Blood & Roses: Warriors of the Krieger (4 page)

“Him who?” she asked, confused.

“Dragus,” I laughed.

Her eyes popped wide, “You’re kidding?” Her
nails were all but forgotten. The file was placed back inside her
pocket and she stood up out of her chair. Then she began to pace
the floor.

“No, Lydia. I swear it was him!”

“That explains why he was so formal with you.
He knows you too Charity,” she beamed. Lydia walked back and forth
in front of my desk, pacing as she spoke. “It’s been said that the
powerful ones, like the
Krieger
, have had their destiny’s
chosen for them from the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. Lydia
sat down and rolled her eyes at me.

“When a
Krieger
is created, they are
given powers beyond our imagination. This is because they are
warriors. The first warrior, Akalika, held all the abilities. Only
Krieger
make other
Krieger
. Their blood is so
powerful, that they pass down their powers to each new warrior,
like a father to a son. It’s been said that Akalika had the ability
to sense his lover before he even knew her. This special power has
manifested over time to include, the ability for a
Krieger
to track his bonded mate anywhere in the world and contacting her
in her human dreams.”

“Is that why he kept calling me ‘my lady’? It
was like I was already royalty to him,” I asked. The thought of him
knowing me also embarrassed me quite a bit. If he had known me, why
didn’t he say something?

Lydia laughed, “Could be why he’s sending a
Nachtmann
to watch over your home, too.”

“Well, I don’t know him. If he thinks he can
control me just because of a dream almost three hundred years ago,
he’s got another think coming.” I clinched my fist and promised
myself not to think of that damn dream again. The one thing I
didn’t want to deal with was an obsessive warrior trying to boss me
around.

Dragus planned on sending someone to the
house to watch over me. I’ll show him. Whoever shows up, I’ll just
send them on their merry way back to town. Wait! Ha! Dragus didn’t
know where I lived. Well, on second thought, he was a
Krieger
, he’d find out.

“Charity,” Lydia sighed. “You need to get to
know him. It’s fate! Do you have any idea how long he’s been
waiting on you?” Good Lord, did that woman just swoon?

“You really believe he knows about the
dream?” I was skeptical. This was the first I had ever heard of the
Krieger
background. Of course, I haven’t been around a lot
of them. So I was clueless about Lydia’s observation.

“Well, yes,” she laughed and then took off
through the door, but turned around just before leaving. “From what
I know, he will not be able to be away from you. Once they find
their mates, the warriors cannot be away from them. Think that over
and get back to me.” Her tinkling laughter echoed through the room
as she walked out into the club.

Disgusted, I scooped order forms up off the
desk and made my way over to the liquor locker. We kept the booze
locked up nice and tight; hence the name “liquor locker”. I paced
through taking stock of what we had and what we needed. The whole
time, I couldn’t get Dragus’ voice out of my head. When I closed my
eyes, I saw his brilliant blue stare, piercing my soul. The last
thing I needed was to obsess about the
Krieger
that marched
into my office proving he was a tough warrior. I already knew how
tough they were.

For some reason, he irritated me. I know he
was from my dream and I had actually liked him all those years ago.
But now, I am my own person. I don’t need a warrior trying to tell
me what to do. Oh who am I kidding? Although he irritated me, I
actually thought he was an intriguing, handsome warrior. Forcing
myself to push him to the back of my mind, I grabbed the step stool
and used it to reach the bottles of vodka on the top shelf. I
continued taking stock; trying not to think of dreams and blue-eyed
warriors.

Chapter 2

Dragus

I don’t know what stunned me more, the fact
that Charity was the woman from my dreams or the fact that she was
such a royal pain in the ass. That woman irritated me with my every
being, even though I knew she was my destiny. I think.

She was exactly as she had been in my human
dreams all those centuries ago, beautiful beyond belief. Charity’s
deep blue eyes pierced right through my soul. She still had the
silken blonde hair that fell in ringlets around her delicate, heart
shaped face. Pouty lips that just begged to be caressed. Her skin
reminded me of peaches and cream. And she smelled of blood and
roses. Obviously, she had just made a trip to the Red Cross, for
her nightly feeding.

