Blood Shadows (26 page)

She marched up to her room, threw herself on the bed, and pounded the pillow as tears of frustration she could hardly explain rolled down her cheeks. Everything she knew about the males in the house of Jadon—about Napolean’s revered sentinels—told her that they were males of honor and character, that they respected women, fought for their people, and could be trusted…to the nth degree. But some subtle voice inside of her—something she couldn’t even pinpoint or explain—told her the exact opposite about Ramsey Olaru: He was the devil incarnate, and as much as he acted like he liked her, he didn’t. He didn’t respect her or even care about her. She didn’t know how she knew, or why she thought such a thing, when, after all, he was just acting like a horny male who probably hadn’t had sex in a decade or so—no blame in that—but the idea continued to niggle at her.

In fact, if she didn’t know better, she might conclude that the harsh, selfish warrior reminded her somehow of Dirk—her first real love and boyfriend—the one who had beat her senseless for so many years before Marquis finally put an end to it.

The thought bothered her.

A lot.

Ramsey couldn’t be anything like Dirk…
could he?

Maybe she was just out of practice. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Maybe she was just frustrated because Ramsey kept leaving every time they got together, and she hadn’t had a chance to get to know him yet.

Maybe she just wished she were woman enough to handle him.

“Kristina?” Braden Bratianu’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

Kristina turned around, surprised. She hadn’t heard him open the door, let alone enter the house and climb the stairs. Great vampire she was. “Oh, hey, Bray. How are you? When did you get home?”

The kid smiled, but he looked tired. “Just a couple minutes ago.”

“Is the conversion over?”

He shook his head sadly. “Nah, but I didn’t want to hang around anymore. Didn’t think I should leave you here alone.”

Kristina winced. If only he knew. “No worries. Hey, how’s Deanna? Was it…awful?”

Braden shrugged, then made a sympathetic gesture with his hands. “At first, it was pretty bad. I mean, we could hear her screaming all the way out in the hall, but then it got quiet. A little later, that is. And Kagen told me something important had happened—that Deanna was okay and he would give me the details later—but the important thing was, she wasn’t suffering anymore, and it looked like she would come through the conversion…eventually.”

Kristina looked surprised, but not just at the news: “And you came all the way home…just for me?”

He looked down at the floor and shifted his feet nervously. “Yeah, you know…I can’t explain it. Just a weird feeling. Like…I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Kristina flashed her best smile then. “Ah, Bray, you’re a good guy, you know that? I’m cool. But thanks.”

Braden frowned then, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Then why have you been crying?”

Kristina drew back. How did he know? “It’s nothing.”

“
Kristina.
”

The kid hated being treated, well, like a kid, and Kristina knew enough by now to realize that, young or not, Braden Bratianu had some amazing psychic powers. Maybe it was better to give him at least a watered-down version of the truth. “It’s just girl stuff, Braden. You know, every now and then we get a little down on ourselves, that’s all.”

Braden frowned with disapproval. “And you felt that way tonight?”

“Yeah…a little.”

“Why?”

Kristina sighed. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Braden rubbed his jaw, considering. “So…try me.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a lot of things: Nachari and Deanna, Nathaniel and Jocelyn, Marquis and Ciopori… Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m definitely glad about Nachari and Deanna; it’s just that sometimes I wonder if anyone decent will ever want me like that, ya know?” She sighed. “I mean, even if I wasn’t in such a horrible circumstance—you know, the only lioness in a den of lions, all of whom already have their own mates—there still wouldn’t be much of a future for me. I’ve just never had any luck with men.”

Braden shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true. Besides, you’re really pretty, I think.”

Kristina’s heart warmed. “Yeah, well, thank you, Bray; but there’s a lot you still have to learn about relationships. Sometimes being pretty doesn’t matter when you have horrible taste in men, and none of the good ones want you anyway.” She looked away. “I’m beginning to think that maybe no one ever will.”

Braden shook his head emphatically as if dismissing her argument on its face. “That will never happen to you, Kristina; you just have to have faith.”

