A Stone-Kissed Sea

  “Elia, son of my children’s blood, I will have your fealty this night, or I will wipe your line from the earth and your name from my memory.”

  Those had been Saba’s words. Harsh and unyielding. This was no modern diplomatic negotiation. This was conquest.

  The words varied depending on the audience, but every country they visited received the same message.

  Give me everything I want, or you will die.

  And not a single vampire leader they’d met so far had challenged it.

  Elia wouldn’t either.

  “I leave my daughter in your care,” he said, grabbing Lucien’s hand. “Your care, old friend. If she comes to harm, I will come to you.”

  Lucien clasped Elia’s hand. “I understand.”

  ❖

  “Will we win?” Makeda asked later that night. She and Lucien lay on a low bed pulled out under the stars. The balcony of their room sat high on a hill, open to the countless stars speckling the Cappadocian night.

  Lucien was strong here with the ancient earth surrounding them. His loving was fierce. He’d pressed her up against the wall of their room and taken her only an hour before, her back against the cool stone and her legs wrapped around his waist. He’d driven into her with silent focus, his eyes locked on the pulsing vein in her neck. He scraped his teeth along her breasts.

  But he did not bite.

  When he had come in her, the earth around them trembled. Then he’d brought her under the stars and rested in her arms, his head on her chest and his fingers tracing over the curve of her hip.

  “We will win,” he said. “Do not fear that, yene konjo.”

  “So Elia’s daughter will be safe?”

  He said nothing for a long time. “We will win. I cannot say there won’t be losses.”

  “But she’s not a warrior,” Makeda said. “He told you that. Saba won’t put her in battle, will she? Is she planning to put me into battle?”

  He kissed her hard. “You’ll stay with me. Do not leave my side. Not once, do you understand?”

  “But Elia’s daughter—”

  “Kiraz is Elia’s problem,” Lucien said harshly. “Not yours. I will do what I can, but he should have trained her better. Prepared her more. Or had more children.”

  “What? As insurance against hostile takeovers?”

  Lucien’s shoulders tensed. “Why not? It’s what my parents did. This is not the modern human world, Makeda.” His low curse reached her ears. “I sometimes think modern humans are less suited for immortality than ancient ones were. The world is too soft now.”

  Her hands fell from his back. “Well, some of us didn’t have a choice, did we?”

  He raised his head and his eyes were fierce. “Did you want me to watch you die?”

  Makeda said nothing.

  Some nights she still hungered for the day. Some nights anger snuck up on her and wouldn’t let go. Maybe someday she would forget the feel of daylight as Lucien had, but that day hadn’t come yet.

  “I love you,” he said, his voice rough. “I have loved many women in my very long life, but none of them have I loved the way I love you.”

  She looked away. “It’s because—”

  “Stop trying to rationalize my feelings,” he bit out. “I love you. If you don’t want my love, you should leave my bed. If you don’t return my love, I can be content with that. But stop telling me what I feel, Makeda. I’m not a child to be patronized.”

  “I’m not trying to patronize you. I’m just saying—”

  “You’re trying to deny my feelings for you because you’re still angry with me. Or maybe because you don’t feel the same way. I didn’t ask you to feel the same way, did I? So don’t try to tell me I don’t love you with some ridiculous rationalization you’ve concocted to make yourself—”

  “I love you too!”

  Lucien looked as if Makeda had slapped him. “What?”

  Her heart raced. She hadn’t meant to tell him. Hadn’t meant to make herself so very vulnerable.

  But it was the truth.

  She shook her head and tried to roll away, but he planted his legs on either side of her hips and locked her in place. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

  “When do I ever say things I don’t mean?”

  His forehead fell, rested against her neck. She could feel his breath on her chest. “Yene hiwot, tell me again.”

  She felt like her heart was caught in her throat.

  “Please,” he whispered. “Forgive me, Makeda. Tell me you love me and forgive me. You say you love me. If I were the one dying, would you be able to let go?”

