ROMAN: Fury of Her King (Kings of the Blood Book 2) (3 page)

She had to admit, she’d always sort of envied the party girls. Not
only did they seem to have lots of fun, they all looked like models out of the
magazines she’d read back on the farm. There had been a time in her life when
she tried every fad diet and joined every gym in an effort to get rid of her
curves and be more like what she saw all around her. But after years of
sacrifice and wasted money, coupled with her never-changing figure, she ditched
all the hassle in favor of accepting who she was—flaws and all—and just being
healthy.

She did develop one vice—her shoes. Since her first interview all
those years ago, she wore heels to add to her five-foot-eight-inch frame. It
allowed her to look men in the eye and avoid as many ‘little woman’ comments as
possible. Her straight platinum hair was cut in a bob that just touched her
shoulders and she always wore just a touch of makeup to add to what her grandpa
had called her natural glow. All-in-all, she liked what she saw in the mirror
every morning and that was, after all, what mattered, right?

Right!

But now 
he
 had altered her perspective…or maybe
just twisted it a bit. Men, 
especially
 men like Roman Marinos,
did 
not
 ask Cynthia St. James out on a date. Hell, she didn’t
even 
know
 any other men like him. The ones she had been
acquainted with over the years stood in the middle of the pack on their best
days. They were of the ‘not too tall, not too short, some wore glasses, most had
a football addiction, and all of them referred to her as babe’ kind of guys.
Sure, she had dated them all…for a while, and when the new had worn off had
come up with some dumb excuse and run for the hills.

They had in no way, shape, or form prepared her for Mr. Sexy Man,
as Adele called him. First of all, he was from a foreign country and had an
accent that sounded alluring when he asked to be passed the salt.

Secondly, he was what people referred to as suave and debonair.
Cyn had no doubt that he looked good after mowing the lawn or playing cricket
or whatever millionaire playboys did in their spare time that made them all hot
and sweaty.

Hot and sweaty. Good Lordy, he makes me hot and sweaty…

Lastly, and most importantly, he was Roman-freaking-Marinos. The
man could and did turn her to a quivering mass of hormones with one look. The
man who haunted her dreams. The man she couldn’t forget. The man who drove her
absolutely, unequivocally, completely and totally out of her mind. The man who
had been on magazine covers, and not just the business ones.

He knew what he was doing in every situation, every day of his
life, no matter what it was, and Cyn was so far out of her depth, not even the
Bay Watch lifeguards could save her floundering bum. What in all that was holy
was she going to do? How in the hell could she get out of dinner? He’d proven
that if she stood him up he 
would
 come and find her.

And kiss me silly….

Lost in thought, she jumped when Adele appeared at her side
fanning her face with her a file folder and handing Cyn a glass of water.
“Girl, you look like you need something stronger, but water’s all I got right
now.”

Pulling up a chair, the short, chatty redhead she’d known since
their senior year in high school sat down, patted Cyn’s knee, and with bright
eyes and sly smile said, “Dish, girl. This has 
got
 to be
better than the Gossip Girl reruns waiting for me at home.”

Taking a huge gulp of water, mostly to waste time but also because
her mouth felt like the Sahara, Cyn tried to play it cool by shrugging and
chuckling, “Guess he didn’t like being stood up.”

Rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue, Adele shook her head.
“That was not even a good try. I know from the way your jacket is hanging at
half-mast and your skirt is hiked up over your knee, not to mention the ‘I got
caught with my hand in the cookie jar’ look you gave me when I walked in, that
something way more than a man being upset over being stood up went on around
here.” Adele whipped her hand around in the air and glared. “So spill it and do
not leave out a single detail or I will go call Mr. Sexy Man myself and find
out exactly what went on up in here.”

Exasperated at being caught and even more frustrated that it had
happened at all, Cyn gave a long suffering sigh and let her head fall into her
hands. “Don’t make me do this, Adele…
please
. I’m already mortified, not
to mention, in way over my head with him.”

True to form, her best friend in the world would not allow her to
wallow. With a swat to her forearm, Adele ordered, “Now, stop that shit right
there. No pity party for you, Miss St. James. It’s time to pull up your big
girl panties and grab what you want with both hands.”

Looking between her fingers, Cyn wasn’t surprised to find Adele up
and pacing around the room with her hands waving in the air like she was
leading a marching band down Main St. “God knows I’ve watched you pine for that
man 
forever,
” she spun and pointed her finger. “And do not even try
to tell me that you haven’t. I’m not blind, missy. I see how you look at him
when you think no one’s watchin’ or how you smile at the phone when you know
it’s him.”

