Blood Possession (42 page)

Marquis nodded, his anger having somewhat abated. “Good. Call him.”
Let’s address the human’s wounds first—then contact Napolean
, he added privately.
We do not dare manipulate her mind—or erase her memories—until we hear how our king would like to proceed.

Very well
, Nathaniel replied. He turned to Tiffany and crouched down slowly in front of her. “Tiffany,” he said, lifting her chin to get her attention.

Her teeth chattered but at least she was breathing. “Your friend Brooke is alive and well.”

Her eyes lit up and she appeared to momentarily forget her predicament. “Oh, thank God!”

Nathaniel smiled, surprised by her resilience. “Kristina is going to take you upstairs to one of the medical rooms so we can treat your arm and check you for other injuries, and then we will call Brooke.”

The look of surprise on her face was utterly priceless. She exhaled slowly and nodded. And then she turned to look at Kristina. “No,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “Please, not her…” She pointed at Marquis, thought better of it, and then changed her selection to Braden. “Him. I want him to take me upstairs.” She paused as if all at once remembering her place. “Please…”

“Oh, so it’s like that,” Braden said in frustration, “like I can’t do any damage? Like I can’t even bite or slap—”

“Braden!” Nathaniel chastised. The poor woman was likely to be irreversibly traumatized as it was.

Braden shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

“Shut up, Braden,” Marquis growled.

Braden huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Marquis gave the kid a stern, unyielding glare.

“I mean, yes sir,” he said, looking down at the floor.

Nathaniel turned back to Tiffany. “The boy will take you upstairs—without incident—you have my word.” He turned to look at Marquis then, and an unspoken thought passed between them:
By all the gods,
what would be the fallout when Napolean’s mate learned what had been done to her friend? As two mated males, they both understood implicitly just how precarious the beginning of a relationship with one’s
destiny
could be.

Not to quote Braden,
Nathaniel muttered on a private telepathic line,
but
shiiiit!

Indeed,
Marquis responded.

twenty-eight

Although Brooke was eager to get to her best friend, Napolean needed her to stand by his side as he observed protocol with the Silivasis before she attended to Tiffany: There was still much she needed to learn about his duties as the sovereign leader of the house of Jadon—a life where the good of all of the people sometimes came first. They had looked in on Jocelyn first, and Brooke had handled the delicate situation with both poise and grace: Her light-hearted manner and gentle spirit had been deeply appreciated during those sensitive moments when Jocelyn had recounted the details of the attack…what had taken place…and in what order they had happened.

Jocelyn had been the most critically injured of the two, yet she had come through surgery nicely and was healing at a very rapid pace. There were no words adequate to thank the ex-detective for what she had done down in that basement—in effect, Jocelyn had saved Ciopori’s life as well as her own—yet Brooke had managed to express Napolean’s sentiment perfectly. In fact, she had expressed it better than Napolean could have expressed it himself.

They had met with Ciopori and Kristina next: Thanks to Marquis’s powerful venom—as well as his bull-headed determination—Ciopori had already fully recovered from the heinous injury she had suffered at the hands of the vampire-killing militia. Though seriously shaken up, Napolean knew Ciopori had been through far worse in the past. Still, the idea that something so grave, so unthinkable, could have happened to one of the original females—right in the basement of Kagen’s clinic, right under the noses of two of their strongest warriors—was more than a little unsettling. Napolean had decided right then and there that something substantial would have to be done to further protect all of the
destinies—
something
far more permanent than posting guards or sentinels, something that rose above the innate guardianship of their protective mates.

He had used his time with both women as a sort of debriefing—gathering enough information to begin smoking out the vigilante members of the so-called militia and ascertaining the nuances of their tactics well enough to combat future attacks. Satisfied with what he had learned, he and Brooke had stopped to offer a few words of encouragement to Braden Bratianu, and then they had headed to an empty examination room where Marquis and Nathaniel waited to speak with their leader—and his new mate—in private. Having been treated for his own nasty injuries by a medic, Kagen had excused himself from the intimate meeting in order to return to Nachari: a request Napolean could hardly refuse. After all, gods knew, Napolean would have healed the Master Wizard with his own hands if he could have.

