Ascension (13 page)

“They know nothing of what you will be, my Kyana,” Henry had said. “I’m not merely Vampyre, Kyana. I am rare in my blend of bloods. That same blending now lives in you. Half Vampyre. Half Lychen. The beast in you will one day be tamed and they will still never see you for more than a monster. I will go to my grave sorry for what I have done to you.”

“What you have done? You have given me life. True life. Where I will never be at the mercy of another. Henry . . .
Father
. . . you have given me freedom.”

Henry’s long brown hair fell over his face as his worried gaze watched Kyana feed. “There is no freedom in what you have become. You will search until death has truly found you, Kyana, and unless you are far luckier than I have been, that search will prove fruitless and painful.”

Kyana had smiled, had thought him to be foolish. “I am Vampyre. I will want for nothing.”

“We are also Lychen. The restlessness of that half will never be content until you find the one meant for you. You will forever be prisoner to it. Do not delude yourself that you are free.”

But Kyana hadn’t listened. Lychen or not, she’d never again become the property of another man. Not in the name of law, and most certainly not in the name of love. She took one last look into Henry’s eyes and reached for him, needing to hold him, to remember a father’s touch. But as her fingers drifted through his ghostly form, she bolted awake and stared wide-eyed at her bedroom ceiling.

On trembling legs, she made her way to the bathroom, casting a glance over her shoulder to make certain she hadn’t wakened Ryker. He still slept peacefully, his rhythmic snores the only sound in the house. She locked the bathroom door, dropped her towel, and draped herself in her long, red robe before collapsing onto the edge of the tub. Her body convulsed as she realized what had awakened her.

Fear.

The expectation, the waiting, the dread of what was to come, kept her from leaving the room.

What have we done?

That dream had reminded her of the pain that had come with Turning, the agony of learning not to feed in order to tame the beast Henry had created that night. She was healed. She’d fed from Ryker, and by doing so, she had to have released the monster within her that had lain dormant for eighty years.

She tried to focus on the horrible paisley wallpaper she hadn’t yet replaced, but the harder she stared, the more the walls threatened to close in on her.

An image of Icky struck her like a fist to the gut. Deformed. Demonic. The most inhuman, unhuman thing she’d ever seen.
That
was what lived inside her. Diluted but there.

Moving to the mirror, she checked her reflection. Her small canines still hadn’t elongated into sharp, piercing daggers. Her eyes hadn’t dilated to all black. She held up her hands. Her carefully trimmed nails hadn’t stretched and grown into long, deadly weapons. She looked exactly as she had for the last eight decades.

It made no sense.

She’d fed from human, Vampyre, Witch, even a demon or two in her one hundred plus years as a Dark Breed before joining the Order. Each time she’d taken blood, the change had been immediate. Each time she’d become stronger, faster . . . deadlier.

She closed her eyes, remembering the last time she’d tasted warm, fresh blood. It had been three weeks after Henry’s death. The Van Helsing wannabe who’d taken Henry’s life had begged for his own. His request, much like the pleadings of her Sire’s, had fallen on deaf ears. She’d been left alone then, orphaned. So she’d joined the Order of Ancients and tried to make a new family within it.

Working for the Order, even with its rules and dislike for her kind, gave her that peace she’d searched for when she’d gone after her Sire’s murderer.

She’d made her vow to the Order not to feed again. She’d gone through months of the most painful withdrawal imaginable. It had taken charms and potions and a full year to tame the instinct to feed, and she’d sworn she’d never put herself through that again.

Now that she had, what the hell was taking so long?

Maybe it was the alcohol in Ryker’s blood. Vampyre couldn’t get drunk, but maybe they shared the effects when consuming blood from someone who was. Her head swam and her belly swirled and her mouth still tasted the strong booze he’d drunk before she’d found him. Maybe it slowed the change.

Sitting back down on the edge of the tub, she wrapped her arms around her belly. Waiting. Dreading. Fearing.

Hoping.

Maybe it wasn’t the booze at all. Maybe it was just
Ryker
. He was a demigod, and she’d never fed off anything like him before. Maybe she was as immune to him as she’d been to Icky.

Strange pinpricks danced across her skin. She rushed back to the mirror.

Nothing.

The pinpricks traveled up her legs and arms, making the hair on her nape stand on end. Ryker. She was feeling
him
. Sensing
him
.

Kyana stared at the closed door. He’d awakened and was worrying about her.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to block out his thoughts and emotions. So the connection of feeding off him was there. Why this when none of the other changes had happened?

His soft rap on the bathroom door made her jump. She didn’t move. Didn’t bid him entrance.

