Blood Shadows (18 page)

She entered the room quietly, not wanting to disturb the tranquility, and immediately turned her attention to the monitors before approaching the male on the bed. She had become accustomed to doing just that: checking for a heart rhythm, verifying that everything was all right before taking another step in Nachari’s direction.

The ritual was more for her than him.

“Hello,” she whispered in a soothing voice, realizing that it was ten o’clock at night and others in the clinic might be sleeping.
Well
, she thought,
probably not—being that they’re
vampires.
She quickly dismissed the thought, not wanting to go there, again—not right now, anyhow. “How are you?” she asked, pulling a nearby chair closer to the bed.

She stared at him then.

Really stared.

Trying to imagine what he might look like with his eyes open: twin emeralds staring back at her. According to all the other women, one glance from the confident wizard was enough to make a girl go weak in the knees. Judging by his stunning good looks—even sound asleep—she had no doubt that it was true. “I’d love to see that sometime,” she said, setting her supplies down on the floor beside her. “I brought you some things.” She took a deep breath. Her heart was racing, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he was going to levitate off the bed any moment soon and bite her.

Yikes.

She shuddered.

“Hey,” she said, leaning toward him, “if you do come back—
when
you do come back—maybe you could do it kind of slow and peaceful like, you know? Subtle. Quiet. Just stir a bit and then open your eyes.” She sat back in her chair. “Because anything else is going to scare the breath out of me, understood?” She watched for any sign of cognition. When nothing happened, she reached down into the basket and pulled out a handful of CDs. “So what’s your flavor tonight? Native American?” She watched for any change on his face at all, the slightest movement of his body. “Celtic music? I know it’s kind of weird, but I love it. It’s so transcendental, kind of haunting, you know. I think you’ll like it.” When, still, nothing happened, she continued: “Or Gregorian chants? Kind of feels like you’re in a monastery—not that I know what it’s like to be in a monastery, but you might. I mean, from your time at the university.” She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes.
Yeah, that sounded really
intelligent, Deanna. Probably a good thing he’s not conscious—idiot
.

His Crest Ring, the one on his fourth finger bearing the crest from the house of Jadon on it, caught her eye; and she reached down to touch it. “This is so beautiful. Are there any special markings? Something engraved specifically for a wizard versus a healer or a justice? Do warriors have a particular ornament?” She stood in the silence, listening to the echo of her own words, and forced a smile. “Okay, well then, I guess…Celtic it is.” She opened the Celtic guitar CD, walked across the room, and placed it carefully in the Panasonic CD player—who knew what a receiver like that cost, but she didn’t want to be the one to break it. Snatching a throw-blanket from a pile of linens Kagen had placed on the counter by the sink, she crawled back into the chair beside Nachari’s bed, reached down for the book, and tucked her knees up to her chest, covering the majority of her body with the coverlet.

She turned on the reading lamp beside the bed, opened the first page, and hesitated: The light was shining just so across Nachari’s face, and it made his complexion appear almost luminescent. His skin was absolutely flawless. His features were so refined yet masculine—strong. She bent over and traced the back of her fingers across his cheek and closed her eyes. “Come back to me, Nachari,” she whispered. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m here, and I’m not going to run away.” She chuckled then. “Okay, well, I’m not going to promise that I won’t run at first…or scream…or just generally freak the hell out the moment I see you, but I won’t go far. I’m your
destiny
, right?”
And I’m praying that you’re mine
.

She sat back in the chair once more, turned her attention to the book, and opened it to Chapter One:
All
right then, here goes nothing…

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…”

thirteen

Kristina Riley-Silivasi sat back in the plush leather seats of her pink Corvette beneath the high shade-bearing branches of a large oak tree outside Napolean’s manse. It was Thursday, around six PM—two days since Ramsey Olaru had come by to visit at the brownstone—and she hoped she might catch a glimpse of him leaving Napolean’s following a routine briefing.

The six-foot-five, heavily muscled warrior had not come by or called since Tuesday, and although it really wasn’t that long of a time to wait, Kristina was getting curious. She’d had a lot of time to think about his words—and his actions—that night on the front porch; and she was more than just a little eager for a replay, especially considering all of the stressful events going on in her life at the time: Nachari’s illness; her choice to stay with Braden at the brownstone; and constantly trying to adapt to her new life…and family.

She sighed, and then she perked up as she heard male voices in the courtyard saying their good-byes. She quickly rolled up her tinted windows, hoping to remain hidden, and watched as Ramsey rounded the corner and headed toward a parked black Escalade.

Shoot. He was going to climb in his SUV and drive away before she had a chance to—

What?

Watch him.

Stalk him?

What did she expect him to do—dance around the yard for her amusement? Stop and say wassup to the squirrels? Kristina frowned. She might as well just get out of the car and confront him—go say hi. After all, he was the one who had initiated their…situation; and he had seemed more than eager the other night: Why would tonight be any different?

She tucked her pink purse beneath the seat, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and stepped out of the car. A cool breeze washed over her as she strolled confidently across the grass toward Ramsey. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she figured she could make it up as they went along. Surely, he would take the lead.

The huge warrior heard the pile of leaves beneath her feet crush, and he spun around with perfect stealth and grace, all alert, ready…and yummy as hell.

Kristina smiled. “Hey!” She was still a short distance away.

He just stood there, staring at her like a bump on a log.

Okay.
Let’s try this again
.

“Hey, Ramsey: Wait up.” She hurried her steps to his car, and then she hesitated, taken aback by the completely inhospitable look on his face. His gorgeous eyes were narrowed and more than a little cautious; his sculpted biceps were taut, like he was ready to jump at a moment’s notice; and his model-good looks were offset by a subtle but obvious expression that said,
Run,
little mouse—before I eat you in one bite.

