Blood Shadows

  Deanna relaxed. For the first time since she had learned of the Vampyr, she understood just what kind of bond existed between a vampire male and his chosen destiny. She understood what Jocelyn and Ciopori had tried so hard to explain: The connection was beyond primordial; it was ingrained.

  And it transcended a world larger than heaven and earth.

  Or hell.

  Deanna lay back on the gurney and stared at the light before her, knowing it would soon be gone. As desperate as she was to see Nachari in the flesh, animated and alive; as badly as she wished she could speak to him—with him—she knew she could not.

  As peace and comfort enveloped her, she waited for her conversion to come to an end. Soon, she would be Vampyr—and forever bound to Nachari Silivasi—if only in spirit and memory. Regardless, what was happening in her body was a miracle, and the fact that she could no longer feel the pain was a rare and precious gift from a rare and unspeakably powerful wizard. It was an event that had never occurred before—and would likely never occur again.

  Whether or not Nachari returned to earth, whether or not he could line up all the pieces he needed in order to make that happen, he had done the one thing he could for her: make it so that her entrance into his world did not command a price beyond what she had already paid.

  Make it so that she would always know that he had cared for her.

  Cherished her.

  Honored both her courage…and her faith.

  No matter what, Deanna would always know that, for at least one moment, Nachari had loved her.

  sixteen

  Kristina Riley-Silivasi rearranged the pillows on Nachari’s stylish leather couch for the fifth or sixth time, not at all sure why she was going to so much trouble.

  Ramsey had sent her a text earlier that evening asking if he could come by around nine. She checked the contemporary Asian clock hanging above the fireplace mantel: It was nine-fifteen. So where was he then? Braden had been staying late at the clinic a lot—ever since he had met Nachari’s destiny two weeks ago—and Kristina knew that he would stay as long as he could tonight. After all, they were converting Nachari’s destiny—using some weird medical procedure to pump his venom into her neck for him, as if that wasn’t the creepiest damn thing she had ever heard of.

  Kristina shivered. She knew she should have been there with her family. Waiting with the others. Maybe praying—or at least sending up some good thoughts—for her newest sister-in-law; but hell, they just didn’t understand: Kristina couldn’t be anywhere near a conversion. Maybe she had PTSD or something—who knew—but the very thought of another woman going through the torturous ordeal—and in such a horrific, impersonal way—was more than she could handle. It brought back too many memories of her own conversion. Of the night Marquis Silivasi had flung her across his lap like a weightless rag doll, held her down with his iron strength, and sunk those vicious fangs into her neck, converting her against her will, not caring one iota if she wanted it or not…if it was excruciating or not.

  She shrugged.

  Okay, so that was only part of the story…

  True, she had tried to kill him. In fact, she had shot him with his own rifle…twice, and she had done it in defense of an ex-boyfriend who had just tried to kill her. A male who had directly challenged Marquis. And yes, of course, Marquis had just saved her life before it all happened. But still…what could she say?

  It was a bad time for all of them.

  Kristina and Marquis had been tricked by the Dark Ones into believing she was his true destiny, even though the two of them had about as much in common as oil and water; and considering where Kristina’s head was at the time, the messed-up state of her life, she had acted with total belligerence and disrespect, not something that went over too well with the 1,500-year-old Ancient Master Wizard.

  It had been an experience to remember, to say the least.

  Kristina made a concentrated effort to dismiss the memory. It was in the past. A lot had happened—a lot had changed for the better—since then, and she couldn’t stand to look back. Maybe that was why she couldn’t be at the clinic tonight with the rest of her family; it was all just too difficult, still way too raw. She had said a prayer to the god of Nachari’s Blood Moon for both Nachari and Deanna earlier, and Braden would definitely represent both of them—that was the best she could do. For now, what she really needed was a distraction.

