Night's Honor

  He rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes, still stroking her hair. How many times had he thought such similar thoughts? If only he had left the priesthood to take up his family title when his brother had died. If only he hadn’t confessed everything to his bishop, perhaps Aeliana and her husband would still be alive.

  “Believe me,” he said into her hair, “I understand.”

  “This is why I need to leave.” Her voice was muffled in his jacket. “If Malphas could do something like that out of spite, then God only knows what he might do when he finds me. Because you know he will, sooner or later. I’ve been careful, but he’s a Djinn, for God’s sake.”

  “Okay,” he said, as he calmed slightly. “Okay.”

  Even in the midst of all her distress, part of him was wholly consumed by the fact that he held her in his arms, and she let him.

  What was she doing to him?

  He shouldn’t have noticed her at the Vampyre’s Ball, but he had.

  He shouldn’t like her so much, but he did.

  He shouldn’t have gone into her bedroom when he’d found her window open. Everything he had said to her that night, he could have said elsewhere, later, but he had wanted to go into her room.

  Right now, he shouldn’t push any kind of advantage with her.

  But he would.

  He eased her back so he could look into her face. “You will stay here and give me twenty-four hours.”

  She wiped her face. “And do what? What can be accomplished in a day?”

  “Quite a lot, actually,” he said. “I’m going to do what I meant to do all along and talk to Malphas.”

  “What?” She grabbed his lapel. “You can’t! God knows what he might do once you come to his attention.”

  He looked down at her hands fisted in the material of his jacket and suppressed a smile. It was the second time she had grabbed hold of him that evening. He told her, “You owe me twenty-four hours.”

  “I don’t owe you anything,” she snapped.

  “I gave you the chance to become one of my attendants,” he pointed out.

  She let go of him with a furious push. “I gave you six weeks of hard work and physical pain. We’re even.”

  “Tess,” he said.

  The sharp command in his voice drew her up. Scowling at him, she fell silent.

  He took one of her hands and bowed over it to press his lips against the knuckles of her slim fingers. She twisted her hand around to grip his. When he straightened, he said quietly, “You gave me blood. I’m supposed to protect you.”

  Her face started to crumple, but then her jaw clenched and she hardened her expression. “Not any longer. We have no liaison, remember? I ended it.”

  He told her, “In twenty-four hours, we will have this conversation again. Then we’ll see what we have.”

  As he turned to leave, she said sharply, “Wait.”

  Angling his head, he came to a halt and pivoted back to her. I choose to do this, the slowness of his movements said. You do not order me.

  She did not appear to notice or care what his movements said. Her hands balled into fists as she searched his face. She said between her teeth, “I can’t stop you, can I?”

  He shook his head without speaking.

  Breathing heavily, she just looked at him. Then she said, “If you insist on doing this, I’m doing it with you.”

  His reaction was immediate and forceful. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “This is my problem and my life,” she said. Her expression settled into bleak determination. “You can’t take that away from me. If you try, I’ll contact Malphas and confront him without you. I’m tired of hiding. It’s time to be done with this.”

  Furious denial burst through him like a fireball. If she confronted Malphas without having witnesses present or any leverage to hold against him, it would mean her death.

  Conflicting impulses warred inside. He could stop her. He could mesmerize her into compliance. He could . . .

  No, he couldn’t. He had sworn he would not compel her, or force her to do anything against her will. That still applied, even if she was determined on a pigheaded act of self-destruction.

  He wanted to shake her. No, he didn’t, he wanted to clench her tight again.

  He didn’t know what he wanted to do. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glared at her. She lifted her chin, and even in the midst of his anger, he was caught by the gesture.

  Even though she was clearly afraid again, she would do it. She would confront Malphas on her own. He had no doubt. She had such defiance, such courage. Such sweet, beautiful fire.

  His anger died. It was impossible to fault her now when she showed the very characteristics that drew him to her to begin with.

  “If I agree, you will follow my lead and do as I say,” he said. “I mean it, Tess. This is not the time for you to be creative or ignore orders. As you so rightly point out, this is your life we’re talking about.”

  Her lips folded tight.

  He watched her struggle with conflicting impulses until he couldn’t stand it any longer. In a low voice, he urged, “Trust me. I’ve earned it.”

  She blinked several times, her face taut.

  Come on, Tess. He didn’t say it.

  “Okay.” Her voice shook. She asked, “What are we going to do?”

  Another new, unknown feeling roared through him, fierce and wild.

  He considered her without really looking at her, as his mind raced through possibilities and discarded them. “Give me a few minutes,” he told her. “Go change out of your outfit, and put on street clothes. Pack an overnight bag, just in case. By then I’ll have a better feeling for what we should do.”

  She nodded and started to walk away, but then she stopped and turned back to him. Her gaze was full.

  He waited, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she gave him a smile that was so lovely, so filled with emotional complexity, he had to stare.

  Then she left, and he was surrounded by the echoes of the stories they had told each other. Those stories were shaping their lives in ways he couldn’t predict.

