Avador Book 2, Night Shadows (29 page)

"Have you ever thought about crossing over?"

In her woolen nightgown, Fianna twisted around from her dresser stool to give Gaderian a questioning look. He sat on the bench by the window, his gaze on her while she brushed her hair. "Crossing over?"

"I mean becoming one such as I. A vampire." He rushed on, as if aware his question had caught her by surprise, which it did. "Just wondering, darling. It's not as if you need to make any decision at all. I will always love you, no matter what. Haven't I said so time and again? But being one of the undead does have its advantages. You live forever and can easily transport yourself from one place to another. The undead have many powers and abilities denied mortals. But I repeat, it was only a question."

Fianna set her brush down as thoughts chased themselves in her head. To be a vampire–could she do that–undergo that transformation? To never see her mother or brother again, to be forever separated from everyone that she loved, except Gaderian? To live by night and sleep by day–could she exist like that?

Gaderian came to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Only the touch of his fingers told her he stood behind her, for she couldn't see him in the mirror! He bent low to kiss the top of her head. "We don't need to talk about it now, sweetheart. I can think of better things to do." Gently, he eased her from the chair and turned her to face him. "My dear wife, have I ever told you how much I love you? I bless the day you came into my life."

She smiled, her fingers lightly resting on his hard chest. "The day I came into your cave. It's the same with me, my husband. My life was so empty until I met you."

"Then let's show our love for each other." He reached down to draw her gown over her head as she raised her arms to make it easier for him. He tossed the gown aside, and naked, she stood before him, on fire with wanting him. Through eyes heavy with passion, she gazed at him as he settled himself on the edge of the bed and drew his boots off, followed by his clothes that he shoved aside. He rose and stood before her, his need so evident she sucked in her breath.

Love and desire swept over her, a firestorm of need deep within, a desperate craving that only he could satisfy. Ah, she would never tire of him, this husband of hers, this man she wanted to share eternity with. He gathered her into his embrace, her breasts crushed against his chest, his full member pressed to her belly. Wrapped in each other's arms, they kissed again and again, as if for the first time, as though they hadn't shared every love-filled night since their marriage almost one moonphase ago.

He drew her to the bed with him, where they kissed and caressed with a frenzied hunger. He touched her in every sensitive spot, those secret places he'd learned by heart. Caressing her breast, he licked her nipple, sucking gently on the pebbly mound. Pleasure sparked through her, a fiery heat, a need too great to be denied. Her fingers tangled in his dark locks, then trailed down to his neck and shoulders, drawing him closer, closer to her. His lips traced a path from her breast to her belly, kissing, licking her skin as his finger moved over the hardened nub between her legs. His head followed the same path, gently kissing the core of her sex, his tongue licking, probing, darting over her until she all but screamed with joy. She was climbing, climbing, climbing to a pinnacle of rapture, aching with the pleasure-pain of wanting him. And dear Goddess, if she had to wait another second, she didn't think she could bear it.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please take me now."

He lifted his head and smiled lightly, teasingly. "Ah, you want me inside you?"

"You know I do." Her body throbbed for him, a need so great she thought she'd burst. Ah, please don't make me wait any longer.

He raised himself up and across her, then pressed inside her slowly, taunting her to madness. He whispered in her ear, "Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes, yes!"

"You like to have me inside you, don't you?" He nuzzled her neck.

"Yes!" She could barely speak and had to bite her lip to keep from reaching a climax too soon. This beautiful feeling was building within her, a liquid fire creeping over her, an overwhelming need for fulfillment.

"Am I big enough for you?"

"Ah, yes!"

He eased back and forth inside her. "And you like this, don't you?"

"Please!" She was going out of her mind from wanting him.

Another thrust. "Does this feel good?"

"Please, love, don't do this to me."

He stopped, giving her a long, lazy look. "You don't want me making love to you?"

"You know I do." She couldn't hold back much longer.

