Broken (7 page)

Atticus's gaze drifted to the water as he mulled over her question. The Council had gotten along with each other far better than they ever had when the next target was on the throne. There had been some argument over where the next meeting would take place and what would happen to the palace that had always gone to each new king upon his rise to power, but that had eventually been smoothed over too.

They had unanimously voted that all future meetings would be held at the King's palace in the mountains of Transylvania and it would now become a community property. There was enough room for all of The Council to stay there for the meetings. Some of the aristocracy still lived in what many considered the homeland of the vampires, but others were far more content in the lands they had spread into and now called home. He was one of the vampires that far preferred the outer lands, but then he'd never spent much time in Transylvania.

"I think they might be," he admitted.

"It would be good to put an end to the fighting," she murmured as she turned back to the stream. "What made them decide to create this Council?"

"None of them wanted to step forward to become king."

She released a small snort of laughter and idly kicked her feet at the water again. "I don't blame them."

"Neither do I. Things will be fairer this way, there won't be just one voice representing us all, but many of them."

"None of it really affects the village vampires," she replied.

"What do you mean?"

She gestured at the woods around them. "Ours is a different world than yours Atticus. We obey the laws because the retaliation for disobeying them is swift and brutal. We pay the taxes for the same reasons, but otherwise your world doesn't coexist with ours. They don't know;
you
don't know that the taxes are breaking most of us and that sometimes the laws must be broken in order for us to survive. We're all extremely careful about keeping our race a secret because that keeps us all alive, but sometimes mistakes happen.

"Many of us are excellent thieves, as you've witnessed, because that is how we are able to survive." She gave him a smile as she waved her delicate fingers before him, but her eyes were troubled as they met his. "Sometimes we slip up though, as you know I once did. If it hadn't been for Matilda, I may well be dead now. It is allowed for us to steal from humans. However, if a vampire is caught stealing by the humans they will be put to death by the vampire community. Any mature vampire that actually gets caught stealing from a human is no thief in my book though. They shouldn't be stealing if they can't escape detection from a human," she murmured. "Humans also don't have the money that our kind does and I know that some vampires have been driven to stealing from other vampires in order to pay their debts.
That
is a crime that is also punishable by death, but that is a death no one wants."

She shuddered and began to wring her hands before her. "No matter how much I may need money one day, I would never stoop to stealing from
our
own kind."

He understood her reasons why. A vampire caught stealing from another was placed on the rack for a week, before having to endure living and sleeping in a room where the floor was lined with broken glass for another week. During this time they were denied any blood but their starvation didn't matter as the final steps of their punishment was disembowelment before finally being drawn and quartered by horses. His hand clenched around hers, he would never allow such a hideous death to happen to her.

"There are others of us who aren't as strong, children who are punished when they shouldn't be. It's unfair to lock them up, but it's better than when they are slaughtered outright for losing control and having their fangs extend in public or in front of one of the King's Watchmen," she continued.

Atticus couldn't tear his gaze away from her as he absorbed all of her words. He'd never really thought about what her world was like; he'd never stopped to consider how the village vampires lived before meeting her. Of course, he knew they existed but he'd never spent time in the villages before.

"I've seen the Watchmen kill a child before," she whispered. Her eyes were haunted when they came back to his. "The child didn't even change into his vampire form first; the man was just being cruel. The death and brutality rate amongst the villagers is extremely high; they're constantly fighting with each other and some of the Watchmen enjoy abusing the villagers."

The idea of her growing up and living in such conditions was intolerable to him. "Why do you stay?" he inquired.

"Where am I to go? There are other villages but I've moved through most of them in this country and they are all much the same. Camille isn't fully grown yet and I couldn't travel to the continent without her, ever."

"You've thought about leaving then?"

"Often."

The idea of her leaving was even more unpleasant than the thought of her residing within the villages, but then he most likely wouldn't be staying in England either. His father hadn't said what he intended to do next, or where he planned to go, but though he and Nyles had been born in this country, they also preferred Italy to England. His father wouldn't want to stay here, and normally Atticus would be eager to leave too, but he found he wanted to spend time with her.

While he'd been gone his desire to see her again hadn't lessened in even the smallest measure, it had only intensified. It had been a miserable twelve days of separation from her, and when he'd found her here, half dressed in her white chemise and sitting on a log, he'd briefly thought that perhaps he'd stumbled across his own angel.

Or perhaps she was the devil; no one else had ever made him feel this tormented before. All he wanted was to touch her, all he craved was to feel her skin, and yet sitting beside her on this log and holding her hand was just as magnificent as kissing her again had been.

"Where would you go?" he asked.

She frowned as she seemed to debate what she would tell him. "France," she finally said.

"And what is in France?"

"Not my mother," she said with a wan smile. "And she'll never return to it."

"I see." A fish jumped from the water, drawing his attention back to the stream. "And what will you do there?"

"I don't know but I suppose that's the point of starting over, isn't it?"

He got the feeling there was more to it than that but she wouldn't meet his gaze anymore as her eyes had become focused on her feet. But then, what did he know, he'd never had the chance to start over nor had he ever thought about doing so. "I suppose it is," he agreed.

She looked up at him from under her inky black lashes and gave him a half smile. "Don't worry I'll make sure that The Council knows we've moved."