For months I tried to track her through her
dreams. She was so scared of me that when I would speak to her, she
would vanish. Which I assumed was her waking up from the nightmare
I had caused. I never had a chance to tell her who I was or to even
ask her where she was, so I could find her. After several months,
she ceased to dream. My heart had broken, because I thought she had
died. Almost three hundred years has past and I never believed that
she had been changed into a vampire. Relief washed through me at
the thought of someone changing her. I owed whoever that was a
great amount of gratitude.

The other
Krieger
remained downtown to
patrol the streets looking for Adam Castillo. I took the Hummer and
drove back to the station to do some research on Charity. All
vampires were required to have a file in the
Krieger
database. Everything was listed, from their birth parents to their
current address.

I sat down in the rolling office chair and
turned on my computer. The walls in this place were sterile white.
No personal mementos adorned my desk or the walls around my office.
The twins who were bonded had pictures of their mates on their
desk. Would I ever get to that point in my life where there would
be a picture of my mate on this desk? A few days ago I would have
said “Hell no”.

The system booted up fairly quickly. I typed
in her name and pressed the enter button.

The first page said her year of birth was
1722. She was born outside the town of Aberdeen. This very small
town in Scotland was destroyed by fires a few years after her
changing in 1748. Her sponsor was listed as Lydia Duncan. Charity
was a telepath, just like Adam Castillo, but not as strong.

I scrolled down the screen to read the reason
for her change. Ms. Harwood had been attacked by a rouge vampire
and Lydia had found her barely alive; she took it upon herself to
change Charity. This was very close to normal for the records of
the older vampires. Most of them had been changed against their
will.

I scrolled down the screen and continued
reading. There was a part of the application that requested
additional information, if the applicant had been attacked. It
simply stated ‘No Comment’. This section was there for our records.
If there was a rouge vampire loose and was attacking humans
unprovoked, we would step in and arrest the individual, no matter
when the attack had happened. The absence of information told me
either they did not know who attacked her, or she opted not to
disclose the information.

I picked up the phone and called the
Nachtmann
headquarters. Charity did not have a daytime
watchman and I just could not let her be alone at her home
unprotected. She needed to have at least one daytime guard, maybe
two.

“Master Dragus. What can I do for you?”
Steven Smith was the head
Nachtmann
for the area of Port
Royal. He was a human warrior, who has been helping us out for
about fifteen years now.
Nachtmann
Smith retired from the
human military and came highly recommended to the daytime
watchmen.

“I want to hire a
Nachtmann
for a
friend who lives just north of town. He needs to be highly
trained.” As always, working with these humans, I felt the need to
be straight forward and let the authority ring true to my words.
But deep down, my chest ached, not knowing the future of what will
happen with these Lycans. With Charity possibly being involved,
that ache turned into a raging fire in my dead heart.

“Let’s see who I have.” Steven rustled
through some papers on his desk and then he cleared his throat.
“Alright,
Nachtmann
Keith Pullman comes highly trained. I
personally recommend him.”

“I will e-mail you the information on the
client. Please remind him, he is
not
to handle her unless
she is in danger. She also requires everyone to call her by her
first name. All other orders are to come from me. Ms. Harwood will
probably demand he leave, but explain to
Nachtmann
Pullman
that I am the only one who can give him orders. If he has any
questions or concerns, you tell him to call my cell.” I trusted
Steven to obey my demands. Cut and dry, that’s the way I like it.
It’s the way it should be.

Charity needed protection around the clock in
my mind, but I couldn’t do that to her. She would kill me if I
tried to tell her what to do. I figured that out almost immediately
when I met her tonight. She was independent and very strong willed.
I’m assuming she has been on her own for most of her life.

“Is this going on the
Krieger
expense
account,” he paused. “Or do I need to set up an account for Ms.
Harwood? She is not in the system.”

