeron. They stood face-to-face, Aeron holding her tightly in his arms lest she try to escape.

But she did not try to escape. Aeron looked down at her, then at the beckoning blackness beyond the edge.

“So what now?” Ryan asked, glancing at the blackness as if mildly entertained. “Do you intend to fling me off into the darkness?”

She seemed amused at this prospect, and he gazed down at her, remembering the intoxicating invitation she had given him centuries before, balancing playfully on the edge of death.