He knew that the village vampires were allowed to move about freely but they had to report their destination before they left, and they had to check into their new location as soon as they arrived so that the King, and now The Council, could keep track of them in order to collect taxes and enforce the laws. There were always some vampires that tried to slip through the cracks and went missing every year, but if a vampire turned up where there weren't supposed to be, or was unregistered in their area, they were put to death with no questions asked.

Their world was governed with an iron fist; it had to be in order to keep chaos from ruling. If they slipped, even a little, their existence could be revealed to the human masses. Humans were already far too superstitious, the last thing the vampire community needed was for them to realize they weren't at the top of the food chain. Panic would descend upon the world if that ever happened; there was no telling how many deaths would result, human and vampire alike. They may be vastly superior in strength and speed than a human but they were also outnumbered by them by at least ten to one.

"That's good to know." His fingers slid from her hand and over the sleeves of her chemise. He froze when he spotted the faded bruise marring the skin at her wrist; he pushed the sleeve further up to reveal the purplish mark that spread all the way to her elbow. She grabbed hold of the sleeve and pulled it down before he could go any higher. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Just clumsy," she told him as she held the sleeve in place against her wrist.

His eyes narrowed as he searched her face. "I've never found you so."

"I almost fell off a boulder in front of you," she replied flippantly.

"I thought that was because of my overwhelming presence."

She laughed but it sounded strained to him or perhaps he was reading too much into it. "My fingers may be fast but my feet sometimes don't know where to go." She gestured to the log beneath them. "This isn't the only log in the forest and I'm not always so agile."

Atticus glanced down at the log and then back at her. He wasn't entirely sure he bought that explanation but he didn't know why she would lie about it either. "Will you have to leave again soon?" she inquired.

"The Council will be meeting once every three months to discuss the state of things."

"Will the King's Watchmen still be present in the villages?"

"Yes, as far as I know. They just won't be known as the King's Watchmen anymore."

She leaned against his side. "No, I suppose they won't. Will they be The Council's Watchmen?"

"They will just be The Watchmen now." Her subtle scent filled his nostrils; he rested his lips against her bent head. The end of her braid dangled between them, he picked it up and began to play with her hair as it tickled against his arm. "Do you mind if I take this out?" he asked as he tugged lightly on the faded blue ribbon tied at the end of it.

She sat back to look at him. "No," she whispered.

The ribbon gave way beneath his fingers; he placed it on the log before beginning to undo the braid. The last of the braid fell away to reveal the glorious hair that was always so neatly tucked away. The thick waves of it spread over her shoulders and fell across the log. The rays of sun spilling through the trees caused it to shine like onyx in the light.

"Beautiful." He was surprised to realize that he'd never said that to a woman before. Not even to the women he'd known who were more beautiful than she was, who wore finer clothes, and didn't stare at him as if they were half convinced he was going to eat them. The idea of tasting her was extremely tantalizing as he brushed the hair back from her neck to expose the vein running through there.

The memories of feeding from human women faded away as he became focused on her. None of those women had ever aroused this deep need in him like she did. His gaze slid back to her but she had stopped watching him, her head was lowered and she was staring down at the water.

Why did this woman affect him so? He wondered as he ran his fingers over her neck. Needing some distance from her he withdrew his hand from her neck, grabbed hold of the log and hopped into the stream. The water swelled up to his thighs, the sandy bottom slid between his toes as he turned to look up at her.

"What are you doing?" she laughed.

"Cooling off." She shook her head at him and leaned further back on the log when he held his hands out to her. "Are you afraid?"

Her lips pursed with displeasure at his taunting. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Prove it," he dared her.

She glanced down at her white chemise before looking at him again. He could see the doubt and hesitation on her face, but he silently willed her to take the plunge. He'd jumped into the water to get away from her for a bit; but he found the water did nothing to cool his fervor and he would much prefer to be touching her again. He took a step toward her; her knees were almost touching his shoulders as he rested a hand on each side of her legs.

"I promise not to get you wet above your knees." What amazed him most was that he meant it.
Every
part of him hungered for her in a way that he had never hungered for a woman before and yet he was more concerned about easing her worry than easing his own needs. "I'll hold you out of the water if you like."

Her mouth parted at his words. In the air, the scent of asters grew stronger with her rising passion as she nodded her agreement. She was lighter than he had expected when he plucked her off of the log and slid her down his body. A smile curved his mouth as he stared up into the dazed black eyes that were locked upon his.

"You don't have to hold me," she whispered. Her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck caused his blood to quicken. Her simple touch aroused him more than any of those half-naked women in the club had.

"Do you really want me to let you go?" His right hand slid up her back to rest against her shoulder blades while he kept his left arm locked around her waist. Right then he felt as if he could hold her forever. What had she done to him? "Because I think you like it."

Uneasiness flickered through her eyes as her brow furrowed. "Atticus… I'm not… I'm really not like the women you know."

"I know that Genny."

"I don't know how to do this. I don't even know what
this
is."

"Neither do I."

Her hands curled on his shoulders. "I missed you while you were gone," she said so quietly that he barely heard her and with an honesty that he wasn't used to in his world. There had never been a shortage of women in his life but none of them had ever missed him when he was away. Or perhaps they had, but only because they wanted something from him, not because they had simply just
missed
him.