Kristina took a step back. “Ramsey?”

He raised his eyebrows.

She cleared her throat. “Okay…hi…how are you?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, ignoring all attempts at congeniality. “Are you here to see Napolean? Has something happened?”

Kristina smiled then, figuring of course he would think like a sentinel first. “Oh, yeah…uh, no, I mean—not at all. I’m kind of here to see you.” She turned to point at her car. “Well, not here for that reason exactly, but I was driving by and well, yeah, I saw you and decided to stop.” She paused, trying to force her mouth to close and stay closed—to just shut up. It didn’t work. “So, what’s up?”

He frowned and shook his head like she was a major nuisance or something, a fly or a gnat buzzing around his head. “You tell me,” he said brusquely.

Kristina felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.
What the hell?
So, this was how he was going to play it? Like he didn’t even know her? What was all this keep-your-distance-in-public crap? “You know, that’s really not cool, Ramsey. I mean, I get the whole discretion thing, but you’re being a bit of a…butthead.”

The warrior’s top lip twitched and a barely audible growl emanated from his throat. “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked her up and down derisively. “Kristin, right? Marquis’s convert?”

Kristina’s mouth fell open at the insult:
Marquis’s convert
? Not Marquis’s ex-
destiny
? Granted, the whole thing had been a mistake perpetrated by Salvatore Nistor and the Dark Ones—still, it had been very real to her and Marquis at the time. Ramsey could have at least referred to her as Marquis’s sister or the newest Silivasi; but no, he had called her Marquis’s convert, like she was some cult follower or something. “What’s your problem,” she demanded, her voice betraying her irritation.

He shook his head like it was full of cobwebs. “What do you want, Kristin?”

She was mad enough to spit now. “Kristin? It’s
Kristina
, and you damn well know it!” She clenched her fists at her sides. “And what do I want?” She shrugged, bristling. “I don’t know—I guess for some stupid reason I thought I wanted
you
, but I’m quickly changing my mind.”

He was the one who stepped back this time. “Girl, what are you talking about…wanting me?”

Kristina felt hot tears well up in her eyes, and she quickly pushed them back. She would not cry in front of him. She would not give him the satisfaction of humiliating her like this—playing head games with her for sport, just because he could. She sidled up to him, striding more like a prostitute than a female vampire, and licked her lips. “Oh, you know the deal: I’m single; you’re single; there aren’t that many of us in the house of Jadon…maybe we could hook up and kill some time together…
That kind
of wanting you,
asshole
.”

Ramsey cocked his head to the side and spat on the ground. When he turned back to look at her, his eyes were a faint shade of red, and there was a subtle almost indiscernible twitch in his lower jaw. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with fire, little girl?” He flicked his wrist like he was shooing away a bug. “You need to go home.”

That was it.

The straw that broke the camel’s back.

Enraged, Kristina extended her arm to slap his face, throwing everything she had into the lightning-quick strike. In an instant she was standing with her back to him, completely caught off guard.

The sentinel had caught her arm, spun her around, and linked both of her wrists together in a firm hold, all with the palm of one hand. He bent over her and breathed into her ear, a harsh, guttural sound that was more animalistic than human. “I don’t know who you think you are, or what you’re trying to accomplish, but you need to go home…go back to your brothers…and get a grip. I’m not some male you want to toy with,
Kristina
.” He pressed his hard chest against her back. “Believe me; you don’t want to turn me on—or piss me off. Succeed at either one, and you’re gonna have a whole lot of vampire you can’t handle to deal with, you hear me?” He pushed her away. Actually shoved her—however gently—causing her to stumble.

She spun around, incensed. “You are a total dog, Ramsey Olaru!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” He inclined his head toward her car then. “Go home.”

A sharply edged lock of his hair, the portion in front that he kept a little longer than the back, fell forward as she stared at him, incredulous. And then she sneered, “I really doubt you have anything I couldn’t handle.” She spoke with as much venom as she could project in her voice; and then she took a cautious step back, just in case he really was the Rottweiler others made him out to be.
Why hadn’t she seen this in him the other night?
“I tell you what,” she added as she slowly backed away, “I’ll go home, and you—you just go
to hell
!” She focused her attack then: “Or better yet; why don’t you go find that cursed, unlucky woman who’s gonna be your
destiny
someday. See if she likes canines any better than I do. Maybe you can lift your leg and pee on her.”

Ramsey whistled low beneath his breath, and then he stood stalk still.

Not a single muscle flexed.

Not a single hair on his head rustled in the wind.

He just stared at her—like a tall, intimidating, GQ predator: gorgeous…mean…and deadly. As if they were total strangers, and
she
was the one out of her mind.

Kristina turned around and jogged to her car, tears of outrage and disbelief clouding her vision. She jumped behind the wheel, turned over the engine, and slammed on the gas—unable to get out of there fast enough: Who the hell did he think he was? Toying with her like that? She had half a mind to run to Marquis and tell him everything. See how well Ramsey liked it when the one standing across from him was another ticked-off warrior.

She wondered then: Would Marquis even fight to defend her honor? Would any of her brothers? Or would they simply read her the riot act for flirting with the sentinel to begin with, for being so gullible?

She felt so stupid.

So ridiculous.

Gods in the Celestial
heavens
, why was she always such an easy target for men? Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she turned onto the main street leading away from Napolean’s mansion: As far as she was concerned, none of it ever happened. Ramsey really could just go to hell.

So long as the monster stayed away from her, she would never tell a soul.