A Vampire To Watch Over Me [Vampire Coven Book II] (9 page)

Honor winced at the pain of her bruising as she settled back against the soft, fluffy lump that was her pillow. It wasn’t leather and it smelled heavenly. She was surprised when Caine moved closer and took her chin in his hand.

There is no pain.

There suddenly wasn’t. “How do you do that?” Honor whispered. More magic?

“You need a good night’s rest. In the morning you can wander,” Caine said. “But while you wander, I will not take the pain from you until you come back inside. If you are pain-free you might accidently make your injuries worse by doing too much too fast.”

Honor squirmed for a moment. She played with her sheet wanting to ask a favor and afraid to ask. Her gaze shifted to the magic light switch. This place was scary—even more so in the dark. It was embarrassing to feel so much fear, but darkness was death.

“I’m leaving the light on,” Caine casually mentioned. “If you need to relieve yourself, let me know. I’ll be in the other room.”

“But my ass will freeze,” she said with dismay. “The ice will cut my feet.”

Laken and Caine chuckled. “Your butt will be fine,” Laken said. “And no more swear words—Tavish told you, and it’s for a good reason.”

“Yes, I saw the girl who brought me food,” Honor murmured.

“There are children here who are much younger and more impressionable,” Laken said.

The idea was intriguing to Honor. She made no protest when Laken mesmerized her into sleep.

* * * *

Honor stood just inside the door—the wood swinging thing that aided in privacy—just standing in the doorway would be treason in her ice dwelling as privacy was forbidden. She was feeling very self-conscious. Laken’s idea of clothing was laughable. It was a garment he called a ‘teddy.’ Honor had protested she would freeze to death. She remembered Laken had kept his arms bare in the snow—perhaps he didn’t realize she was different. When he had sworn she wouldn’t get cold, she had donned the strange garment.

Laken had then taken her to a ‘mirror.’ It was odd looking at her reflection. Her hair was long, almost reaching her ass—
her butt.
Her eyes were dark brown, so dark in fact, they looked almost black. Her skin was pale—except for the awful bruising. She thought she was gorgeous—although that was vanity and treason, but
shit—shoot
she was hot. Honor couldn’t help herself; she had preened and admired her beauty in front of that mirror and would have gazed at herself for hours if Laken hadn’t dragged her away and claimed she needed fresh air.

Now Honor stared, transfixed with apprehension at the scene before her. Everything looked so green and alive—perhaps too alive when Honor had been surrounded by death and emptiness. It looked like the new world before her had breath, the idea alone made her shake. Laken gave her a gentle shove, and she crossed the threshold into her new surroundings. It was so open and intimidating—more so than the vast snow-covered terrain where there had been just one solid color of white. There were no ice walls to make her feel safe—no ice ceiling to cover her. She was alone.

For a moment, she looked back fearfully at Laken. Vampires couldn’t go out in the sun, or so the ice dwellers were told. That’s why the hunters went out in the day. She had thought it odd last night when he and Caine had been in the sun in the room—or so she thought, until Caine clicked the frightening switch. Laken grinned at her and stepped past her through the door.

“By the look on your face I see you’ve been privy to vampire myth,” he said. She nodded. He didn’t go up in flames, he didn’t smolder—no poof, nothing. “The idea came about when the first vampire book was written—I’m a lot older than that and hadn’t read the book to realize there were rules and regulations.” His look was wry.

“It added hype to the lore, and an element of intrigue. Where was the fun in something that frightened you if there was no safe haven? Humans attach safe havens to all myths—werewolves and witches and ghosts. Most of the vampires in this coven were born before there was real speculation about us. You’d be surprised how many silly legends humans made up—even a few made up tales by vampires, to get what they wanted.

“Vampires like to hunt at night, we can see in the dark, and humans are more vulnerable when tired. The fairy tales came in very handy, actually. If a person was killed during the day humans assumed it had to be a human killer. Back then, centuries ago, vampires could get away with—murder.” He laughed after he said that as though it were a big joke; it made no sense to Honor and sounded a bit sinister.

