In the Service of the King (5 page)

Shayla returned his smile, then bit her bottom lip. She had no idea what was going on and therefore what protocol was appropriate. She had a million questions, but no idea if she was free to voice them. A long moment passed with no one saying anything, unleashing a nervous energy inside her she could barely restrain. Finally, she couldn’t keep herself from breaking the silence. “Uh, so…”

“Come, Shayla. Let’s talk.” Her trainer held out his hand in invitation and directed her back the way they’d come just an hour before.

She glanced between them for a minute and smiled wryly as Liam nodded encouragingly. “Yeah. Okay.”

The three of them entered the reception area, passed through security, and threaded their way through several corporate-looking hallways until they returned to the posh apartment where she’d readied herself earlier. Simon offered her a seat in the living area and she settled into an armchair and crossed her jeans-clad legs. A glass of orange juice and two of her favorite kind of chocolate-chip cookies sat on the side table. She smiled at Master Simon and took a long sip of the cool sweetness.

The men chose seats around her. Master Simon and Liam traded looks, then Simon said, “The king would like to see you again.”

The words were so far outside her expectations she merely blinked at them. Hope flared in her gut, but she tamped it down. Hard. No one saw him a second time. She tucked her long loose hair behind her ears. Finally, she managed, “Why?”

Liam smiled and sat forward, but clamped his mouth shut when Simon glared at him. Her trainer’s protectiveness warmed her heart. She’d always liked him, even when he was a pain in the ass. But he’d given her every confidence she’d be able to handle this night. She trusted him.

“He regrets what happened and would like to see you again,” Simon replied.

Shayla pulled her eyes from Master Simon’s guarded expression to Liam’s eager face. The weight of what wasn’t being said hung in the air between them. The question was: did the why matter? If she put her hurt at Kael’s earlier rejection aside, the answer should be no. Nothing had really changed. She’d committed to doing this, wanted to, even, and now she had the opportunity again.

This would truly be her last chance…for so many things.

“I see,” she said as her brain analyzed what was really going on. She nibbled the edge of a cookie.

Liam’s smile flagged a little as he watched her. His mood shift puzzled her. He seemed so invested in her decision.

She narrowed her gaze at him. “May I make a request? Uh, two, actually?”

“You may make them,” Master Simon replied, “but I cannot guarantee to honor them.”

Shayla had expected his response, but from the vampire’s demeanor, she guessed she had a bit of negotiating power. And she planned to use it. “May I have an hour to prepare? I could use some time to…get my head screwed on straight again.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Shayla. Of course. And your second request?”

There was no way Simon was going to say yes to this one, but asking it couldn’t hurt. “Well, um, may I have permission to, uh…ask the king a few questions?”

“No, Shayla—“

“Yes, definitely,” Liam interrupted. He winked at her.

Master Simon gaped at Liam’s outburst and Shayla pressed her lips into a line to keep from laughing. She liked Liam, liked the feeling he was somehow her ally in…whatever this was.

Simon shook his head. “Yes, then, apparently. Does that mean you are willing?”

“Yes, Master Simon.” Anticipation shot down her spine. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Maybe she still had a shot, after all.

“Then, take your hour and be prepared for me at—” he looked down at his watch “—three-thirty? We will treat everything from then exactly the same.”

Kael stood on the hidden balcony carved into the basalt cliff face and soaked in the view of the crashing waves along the Antrim Coast. In the far distance, the volcanic formation known as the Giant’s Causeway was just visible under the moonlight.

How many centuries had he admired the beauty of this harsh, unforgiving seascape? How many nights had he come here hoping the rhythmic motion of the sea would imbue him with the peace and tranquility that war and loss had leached from him so many lifetimes ago?

Footsteps approached from the stone corridor behind him. Kael braced against the thick ledge, expecting the worst. Deserving it.

“My lord?”