Pushing aside that ever constant concern, he knocked lightly on the door to the examination room and then swiftly opened it without awaiting a response. Marquis stood leaning against the far wall at the back of the room, while Nathaniel leaned against a high countertop containing a sink, a soap dispenser next to a jar of small cotton balls, several unopened syringes, and suture materials. Both men immediately stood up straight and declined their heads, averting their eyes to the floor, as Napolean ushered Brooke in before him. She seemed unusually nervous to Napolean—maybe because she remembered the role the Silivasis had played in rescuing him from the dark lord Ademordna—maybe because she remembered the role they had also played in rescuing her. Regardless, he reached out and took her hand in support.

“Greetings, warriors,” he said solemnly.

“Milord,” both males answered in unison.

Napolean nodded his approval and placed a firm hand on the small of Brooke’s back. She shifted nervously from foot to foot but stood her ground. “I would like you to formally meet my
destiny
.” He took her left arm and gently turned over her wrist, displaying the complex set of markings that clearly revealed her as his. “A daughter of the goddess Andromeda, the mother of my son—who is heir to my throne—and your queen: Brooke Adams.”

To Brooke’s utter surprise—and seeming embarrassment based on the way she suddenly blushed and shot an inquisitive sideways glance at Napolean—both warriors bent to one knee and bowed their heads.

As the eldest of the two brothers, Marquis reached for her hand first, and then he reverently kissed the back of her ring-finger—the one displaying a braided platinum band with the royal crest from the house of Jadon on it. It was a solemn acknowledgment of her relationship to Napolean. “It is an honor, milady,” Marquis said.

Brooke drew in a quick intake of breath.

Still averting his eyes, Marquis released her hand and continued to bow his head.

Nathaniel took it next. “I am also honored, milady.” His kiss was equally reverent, and then, being the youngest male before them, the burden of an apology fell to him. “I speak now for myself as a servant of the house of Jadon; for my twin, an Ancient Master Healer; for my sister, who is newly converted to our race; and for my eldest brother Marquis, also an Ancient Master Warrior: We would beg your forgiveness for the offense we committed against your friend, Tiffany Matthews.” His eyes met hers and they were brimming with conviction. “Milady, our wives had been attacked. We did not know the reason for the attack, the origin of our enemy, or what relationship the female was to you. Nonetheless, it does not erase the injury, and we deeply, deeply apologize.”

Brooke’s brilliant sapphire eyes grew wide, and her mouth fell open in astonishment. As silence hovered in the air like a mist, she turned to Napolean and raised her eyebrows. “What—”

Shh,
Napolean whispered in her mind, no doubt surprising her with the easy, intimate communication. They were mated now, linked for eternity in mind, body, and spirit: Even their thoughts could be effortlessly shared.
What he does is a great act of humility. It is best honored with silence.

She looked at him quizzically, not understanding.

Place your right hand on his left shoulder.

Hesitantly, Brooke did as he said.

Now simply nod your head.

She nodded and both men stood with a polished grace, their bodies rising in perfect synchronicity. Brooke gulped, clearly overwhelmed by the casual show of animal prowess before her.

Indeed, Napolean thought, the Silivasis were a sight to behold.

When Brooke actually took a step back, inadvertently drawing closer to Napolean as if for protection, he immediately slipped his arm around her and smiled…inside.
It is done,
he explained, nuzzling her hair—it was so soft, so beautiful—
the transgression has been forgiven and will never be spoken of again: While it may be acceptable to discuss the events, to hash out further details if the information proves important, the transgression itself—the actual fact that my subjects caused injury to you through their mistreatment of your friend—has been unconditionally forgiven…and thus, irretrievably forgotten.

Brooke nodded, demonstrating her understanding, and Napolean kissed the top of her head. Although everything in him wanted to keep her in his arms, he gently stepped away. “Brooke, would you mind leaving us alone to talk for a while? I’m sure Tiffany is anxious to see you.”