  Would she have made the same choice? If it was Lucien she loved? If it had been one of her beloved human family, would she have given in to her own need to see them live?

  Yes.

  She would have rationalized it later, but she would have dragged them into her darkness. She was as selfish as he was.

  “I would have done the same,” she whispered. “If it were you dying, I would have done the same.”

  He kissed her, and it stole her breath. “Forgive me then,” he said. “Makeda, forgive me.”

  “I forgive you.” Tears filled her eyes as she said good-bye to her anger. It felt like the last bit of her human life slipping away. “I forgive you, Lucien.”

  He kissed away the tears as they fell to her cheeks. “Wedeshalew, Makeda. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  Lucien let out a breath and pressed his face against her neck. She felt his chest rise as he breathed her in. Felt his body harden against her leg. She tilted her head to the side and pressed his mouth against her neck.

  “Makeda?”

  “Eternity,” she whispered. “Isn’t that what you want from me?”

  “Yes.” His fangs scraped her skin. His knee parted her thighs, and he settled against the cradle of her body.

  She was damp from his scent. From the rush of amnis spreading from his body to hers. It burst like tiny kisses over her skin. But even as her body came alive, Lucien waited. He lay poised over her, his mouth against her neck, his arms holding him utterly still as his amnis aroused her and drove her toward madness.

  “Take it,” Makeda said. “Now, Lucien.”

  “I want everything,” he whispered. “For I am faint with love, most beautiful of women.”

  “Then bite.” She closed her eyes and gave in to her instincts. “Take everything.”

  He nudged her knee up, opening her as he entered her. Then his fangs slowly pierced the skin of her neck, and everything she was became his. He fisted her hair in his hands, angling her head to the side as he ravished her.

  “Lucien!” She cried out as he drank her blood. She could feel her amnis enter him, shooting through his body as he rocked inside her. It was… otherworldly. He released her neck and thrust up, blood staining her lips when he took her mouth. He hooked an arm around her thigh and drove harder.

  “Now,” he said.

  Knowing what he wanted, Makeda yanked his head to the side and struck. He cried out and arched his back as he came. She could feel his pleasure as her own, and she groaned against his neck. Lucien grabbed her hand and bit her again, sucking on the sensitive skin of her wrist as he drove her higher and higher.

  He didn’t stop. He kept going.

  Makeda felt as if she were on the edge of leaving her body. Her head swam as their blood and amnis mingled. She sucked harder, feeling the pull of his lips as he took her blood. As she took his.

  Don’t stop. Never stop.

  She came in a violent wave that drew the water from the air and wet her skin. She kept coming as Lucien roared his final release and collapsed against her. The rock beneath them trembled, shuddered, then stilled.

  He remained in her, the frenzy at rest. Hunger assuaged for the moment. Lucien kissed her over and over till their lips were swollen and aching. Makeda held him trapped with her legs. Bound by her arms. She didn’t want to separate from him even fo
r a minute. His blood lived in her as hers lived in him.

  They were one.

  They were eternal.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Crotone, Italy

  The sea was around them, held back by the ancient stone of the fortress that had been Andreas’s prison and Lorenzo di Andros’s grave. Fires burned in the meeting room, food and wine had been laid out, but the scent of old blood could not be erased. Kato sat at the table, Saba at his side as Filomena Salvatore and Emil Conti, the vampire lords of Naples and Rome, sat across from them.

  Lucien was aware of his mate when he entered the old castle. Aware of her when he sat down at the table. Aware of her movements when she waited in another part of the castle with Ziri and Arosh. His awareness threatened to overwhelm him.

  In another time and another place, he would have stolen her away for weeks. He’d have hidden them in a cave by the sea and let their blood settle as they learned each other and learned who and what they were together. He was no longer alone. She lived in his blood as he lived in hers.

  But they didn’t have that time or that space. Their love had been birthed in violence and politics and strife.