Tension drained from Kael’s shoulders. Liam’s voice told him the news was good. He breathed in the cleansing sea air and turned to his brother. “Thank you, old friend. She is well?”

Liam grinned. “She’s great.”

Kael’s gaze cut to Liam’s. “You spoke with her?” Liam nodded. “And what did you speak of?”

“Just introductions, really. Oh, and she wants to be able to ask you some questions.”

Kael hitched an eyebrow. “Does she now? About what, exactly?”

The warrior scratched his chin. “Didn’t say.”

“And you didn’t think to ask?” Kael’s layered robes caught the wind and danced around his legs.

He shook his head and shrugged. “Figured it didn’t really matter.”

Kael nodded and ran a hand through the unbraided side of his hair. “Fair point.” He stepped toward the entryway and Liam moved to the side, allowing the king first passage. Liam secured the stone-faced door, constructed in such a way it was indistinguishable from the rest of the rock wall on the outside. “So, did she, uh, say anything about me, or, uh…” Kael pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Did she say anything about you?” He chuckled. “No, but I could pass her a note in study hall if you like.”

Kael’s fist connected with Liam’s bicep before he’d really thought to do it. Damn, that little release of tension felt good.

Liam grabbed his arm and spit out an old Gaelic curse. His glare was indulgent, bordering on a smug smile. “Feel better, my lord?”

Kael clapped him on the back. “Much. Let’s return to the chamber, shall we?”

Liam smirked. “She’ll be up in about an hour.”

Kael halted. “An hour?”

“She asked for some time.”

Kael ignored the humor coloring his old friend’s expression. “I guess I can’t blame her.” They resumed walking down the twisting passageway single file until it intersected with a main corridor. Liam secured a second door—this one modern, reinforced steel, before they continued on.

What the hell was he going to do with himself for another hour? As it was, he could barely restrain himself from showing up at the door to her apartment and begging her forgiveness. He shook his head at himself as they returned to the ceremonial anteroom to the feeding chamber.

“I don’t suppose we need to replicate the cleansing ritual, do we?”

“I shouldn’t think so.” Kael braced his hands on his hips. “Then again, this is a bit irregular.”

“Yes.” Fraternal affection shone from Liam’s eyes.

Kael turned away. Hope was the most dangerous of all the emotions. He would let Liam harbor enough of it for both of them, at least for now. Kael was trying hard to manage his expectations. Exactly how this would all work out remained to be seen. And maybe it wouldn’t work out at all.

Sighing, he walked to the feeding chamber door and opened it. He knew something he could do to pass the time. But when he looked to the floor by the far wall, the mess he had created was gone. The tabletop stood empty, and the shattered glass, broken candlesticks and crushed flower stems had been removed. Kael turned to Liam, knowing without question he’d taken care of it. “Thank you, and sorry.”

Liam waved him off.

A new idea flashed into mind, and it was brilliant. “Ah, I’ll be back.”

“My lord?”

“Ten minutes.”

“My lord, this is highly unusual.”

Kael’s smile hurt his cheeks. “Yes, it certainly is.”

“What if she returns before you do?”

Kael halted in the doorway to the antechamber. “Ah. Fair point. You wait here and tell her I’m sorry to keep her waiting but will only be a moment.”

“What?”

“Thanks, Liam,” Kael said, the rightness of his actions driving him away from the room. He marched through the empty halls to the small industrial kitchen. Although vampires could only consume the flesh of animals or liquids, particularly spirits, they kept other foodstuffs around for the few mated females, who retained most of their human physiology and still required regular nutrition, as well as for their human employees and the occasional human guest. Whistling, Kael pulled open the refrigerator door, unsure what he might find. He didn’t spend much time in this room.

But he was determined to lay out an offering for her—one his own hands prepared.

