B00XXAC6U6 EBOK (7 page)

“What am I supposed to do, Davido? You know my history with Regan.”

The three rolls of Davido’s forehead squinched up. “Now, how am I supposed to have an answer to such a question? I’m not a vampire for one thing nor do I have the smallest idea what it feels like to suddenly be obsessed with a blood rose. Sorry, my boy, but I can’t help you at all.” He jerked his thumb in Stone’s direction. “Though you might want to think about sending this one packing.”

Ian met Stone’s amused gaze. “That was my first thought, but we need him here. How about you spend the night’s rotation with Ben until I get things with Regan figured out? My instincts tell me I’m going to need your battling support.”

Stone nodded, holding his tumbler out to Davido who in turn added another two fingers. “I agree. Besides, it seems to me we might have a chance to end this war for good now that we know where Margetta’s fortress is.”

Ian ran a hand through his hair. Somewhere in the battling, he’d lost his woven Guardsman’s clasp. Stone had as well.

A thought occurred to him. “Hold on. Malik said he did something to keep Zane from chasing Willow, but what was that?”

“I remember now,” Stone said. “It was all over the loop. Malik took some of Willow’s blood and spread it up his forearms in long streaks. Zane said it worked, that his obsessive drive toward Willow ended abruptly.”

“That’s what we’ll do, then.”

Davido cleared his throat.

Ian frowned at him. “What?”

“Won’t you need to ask Regan if she’s on board?”

“I don’t see her compliance as an issue.”

Davido shook his head. “You were always absurdly stubborn. But let us hope she’s as willing to oblige you as you think she is. You haven’t exactly given her reason to adore your sweet self.”

Ian’s lips quirked. “That last bit is very true, but Regan has a sensible side.” At least he hoped she’d be practical given their current predicament.

~ ~ ~

Regan sat on the black leather couch in the library. “I forgot what it was like with Ian on every front, the good parts and the bad. From the time I fed him at the bottom of the gorge, I’ve felt as though I’ve gotten stuck on a carnival ride with way too many sudden highs and lows. I’m ready to get off, as in now.”

Vojalie nodded several times in succession. “Are you still determined to return to Swanicott?”

“I want to make use of the significant resources at my fae retreat, and I intend to contact the Fae Council. It’s time we, as a fae community, stepped up together to confront Margetta. Surely, as a working unit we can uncover a spell to rid her encampment of the shielding mist.”

“Did you try to solve the spell while you were there?”

Regan thought back to the sequence of events since she didn’t see the wall of mist until she’d escaped from the tower. “Though I was able to detect a spell over a portion of the camp tents, the best I could do was to imprint the spell in my mind. I had no luck, however, dissecting the formula at all. And you have no idea how hard I tried. I think there might have been a blocking spell in place.

“As far as the mist goes, its presence came as a huge surprise. I’d had no idea there was even a spell along the southern edge of the property until I’d reached the catwalk. By then, I had very little time to escape. So, no, I was never near the mist long enough to take a reasonable stab at its composition.”

Vojalie’s brow grew pinched as though she was mulling the situation over. She sat in a leather, wing-back chair, and was somewhat swallowed up because it was built on Ian’s massive lines. Her right wrist dangled just over the armrest. With her free hand, she twirled a long, dark curl around her finger.

Regan kept expecting Vojalie to respond to her observation but she remained silent. She almost looked perplexed.

“What is it?” Regan asked. “Don’t you think my idea has merit? That we should involve the fae community?”

Vojalie huffed a small, almost frustrated sigh. “In some respects yes, though I have my reservations. But only you can determine the right path for yourself and for Ian.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Actually, I don’t. I’ve never excelled at spell-making, so I’m of no use to you in this situation. But I have been close to several of the blood roses over the past few months. And I’ve observed that each one eventually had to alter her thinking in order to move forward, especially where the realm mastyr was concerned.” She looked almost pained, her hands now clasped tightly together, as she added, “If at all possible, make every effort to see Ian in a new light.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Vojalie appeared to hunt for words. “You don’t know him very well, Regan. We could start there.”

“You’re so wrong,” Regan answered quickly. “I know him extremely well. You forget, we were lovers once.”

