Blood Wyne (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #9)

Blood Wyne (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #9) Page 38

“Stop. Stop and listen to me,” I whispered. “I was tortured, raped, and turned, too. I know what it’s like, though thank the gods I was older than you. But I understand the hatred you have inside you. I want to help you.”

She paused, her eyes guardedly meeting my own. As we matched gazes, I felt her probing, searching my look, trying to decide if I was on the up-and-up. I opened up, lifted the veil, and rol ed up my sleeves to show her my scars.

As she hesitantly reached out to run her fingers over them, I said, “My sire did this to me, al over my body.”

“Is he stil . . .” She glanced up at me, wanting to ask but afraid to.

“No, I kil ed him. I destroyed him and he’s gone forever. I’m learning how to live a happy life, even as a vampire, without being anybody’s slave.” I smiled, and she hesitantly smiled back.

“My name is Serena,” she said.

And just then, Roman finished draining Terrance and, as the nightclub owner col apsed, he held out a stake.

“Wait,” I said, stopping him. I looked at Serena. “Do you want to do it? There’s nothing quite like the feeling when you’ve freed yourself from a tormentor.”

She looked at Roman. He nodded, holding out the stake. She took it and, with me bracing her shoulders, she plunged it through Terrance’s heart. One cloud of dust later, the Fangtabula was closed.

On our way out, Roman turned back. “Clean it out and lock up,” he told his children. They nodded and we headed to the limo. A group of bedraggled vampires and bloodwhores huddled in the parking lot, and as the guards took a step in their direction, they scattered into the night.

Serena came with us. I wasn’t sure what the hel to do with her, but Roman solved that. He made a quick cal , stepping to the side so we couldn’t hear him, then returned. “I have a female friend you can stay with for a few nights til we make provisions for you. Wil that be al right?”

She nodded. Ever since she’d dusted Terrance, the girl had fal en mute, seeming weary beyond belief. On the way home, we stopped at another mansion, where Roman sent Serena to the door with the driver, and within moments, she vanished into the palatial estate.

“Who’s she staying with?”

“My ex.”

I stared at him. “You were married?”

“Thirty-five times. Either they died—they were mortal—or they grew bored and wandered off.

This most current, she’s a vampire, too, and we were married during the fifties. But she grew restless. We kept in touch, however, and she can be trusted. She runs several women’s charities

—behind the scenes, of course—and a safe house for abused women.”

I shook my head. There were so many layers to this man, and I had the feeling it would take several lifetimes to discover them al . “So . . . what now?”

“Now, we rest. And at the Winter Solstice bal , I unveil you as my consort. I wil also be introducing the new Regent. By the way, your friend Wade wil receive an invitation to the bal , too.

He is not to bring his mother. I’ve heard enough about her. But he wil be expected to attend.

Vampires Anonymous wil be playing a bigger part in the community these coming months.”

I nodded, wondering just what Wade would say about that. But Roman silenced my thoughts as he pul ed me to him. My lips met his, and we slid down onto the seat, rocking the limousine in the silent and deadly night.

CHAPTER 25

Camil e, Delilah, and Iris were waiting up when I came back through the door. They took one look at my bloody clothing and Iris pointed to her bedroom. I quickly stripped, tossed my clothes in the hamper, and took a shower. She’d fetched my robe from my room and it lay waiting on her bed. I wrapped myself in the warm terrycloth and joined them again in the kitchen.

“So . . . Terrance is dead.” I took my place at the table and told them about the evening, including Serena. “I plan on handing her over to Wade, unless Roman’s ex-wife wants to take over the case.”

“So much blood the past few days. So much death.” Delilah shook her head. “But that’s what we’re here for, it seems.”

“Yeah, it seems so, doesn’t it?” I glanced at Camil e. “You ready for Morio to come home?”

She nodded. “More than ready. I’ve managed to avoid Smoky knowing anything about Vanzir yet. But it’s going to come up soon and I dread it.”

“Changes, changes everywhere,” Iris said. “Speaking of which, I know we’re nearing midwinter, but can you and Smoky and Rozurial leave with me in a week or so? We’l be back before your induction into Aeval’s Court on the solstice.”

Iris was off to search for a way to break a curse that had been laid on her centuries back, when she was in line to become high priestess of the temple to Undutar. She had been given the highest of titles: Ar’jant d’tel—Chosen of the Gods—but it had been stripped away when she was suspected of torturing and kil ing her fiancé. She had no memory of what happened, but until she broke the curse, she would be forever barren. And for a Finnish Talon-haltija, or house sprite, in her childbearing years, that was one of the most devastating things that could be done to her.

Now Iris had to venture to the Northlands, in search of the spirit of her lover, to find out the truth, and she’d extracted a promise from Camil e and Smoky to go with her. Rozurial had volunteered, too, having spent many years in the icy northern wastes.

Camil e nodded. “Yeah, we wil . And that in itself should prove to be an adventure.” She turned to me. “So, big vampire party coming up in a couple weeks?”