  As silence settled into the ballroom, he pulled out his phone and ran a Google search on Eathan Jackson. After scrolling over several articles on the younger Jackson’s death, he found the article on the Boston Herald website and clicked on it. When he had read through it, he went to find Raoul.

  Raoul was in the gym, talking to Diego. When Xavier entered, both men fell silent and looked at him inquiringly.

  He didn’t waste time on preliminaries. He said to Raoul, “In a few minutes, I’ll be leaving with Tess, and I can’t guarantee when we’ll be back.” He looked at Diego. “Would you please pull out the SUV and retrieve my overnight bag from upstairs?”

  Diego’s eyes filled with questions, but he nodded. “Sure thing.”

  After the younger man left, Raoul turned to face him, his expression grim. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

  Xavier regarded him with an expression just as grim. It had been many years since he had felt the need to keep a secret from Raoul, but this time, the knowledge of what Tess had done seemed too dangerous to share.

  Perhaps it was unlikely Malphas would come here, but if he did, ignorance might be the only protection they had on the estate. If Malphas could sense that nobody knew of his activities or what Tess had done, he might very well leave everyone here alone.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Bullshit,” Raoul snapped. Real, rare anger clenched his body and face. “When was the last time you couldn’t tell me something? Xavier, what has she done?”

  He paused then smiled. “She did the right thing.” He watched frustration slash over the other man’s face. “I’m doing the right thing. And now I’m going to ask you to do the right thing. Will you do that for me?”
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  Raoul ran his hands through his short hair. He bit out, “Of course I will. Goddammit. Are you sure this is right—whatever this is?”

  “As sure as I can be about anything right now,” Xavier told him. “As soon as I can, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “You better,” Raoul gritted. “Can you at least tell me where you’re going?”

  “Probably Evenfall,” Xavier said. “I think we’ll need to enlist Julian’s help.”

  The other man frowned. “I don’t like the thought of you staying at Evenfall for any length of time without some kind of backup.”

  Xavier shook his head. “I’ve told you countless times before, I can take care of myself.”

  “But this isn’t about just you now, is it?” Raoul’s gaze turned keen. “What if you need to meet with Julian—or anyone else—alone? What happens with Tess in the meantime? Xavier, Evenfall is not the safest or most secure place, especially when dangerous visitors are in residence. Also, if you’re gone for too long, you might need blood. Either let me come, or at the very least take Diego.”

  The other man had a point. He didn’t know what he might have to do, and he didn’t feel good about leaving Tess alone, not with the level of fear she had yet to overcome. Evenfall was filled with predators, and while Julian had good guards, a Vampyre with enough senior standing could overpower them.

  “Fine,” he said. “It’s a good idea. I’ll take Diego. I know he’s been restless.”

  Raoul still looked frustrated, but he said, “Good enough. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in touch soon, and give you updates as I can.” Xavier touched his arm and left.

  Outside, the night was deceptively serene. Waves lapped at the shore gently, and the breeze that blew off the water was cool and refreshing. Nothing in the scenery hinted at the storm that was coming.

  He strode across the lawn to the parking lot, where Diego had brought the SUV. As he reached it, Diego came out of the house carrying the overnight bag he always kept packed.

  When the younger man reached him, he said, “Go get your bag. You’re coming too.”

  Diego’s eyes sparked with surprise. “I’ll be right back.” He sprinted away.

  While Xavier waited, he called Julian, who picked up on the first ring. “I need your help with a tricky situation,” he told Julian.

  The Nightkind King said, “I’ll help you any way I can, but now’s not a good time. Justine’s up my ass again, trying to claim those trade proposals that you and Melly agreed to in New York aren’t valid.”

  “You’re kidding,” Xavier said. “What happened to good faith and common sense?”

  “They got run over by a bus. Legally, she has a point. You weren’t authorized by the council to strike those deals. Instead of letting it slide, Justine is insisting that either Melly has to come back and strike an agreement with me personally, or the council has to pass a motion that gives you the authority in retrospect to cover the talks you had in New York with Melly.” Julian’s deep, powerful voice sounded like it was filled with ground glass. “So either Melly has to come back to Evenfall, or the whole council needs to reconvene.”

  Xavier swore. If the council had to reconvene to pass such a motion, it would be another damning piece of evidence against Julian’s effectiveness.

  “I’m Sisyphus, Xavier,” Julian growled. “I’m a Vampyre Sisyphus stuck in hell, damned to push the same fucking rock up the same hill for all eternity. One of these days I’m going to separate Justine’s head from her shoulders.”

  He took a deep breath and said, “The thing is, this tricky situation I’ve got . . . Julian, it can’t wait.”

  Silence spooled out between them. “Okay,” Julian said. “We’ll just have to fucking deal with all of it. What do you need? What’s going on?”

  “We shouldn’t discuss it over the phone,” Xavier told him. “We need to talk about it in person.”

  A short silence. He knew what Julian was thinking. He almost never asked for assistance with anything, and the fact that he thought they needed to meet in person brought home the urgency of his request.