Vojalie shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I strongly disagree. You were enamored of him many centuries ago, you had a terrible falling out, and you’ve barely exchanged an hour of conversation since. How can you possibly say you know him well? I would suggest, you don’t know him at all.”

Regan wanted to argue, but something in what Vojalie said struck a chord of truth within Regan’s fae nature. “Part of me wishes to argue the point, but maybe you’re right. In some ways, we were just getting to know each other, even to have the occasional argument, when Raven’s Overlook changed everything.”

Vojalie had been her mentor from the time she was a teenage girl nearly seven centuries ago. Regan had lived a long time and in turn had mentored dozens of fae women herself.

What she had never done well, however, was enjoy a long-term relationship with a man. She’d dated dozens of times since Ian, but most of her affairs only lasted a brief couple of years. After all this time, she wasn’t sure she’d ever have a real relationship.

Shifting her thoughts for a moment, she considered the lightning-and-thunder nature of her brief love affair with Ian. Was it possible she’d been part of the problem as Ian suggested, even if she’d never quite seen it before? Not the ‘enthralling’ part; Regan knew she’d hadn’t put Ian in any kind of trance. Yet, how many times had she begged Ian to stay with her just a few more minutes, sometimes extending his visit by an hour or two.

If she had guilt, it lay there. Maybe by letting him go sooner the night of the massacre, he might have been able to save his people.

“When I’m with a man, I’m all in, but the relationships never seem to last. With Ian, I’d always seduce him to stay longer with me than he should. It was wrong.”

“So you do blame yourself.”

“How could I not feel guilty because of what happened? Maybe if Ian had been there at the time, he could have prevented the massacre. However, that’s something we’ll never know. But I promise you, I didn’t enthrall him. My only excuse can be that I was out-of-my-mind in love with him.”

Vojalie leaned back in her chair. “Well, you definitely have a complicated relationship with Ian. But I would strongly encourage you to stick close to him at least for the next few nights. I know this is all new to you, but Stone’s reaction will be the first of many. And once it’s known you’re a blood rose, there are some mastyrs, anxious for more power, who will do whatever they can to trap you into a bond. Are you aware this is a possibility?”

Regan nodded. “I believe that’s what happened to Samantha. A mastyr named Ry was after her and almost succeeded in forcing a bond.”

“Yes, he did. And he was also aligned with Margetta. So, I urge you to keep these difficult facts in front of you as a reminder how serious this situation is, especially for you.”

Regan knew Vojalie was right. “I’ll do as you’ve said. My earliest thoughts were more a primal reaction, to put as much distance between myself and Ian as I could.”

She heard footsteps down the hall and a moment later, Ian appeared in the doorway. His bruises looked better. He had a concerned frown between his brows as he met her gaze. “Thought we should talk.”

She nodded. “We should.” She rose from the sofa and crossed to him.

To Vojalie, Ian said, “Your husband is pouring out two glasses of a very fine cognac for you both. He said he refuses to return to Merhaine until you’ve had a drink with him. Shall I send him in?”

Vojalie rolled her eyes. “That man. He takes every opportunity to flirt.”

“You are so right, my dearest love.” Carrying a brandy snifter in each hand, Davido pushed past Ian. “You will love this, my most darling sweetheart. The very finest brandy. Ian said he’s been keeping it just for us.”

Regan watched the couple for a moment. They’d been together a long time, but Davido still treated his woman as though they were dating. She’d always admired them as a couple.

When Davido handed the snifter to his wife, she leaned forward and tilted her face to him. Davido caught her chin with his now free hand and Regan could sense a brief telepathic exchange. He then kissed Vojalie and sat down in the companion wing-back chair. He was only five-three and his feet didn’t hit the floor, not in a chair designed for Guard-sized bodies.

But was anyone as comfortable in his skin as Davido, or Vojalie for that matter?

“Regan?” Ian drew her attention away from the couple now clinking glasses and smiling tenderly at each other.

As she turned and moved into the hall, he closed the door to the library. In a low voice, he murmured, “Thought we should give them some alone time.”