“No, Steven. You need to bill me directly,” I
insisted.

Steven chuckled low under his breath, “Yes,
sir.”

I took a deep breath and dialed Nights to
talk to Charity about her new guard.

Charity

Order form complete, signed and faxed to the
vendor; it only took me an hour. The night was looking good. Then
again, the phone did have to ring and mess everything up.

“Nights! Charity speaking,” I answered in my
perfect nightclub owner voice.

“My lady? This is
Krieger
Dragus.”
Hmm. Damn hot and sexy thunder voice calling. No! He irritated me,
I wouldn’t think of him that way.

“What can I do for you sir?” Man, I was doing
a great job at trying to be sweet. Although he was a sexy,
hunk-o-burning-love, he still aggravated me for some reason. And
that damn dream didn’t help my whirlwind of emotions on the subject
either.

“I am sending
Nachtmann
Keith Pullman
to your residence an hour before sunrise. He comes highly
recommended and has passed all security screenings,” he said
proudly.

“No,” I said flatly, trying not to stare a
hole through the phone.

“No?”

“No, I don’t need a damn
Nachtmann
. My
home is tighter than Fort Knox. I appreciate your concern, but I’m
good.” I was proud of myself, standing up to the warrior.

“Ms. Harwood. I must insist…”

I cut him off, “Thank you for your concern.
Have a nice evening Dragus.” Yeah, I showed him. I hung right the
hell up. Point two for me, ha!

The club was almost full tonight. Customers
were happy, staff was working hard and money was flowing in. It was
a textbook evening at Nights. Everything was running like a
well-oiled machine.

Lydia and I decided to leave the club right
around midnight and go shopping. Oakland Mall was open around the
clock and had the best stores for miles around. Lydia’s objective
was shoes. That girl was like a kid in a candy store when it came
to leather foot apparel.

The first store made $330 off of her for one
pair of size six candy apple red hooker shoes. The red haired
twenty something vampire sales lady was obviously on commission,
because she practically skipped to the register to finish the sale.
Second store took her for $565 for two pairs of boots, same style,
in two different colors. The gray haired human sales lady could
have cared less if we bought a bag of dog poop. She was obviously
paid minimum wage.

We walked unconsciously through the gamut of
stores. The store that sold all of those lotions and room scent
enhancers was the busiest one tonight. It seems that when they
threw a sale, every preteen girl and single woman within fifty
miles will flock to that store. Of course, I counted myself in that
group of women, but unlike them, I was not brave enough to endure
an hour standing in line to pay for the products I wanted. Lydia
and I continued on past the food court.

All of the food venders were closing for the
night, but the mall was busy with their after the holiday sales.
Walking down the corridors like herded cattle, we came across a
group of teenage humans. All dressed like a bunch of Marilyn Manson
followers. Black hair, black boots, black clothes, and black lips
were the standard dress code for these freaks. Lydia and I laughed
as we walked by them. Marilyn Manson groupie number one was the
first to speak.

“Hey! Ladies! Looking for some fresh blood?”
The pimple faced jerk laughed and stretched out a pale looking
wrist the size of a twig.

“Fresh supply right over here,” dork number
two spouted while stretching his neck toward us.

I grabbed Lydia’s forearm and pulled her
along. Her temper usually kept company with a short fuse. She
immediately growled and I tightened my grip on her arm. Oh well,
she was older and therefore, stronger, so I did not stand a
chance.

Lydia pulled free and in record time was in
the first punks face, fangs bared and a feral snarl bubbled out of
her chest. The white in her eyes veined up with blood, proving her
temper was pretty high. Before I could react, one of the other
punks carefully pulled his black leather trench coat to the side
and flashed a wooden stake. I gasped and my first reaction was to
grab Lydia and make a run for it.

“Careful bloodsucker!” he yelled. Lydia
reigned in her temper and started to back away. Who do you think I
learned the ‘duck and run’ maneuver from? Maybe running away was
the right thing to do, but her fear lit my protective side on
fire.