  Julian asked, “When are you coming?”

  “Half an hour, tops,” Xavier replied.

  “Find me when you get here.” Julian disconnected without a good-bye.

  Xavier tucked his phone into his pocket.

  Malphas, on the hunt for Tess. Justine, in residence at Evenfall.

  This night kept getting better and better.

  • • •

  In her room, Tess changed into jeans and an old cable-knit, soft heather sweater. She stuffed other clothes into a gray canvas carry-on—another pair of jeans, two more sweaters, a couple of T-shirts, the flat black shoes she had worn at the Vampyre’s Ball, toiletries, underwear and her hairbrush.

  She barely noticed what she grabbed. None of her old street clothes fit right any longer. They all hung a bit loose on her frame.

  It wasn’t like it mattered what she looked like anyway. Nobody cared, least of all herself. She wasn’t going to pause to put on makeup or a nice outfit for a confrontation with Malphas.

  A confrontation with Malphas. The words echoed in her head. Her hands were shaking, while her mind raced in circles like a panicked jackrabbit.

  Trust me, Xavier had said. And he was right. He had earned it.

  She didn’t even know what had happened, or when, but something fundamental had changed. Like the continuous stream of decisions and actions that had brought her to this place, maybe what had happened wasn’t one single thing but a series of events that culminated into something far different from anything she could have imagined.

  She had seen Xavier angry more than once. They had talked, argued, even laughed together. And when she had broken down to confess everything about Eathan and his father, instead of losing his temper or attacking her for possibly endangering people on the estate, he had pulled her into his arms and held her.

  He had moved so far beyond the term “monster” in her mind, he might actually be the finest man she had ever met.

  Trust me, he had said, and the look in his eyes had been . . . vulnerable. It had mattered to him that she did. He was usually so poised, so self-contained, the expression had jolted her out of her old habits and mind-set.

  She zipped up her bag. For a moment, she simply stood and looked around her plain, peaceful room. She said in the empty air, “I think we’re going on a fool’s errand.”

  Wherever that was.

  But he had said trust me, so she would. He had connections, an entire network of people—creatures—that she could know nothing about, and centuries’ more knowledge and experience. That had to count for something. It should count for a lot.

  Honestly, she didn’t know if that was a reasonable assessment, or if she was falling prey to a fool’s hope too.

  She slipped on her jean jacket, slung her bag onto her shoulder, turned off the light and left the room.

  As she neared the front door, she met Diego. He wore a black leather jacket and had a bag slung over his shoulder too. She stopped. “Where are you going?”

  He shrugged. “I assume I’m going the same place you are, chica.”

  “God, I hope not,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t wish where I’m going on my worst enemy.”

  He grinned and opened the door. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  They walked outside together. Across the lawn, she saw Xavier standing by his Lexus, clearly waiting for them.

  She and Diego approached, and when they neared, Xavier said to Diego, “Please drive.”

  “Sure thing.” Diego slipped into the driver’s seat, while she and Xavier climbed into the back.

  The interior smelled of expensive leather and the faint scent of a masculine aftershave that she recognized as Xavier’s. Instead of tensing with nerves, she foun
d herself relaxing. She was beginning to associate his scent with comfort and safety.

  He lounged beside her, perfectly calm and comfortable within himself like a lean hunting cat. In the dim illumination from the dashboard, his eyes glittered, sharp with intelligence.

  As she snapped on her seat belt, Diego adjusted the rearview mirror and looked into it at Xavier. “Where to?”

  “Evenfall,” said Xavier.

  Diego nodded, reversed the vehicle and drove to the front gates, while her gut clenched, and briefly, she closed her eyes. They were going into a stronghold filled with Vampyres, into the very heart of the Nightkind demesne. She’d been right—she wouldn’t wish this trip on her worst enemy.

  Xavier’s hand closed over the fist she pressed against her thigh, and she jumped. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he gave her a sidelong, crooked smile.

  “Think of something positive, querida,” he told her. “Always think of something positive. It will calm your heart rate and clear your mind.”

  In the angled rearview mirror, she saw Diego give them both a sharp, frowning glance. He looked unsettled, and she wondered why.

  Xavier’s grip on her fist was steady and as gentle as he always was with her. She breathed evenly, focusing on his relaxed, alert presence instead of her own jumbled mass of nerves, and rather to her own surprise, she found herself calming almost immediately.

  She whispered, “You really think everything is going to be okay.”

  “I really do,” he replied, just as quietly. “We can find a way to go through this and reach the other side.”

  Her clenched fist unlocked, and she turned her hand over to lace her fingers through his. His crooked smile widened into real warmth. He squeezed her fingers.

  They spent the rest of the twenty-minute trip in silence, until Evenfall loomed ahead of them like a hulking leviathan that had crawled out of the sea.

  Soon, Diego turned off onto a narrow gravel road that brought them closer to the shoreline. They approached the castle from a wide, open area bare of trees or any other obstruction. All that was visible were tall grasses, a tumble of rocky ground and the ocean, and she felt sure none of that was by accident.