Sitting down and scooting her chair forward until their knees
touched, Adele pulled Cyn’s hand from her face and continued with a scowl. “He
was here, you big dope. He came to 
you
. You didn’t have to break
your cardinal rule of never chasing after a man, this one came to you!”

Hitting Cyn’s knee with her own hand for emphasis, the little
redhead was all but screaming as she finished with, “So stop all this whining
and belly aching and hop to it. You have a date with Mr. Sex-on-a-stick and
with God as my witness, you will be there if I have to knock you out, dress you
myself, and shove you into his car when it shows up at your front door. Do you
hear me, Cynthia Louisa?”

Cyn cringed at the use of her given name. The only time she ever
heard it was when she was in trouble, which pretty much summed up what was
happening at the moment. Adele did have a point. Roman had come to her. Maybe
it was time to go for what she really wanted. What was the worst that could
happen? God knew she’d survived crashing and burning before.

Leaning forward, she gave her best friend a big hug, “Thank you,
Addie. That was just what I needed to hear. Wanna come to the mall with me
tomorrow morning?”

Hugging her back, Adele chuckled. “You know I do and the coffee’s
on you this trip.”

The ladies laughed and teased while Cyn packed up the reports she
was supposed to have been working on, shut down her computer, and locked her
office. When they reached the parking garage, the girls hugged goodbye and Cyn
laughed out loud as Adele said, “Tomorrow, I’m getting those details, just you
wait and see.”

Cyn’s confidence held out until she passed a couple walking
hand-in-hand just outside the City Park. As she sat waiting for the traffic
light to turn green, she watched them kiss and memories of kissing Roman came
flooding back. Her head fell forward on the steering wheel as she groaned out
loud. “What was I thinking? An evening alone with Roman Marinos…I’m doomed.”

Chapter Two

Standing at the window looking out over the gardens of his estate,
Roman couldn’t help but picture Cynthia standing amongst the colorful blooms.
There was no doubt in his mind her beauty would outshine them all. Her smile
was brighter than the sunlight. Her sparkling lavender eyes danced when she was
happy and enchanted when she was excited. Her short, platinum locks felt like
spun silk as they flowed through his fingers and her perfectly pouty lips
begged to be kissed.

Her tall, curvy body was made to be worshipped and he was the only
man up to the task.   She was all he had been able to think about for
as long as he could remember and now that he had kissed her, she dominated
every vestige of his entire being.

He had seen how meeting Katarina had completely transformed his
friend and Supreme Commander, Viktor’s life. The uptight man he had traveled
the world with for almost three thousand years was like a teenager again. It
was a miracle to witness but, now that it was happening to him, the General was
scared shitless.

 The draw of a King’s 
fýlakas tis kardiás mou, 
or
keeper of his heart, grew stronger with each passing year, but Roman had never
fully grasped what it would be like to finally have her in his arms. He
remembered his conversation with his Unum after his conversion to immortal
warrior. It had been tenuous at best, considering he had made the transition
with little to no knowledge of the outcome.

Springing from the earth like a seedling in the spring, Romanus
gulped the clean fresh air of the desert, surprised to be alive and fearing for
his immortal soul because he had not crossed over into the Elysian Fields. The
sun, warm and nurturing, beat upon his bare skin as he looked first to the east
and then to west, trying to discern in which direction his blessed Greece sat
waiting.

“I see you fared well, agapité file. Here is a clean tunic.”
Spinning to the left, Romanus threw his hand in the air to block the onslaught
of the sun and took two quick steps back.

“It cannot be. You cannot be real.” Quickly looking to the left
and the right to find any indication of his location, he stammered, “Have I
been sentenced to Hell? Are you the ferryman, come to carry me across the River
Styx?”

The specter, the same he remembered from the battlefield, shook
its head and smiled. “Why must you always be so obstinate? It is I, Viktoras,
your Supreme Commander. The man who took you in when you had nowhere to lay
your head. The man who put a sword in your hand and gave purpose to your life.
I am the King who came to you as you drew your last breath and gave you the
gift of eternity. I am your Unum and I am here to teach you the way of our
kind.”

“This is a dream. You cannot be here.” Then pleading, “Why do you
haunt me still, specter? Have I not suffered enough?” Stumbling backward,
Romanus landed on the scorching sand. The General grabbed the hot bits of rock
and let them slide through his fingers while keeping his eyes on the phantom
determined to drive him insane.