He opened the door, knelt in front of her, and rested his hands on his knee. “You okay?”

She forced a smile. “I will be.”

“You’re not going to change, Ky. Come back to bed.”

He sounded so sure, she couldn’t help but believe him. Relief made her knees tremble. “Thank you. For what you did, I mean.”

He pulled her into his arms and guided her out of the bathroom and back onto the plush carpet of her bedroom. “I wouldn’t have had to do anything if I hadn’t put you in danger in the first place.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He placed her gently on the bed and watched until she lay down. Once she was situated, he lifted the sheets and tucked them under her arms before collapsing beside her. He yanked her to his body, forcing her onto her side so he could scoop her backside against his hips.

“What time is it?” She yawned, suddenly exhausted now that her worry had passed.

“Probably around noon.” His breath washed over her hair and neck. “Rest until sunset.”

“We really don’t have time—”

“Feeling up to shifting to escape the sun already, then?”

The sensitive skin of Kyana’s tender toes brushed Ryker’s bare foot. “Maybe not.”

His hand rested lightly on her waist as though it belonged there, as though they really did
like
each other.

“I do like you, Kyana.”

Kyana scowled. “Get out of my head.”

“Go to sleep, Dark Breed,” he said, his voice drugged with sleepiness, his insult soothed by the faint grin she felt pressed to the back of her neck.

Ryker waited until Kyana drifted to sleep before he allowed himself to close his eyes. Instinctively, he tightened his hold around her waist and pulled her to him. Her dream had been as vivid in his mind as it had been in hers. The connection between them would fade soon, but he hadn’t just bitten her this time. This time, he’d fed
her.
By mingling their blood, he’d been given a taste of her past that made him ache to protect her as only one other being ever had.

He’d felt Kyana’s Sire’s love for her. Had felt the fatherly affection. Had suffered Kyana’s painful thoughts regarding a true father who had terrorized her childhood until he’d sold her to the sultan to become wife number seventeen. The painful memory of the sultan’s acts of violence and the cruelty toward Kyana doled out by the other wives and the sultan’s mother.

How had she lived through all of that and still managed to remain the strong, independent woman she’d become?

The restlessness of that half will never be content until you find the one meant for you.

Her Sire’s words were stuck on replay in Ryker’s head. He knew exactly what Henry had meant by that. Kyana’s Lychen half would never be at peace until it found its life mate, and from the moment he’d met Kyana, Ryker had felt that connection to her. It scared the shit out of him. His instinct was to run like hell and never look back. But running would accomplish nothing. He was bound to be with Kyana or die alone.

The Fates had dealt him a sour hand.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he soft snore woke Kyana from a deep, fitful sleep. She pried open her eyes and stared into the darkness of . . . her bedroom. A moment of panic seized her as she tried to remember how she’d gotten there, in her bed, draped in her red robe and satin sheets. The snore sounding beside her brought a rush of memories that forced her eyes closed once again.

Ryker. The sun. Ryker’s protection. The pain. Ryker’s blood.

She jerked upright, eagerly searching her hands for claws, her tongue flicking over her fangs.

Still nothing.

She was safe. Ryker hadn’t lied. The change was not coming.

“Praise Zeus,” she whispered, unable to fight the grin creeping onto her face.

Ryker had managed to save her by feeding her . . . without Turning her again. Halle-freakin’-lujah.

She tested her toes, her fingers, her arms. No pain. She was whole again. Strong again.

She rolled over and placed herself nose-to-nose with Ryker and found his silver eyes staring back at her.

“Hi,” she whispered, focusing on the thick, black lashes lining his eyes.

“Is it sunset already?” He yawned and twisted to look out her window, but their shuttered darkness offered him no answer. There wasn’t a single clock in the room. The only way to determine the time was to push open the shutters and peek outside, or walk downstairs to find the clock. She was too cozy to do either; too afraid the slightest movement would send Ryker skittering back into hands-off mode.

Instead, she reached out with her Vampyric senses, attempting to read the path of the sun. “Soon, but not yet, I think.”

Ryker flopped onto his back and folded his arms beneath his head, studying the ceiling. “Nice place. Not at all what I expected.”

The sudden absence of his hand on her hip and his breath on her face made her cold.

“Expecting a graveyard?” she only half teased.

She studied him, the cleft in his chin, his dimpled cheeks. “Maybe.”

She tucked deeper beneath the blanket and tried to see her home through his eyes. She’d chosen the old bed-and-breakfast as her home because of the history she’d seen within it. It had reminded her of the eighteen hundreds when she’d been living it up as a hunting Vamp. She’d picked out the navy blue shutters that blocked the sun from every single window on the two-story structure as the charm of the house had given way to necessity. She adored the little home she shared with Haven.