  You are my peace.

  She’d whispered that in Lucien’s ear the night before when she’d taken his blood before she slept at dawn. Lucien had held her as she closed her eyes and he listened to her breath still. Her body fell silent. The only thing he could feel was his blood living in her body, her amnis woven inextricably with his own.

  He prayed he would always be her peace, because she had become life to him.

  “This council you speak of,” Filomena was saying. “How does it differ from the Athenian council already in place? You ask for tribute and treasure, but what is it you offer to us?”

  Lucien would have thought the vampire impertinent if she’d spoken with the attitude he’d expected. But the question, though unforeseen, was spoken with sincerity. Filomena was a new ruler, slowly breaking the insular Neapolitan court of its paranoid tendencies, and Lucien sensed she truly wanted to know what Kato and Saba were offering in exchange for her fealty.

  “We offer stability for a region that has too long been rife with infighting and petty jealousies,” Saba said, looking toward Emil Conti. “And opportunity to trade without the onerous hand of the Greek. We are more reasonable, and we have no quarrel with either of you.”

  Lucien knew both Filomena Salvatore and Emil Conti had been hit hard by Laskaris’s tariffs through the Bosphorus because both were heavily invested in shipping.

  Conti said, “Trade concerns are of utmost importance to my people. But they are not the only consideration.”

  The Roman regent had taken over from Livia when her treachery with Elixir had been exposed and was widely regarded as one of the most stabilizing and influential European vampire powers. But even with his reputation, he had not been able to completely wipe out the Elixir virus, and the whole of the Iberian Peninsula had been affected.

  “I also offer you a cure,” Saba said. “A cure only I can offer.”

  Conti looked directly at Lucien. “Does it work?”

  “Yes.” The fact that they were still waiting to hear could not color his response. At all.

  “There,” Saba said. “You have heard my son. And while this might mean a loss of the afflicted from your aegis, once you have an alliance with Alitea, there is no true loss. Your sons and daughters will be safe. Your businesses will flourish.”

  Conti looked between Saba and Kato. “You seek to copy the Eastern model of rule. That is not how the Western world has ever operated.”

  “The elders of Penglai govern their region with an iron hand,” Kato said. “This has leant stability but also a lack of independence.”

  “Independence cannot be taken for granted,” Conti said. “Athens is no longer the power it once was. Laskaris and I have quarreled regarding tariffs, but I have no dispute with the rest of the council you want to usurp. Why should we offer our loyalty and resources to a court that has faded from influence? You would have us trade sovereignty for assumed stability in a region you have not ruled for over a thousand years.”

  He saw Saba curl her lip in irritation. This was not going as Lucien had planned. He’d thought the meeting in Crotone was no more than a formality. Filomena and Emil would make their demands, negotiations would commence, and the Iberian Peninsula would be a powerful gem in Kato and Saba’s growing crown.

  Filomena looked between Saba and Emil. Lucien noted the calculating glint before she turned to Kato and said, “Kato, most ancient of kings, you have my fealty and the backing of my court.”

  Kato held out his hand, and Filomena kissed it. Lucien could hear waves battering the rocks outside.

  What was she playing at? And what would Emil say? Lucien had expected their unity in the matter, but Filomena was a new leader and still testing the boundaries of her power. What did she know about Emil that Lucien didn’t?

  “I challenge you,” Emil said to Kato.

  Lucien tried not to react, but it was difficult. Formal duels happened so rarely that the practice was nearly extinct. But then Emil was a Roman, and an old one. This wouldn’t be the first challenge he’d offered, nor were his words spoken rashly.

  It was, however, a hopeless challenge.

  Nevertheless, Kato treated it seriously. “I accept your challenge. Meet me on the ramparts in ten minutes, and I will teach you humility, child.”

  Emil stood and left the room without another word. Filomena followed him, a smile ghosting her face.

  “Did you expect this?” Saba asked Lucien.