The longer he sat in the sweltering heat the more the reality of
his situation became clear. The sweat that ran down his back, the blisters
growing on his buttocks, feet, and hands, and the constant yearning in his
heart to believe the man he owed his very existence to was indeed alive and
well, won out over all his ill-conceived notions.

“I am not dreaming. This is not a mirage,” became a continuous
mantra in his mind.

Jumping to his feet, Romanus snatched the tunic from the man he
now believed to be his Commander, threw it over his head, then slid his feet
into the sandals thrown in front of him and stood staring. Thankfully, Viktoras
was of sound mind and filled the silence with a question. “Now, are you ready
to be reasonable and discuss all that has transpired in the last thirty days
since your death?”

Unfortunately, the question caused the General to once again doubt
his sanity, “Thirty days?” Romanus bellowed.

Motioning for him to follow, the Commander turned and began
walking towards a tent in the distance. Jogging to catch up, Romanus’ stomach
cramped with hunger and his gums ached as if his teeth no longer fit the space
they had occupied since his childhood. Entering the pavilion, reminiscent of
those they had used while battling the Phoenicians, the scent of blood filled
his senses. He salivated like a dog outside the butcher’s shoppe and with no
further thought, snatched the brass canteen from Viktoras’ hands and downed the
wonderfully warm liquid in one gulp.

Wiping his hand across his lips, he saw the tint of blood upon the
back of his hand just as the coppery aftertaste of what he had just consumed
hit his taste buds. Running from the tent, Romanus barely reached the sand
before expelling the contents of his stomach.

Weaker than before and still spitting the blood from his mouth,
the General turned to his Commander and wailed, “Why? What have you done to me,
daímonas?”

“I have done nothing but grant you the gift of eternal life,”
Viktoras calmly answered, stepping forward to hand Romanus a wet cloth to wipe
his face.

Stumbling away, the General spat, “But at what cost? My immortal
soul? It is as I feared. You are sent from Hades.”

The Commander stopped and shook his head. “Why must you fight your
destiny, Romanus? I tire so of your stubbornness.” Viktoras took another step
forward, to which the General took two backward to escape the demon’s touch,
causing the Commander to sigh. “Stay out in the sun and waste away if that is
your wish. But know that you will not die. You will only suffer…terribly. When
you have had enough, I will be waiting in the tent with more sustenance and the
answers to all your questions.”

Staggering to the closest rock, Romanus sat with a heavy thud.
Shivers wracked his body as fire burnt through his veins and his stomach
cramped as if it were trying to escape the confines of his skin. Cold, clammy
sweat drenched his body even though the rays of the blazing sun above continued
to beat upon him like the slaver’s whip.

Looking across the vast desert, Viktoras’ words echoed through
Romanus’ mind like an omen passed down from the gods…“You will not die. You
will only suffer…terribly.” The truth of the demon’s words only served to
torment the General and assure that whatever evil had befallen him was most
definitely from Hades himself.

Unable to stand it anymore, the agony eating away at what little
sanity he had left, Romanus tried to stand but only made it as far as his
knees. He would face whatever fate had befallen him as long as the demon
parading as his Commander would bring an end to his torture. Dragging his pain
ridden body, one pull of his hand at a time, across the scorching sand, the
General slowly made his way to the tent.

Pain wracked every fiber of his being. His vision blurred. His
body shook with such force he felt as though his joints would dislocate. Only
the steel resolve that had seen him through many campaigns pushed him to
continue towards his goal. Finally reaching the shelter, he rolled onto his
back and collapsed as soon as the top half of his body was under the cover of
the roof.

Fighting to catch his breath, the scent of blood once again hit
him with the force of Zeus’ lightning. Convulsions unlike anything he had ever
known rattled his battered body. The breath was forced from his lungs. His head
flung back so hard he heard the crack of the bones in his neck. His hands
curled into fists so tight that his overgrown nails bit into the calloused skin
of his palms.

More cracking of bone reverberated through the tent as his back
bowed off the cloth covered sand and his arms flung wide. His toes curled against
the bottoms of his feet with such fiery intensity that he believed they would
be torn from their sockets. As his eyes rolled back in his head, he glimpsed
his Commander kneeling beside his head and thought he heard him say, “Why must
you always fight the inevitable?”