Laken strolled away with her following. Honor turned in circles, everything was breathtaking. Each thing she touched had a name—Laken told her. Many trees of all sizes stood straight and not gnarled in pieces. They had things called branches that did an eerie sway in the wind. Strange tiny things buzzed around her, landed on her. A few Laken swatted away and declared those he crushed bad bugs. The pretty bug with beautiful wings was a good bug.

From a thing called a vine, he picked something called a grape and told her the color was purple. It was delicious. There were so many colors Honor had never seen. The sun—
oh the sun
—was warm and wonderful and beat down on her skin. She wore no shoes and squished a mixture of brown and green between her toes. Laken said it was dirt and old vegetation. There was a smell to everything. In Honor’s world smells consisted of body odors and the same boring food and smoke.

There was a round thing with something called a statue and a fountain. Honor muttered a shy hello to the odd-colored woman inside the round wall, but she didn’t answer. Laken said it was made of stone, the woman wasn’t real—still, it was strange to see a woman stand so motionless. Water streamed from a container making a trickling sound as though speaking, Honor had never seen so much water in such a large amount that continuously flowed like magic. Honor ran her hands through it expecting it to be icy cold, but the water was tepid. It fell from a bucket the female statue held. Honor examined the female closely, it was true—though life-like, she wasn’t alive. Laken told her the statue was there to help remind ice dwellers women should be outside too. They were useful even if they didn’t hunt. The idea made Honor a bit worried.

“I’m not allowed to hunt here?” she asked.

“You don’t need to; the vampires do it for you. But there are a number of things you can help with.”

“Like what?” she asked suspiciously.

“The clothes you wear may not be much but will need to be washed, as well as bedding. We grow most of our own food here. We can use your help in the gardens. Once you’re feeling better you will rotate with others who cook in the kitchen and serve food. We have animals you have never seen before—they’re harmless, and they need to be fed.”

Honor didn’t know if she liked the idea. Dylan was always commanding her to be useful. All Dylan wanted was a slave. And why on earth would anyone feed an animal? They were food.

“Do men do all these chores too?” she asked.

“Of course. Our human men don’t hunt either; it’s too dangerous past the wall for humans to wander.”

That made her feel a little better, but she would believe it when she saw it. Honor’s steps were slowing. Even this small amount of walking hurt her tender feet that were used to being encased in fur. She began limping after the next few feet. Laken took her to a bench and he sat. Honor wasn’t certain if she wanted to sit.

“We won’t go in yet,” Laken said. “But if you rest, you’ll be able to stay out longer.”

Honor decided it wasn’t a command. The way he worded it was as though it was in her best interest. Still—there was something about the twinkle in his eyes that made her frown. Honor sat as far from him as possible. She looked up; she couldn’t get enough of the blue sky.

“What are those?” she asked and pointed.

“Clouds.”

“They look like snowdrifts in the sky. Are they cold?” They were odd things. They floated about like the birds Laken showed her; some were in strange shapes. Where they alive? She looked at Laken who seemed unconcerned. They must be harmless entities.

“Where you come from, they carry snow—I bet they’re cold there. We get storms, but no snow. It looks like it’s going to storm,” Laken said.

In the distance, gray clouds were rolling in. To Honor they looked a bit mean. “Do clouds get grouchy?” she asked.

Laken chuckled. “Sometimes, spitfire, sometimes.”

A few blocked the sun for a short period and Honor frowned. It was like the sun was playing hide and seek. Honor was startled as a droplet of moisture hit her skin—then another. She examined the substance, it looked like water. Honor looked up and more droplets splashed onto her face startling her. Another dropped into her vulnerable eye, once more reminding her of their defenselessness. The liquid was warm and rolled down the side of her cheek.

“Holy shit, those clouds are pissing on me,” she suddenly howled.

Laken burst into laughter. “It’s raining, Honor.”

She gaped at Laken, Honor didn’t know what rain was. Warm water usually meant pee. Laken looked as though it was the most natural thing in the world. A droplet fell from his nose.

“Come on, we should go in,” Laken said and rose. Honor sat stubbornly. If it was just water, why couldn’t they stay outside? “Okay suit yourself. But—when it rains, it pours.” Laken got up and walked through the door, leaving her to feel the rain.