She smiled and raised herself up on one arm. “If it makes you feel better, it was a funeral home more than a hundred years ago. They used to stand up open coffins downstairs and place them in the windows so passersby could see the work they’d done on corpses.”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his brow raised. “Morbid.”

Shrugging, Kyana lay back down. “Maybe, but it’s eccentric. Suits me fine.”

He slipped his fingers beneath her arm and lifted it so they could both see. The flesh was pink like raw chicken, but the charred black scales that had covered it at daybreak were gone.

“How do you feel?”

As though it contained a mind separate from her own, she watched her hand lift and her finger trace the bridge of his nose. The gesture was so human, so normal, it was as though she hovered outside her body, watching herself do something so daring as to touch him so gently.

“Pretty fantastic, actually . . . Ryker?”

“Hmm?”

Rather than brush off her touch as she’d expected him to, he closed his eyes. His dark lashes fanned out atop his skin, feathery and beautiful. Would they tickle the tip of her finger if she continued her daring ministrations?

“What did you mean about me making you crazy?” She’d known the question was on the tip of her tongue. Known she was drowsy enough to voice it. Sadly, her confidence died the moment it flitted out of her mouth and drifted through the air toward his ears.

He slowly opened his eyes to stare at her. The pewter shimmered as her question hung in the air between them.

Darkness flickered in his eyes. “Go back to sleep, Ky.”

She sat up and twisted to glare down at him. “Go back to . . . I just saved your life. The least you can do is answer my question.”

“No.” He eased himself up against the headboard to watch her. After several seconds of intense scrutiny, he continued, “And I saved your life too.” He brushed a stray strand of her hair from her cheek. “But thank you. You risked yourself to save me and I owe you way more than a drink from my blood.”

“Just not an answer to my question?”

Ryker forced himself to keep his expression neutral as he waited for Kyana’s outburst. The moment he’d awakened and found her in her bathroom, he’d remembered every drunken word he’d spoken and could have cut out his own tongue in regret. He was only surprised it had taken her this long to call him on what he’d said. Hell, his words weren’t the only thing he remembered. He remembered forcing a kiss on her too. And now that he’d linked with her after sharing his blood with her, he knew enough about her past to know why he’d seen the fear in her eyes.

He was every kind of asshole.

He’d struggled his whole life not to be like the father he’d hated. The father who’d swooped down to Earth to possess a young, faithful worshipper long enough to rape the young woman, who, shortly after, gave birth to Ryker. A mother who’d loathed her son from his first breath to the day his father came to claim him. He’d only forced a kiss on Kyana, but was he capable of doing more? Of being the same entitled prick as his father?

When Kyana’s gaze fell to his mouth, his dropped to the crowns of her breasts peeking from beneath her velvet robe. He laced his fingers behind his head to keep from reaching for her. No, he wasn’t the same as his father. He knew his limits and would never reach out to take what wasn’t his. And as many times as Kyana might offer herself to him, she wasn’t his. Not yet.

She flicked her tongue against the peak of her upper lip and his body tightened in response. Ten years was a long time to hold on to an obsession like the one he’d been carrying. If he didn’t put distance between himself and Kyana soon, it was going to become a do-her-or-die situation.

“I make you crazy because you
do
want me, don’t you?”

“I never said I didn’t.”

But to take the brief affair she offered would make him no better than the men in her life who had used her for their own pleasure, then walked away . . . it would make him no better than his father.

She stretched. “There aren’t many men who’d turn away from what I offered you.”

“Sex, you mean.” Ryker rolled onto his side to face her, his long fingers tracing a pattern on her shoulder.

“Mm hmm. It would be mind-blowing, you know.”

“Believe me, I know.” He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, a tremble seizing his muscles at the taste of her, then lay back on his pillow. “But I’m not a fuck-’em-and-leave-’em guy.”

Kyana touched her lips with her fingertips. “I could teach you how to be if that’s all that’s stopping you.”

This moment between them felt almost human. Almost ordinary. Gods, how he longed for ordinary. His chest suddenly tight, Ryker dropped another light kiss to her forehead before easing from the bed. “Get some rest. I’m going to borrow your shower and go find some food. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“You already showered.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, turning back to face her again. “But this one’s going to be cold.”

T
he sound of frantic whispers nudged Kyana awake again. She forced her eyes open and started when she saw Farrel and Crag hovering over her.

“Get the hell out of my room!”

She never let them in here! They knew that.

“Back off, darlin’. They’re just doing what I asked.” Haven’s voice drifted in from Kyana’s doorway. Kyana sat up on her elbows to glare at her. She nearly asked where Ryker was, but caught her tongue before she could slip and let everyone know he’d been here at all.