  She checked the clock again: nine-twenty. If Ramsey didn’t get there soon, they might have to reschedule, and for some unknown reason, Kristina was really looking forward to having some sizable alone time with the scary-as-hell warrior in order to see where their friendship might go—

  Okay, so maybe she was hoping for a little more than friendship, which was so incredibly wrong, on so many unmentionable levels—wasn’t it?

  But what did the world expect of her?

  To give up her life, her past, the ex-boyfriend she had shared so many memories with, albeit many of them tragic, before Marquis had made such easy sport of him—and just skip down the path of life humming a happy tune because she was now a Silivasi?

  She was grateful to all of them. And she had to admit, she was much, much better off—not just financially, but in terms of everything—security, comfort, family…belonging. She had come to love a whole new circle of people, and if the truth be told, it was the first time in her life when an entire circle of people actually cared for her, too.

  Genuinely.

  But she was still human—well, vampire. Damn, she had to stop doing that. And she was still a woman.

  She was still extremely…lonely.

  She looked at the clock for a third time, a little bit annoyed now. She should have guessed the arrogant warrior would be late.

  But what if he wasn’t coming?

  Dismissing the thought on its face, she ducked into the hall powder room and checked her appearance in the large mahogany mirror above the travertine pedestal sink. Her shoulder-length hair was hanging in its usual mass of untamed S-curls, but she had managed to pull the front back off her forehead with a pin, and the contrast sort of highlighted her bright blue eyes, made them look a bit more striking and even a little bit exotic. The subtle smoky gray eye shadow she had applied, just barely above and below a thin gray pencil line, didn’t hurt, either, if she did say so herself.

  She reapplied a light coating of rose lip gloss, one she had chosen for dramatic effect, puckered her lips, and then rubbed them together, evenly distributing the color. She stepped back and studied her reflection. Her teal miniskirt was soft suede, form-fitting along her hips and rear, and the silk black spaghetti-strap top hung enticingly over her firm breasts, all accentuated by a pair of wicked, spiked black heels.

  Too much? she wondered.

  She frowned. Not at all.

  She was who she was, after all; and becoming the only sister in the house of Jadon hadn’t changed that, overbearing vampire brothers or not.

  She left the bathroom and checked the clock again. She was just about to text Ramsey when she heard a light rap on the door. Finally! she thought. Taking her time, she meandered to the door, not wanting to seem too anxious, and peeked through the small security peep-hole. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Ramsey was all ripped chest and arms on top of dangerously powerful thighs leading up to a hard, flat stomach. And all that dangerous male was wrapped up like a Christmas present in sexy black denim and a loose white silk shirt, the top few buttons conspicuously open, as if she needed any further suggestion as to what lay beneath. Kristina took a calming breath and opened the door. Do not mention the time, she told herself. Act like you didn’t even notice. “Hey,” she said, immediately wishing she’d had the patience to let him speak first. Oh well…

  “Hey to you, too.” He smiled like a lazy jungle cat, one that had just finished feasting on an innocent bird. And damn, were his teeth really that perfect? His eyes lit up with mischief. “Did you miss me?”

  “No,” she said, lying. “Last t
ime I saw you, we were standing on the porch, and then—poof! Someone pulled the world’s fastest disappearing act. What was up with that, anyway?”

  He chuckled deep in his throat, an erotic sound that lingered in the air. “Are you always this contrary, Miss Riley-Silivasi? Can’t you just say, Hi, Ramsey?”

  Kristina smiled and shrugged. “Yep…and nope. Is that a problem?”

  He leaned back in the doorway, crossed his sculpted arms in front of his chest, and considered her thoughtfully.

  Kristina had to resist the urge to lick her lips.

  “Not at all,” he drawled. “I enjoy a challenge as much as the next guy—sometimes.” He winked at her, playfully. “May I come in?”

  She rolled her eyes then. “I thought I gave you an official invite last time.”

  “I remember,” he countered, “and that’s why I said may I come in—as opposed to can I come in.”

  “Ah…” She was flirting. “And why does one of the three sentinels of Dark Moon Vale need an invitation to enter someone’s house, anyhow? Don’t you guys have…blanket clearance…or something?”