Honor looked up as more rain fell. It felt nice and Honor was surprised, normally open water was freezing death. She watched it land and roll across her arms and wrists tickling in places. Honor had never had water drip onto her, touching her skin—it was very sensual as it slid across her flesh like a man’s finger might.
Another treasonous thought
. Then the sky seemed to open up and Honor was drenched—she should have known she’d somehow pay for her lecherous thoughts.

Within seconds, her hair was saturated; Honor had washed her hair before but nothing like this. Wide-eyed, mouth open in surprise, her hand rose to wipe across her sodden face. She saw Laken laughing at her. Well, she wouldn’t go in. It was then she felt her teddy stretch a tiny bit. She looked down to see her clothing soaked to the point of being see-through and her nipples were puckering and straining against the material.

Shit—poop.

Honor’s eyes widened further as a streak of white light flashed through the sky. She screamed when a massive boom rent the air. It sounded like ice cracking—worse. Would the ground swallow her? She jumped to her feet, preparing to run, but the rain came down so hard she spun in a tight circle and didn’t know what way to go. Where was the door-thing? A terrible memory flashed into her thoughts. Long ago the ice had cracked; she was with her father and others. People were screaming, Talek fell onto a ledge through a large hole.

Peter’s mother was crying because she was ready to give birth and she needed her husband. She had begged Honor’s father to help Talek even though it was dangerous. Honor’s father sent Honor off to the side with Peter’s mother, ordered everyone back, and her father tossed Talek a rope. Honor’s father had been a good leader—he cared for everyone. The ice cracked again just as her father tied off the rope. Her father fell into the expanding ice hole; the rope was jerked from his hands and he never came out.

Talek had been able to pull himself up, but her father was too far for the rope to reach. They heard him calling. Honor’s father was frantic—but not for himself, he told Talek to watch over his baby girl—his Honor, there was nothing more important than Honor. Her father had been leader, now Talek was. Talek had already sworn he would allow no other girls to be born and thought Honor should have been left exposed as well. But her father insisted he saved Talek’s life—he owed him a life. Talek had promised to watch over Honor. The ice shifted again and her father stopped calling to them. When Talek had crouched down before Honor, she had expected comfort from the grown man, her daddy offered comfort; instead, Talek told her she should have died. Her father was a great hunter—Honor would never be useful.

Talek had lied, he didn’t watch over her like he had promised her father—he tolerated her, called her a liability and useless. He betrayed her and her father. The white light sluiced through the sky like blazing uncontrolled fire, knocking her thoughts somewhat back into the present. Uncontrolled fire would burn the ice, caverns would form and melt, she could end up freezing in the ocean. Honor couldn’t move—couldn’t still the thoughts bombarding her. She’d felt so alone the day her father died. There was no more love—it died with her father. She felt alone now. She was so scared. The ice-cracking noise sounded again and seemed to shake the ground. Laken had told her if ever she felt afraid she was to call him. What if he was without honor too? Honor could feel her tears mix with the rain. Her hands covered her face, she whimpered.

“
Laken
.”

Honor was pulled to a solid chest and lifted into strong arms. In seconds, she was back inside and a towel was wrapped around her. How could someone who she barely knew offer more compassion than those she had known all her life? It made no sense. Why were men such complex creatures?

Laken set her down on a bed and wiped the rain from her face. Honor was shivering, she was cold and scared, she couldn’t catch her breath. This new place was so different from what she knew. How was she to ever get used to such bizarre weather that seemed to attack her? All Honor knew was ice and cold. The blizzard had been enough of a shock—but the strange glow in the sky was too frightening. It was like a crack opening in the sky. Did people fall upwards if a hole opened? The ground opened, why wouldn’t the same be true of the sky? Honor had seen the sky at night—it was a sheet of nothing except the moon and stars. Were the stars really fallen people glowing a fire in hopes of being found?

“Get her into a hot shower,” Caine commanded when he came into the room. He looked angry.

Laken scooped Honor up and took her to the room where she’d relieved herself earlier. The white bowl they called a toilet was a revelation—until she fell off it. When Laken had used a handle to flush it, Honor had watched mesmerized as the water spun round and round getting rid of the contents. They were right, her ass hadn’t frozen, and standing there now in the same room, after what she had just been through, Honor decided she could swear in her mind without making corrections.