Darkest Risings (8 page)

Ebony
handed Marcus to Ashe, and Ashe kissed her on the cheek.

“Welcome
to our home, Wilhemina. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask,” Ashe
said.

“Come.
I’ll show you to your room.” Ebony took Wilhemina by the arm and led her toward
the stairs.

“I’ll
see you two later. I’m going to find my husband. It was good to meet you
Wilhemina,” Avril called out.

“You
too,” she answered.

“I’ll
bring the bags up on my way to take Marcus to the nursery for his nap.” Ashe
got the suitcases and followed them up the stairs.

A
half hour later, Wilhemina was expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment.
Her room was bigger than her whole apartment had been. And the bathroom was
spectacular complete with a Jacuzzi tub big enough to swim in. The rich, deep
shades of corals on the walls and in the luxurious drapes, rugs, and bed set
were something she’d expect to see in
Better
Homes and Gardens
. This whole place could be featured in the magazine for
that matter.

Before
Ebony had left, she’d informed her that dinner would be served around six. With
a few hours to kill, she planned to take a long soak in that fabulous tub,
unpack, and jot down some ideas for her story.

* * * *

Trinidad
sat in front of the blazing fire. The confrontation with Malachi and the
Aleksandrovs had been disappointing and had come quicker than he’d anticipated.
However, it hadn’t all been a one-sided victory. His retaliation had been swift
and brutal.

He
didn’t like surprises. He had a carefully laid out, fool-proof plan in his
brain. The problem was getting those inferior, no-brained drifters to carry it
out.

He’d
healed from the flames Aiston had bathed him in. They thought they’d killed
him, disposed of him as if he were nothing more than a bothersome gnat, but
he’d taken great joy in proving them wrong. The fiery inferno that had nearly
melted all of the skin from his body hadn’t come without long-term, agonizing
pain. Such an encounter with fire would have decimated any other vampire, but
he wasn’t just any vampyre.

Once
he’d recovered, he’d found the Aleksandrovs’ precious sister, Estril, and had
delivered her head to their doorstep. He smiled as he steepled his fingers in
front of him before tapping the tips together in a rhythm only he could
understand, a rhythm only his brain moved to. Now the Aleksandrovs were getting
a picture of who and what they were dealing with. He was an ancient, a true
blood, and he would not be conquered by his half-brother’s sniveling spawn.

He
should have been king of the vampyres. He was the first born true blood, and he
would not rest until he had what should have been his from the start. Ragnor
was nothing, a child born to a faithless pig of a father, a father that
Trinidad refused to acknowledge as his own. Nonetheless, the birthright that
had been bestowed upon Ragnor should have been his. He would be king of the
vampyres, and he had no problem killing Ragnor, his offspring, and any others
who dared get in his way to achieve that goal.

Soon,
Ragnor would come out of hiding. He was sure of it. No one had ever seen the
great Ragnor, and that was how he’d become a legend. But Trinidad knew the
reason behind Ragnor’s absence. His abscondence was due to his precious
Marilena’s abandonment. Trinidad had kept tabs on him until that point. After
that, it was as if he’d disappeared from the face of the Earth. Not many were
old enough to have been around before Ragnor’s disappearance. Those who had
been were long dead…except him.

The
war was only beginning, and he was determined to win no matter the cost.

* * * *

Aldin
had been in an unusually pissy mood even for him. Last night had been
challenging to say the least. First, he’d made an ass of himself with Alaina
then…then there had been Wilhemina. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the
leather chair that sat in front of the various computer monitors arranged on
top of his desk.

His
bedroom was his sanctuary. While most of his family and Alaina had been inside,
none
hung out
here. They were all
well aware that this was his private place. His space to be alone. His area of
escape from the world and everyone in it.

How
in the hell had he made such a colossal mistake? He hadn’t taken a virgin since
he was young. He snorted. Young was something he didn’t remember.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t shake the image of Wilhemina from his mind. Gray
eyes framed with thick lashes and long auburn hair taunted him, reminded him of
what had happened at Drake’s. He’d been an ass. So consumed by the feelings he
thought he had for Alaina, and her rejection of him, he hadn’t paid enough
attention to see that Wilhemina was an innocent.

He’d
picked up on the naivety, but he’d dismissed it as nothing more than a woman’s
game of seduction. Had he not had his head up his ass, he would have realized
from the start that she was not what she’d portrayed. She’d acted confident,
experienced. Now reflecting on the moment, it was obvious that’s all it had
been…an act. The way she’d blushed. Her split-second hesitation when he’d
touched her. The way she’d quivered when he kissed her. If all of those things
hadn’t been enough, the way her untried body had torn when he’d taken her
sealed the deal with a resounding smack like a sledge hammer to the face.

Yet
none of that could answer the question that played over and over in his mind.
Why? Why had she flirted with him? Why had she danced so provocatively with
him? Why had she invited him to touch her, kiss her? And why had she responded
to him like she had? Why him?

He
grunted. When he’d pinned her against the wall and had finally allowed her to
touch him, he’d been surprised by the way he’d caught fire from the simple
splay of her fingers on his chest, down his abdomen, on his ass. How had she, a
virgin, incited such raging desire from him with such ease?

And
when he’d tasted her? He fought down a groan. He’d never tasted anything as
sweet as Wilhemina. He thought he’d been bestowed nectar from the gods. He
could have feasted upon her for hours and never been completely satiated. Her
delicate scent had sent his heart into a furious rhythm that made his blood
surge through his veins in need. It was the first time he’d felt the urge to be
tender, gentle, during sex, but the overwhelming feelings she’d created in him
had warred with his need for dominance and that unfamiliar urge.