A hearty sausage frittata sat on the center shelf. Perfect. He pulled it out and placed two thick slices on a plate. A container of paper-thin prosciutto caught his eye. He retrieved it and some cut-up melon, and wrapped the ham around the juicy, orange chunks. His chef swore by the combination of the sweetness and saltiness, even if Kael couldn’t enjoy the fruit. Next, he ladled marinated olives, artichoke hearts and red peppers from a covered dish into a bowl. It was likely he’d just raided the human staff’s breakfast, but suspected he could find a way to make it up to them.

Kael cleaned up his mess and turned to the pantry. He added apples, oranges and mixed nuts to the tray. The meal was turning into quite a feast, igniting a satisfied warmth in his gut. He yearned to see her nourished at his hand. He added a chilled bottle of water and a crystal goblet to the tray. He debated wine, but wanted them both clearheaded for the conversation he hoped they’d have.

As he wandered back through the halls, he whistled again as he juggled his load. Liam sprung from an armchair in the corner of the feeding room when Kael breezed in. The warrior’s eyes went wide as he surveyed the contents of the weighted-down tray.

Kael settled the meal on the round table next to the bed, then poured the water into the glass. Satisfied, he turned and surveyed the room. The goblet of Shayla’s blood and his dagger still sat on the stand across the room, and the blindfold and a single white flower lay on the floor.

They needed a clean slate. Those things had to go. He glanced at Liam. “I’ve got it from here.”

Liam nodded. “As you wish, my lord.” He didn’t even try to hide his smile as he left the room. The ornate door clicked behind him.

Kael busied himself picking up and putting away the blindfold, cleaning and sheathing his dagger, and placing the small white flower on the edge of the plate of food. All of this allowed him to avoid deciding what to do with her blood. He hated to waste something so precious—precious not just because it was a virgin’s blood, but because it was
her
blood. But if she rejected him, he wouldn’t deserve it. And if she didn’t, well…hopefully he’d never have to feed from a cup again.

He stared at the goblet a moment longer, then finally placed it on a shelf inside the large cabinet. His fangs stretched out in his mouth as the scent of it infused his consciousness. His throat burned and constricted as he secured the doors. Hunger clenched in his gut. Hunger for blood, for companionship. For love.

Before long, footsteps echoed in the exterior corridor and a knock sounded at the back door.

Kael swallowed hard and strode to the center of the room. “Come.”

Simon Freneau pushed through the door and stopped on the threshold, bowing his head. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

Kael stepped forward and offered his hand. “Simon. Good to see you again.” He nodded and shook Kael’s hand, but his furrowed brow didn’t speak of pleasure. Kael knew how protective the trainers were of the Proffered. He clearly had some amends to make. Kael’s mistake, the failed hypnotism in particular, had made Simon look bad too. The women were told the pain of the whole experience was minimal to none, and that was true. Usually. “It won’t happen again.”

Not the least because he hoped to never again require the services of the Proffered. But that was up to Shayla—and the mating bond, though Kael swore the mystical connection of a blood match had been weaving its tendrils around him all night, drawing him to her. Body, mind and soul.

Simon nodded again and the muscles in his face relaxed, though he still didn’t smile. “May I present to you the Proffered?”

“Please.” Kael swallowed. He could smell Shayla, hear her small movements in the hallway. She appeared in the doorway, a vision in a fresh white silk robe and styled mahogany hair. She stepped in and cleared the door, then took her standing position with her hands behind her back and her head bowed.

Simon looked between them once, leveled a pointed stare at Kael, and stepped backward through the door.

Shayla was counting her breaths again, trying to rein in her emotions, but his very presence was nearly undoing the past hour of relaxation she’d attempted. She’d started out with a quick yoga routine, stretching and working her muscles, then soaked in the tub. The concentration the braiding took also provided a great distraction, but it still seemed time had sped up when Master Simon knocked on her door. Now that she was before Kael again, her neck and shoulders tightened as her apprehension increased.

“Shayla, look at me.”

As much as she’d been waiting for his voice, it still startled her. His use of her name. His tender, regretful tone.