She smiled then, genuinely appreciating the kid’s kindness. “Yeah, well—maybe you’re right: Someday my big strong lion will come prowling through the door, and we’ll all live happily forever…like in Pride Rock.”

Braden shifted his weight from foot to foot and angled his body toward hers. “Exactly. You should definitely keep hope.” He shrugged his tense shoulders, and then his burnt sienna eyes lit up with a spark. “Besides, it’s not all up to fate. I’m going to be very big and strong one day—like a lion—and I would want you. So, if no one comes along, then, yeah; I’ll mate you.”

Kristina opened her mouth to speak. She shut it, then opened it again, completely stunned. “I…uh…I…” She sat up on the bed and just stared at the clueless, but admittedly handsome, teenager, dumbfounded.

Where in the world had that come from?

Did Braden pity her that much?

Looking into his eyes she saw a lot of things—wisdom maybe, staunch determination, even conviction—but not pity.

He actually meant what he was saying.

At least right now, at fifteen years old.

“And what about your chosen
destiny
?” she finally asked.

The boy shrugged. “I dunno…I guess when she comes along, I can mate her, too.” He stood up very straight then. “But you would always be first.”

Kristina laughed out loud. “Wow, Braden, you do know how to charm a lady…and comfort a friend.” She rose from the bed, crossed the room, and gave him a big hug. “Thank you, Bray,” she whispered in his ear. “I believe that may be the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me. However polygamist and unappealing.”

“Cool,” he replied casually. And then the kid exhaled, as if his entire body had just relaxed, and he nonchalantly left the room.

seventeen

Deanna Dubois accepted Kagen’s hand, gripped it shakily, and rose from the gurney.

How are you feeling?
he asked her telepathically, using the common Silivasi-family bandwidth—he had long since taken a small amount of her blood in order to track her in the event that she got lost…or something worse happened.

She concentrated on her tired, worn-out, but magnificently enhanced body and nodded. “I’m fine.” She spoke out loud, then chuckled. “Not quite sure how to do that ESP thing yet.”

Kagen exhaled with tremendous relief. “It’ll come in time,” he reassured her. He took her vital signs for the second time and nodded in satisfaction. “How is your hearing? Your sense of smell?”

Deanna took a few steps around the clinic-room, gingerly testing her legs, and then she stopped to test her ears: She could hear voices—conversations—occurring in the waiting room, and more, so much more: squirrels chattering in nearby trees, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, a car’s wheels spinning over dry gravel…at least one mile away. She started. “Whoa—is it always this overwhelming?”

Nathaniel rose from his chair and glided across the room. “You will learn to turn it down; it really is as simple as focus. Place your attention elsewhere.”

She tried, with no luck.

Nathaniel smiled warmly. “Use a visual aid for now: Imagine the things you are hearing, then place them inside of a small box. Open the lid in increments, then close the lid in increments. In your mind, allow only as much as you want to hear to escape.”

Deanna practiced the exercise several times and practically laughed with excitement when it worked. “And smells?” she asked. “Can I use the same trick for smells?” Right now, the overwhelming scent of pine, juniper, and fir was practically assailing her nostrils.

“Indeed,” Nathaniel answered.

Kagen gathered up the medical supplies, stacked them on the gurney, and began to wheel it out of the room. “I can’t say that was an enjoyable experience for anyone,” he muttered, “but I am so glad it is over…and that it worked!” He turned to Deanna then and smiled warmly. “I imagine you would like some time alone…with Nachari.”

Everyone turned their attention to the peaceful-looking male still lying in the hospital bed; the one who had converted his
destiny
without even knowing it.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, now was it?

Nachari had been there for the entire eight-hour ordeal, not only lending his support in the only way he could, but crossing astral barriers in order to shield Deanna from the agony she had been experiencing, a feat that Kagen insisted had never been done in the entire history of the house of Jadon.

Deanna nodded solemnly. “Yes. I would like to clean up…and spend some time alone.”