  “No.”

  “Neither did I,” Kato said. “But it is not unwelcome. I have not faced an opponent of my own kind for many years. It is better I face Emil Conti before I face Laskaris.”

  Lucien realized Kato had not been in battle since his recovery from the Elixir virus. “Theio, will you—”

  “I’ll be fine.” Kato smiled. “Bring your pretty mate up and have her watch. This will be an education for her.”

  ❖

  Lucien positioned himself next to Makeda as they watched Emil and Kato stand across from each other on the rampart on the far side of the courtyard. Lucien, Makeda, Filomena, and both their entourages stood to witness the duel. The water vampires had stripped to nothing but breeches, and water coated their chests. Emil, smaller and leaner than Kato, was still a fierce and able fighter. His body was scarred from his human life, unexpected for the nobleman Lucien knew he had been.

  They stood on either end of the high wall separating the fortress from the sea. Waves churned beneath them with the occasional waterspout shooting high above their heads. The air was quiet as Ziri hovered over the gathered immortals.

  “He can’t win,” Makeda said under her breath. “Even I know that.”

  “No.”

  “Will Kato kill him? I thought Emil Conti was one of the good guys.”

  “Good and bad aren’t terms I’d use for either of them,” Lucien said. “But Emil has challenged Kato. He must know death is a possibility.”

  “Isn’t Emil a friend of Giovanni Vecchio’s? And isn’t he a friend of Saba’s?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand vampire politics at all.”

  “Watch,” Lucien said. “This is strategy, not aggression.”

  No words were spoken, but Emil held his hands out and reached for his element, throwing a spear of water toward Kato that would knock him off the rampart and into the courtyard below.

  The water never hit the ancient. He held up a palm, and the water shot back to Emil, who threw it with his other hand while grabbing for another wave from the rocks below. Lucien recognized Emil’s strategy at once. He could never match the older vampire in power, but he might stand a chance with speed. If he could hit Kato with a flurry, he might last long enough to accomplish whatever purpose he had. The Roman was surprisingly quick. As he moved, even Lucien had trouble tracking him. r />
  The spear of water circled up and over their heads, tossed back and forth by Emil and Kato while the ancient heaved his shoulders, pulling the waves higher and higher against the old fortress walls.

  Lucien saw Arosh and Saba watching from the opposite wall. Saba looked curious but unconcerned. Arosh simply looked bored.

  Kato lifted his arms, and the whole of the ocean seemed to follow him, rising above their heads before it crashed down over Emil. The younger vampire held up both arms, holding back the water longer than Lucien would have predicted.

  “Oh my God,” Makeda breathed out. “How…?”

  “Age and practice.”

  The water crashed over Emil, but it did not carry him out to sea. He flipped and rose on a crested wave, riding the water toward the old sea god. Kato held up a hand and the water halted, but Emil didn’t. He leapt toward Kato, twisting in the air above him and falling past the edge of the rampart and into the water.

  For long seconds there was only the crash of waves below.

  Then another jet appeared, shooting Emil up and back onto the rampart before Kato shoved him back into the sea with a grasping wave. Emil came up again, but Lucien could see he was tiring.

  “Yield,” Kato shouted.

  “No!” Emil rose again, flipping over Kato’s head and aiming a spear of water at the old vampire’s back. Then another. Then another. The triple shots were too fast for Kato to dodge and they knocked him over. The old vampire landed in a cushion of water and sprang back to his feet, turning as Emil brought another spear, this one aimed at Kato’s face.

  “Yield,” Kato commanded again, batting the shot to the side, “and I will spare your children.”

  Emil dove into the sea again, only to rise on another wave, this one even larger.

  “He’s far stronger than I thought,” Lucien said.

  “And determined,” Makeda added.

  Emil’s wave broke over Kato, but it did not knock him down. He stood with the water lifting him from the rampart, the waves crashing over the edge of stone and splashing into the courtyard below.