He moved inside her with deliberate slowness, as if to torment her. She moved against him, faster, faster, unable to wait any longer. He matched her movements, his breathing heavy as they both reached a crest of pleasure. Climbing higher, higher, reaching the top, she gasped and moaned as pure rapture erupted inside her, Gaderian's and hers, together. Countless moments later, she sighed with an ecstasy she never wanted to end. [nice]

* * *

The following evening, Gaderian dressed to ride into Moytura. "I've forced a meeting at Orrick's apartment," he explained after their lovemaking. "As usual, Orrick wanted to go his own way and ignore the rest of the undead." He sat on the bench and pulled on his boots. "Well, the days of ignoring the rest of us are over. We need a strong leader, such as I." He grinned with mock humility.

Naked, Fianna reached down to pull the bedspread over her and wondered if her husband would ever get used to a mortal's sense of hot and cold. The temperature obviously remained the same for him, no matter the season. "But if you–we–have defeated the bandregas . . .?"

"More problems may arise . . . do arise. Every now and then we may have a maverick vampire who doesn't follow the rules, who kills a mortal. Not often, mind you, but even once is one time too many." He stood to buckle on his belt, then raked his fingers through his hair. "Only a few moonphases ago, I had to reprimand such a one, a task Orrick should have performed, but didn't. We must not, can not, have such problems, for therein lies trouble for all of us. I told you about my audience with Queen Keriam and Prince Roric. Several of the undead still languish in the magistrate's dungeon, hostages until the queen is certain of our innocence. So the last thing we need is a new charge of guilt."

Gaderian sat on the bed to kiss her, his hand roaming down her body, his fingers tracing every curve. He felt himself hardening, ready to make love again. "Doubtless it will be quite late when I return and seek my own slumber in the cellar." He sighed deeply. "Ah, I will wait for better things tomorrow night."

Dampening his passion, he rose from the bed and blew her a kiss before he opened the door. He walked down the long flagstone hallway, then on down the winding stairs. Outside, a fierce wind howled, the bare trees thrashing. Heading along the graveled path to the stable, he found the stable boy dozing on a bundle of hay. The boy jumped from his perch as soon as Gaderian entered. It seemed as if Brendan had a sixth sense that awakened him whenever Gaderian entered the stable.

Brendan saddled and bridled the horse, holding the reins while Gaderian placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted Bryce. "I may be quite late returning," he said. "Don't wait up for me."

Brendan nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Trotting the horse, Gaderian headed north to the capital, as always aware that he didn't need a horse for traveling. But Bryce needed the exercise and he needed a chance to think, to plan his strategy for the meeting. As he increased his speed, he scarcely noticed the trees or landscape as he followed the twisting dirt road to Moytura, for he knew Orrick would not willingly surrender his position as head of the vampires.

Inside Orrick's splendid apartment a short while later, Gaderian greeted the other fourteen representatives, knowing them all by name and wondering how many would back him in his attempt to oust the leader. Ensconced in chairs arranged around the room, some were dressed finely and others in plain garb, their faces revealing nothing of their thoughts or feelings as they chatted among themselves. He wondered if the realized the purpose of the meeting.

Gaderian found an empty chair and nodded at Orrick, who sat in a velvet-backed chair, a look of pained inquiry on his face. He knows what I have planned, Gaderian thought, but what will he do about it?

Orrick clapped his hands and the chatter stopped. His expression darkened as he looked Gaderian's way. "Perhaps you will explain the reason for calling this meeting."

"Ah, yes," Gaderian replied, gathering his wits for the ordeal ahead. "In the first place, those of us who represent all of the undead in Avador are supposed to meet at the beginning of every moonphase. Or had you forgotten?" he asked sarcastically. Before Orrick could react, he went on, getting right to the main point, with no hesitation. "Secondly, I believe it is time you stepped down as our leader–"

Gasps and whistles met this pronouncement, which led Gaderian to wonder if surprise alone met this statement, or if he would have no supporters in his endeavor to supplant Orrick.

Orrick's eyes bulged. "What is the meaning of this insolence," he spat. "Who do you think you are to defy me?"