“Yeah . . . and a cocktail party before then. And hand-fasting to plan.” I thought of Nerissa, who was tucked warmly away in Delilah’s playroom upstairs. She’d come over, waiting for me, while I’d been gone. “This is going to be one hel of an interesting ride.”

“We’re living in interesting times. The old Chinese curse, playing out in our lives. But at least I’l be off bed rest as of next week,” Delilah said. “And that is a good thing.”

“A good thing indeed,” I said, thinking about al the things that were going on. We’d seen good and bad together, and my fears about us splitting up were at rest. I’d fought my battle tonight without them, but they’d stil been there—in spirit—in my heart.

No matter whether we stood on the front line together, or whether Camil e was hunting with the Moon Mother, or Delilah prowling with the Death Maidens, or even me—skimming the rooftops with Roman and dancing under the stars with Nerissa—we stil had each other. And that would forever be enough.

ONE WEEK LATER

The Clockwork Club was old money, rich leather as smooth as silk, blood in Waterford crystal, warmed gently, from wil ing young donors who kept their bodies clean and free of toxins.

As we entered the sepia-toned bal room, I felt giddy. My hand was resting on his arm, and I couldn’t help but be delighted with my gown that rustled every time I walked. Roman had ordered a special showing at a local gal ery, al owing me to shop at night so I wouldn’t have to rely on Camil e and Nerissa. I’d found a form-fitting cerulean blue cocktail dress, mermaid design with chiffon ruffles that gathered in at my knees, to blossom out in a muff of fluttery wings around my calves. The dress was beaded with clear Swarovski crystals and had cost—wel , I didn’t want to think what it had cost. Roman had paid for it without blinking.

Nerissa had delighted in playing hairdresser, and my hair was loose—fal ing around my shoulders, a blistering tangle of curls. A silk wrap covered the worst of my scars, and satin heels completed the ensemble. She’d also laid me back, made love to me, and sated me so wel that, as she put it, “If you sleep with Roman tonight, you’l remember that I was here first.” I’d laughingly reassured her that I always remembered she came first.

Now, we came down the staircase into the bal room and paused near the bottom.

“Lord Roman, Son of Blood Wyne, and his consort, Menol y te Maria D’Artigo.” The announcer cal ed out our names, and a hush fel over the crowd.

We mingled, with me trying to put faces to names, until Roman led me toward the front of the chamber where what looked like an official retinue had gathered.

“See him,” Roman whispered, nodding at one of the men. “The one in black tails next to the plump lady, who would be his wife, I believe?”

The woman was lovely, if yes—plump. The man was straight shouldered and looked rather fierce.

“Yes, who are they?”

“Frederick Corvax and his wife. The new Regent sent by my mother. This weekend wil be the official swearing in, and they’l formal y present at the Winter Solstice Bal . You are stil expected to attend with me.” Roman tucked his hand over mine.

“Of course, no doubt.” It was going to take some getting used to—these official functions—but they were kind of fun, in a stuffy, awkward way. My thoughts drifted to home, wondering how Camil e and Iris were doing. They had left yesterday, along with Smoky and Roz, for the Northlands, and I hoped they were okay. So far, Smoky hadn’t figured out what was going down with Vanzir, and that was a good thing.

Delilah and Shade were at home watching Maggie. Nerissa was there, keeping them company, and our cousin Shamas. Chase and Sharah were out on their second date tonight, and I mental y wished the detective wel . We’d been through a lot the past few weeks, and I felt like I’d gotten to know him a lot better. And I—I was here, in the winter wonderland of a room that was dripping with crystal and silver decorations.

The lights went out and heavy drapes opened to show a snow-studded vignette from outside—

fir trees dripping with white diamonds. Inside, a thousand Christmas lights in clear white and blue flashed on. The area cleared of those just mingling as the first song of the evening began. It was

“Without You,” by David Bowie, and Roman drew me out, swirling me onto the dance floor.

If this was the pre-gala cocktail party, what the hel was in store for the actual dance?

“I think I was lying.” Roman softly spun me around the floor.

“About what?” I tensed, knowing what he was going to say, praying he wouldn’t say it. But he did.

“I think I’m growing to love you.” He reached down to nuzzle my neck, and I closed my eyes. His touch felt so good, and I liked him so much, but . . .

“Don’t get hooked on me, Roman. Please, don’t make me hurt you. You know I love Nerissa.”

He nodded, pressing his lips against my skin. “I know, I know.”

“I hope so,” I whispered, “because Nerissa owns my heart.” In the depths of my soul, every word I said rang as true as crystal. Nerissa was my chosen mate. As my thoughts drifted toward our promise ceremony, I fingered my promise ring, and my love for my beautiful Were swel ed.

But Roman’s words sliced through my thoughts. “There’s no reason you can’t share your love, you know. Your sister Camil e does.”

And then, before I could protest, we sped up, and the music flowed as we danced away blood and murder and the ever-present darkness in which we lived.