Opening his eyes, unsure if the memories flashing through his mind
like mismatched pieces of a child’s toy were all part of a dream or reality,
the General brushed the matted hair from his forehead and rolled to his side.
Taking in his surroundings, his visions began to take shape. They formed one
coherent recollection, which brought back the horror of his present situation,
at the same time that Viktoras walked through the tent flap and proclaimed,
“Romanus! It is good to see you back among the living.” Setting down a large
clay hydria, he added, “We have much to discuss.” Then pointing to the fire in
the center of the structure over which a hare was cooking on a spit and freshly
baking bread lay on the iron grate, he continued, “You need to eat. Your
continued resistance to your first meal has left you poorly nourished.”

Irritated at being chastised like a wayward child by his former
Commander and feeling out of sorts, Romanus slowly climbed to his feet and
sarcastically spat, “Am I not to live on the blood of others? Am I not a demon
of your own making?”

Ignoring his question, Viktoras went about brushing spices over
the hare and taking the bread from the fire. Pouring the water from the large
hydria to a smaller one with a spout, the Commander then filled a large cup.
“Drink this.” He shoved the cup into Romanus’ hand. “Come eat. I will no longer
entertain your immature taunts. You know in your heart and soul that I am not a
demon nor would I ever cause you harm. Put aside the petulance of your juvenile
nature and face the reality before you.”

Swallowing his pride and choking back the vile comment that burnt
the tip of his tongue, the General stood and walked across the tent, sitting as
far from his Commander as possible while still able to reach the food. His
attempt to act aloof was obliterated by the loud growl of his stomach.

Barking with laughter, Viktoras pointed at the food. “Eat.”
Sitting down across from the General, his smile turned to a scowl as he
continued, “Unless you like suffering, in which case you can sit there and
glare in my direction while I enjoy what the gods have blessed us with.”

Hands clenched at his sides, teeth grinding together and his
stomach growling like a tiger, Romanus finally relented, if for no other reason
than to have the strength to fight the demon should he choose to attack. “It
looks good. Thank you for your kindness.”

Taking the food Viktoras offered, the General had to admit to
himself, if no one else, that he owed whatever version of his Commander this was
the courtesy of at least listening to what he had to say. Before his death, the
man, had, after all, been his surrogate father for most of his life, had taught
him everything he knew, and made sure he was cared for even after his death.
There was no way the gods would allow a man with such honor to become a demon
in his afterlife…was there?

They ate in silence until only the bones of the hare and the
crumbs of the bread remained. Viktoras leaned back on the cushions behind him,
stretched out his legs, and asked, “Do you think that you can put aside your
prejudices and listen to what I have to say?”

Several long, tense moments passed as the two formidable warriors
stared into one another’s eyes. Romanus could not deny the kinship he felt for
the man reclining across from him. Nor could he dispute that he appeared to be
the same man who had picked him up out the gutter, fed him his first meal in
weeks, and gave purpose to his life.

Still unable to speak the words, but needing to hear what the
Commander had to say, the General gave a single nod of his head. Viktoras took
a long drink of his wine, looking over Romanus’ shoulder as if watching
pictures of the story he was about to tell, and began to explain. “While I was
in prison awaiting the inevitability of my sentence, Zeus spoke to me.” He took
another sip of his wine then looked at Romanus. “He explained to me, just as I
explained to you on the battlefield, that because of my loyal service in life
and the injustice in my death, I was being given a second chance, an
opportunity only the most devoted could receive. The gift of eternal life.”

 The Commander’s eyes stayed riveted on Romanus’ as the
silence between them grew. The General felt the weight of Viktoras’ stare like
a stone around his neck as the irrevocable truth of the situation settled all
around him. The man he had called friend, had followed into battle countless
times, would have followed to Hell had he commanded it, was indeed returned
from the dead. Not a demon, not a specter, but something…more.

Leaning forward, Romanus nodded, “Continue, please.”

A knowing smile crossed Viktoras bearded face. “But of course.” He
cleared his throat. “We have become what is known as the Kings of the Blood.
We, along with others loyal to us and our cause, will form a fraternity unlike
any other, with the sole purpose of protecting those who cannot protect
themselves. I am known as the Unum, the One, and have been given command of our
kind.”

“You, General, in this life as in the last, are my second and will
be known as the Sigontáro. Together, we will find those of like mind and
purpose and upon their acceptance, bring them into the brotherhood.” Again the
Commander paused and sipped from his cup, but the look in his eye said there
was much more to be said.