“Right.” She glanced up at him, nervous suddenly. “Ian, Vojalie thinks I should stay here, with you.”

He looked down at her, scowling. “Not sure we have much of a choice given the situation. Stone left. I sent him to Ben at the Communication Center.”

“But you don’t want me here.”

“I don’t want a lot of things. I don’t
want
that Margetta abducted you from your home or held you for a month, or that you’re a blood rose. And I definitely wish I hadn’t battled Stone because I’m beat up as all hell. But Stone did make a suggestion and I think we should do it.”

He led her into the living room but didn’t gesture for her to sit. Instead, he stood facing her, his ringed fingers gathered into fists and planted on his hips. He’d taken off his Guard coat but now wore a black tank, exposing a large part of the broad tattoo that covered his chest and parts of his arms and shoulders. The figure of a hawk in flight hadn’t existed when they’d dated.

But it did now.

Her breathing hitched. She’d always felt this way around Ian, like she could stumble and fall so easily and in more ways than one.

She dragged her attention away from his chest and back to his eyes. This was unfortunate because his nostrils flared after which his eyes dropped to half-mast. “See something you want?” His deep forest-fern scent flowed over her in heavy waves.

She drew close and grabbed his tank t-shirt with one hand and pulled it into a knot. “Always. And that’s a big part of this problem. You shouldn’t be built like every woman’s darkest fantasy.”

He slid his hands over her hips then down her bottom, squeezing. “Is that what I am to you? A dark fantasy?”

“Yeah, except this isn’t a fantasy, is it? This is you, in the flesh, in front of me.”

Though she could feel his resistance, he leaned down and captured her lips with his own.

Heat, then fire.

Pressure, then a demanding tongue.

She released his shirt to slide her arm around his neck. He used his hands on her bottom to press her against him, no doubt so she could feel the hard length of him, feel what she’d missed all this time.

Ian,
she pathed.

Regan,
came back to her, a low resonance through her mind.
I’ve missed you, missed this.

I know. Me, too.

He drew back and settled his forehead against hers. He was breathing hard. She was no different.

A rhythmic thumping came from the direction of the library. Regan pulled away from Ian, her eyes wide. She felt a blush climb her cheeks. “Is that what I think it is?” she whispered.

“Yeah. The troll is getting it on—”

Regan finished the sentence. “With his wife.”

“Yup.”

“How do they do it? Did you see how he is with her? He should write a book on how to love a woman.”

“I’d read it. Your gender is mostly a mystery to me, to most men.”

A high-pitched squeal forced Regan’s hands to her lips and when a trollish groan followed, Ian shook his head, laughing softly.

“What do we do now?” Regan asked.

“I don’t know. Wait till they come out, I guess.”

Regan chuckled. “I didn’t mean about Vojalie and Davido. I meant about us.”

He turned back to her, frowning. “You need to stay here in Camberlaune. It was stupid to think I could let you take off. I’d be worried about you the whole time because if some other mastyr ever got hold of you, some bastard without a conscience, you could end up in a bonded relationship that could hurt you forever. And I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself. Maybe I have issues with what happened a long time ago, but I don’t have a problem with you sticking close, not until all of this is settled.

“Besides, you know the lay-out of Margetta’s fortress and encampment. None of the rest of us do. You’re the logical person to answer all the questions any of us will have.

“And Stone reminded me about something Mastyr Malik had shared with us. When he was battling the Invictus in his realm, he’d asked Zane to come in for support. When Zane reacted to Willow in the same way Stone recently responded to you, Malik used a small portion of Willow’s blood and painted streaks up both arms. Zane said it made a huge difference in his ability to withstand the pull toward Willow.”

“That’s right,” Regan said. “I remember hearing something about that.”

Ian offered a half-smile. “I have no doubt Malik made sure Zane stayed away from Willow, but it really helped. What do you say? Will you mark me with your blood?”

Regan knew she’d just stumbled into really dangerous territory. Everything about the situation warned her to keep her distance but here he was suggesting she mark him to help keep other mastyrs away. It was bad enough she’d already agreed to stick close to him until they had everything figured out. But the giving of her blood in such an earthy cavewoman sort of way, had warning bells clanging loudly inside her head.