Gaderian crossed one leg over the other. "I am the one who discovered the secret of the bandregas. Correction! Moreen discovered their secret, but at my instigation. The bandregas are no longer threatening us, nor are they killing the mortals. They are all dead, or were you not aware of this?" he said in Orrick's direction. "And how did they die? We poisoned their sacred well. And that is no secret. Moreen explained what happened at the gathering last moonphase."

Orrick snickered. "Ah, yes, I remember. A mortal woman poisoned the well. What was the matter? Were you too afraid to do it your–?"

"I was too sick!" Gaderian struggled for calmness. "Bitten by a bandrega when I was weak and hungry. Sick for days afterward." He softened his voice. "Believe me, I would have ridden to Magh Eamhainn and poisoned the well had I not been too weak to stand." A stab of resentment erupted inside him. "Moreen told you this."

A heavy silence followed, all eyes shifting from Gaderian to Orrick.

One of the undead whom Gaderian recognized as Killian cleared his throat. Tall and thin, he'd been a vampire for centuries, one Gaderian knew as a friend. "Gaderian has given us some very good arguments in his favor." He looked at the others, his gaze flitting from one representative to another, then back to Orrick. "All these years that we have suffered at the hands of the bandregas, when we were blamed for the killing of the mortals–Orrick, what did you do about it?"

"How was I to know about their Goddess-damned sacred well or magic rings?" the leader sputtered.  "The mortals weren't even aware they still existed. The way they made themselves look human had been a secret for years."

"A secret that Gaderian and Moreen uncovered." Nola fixed the leader with a penetrating gaze, her black hair gleaming by the lamplight. "The problem cried out for leadership, yet you did nothing." Others nodded in agreement, voices chiming in with their opinions, chatter that filled the room.

Orrick exploded. "Goddess-damn all of you! After all that I have done–"

"That's just it," Kearnan said. Only a hundred years old, still he'd shown intelligence and maturity in the time Gaderian had known him. "What have you done?" His gaze searched the others. "As a matter of fact, I don't know why we put up with this situation for so long."

"Why don't we vote on it?" Ronan, another old vampire, asked.

"Never mind a vote!" Orrick's face was beet red. He waved a beefy hand. "Just get out, all of you! Let Wade take over as leader of the undead, if that is what everyone wants, all of you ungrateful nightwalkers. Just get out! I don't want to see you again!"

Without a word, the vampires rose from their chairs and filed out of the room, Gaderian leaving last. Once outside, they all began talking, congratulating him, making plans for the meeting the next moonphase. Immersed in mixed emotions, Gaderian smiled and made the correct rejoinders. He should be happy that he had replaced Orrick as leader, but his intuition told him he hadn't heard the last from the former leader.

He feared he had made an enemy for life.

* * *

Refusing to relinquish his search for Fianna, Angus brooded in the Snow Leopard. He knew Gaderian Wade frequented this tavern–or used to–this very place where Fianna had once been employed as a scryer. He scoffed to himself. Fianna–a fortune teller!

Men and women filled almost every table in the dining room, and voices swelled within the room, the usual laughter and chatter, sounds he was heartily sick of.  After all this time, he'd learned nothing about Fianna or Wade, for the patrons remained tight-lipped, recognizing him as an outsider and protecting their own, for apparently they held Fianna in much esteem. Obviously, the bitch had moved in with Wade, but had she married him? He fingered the sheathed dagger at his waist. Goddess-damn her. If she had married him . . .

Angus's head snapped up as a newcomer stepped inside, a customer he hadn't seen here before. Tall and beefy, the man took a table by himself, the only empty one left. A tangle of brown bushy hair augmented his fat head and fell to his shoulders. The stranger raised his thick fingers to get the waitress's attention, then settled back in his chair to look around, a scowl fixed on his wrinkled face. Clad in a black woolen tunic and trousers, he unpinned the plaid cloak around his shoulders and tossed it over an empty chair. When the waitress returned with his drink, he raised the mug to his mouth and downed the drink with one gulp.