Nathaniel declined his head respectfully. “Welcome to the family, Deanna.” As his body slowly shimmered out of view, he added, “Be well, sister.”

Kagen nodded in agreement with Nathaniel’s lingering words. The Healer looked exhausted, depleted, and basically spent. Clearly, he had nothing left to say: It was four AM, and even though he was a vampire and, most likely, accustomed to keeping late night hours, Deanna had no doubt that he would retire to his private quarters and sleep. Soundly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing that he understood.

He sighed. “We are always close by if you need us, and I have a data feed linked to Nachari’s monitors in my private quarters. Still, don’t hesitate to call me—or any of your brothers—should you need us for any reason.”

“I won’t,” Deanna said.

“Then I will do my best to stay away for a couple of hours.” He chuckled because they both knew that he never went more than a short period of time without checking on Nachari, no matter how hard he tried.

“I appreciate it,” Deanna said. And then she watched as he silently left the room.

Reaching both arms to the ceiling, she arched her back and stretched her shoulders; and then she bent down to touch her toes and stretch her legs. She padded to the open window and stared out at the picturesque night, noticing how vivid the stars appeared in the sky, how deeply blue the canvass reflected above her. She felt alive. Changed. Humbled.

As if something so much more transformative than the conversion of her body had occurred that night. Not that changing one’s species from human to vampire was not transformative enough, but what had happened in that room had defied all the limitations of her imagination, belief, and experience: She had lain in the presence of pure magic, unrestrained power…unyielding protection.

And it had come from
him
.

She turned around to stare at Nachari. How odd it seemed that so much took place around him—because of him—and yet, she had yet to meet him or hear his voice. She had never seen him smile. Or carried on a conversation with him. Or even had a formal introduction.

Yet, here she was…

Eternally bound to him by blood, DNA, and an ancient, unmistakable connection.

Sometimes she wondered; would she love him instantly? Would he love her beyond the common, universal love that a wizard innately felt for all living beings, beyond the inherent, programmed loved that flowed through his DNA? Would he
know
her? See her for who she truly was? Would he want her—not because he had to—but because he did?

And would she do the same?

She strolled across the room, marveling in the fluid, easy movement of her muscles, the graceful glide in her step that had not been there before—feeling almost invincible—and stopped at the side of his bed.

“Hi,” she whispered softly. It was always how she began her one-sided conversations with him—she didn’t know how else to begin. “Well, this was a hell of night, wasn’t it?” To her utter surprise, her eyes welled up with tears, and she tried to remember what Kagen had taught her about a vampire’s intrinsic connection to the earth, the effect strong emotion could have on the weather and other natural patterns around them. She didn’t know if it would happen that soon, or if she was even that strong of a vampire, but she closed her eyes, wiped the tears away, and waited until she could go on without crying.

“I did it,” she whispered. “I can’t believe the insanity that has become my life these last weeks—but I did it.” She reached down and tentatively took his hand in her own, wondering at how soft yet strong it was, how smooth and warm his skin felt against hers, how perfectly his fingers, nails, and bones were structured. His hands could have been used as a prototype for a clay praying statuette: Even now, she could picture them in perfect bronze. Or a golden inlay.

She could picture them in the flesh, so to speak, reaching out for her, touching her hair, her cheek, her waist…

Making love to her with all the grace and power that was embodied in his flawless form.

She shivered and started to release his hand—to step away—but she stopped herself.

No.
She could not keep her distance forever.

She could not continue to see him as a stranger when they were practically married—more than married really—connected at the very chains of their DNA. He lived inside of her now, even if he couldn’t stir from the bed.

Deanna swallowed her fear and sat down next to him, her hip brushing against his. She took a deep breath and turned to gaze at his face, looking closer than she had ever looked before. She reached out courageously and brushed a thick lock of hair behind his ear and smiled. “It’s not fair, you know—why men always get the best hair.” She imagined him smiling the way Jocelyn, Ciopori, and even Braden had described, a nearly stellar event that rivaled the moon and the stars in its brilliance…and beauty.