  Ignoring the specifics of her question, Ramsey said, “Maybe I’m a gentleman, and I simply wanted the lady’s permission.”

  Kristina laughed out loud then. “Yeah, right. Somehow, I’m not really buying that one.”

  He laughed with her and gestured toward the front room. “So, are we going inside, or would you rather spend the entire evening in the doorway?” He looked over his shoulders several times then, as if he was somehow worried that someone might drive by and see them.

  As if.

  Nachari Silivasi lived in a stunning but isolated brownstone at the end of a dirt road, situated at the northern face of the forest cliffs.

  Not wanting to make any waves, Kristina stepped back graciously and gestured toward the entrance. “Come in,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. He was just so damn intimidating. His presence was like…King Kong trying to condense himself into a James Bond vampire suit. Raw brutality in a silk package.

  What if the package ripped?

  Ramsey followed her into the entry, then up the short flight of stairs to the first level of the four-story brownstone, where the cozy, if not a bit too picturesque, living room awaited them. Kristina sat down in a single armchair by herself, needing a little distance to calm her nerves, and Ramsey chuckled, immediately taking notice.

  Taking his own seat on the opposite couch, he tsk-tsked her. “I would say don’t worry, I don’t bite. But then, I’m a vampire, so we both know better.” He laughed, and she shivered.

  “Yeah, well, maybe if you’re really good tonight, I’ll bite, too.” She couldn’t believe she had said it out loud, and his answering smile told her she had just pushed the one thing she had hoped to take slow.

  The attraction between them.

  In an instant, Ramsey rematerialized directly in front of her. No longer on the couch, he knelt on the floor, his stomach pressed against her legs, and leaned into her. “Define good, baby girl,” he purred in her ear. And then he leaned closer and ran the tips of his fangs from her collarbone, up the column of her neck, to just behind the lobe of her ear, and growled—literally growled. “I promise you, I can be very…very good.”

  Kristina’s arms shot out in front of her instinctively, the palms of her hands making contact with his chest to push him away. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him—hell, what living, breathing female could resist?—but he was just…well, King Kong. And she felt like the maiden sacrifice tied to a pair of pillars in a foreign, foreboding jungle. “Can we slow down?” she whispered.

  He tilted his head slowly to the side. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head adamantly. “Nothing. I mean, it’s just that…you just got here.”

  “So?” he said.

  “So—”

  “So, you’re still afraid of me, aren’t you?” He reached for her hand, lifted the palm to his mouth, and pressed a gentle kiss right in the center. And then he slowly trailed his lips down her wrist, nicked her vein with his fangs, and swirled his tongue over the trickle of blood, sighing in pleasure. “We’re not fragile humans. We don’t have to do this carefully…or slowly.”

  Kristina pulled back her hand. “I know.” Her mind raced for a way out—well, not so much out, but for a pause. “It’s just—”

  He began to sink his fangs into her flesh, startling her with the intentional pain he was allowing her to feel. Then just as quickly, the sensation vanished and turned to pleasure. Kristina groaned and squirmed in her chair. “Ramsey…Ramsey! Stop.”

  He withdrew his bite and rocked back on his heels. “Where is your bedroom?”

  Kristina swallowed. “Ramsey, hey…look.” She reached down and boldly grasped his face by the jaw, tilting it upward. He didn’t release her wrist. “Look at me,” she demanded.

  His vivid hazel eyes met hers, and she knew she was in trouble if she didn’t think of something fast. “Tonight is just…I’m not completely here…my head is somewhere else.”

  Then let me take care of that. He spoke to her telepathically. And why not? He was a male in the house of Jadon, right? Of course he would have access to the common, central bandwidth. But then again, it didn’t feel like a common bandwidth—it felt more intimate—like something he had forged just between the two of them…

  By taking her blood.