“What’s going on?”

Haven stepped into the room but remained a good distance from the bed. “The last time I tried to wake you, you nearly crushed my spine. I figured since they were here, they could do it for me.”

Groaning, Kyana swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled her robe tightly closed. “Way to abuse my minions.” She glared at Farrel and Crag and pointed to the door. “Out. Now.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Crag said, fear causing his pocked cheeks to pucker.

His freshly oiled bald head glistened with light sunburn. She was willing to bet he’d spent his time off duty at the beach, as he loved to so often do. Having a mistress of the dark had to suck for a beach bum like Crag.

“You look like poop, Kyana.”

“Thanks.” She rolled her head and flexed her shoulders. Regardless of what Haven thought about her appearance, Kyana felt fan-freakin’-tastic. “Where’ve you been?”

Feeling a little guilty over not having even noticed whether Haven had been home, Kyana worked her way to her feet and strode to the closet.

“I went to find Geoffrey, remember? I wanted to see if he had that list of Cronos supporters.”

“And?”

“He wants us to meet him Below.”

Kyana was irritated that she’d been forced to waste an entire day because of her injuries. Regardless, maybe the day hadn’t been a complete waste after all. If Geoff had put together anything useful, they might have a new place to start tonight.

Her steps a little lighter than they’d been in a while, Kyana ripped a pair of leather pants from their hanger and shoved her arms through a leather vest before stepping back out of the closet. Haven watched Kyana pull on her pants and boots, then handed Kyana her holster.

“Found this outside. And this”—Haven reached behind her back and pulled out Kyana’s stained dagger—“in your bathroom. The only reason I could think that you might have left your weapon belt outside is if you’d been forced to shift. Run into trouble?”

Kyana eyed her, wondering how little she could get away with telling. “Leeches and sunlight don’t mix.”

Haven’s blue eyes widened and her perfect little mouth formed a dainty O. “Is that why your skin’s all pink? Holy goodness, Kyana! You were burned!”

Kyana shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“I can see that! What I can’t see is how or why. Vamps don’t just bounce back after meeting the sun face-to-face.”

“This one does, apparently.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

Kyana preferred
not
, but was pretty sure Haven wouldn’t let the subject drop until she got some kind of answer. “I was careless. Got caught outdoors in the middle of a Leech attack. That’s it.” She purposely left out the bit about saving Ryker’s ass, sure he wouldn’t appreciate her telling others about his moment of weakness. “The sun is not kind. I don’t understand why people all but worship it.”

“Even I can tell this is new skin.” Haven gingerly touched Kyana’s bare shoulder. “I can’t stomach the thought of how bad these burns were this morning. Or what you had to do to rid your body of the poison.” Haven’s face suddenly fell and her concerned eyes turned suspicious. “He fed you to keep you alive. Only someone with gods’ blood could heal you this quickly.”

She didn’t have to say who
he
was. They both knew whom Haven was referring to.

“He did what he had to,” was all the information Kyana was willing to give.

Haven smiled. “Good for him.”

“Not a word to anyone.” Kyana zipped up her boots. “I mean it.”

“You know I’d never do that. But I am telling Geoff to come here to meet you. You should rest.”

“I’ve rested enough.” Standing, Kyana wrapped her belt around her waist, then tied her hair at her nape with the elastic band sitting on her night table. “In fact, I feel amazing.”

“So where’d he go, anyway?”

“Who?”

“Ryker. I hope he didn’t just ‘do what he had to do’ and then leave without making sure you were okay.”

“He stayed.” Haven didn’t need to know that Ryker had stayed in bed with Kyana practically all day. She’d make way more of a big deal out of that tidbit than was necessary.

“Well . . . okay, then. So we’re off to see Geoffrey, then? You sure you’re up to it?”

Kyana rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.”

They should probably find Ryker before meeting Geoff, though. He wouldn’t be happy if she started work without him. And despite her desire to work solo in the beginning, she was starting to enjoy having him around. Today had been nice. The most normal day Kyana had had in a long time—if she discounted the Leeches and the near-death thing. But curling up in bed with Ryker all afternoon had stirred up all sorts of warm, cozy feelings she didn’t even know she was capable of. Hell, she was practically purring.

Kneeling beside the bed, she pulled out a wooden box and opened the lid. Inside was an array of specially crafted knives, all identical in look and weight. She selected one and tucked it into her boot. After wiping the mixture of Leech and her own blood off the dagger Haven had returned to her, Kyana tucked it into her holster next to her flare gun and started for the door.