When
he’d slid in her slickness and her inner muscles had tightened around him,
nearly strangling his cock, he knew from that point on he could die a happy man.
Her untried body had submitted to his invasion as it was made to do, but not
before he’d caused her pain. Not even the haze of desire that had beat through
him had been able to conceal what he’d done. Yet, she’d still wanted him after
he’d withdrawn, even after he’d hurt her.

He’d
been floored when she’d expressed her worry that he didn’t want her because she
wasn’t pretty enough. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Not
going back to her, not finishing what he’d started, had been the hardest thing
he’d ever done.

But
he wasn’t blind to one simple truth. He wasn’t good enough for her. She was
exquisite, pure, and he’d violated her. He was truly disgusted with himself. He
needed to have his ass beaten for what he’d done. Maybe when Geri and Malachi
arrived, he’d give Malachi the opportunity.

He
opened his eyes and scrubbed at his face with his palms. “Stop it. What’s done
is done. It’s over. Can’t turn back time.”

He’d
never see her again. He should be relieved by that fact, but he wasn’t. Something
deep inside him, something he’d kept buried for years, had awakened, and called
to her. He didn’t understand why exactly Wilhemina could provoke such a
response in him and wasn’t sure he wanted know. He glanced down at the thick,
leather-banded watch on his wrist and sighed.

It
was nearly time for dinner. Maybe he’d skip it and go hunting for drifters. He
shook his head. Every since the problem with the drifters had amped up, Ashe
had forbidden any of the hunters to go out alone. Since McKayla, the drudge
Ashe had saved from drifters and the Aleksandrov cook/maid, was preparing her
mouth-watering prime rib tonight, no one would be willing to leave until after
they ate.

Officially,
he wasn’t supposed to hunt tonight. Conrad and Dominic, the two hunters that
had been staying at the estate aiding in the uprising, were on duty this
evening. Maybe he’d hide away in his room and play video games. The violent
kind with lots of shooting, fighting, maiming, and bloodshed. That always
calmed him. But it was not to be. He heard the light footsteps coming up the
hallway to his room long before the knock sounded on his door.

He
got up, already aware of who stood on the other side, and opened the door.
“Ebony. What can I do for you this evening?” He had the highest respect for his
sister-in-law, for both his sisters-in-law. They’d both, at one time or
another, saved his brothers’ lives.

“We
have a guest for dinner tonight. She’s an old friend from high school. I ran
into her today in Plainview. She’s going to be staying with us for awhile.
She’s already met Avril, Ashe, and Marcus, but I was hoping you’d come down so
I could introduce her to the rest of the family?”

“Why
in the hell would Ashe allow you to bring someone here with the amped up danger
surrounding us?”

Ebony
clenched her jaw, and Aldin felt like an ass for the third time in less than
twenty-four hours.

“When
Avril and I run into someone we know, the fact that someone might be in danger
from simply talking to us doesn’t always remain in the forefront of our minds.
Neither one of us have been vampires for long. Our human nature still runs
strong in us. We make mistakes.”

“I’m
sorry.” He sighed. “It’s understandable. But you must be more careful in the
future.”

“I
don’t need you telling me what to do, Aldin. I’m aware of the possible
consequences of my guest’s visit. It happened. Now we have no choice but to
deal with it and protect her. Besides, nothing you, Ashe, or Aiston could
possibly say could make me or Avril feel any worse about it.”

He
thought it best to let this one go. “I was planning on coming down in a few
minutes.” Not.

Ebony
reached out and touched his arm. She was one of the few people he let get by
with touching him without invitation. “I know you like to keep to yourself, and
I hope you know I respect that. Thank you for agreeing to meet my friend. You
are an important part of this family, and I love you.”

“I’m
not saying it back,” he grumbled.

The
insufferable woman went out of her way to tell him how important he was often.
Come to think of it, so did Avril.

“I
know.” She smiled.

“I
don’t need to be coddled. I know I’m a part of this family, Ebony. You don’t
need to go out of your way to show me I’m important.”

She
shook her head. “I don’t coddle you to try to prove that you are important. I tell
you I love you because you are my brother now and that’s how I display my
affection. So deal with it.”

He
put his hands up. Ebony was a spitfire, that was for sure, and she’d come a
long way since Ashe had changed her. She was more confident and more likely to
say exactly what was on her mind at any given time. He sometimes wished for the
shy Ebony back.

“Okay.
Okay. I get it.”

“Good.”
She turned and started back down the hall. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

When
Wilhemina made her way downstairs for dinner, she didn’t think anything could
make her jaw drop like it had when she saw the mansion for the first time. She
was wrong. The dining room had a huge wooden, hand-carved table that could seat
at least twenty and more man-candy than one woman could take in at one time.
She’d seen good-looking men, but the ones gracing the room were more than
good-looking. They were stunning. She made a mental note to keep her mouth
closed in an effort to keep from drooling on her shoes.

“Wilhemina!”
Ebony hurried over to hug her. “Come with me so I can introduce you to
everyone.

She
followed Ebony to two men talking to Ashe.

“This
is Conrad Reyes.”

“It’s
a pleasure to meet you, Wilhemina.” Conrad bowed his head.

She
was sure the pleasure was mostly hers. His light-blond hair lay in ringlets
against his head and grazed his neck. He was tall, lean but muscled, and his
tanned skin brought out the hazel color of his eyes. He reminded her of a buff
surfer dude.

“Likewise.”

“And
this is Dominic Zelasko.”

Dominic
took her hand and kissed the back of it. The gesture made her feel as if she
stepped back in time. He wasn’t as tall as Conrad, but he was no less
spectacular with a muscled physique, short brown hair, and beautiful golden
eyes.

“Nice
to meet you as well.”