She knew she must obey, but was afraid if she did, she’d lose control of her emotions—and she wasn’t sure whether hurt or anger would win out. Neither was appropriate to show, and both were likely to result in tears.

The king stepped toward her until he was easily within arm’s reach. “Young Shayla,” he whispered, coaxing her. A long moment passed. And then he fell to his knees before her, his face tilted upward so their eyes could finally meet.

She gasped and her mouth dropped open. He was more fascinating, more gorgeous, than she had even fully recalled. Fire danced behind his eyes, and flashes of gold shined out through the emerald. He was smiling, and it highlighted the strong masculine angles of his jaw and cheeks so vividly it stole her breath. A reaction amplified by the appearance of the sharp tips of his fangs. Shayla licked her lips.

Despite being on his knees, he radiated such palpable power she could feel it jangling in the air between them.

Oh, God. He’s on his knees.
A throaty sigh escaped her as she dropped to her own. She was always to be below him.

“Now I can’t see you again.” The warm, amused tone was back. “Please look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, Shayla finally obeyed. Her gaze raked over his intricate tartan robes before finally settling on his handsome face. When their eyes met, the smile he let loose dazzled her, and she smiled back. His playfulness, the incredible sense of ease now possessing him, made it harder to hold on to her anger.

“Thank you,” he said. She nodded. “I have some things I’d like to say to you. Are you willing to hear them?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Kael frowned for a moment, and Shayla didn’t have time to figure out why before he spoke again. “I hurt you, and I owe you an apology.”

She inhaled to speak, but he cocked his eyebrow and she fell silent. She nodded again instead.

“I don’t just mean for hurting you with the knife, although I am…beyond sorry you had to endure that.” He grasped one of her hands in both of his and her lips fell open. His touch was so warm, so encompassing. “I lost control and it compromised your safety, your well-being, and that is my first responsibility to the Proffered.”

Shayla’s shoulders and gaze dropped as he referred to her title again. She internally reprimanded herself for expecting anything else.

The fingers on his free hand nudged her chin up and beckoned her to look at him. “Shayla, I lost control because I…I felt something, with you. Something I don’t feel…ever. I…”

She should’ve been focusing, listening, but…
Did he just say he felt something for me? With me? Lost control because he felt something…as in, he has feelings? For me?

He chuckled. “Where did you go, young one?”

Shayla shook her head. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

He squeezed her hand and dipped his head to look up into her once again diverted gaze. “Shayla, could you please call me Kael?”

Her eyes flew to his and she gaped. “Yes?”

His grin brightened his whole face. “Was that a question?”

“No, Sir—er, Kael.” A blush bloomed hot on her face.

“Mmm, that is lovely. And so fragrant.” He fingered her cheek. “I would like to taste you, Shayla.”

She gulped and shuddered as her heart took off at a mad gallop. “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered as he leaned in.

This wasn’t the wild kiss he’d claimed her with earlier. His lips found hers gently, reverently, as if he was savoring small tastes of a rare gourmet meal. One large hand grasped her shoulder and the other cupped her cheek—both brought her closer to him. He pulled and sucked at her lips, his hair falling around their faces as he rose up over her. She opened herself before he even demanded it of her—her body remembered his exquisite taste and begged for its return. Their tongues stroked and explored, but she needed more. She pushed forward just enough to suck his whole tongue deep into her mouth.

Sweet fulfillment exploded against her taste buds, dragging whimpers and moans from her. He groaned and her hands flew to his hair. Her left hand found masses of thick silky bronze she gripped and tugged as she held him to her, but her right hand fell on his jeweled braid. Knowing the significance of it, she yanked her hand back, afraid she’d offended him.

But then his big hand grasped hers where it rested against his chest and pulled it back up to his head. “Hold me,” he whispered against her lips. “Touch me.”

Shayla moaned her assent as her fingers wrapped around the braid and the jewels bit lightly into her skin.