Brooke bit her bottom lip; her eyes lit up; and her stiff shoulders relaxed with relief. “Sure, no problem. Kristina said she’d be happy to take me to Tiffany’s room whenever I was ready.” She turned to Marquis and Nathaniel and smiled. “It was nice…meeting you both.” Although her rapidly beating heart betrayed her underlying disquiet with the males, Napolean knew that it would come in time.

“Nice meeting you,” Nathaniel said in his usual, relaxed, charming voice.

Marquis grunted what sounded like an affirmative, forced a half smile—which, for him, was a social milestone—and nodded.

Napolean could not have asked for more.

“Okeydoke,” Brooke exhaled, holding Napolean’s gaze a little longer than she needed to.

Are you all right, my love?
he asked her then.
Do you need me to go with you?

“No,” she answered out loud, immediately catching the error. She turned toward Marquis and Nathaniel and shrugged. “I don’t quite have the whole talking-to-each-other-in-your-heads thing down yet.” She cringed. “I mean, I do—I
can
do it—but I just don’t remember
to
do it…” She turned to Napolean and blanched, her eyes ripe with apology, as if she had just embarrassed him horribly.

He laughed out loud then and pulled her into his arms right in front of his warriors.

Stunned by the outward show of emotion, they both looked away.

“You, my love, are perfect,” Napolean said.

Brooke’s answering smile lit up the room.

As Brooke made her way out the door, Nathaniel and Marquis turned back around to face Napolean.
“Wow
,”
Nathaniel murmured beneath his breath, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you—”

Napolean gave him a cross look, cutting his words off mid-sentence. “Do not forget your place, warrior,” he warned. “
She
is my mate—you are not.”

Nathaniel nodded. And then he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to contain a smile. “Yes, my love… I mean, milord.”

Napolean chuckled. “Okay…okay. If you’ve had your fun, let’s move on.” He turned to Marquis and gave him an expectant look—waiting to see if the Ancient Master Warrior had any teasing of his own to add. “Marquis?”

The large vampire frowned. “What?”

Napolean just shook his head—of course Marquis had missed the joke.

Napolean’s manner became all at once serious as he changed the subject: “What happened here today—in the basement of this clinic—is a wake-up call we can no longer afford to ignore.”

“Agreed,” Marquis grunted.

“Since the moment I heard of what happened, I have been able to think of nothing else,” Napolean continued. “And we all know that the only reason the women still live”—he eyed both males with deep concern and empathy—“is because of Jocelyn’s former training with the police department.” He nodded his appreciation to Nathaniel. “Her reaction to the attack was exceptional—and instinctual. She managed to neutralize two enemies before she was—” He was about to say
gunned down
but caught himself; fortunately, he pulled back the words before they were uttered. “Before she was hurt.” He folded his hands in front of him. “Her actions bought the time the women needed for reinforcements to arrive—I can’t even allow myself to think of what would have happened otherwise.” He slowly shook his head and regarded each male in turn with a somber stare.

Marquis growled low in his throat, and Nathaniel’s eyes flashed briefly red before settling back into their normal, dark hue, yet both males remained quiet. No doubt, they understood the grave implications on a level far deeper than Napolean.

“That said,” he continued, “the best course of action—that which any one of our warriors would have taken instinctively—would have been to immediately cloak her appearance the moment Ciopori was injured. Having rendered herself invisible, she might have eliminated the humans one by one, or at the least, she might have been able to construct a protective holding cell around the two of them while calling for help. She might have been able to begin administering healing venom to Ciopori immediately.” He sighed. “And she would have never been shot herself.” Sharpening his tone, he added, “I believe it is time to provide our women with much more training in the use of their powers. It is no longer enough to accept the basics: Our enemies have become too bold.”

Marquis sighed and Napolean felt his frustration: All male vampires were hardwired to be the protectors of their women and their families. It wasn’t sexist so much as it was a genetic trait of the species—just as a female lioness hunted while the male protected the pride, so did the male Vampyr protect what belonged to him.