  Oh shit, she thought. She was letting him in—in ways she wasn’t even remotely prepared to handle—without even knowing it; and he was controlling everything that happened between them with some really smooth moves, almost like it was deliberate.

  Calculated.

  But why?

  Ramsey didn’t need to take advantage of her innocence as a vampire—or even her ignorance of some of their ways. She was a willing participant, at a reasonable pace, that is. Right there with him. Clearly interested.

  “Ramsey,” she breathed out, almost sounding desperate. “I’m…it’s…the clinic, you know? Everything going on with Nachari tonight. I just can’t relax.”

  Now this brought him up short. His fangs receded, he pulled back to make unbroken eye contact, and his countenance all at once became serious. “The clinic? Everything going on with Nachari?”

  She frowned then, confused. “Of course…I mean; you have to know what’s happening tonight.”

  He froze for a moment, just the slightest hesitation, and then he immediately relaxed again. “Yeah, of course, but I’m…surprised you are so deeply affected.”

  Kristina drew back in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She felt almost offended. “Nachari means a lot to me, and his destiny could die tonight.” She stiffened. “And if something happens to Deanna, then Nachari is lost forever, too. So yeah, of course I’m deeply affected.”

  Ramsey’s brow furrowed, and he slowly licked his lips, only this time it was more contemplative than seductive. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, sounding genuinely remorseful. “I’ve been a real…asshole.”

  He stood up, walked to the couch, and sat back down. And then he extended his hand to her. “Come sit with me, Kristina.” When she hesitated, he frowned. “So we can talk—just talk.”

  Kristina eyed him warily. He seemed very sincere, and she was genuinely relieved. She got up slowly and took a seat next to him, still watching him attentively. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “How long have you known about Nachari’s dest—Deanna?”

  Kristina shrugged. “I don’t know. Kagen called all of us together to talk about a week ago—not long after my brothers found out.” She thought about whether or not to share this next bit of information. “But you know, I actually met her before then—I ran into her the day she arrived in Dark Moon Vale, but my brothers don’t know that.” She sighed. “It’s not like I knew who she was—I didn’t—but I did know that something weird was up because she had some really weird connection to Nachari.”

  He cleared his throat. “Really? An
d…why…what makes you think so?”

  She tilted her head to the side warily. “You’re not gonna tell Marquis, are you?”

  Ramsey shook his head with annoyance. “No. Of course not.” He looked beyond her for a second before bringing his eyes back to meet hers. “Nothing we say is ever between anyone but us. What made you think this girl was connected to Nachari?”

  Kristina sat up straight then, remembering that day in the meadow. “Because she went straight to the spot where Nachari had died—where he flatlined trying to save Napolean—and she was like rocking back and forth in the dirt, rubbing her hands in it and stuff, crying like her life had just ended…like she’d lost her best friend or something. It was really weird.” She decided to leave out the part about her confronting Deanna and threatening the poor girl—thinking she might be connected to the Dark Ones.

  Ramsey appeared stunned—far more than he should have been. So she had kept a secret? It wasn’t like Ramsey wasn’t keeping a few of his own right now…with her. “Does that make you angry?” she asked, a bit surprised by his reaction.

  He grumbled, “No…no. I’m just—” He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his jaw. “Um…I’m…trying to remember the date: You know, when we all found out that she was actually his destiny.”

  “Oh,” Kristina replied. “You mean Nachari’s Blood Moon? The night my brothers practically surrounded Deanna and corralled her like a horse—damn, I feel sorry for that girl. I mean, not ’cause she’s with Nachari, but that had to be some crazy it-shay.”

  If a ghost had entered the room, stood before them, and asked Ramsey to share a spot of tea, the seasoned warrior could not have looked more stunned. Silence filled the room for nearly sixty seconds before he finally came back to his original question. “Right…right, but I don’t know why the date is eluding me.”

  Kristina shrugged. “I don’t know—it was the twenty-fifth, like nineteen or twenty days ago. I know because my brothers are keeping very close track of the Blood Moon, you know, Nachari’s thirty days.”