Nightbred: Lords of the Darkyn (23 page)

“No, but when Chris began to slip away, I fed her from my veins. It was a foolish act of pure desperation.” He glanced at Lucan. “I mean no offense, my lord.”

“I am only too well acquainted with those feelings, Jamys.” He regarded Chris. “You survived a lethal explosion and an hour under the water, so whatever changed you happened before the bomb went off.”

“Nothing happened. Well, besides Dutch practically draining me dry.” Chris reached up and touched the scar on her neck. “This sounds crazy, I know, but I think it might have been my mom’s cross. Like maybe God decided to give me and Jamys another chance.”

Sam had seen too many murders to believe in that kind of God, but she was so happy to have Chris back she didn’t care what had done the dirty work. “How do you feel about being one of the fang gang?”

“Still trying to get used to it.” She laced her fingers through Jamys’s. “When I first came to, I thought I was in the afterlife. A really great afterlife. When Jamys told me that I’d changed, and we could finally be together, well . . .” She smiled at Lucan. “I love you both, and I loved being an almost-
tresora
, but I quit.”

Epilogue

Durand Stronghold

Freeport, Bahamas

“H
ow long is that boy going to pace the floor out there?” Dr. Alexandra Keller asked as she finished checking Chris Durand’s pupil reactions.

“Until you let me change out of this paper towel and I can go reassure him I’m okay.” Chris fluttered her lashes. “So tell me I’m okay, Doc.”

“You’re more than okay. You’ve made a beautiful, complete transition and all of the wounds you sustained in the explosion have healed cleanly.” She clicked off her penlight. “All you have to do is give me some more blood, tell me what superpower you got stuck with, and I’m outta here.”

“I don’t know the name for my ability,” Chris admitted. “I could show you how it works, though.” She eyed the door, and a low sound came from the other side. “I can touch another Kyn without actually touching them. I haven’t tried it on mortals yet, but it probably works on them, too.”

“Psychic touchy-feely.” Alex made a note in the chart. “Now, that’s a new one.”

Chris grinned. “My range is pretty good, too. I can be a mile away and give him a kiss.” She blew one at the door, which resulted in a soft groan. “Anywhere on his body.”

“Let’s keep it PG-rated while I’m here.” Alex closed the chart and sat down on the chair next to the bed. “Chris, the fact is you’re too young to be Kyndred, so you weren’t changed because you already had vampire DNA. Just to be sure, I double-checked the blood work the
jardin
doc did on you when you started working at the stronghold. You went from ordinary human to Kyn without any help, except maybe this.” She tapped the top of the cross-shaped scar. “I think your cross might have had similar properties to one that may have recently turned a Frenchwoman from mortal to Kyn.”

“Does it matter?”

“It might.” Alex hesitated before she said, “I compared your old blood tests to hers to see what genes you might share, and I discovered you have quite a lot in common. Your profiles indicate that you and Simone have the same parent. She’s your half sister.”

“But I’m an only child.” She went still as she recalled what Frankie had told her. “My father was some guy my mother met while she was on vacation in France. Is he still . . . ?”

Alex made a face. “Sorry, sweetheart. He died of leukemia ten years ago.” She touched Chris’s shoulder. “But hey, you’ve got a sister over there, and she’s made the change, too. If it’s okay, I’d like to let her know about you.”

“Let me talk to Jamys about it first. We don’t want any more new drama.” When Alex gave her a blank look, Chris added, “For saving Sam’s life, Lucan convinced your guy to give Jamys rule over the Caribbean islands. The
tresoran
council believes I was killed in the explosion on the
Golden Horde
, and so do the traitors. The few people who know different aren’t going to expose me. We’re safe here, and we’re happy. End of drama.”

“What about the emeralds Richard wants?” Alex asked. “You and Jamys have any ideas where they are?”

“We traced them to a jeweler in Fort Lauderdale, but they were stolen from him and have vanished again.” She shrugged. “Not like we need them anymore.”

“If Richard finds out you were changed, you’re going to have plenty of drama on your hands,” the doctor warned her. “So just keep a low profile for now, and we’ll let you know what happens with this idiot gem quest.” She went to the door and opened it suddenly, startling Jamys. “She’s all yours.”

“Yes.” Jamys smiled at Chris. “She is.”

After Dr. Keller had left, Jamys and Chris went for a walk on the beach, where some of the women were sitting and watching the waves.

“My lord, my lady.” Werren got to her feet and dusted off her hands. “Did all go as expected with the leech?”

“We call them doctors now,” Chris said, and nodded. “I’m doing fine. How about you and the ladies?”

“Very well, thank you.”

When Jamys had offered to bring the women from the
Golden Horde
down to the islands with them, Sam had been grateful, Lucan annoyed, and Chris uncertain. But since arriving, the women had worked tirelessly to help set up their household and keep things running smoothly, and were now talking about opening some gift and clothing shops to bring in some additional income for the
jardin
.

“A courier brought a package from Lord Alenfar while you were being examined,” Werren said. “I left it on the night table by your bed.”

Chris looped her arm through Jamys’s as they walked back up to the main house. “Do you think it’s the emeralds, and he wants us to hide them from Richard?”

He kissed the top of her head. “I am too busy hiding
you
from Richard.”

In the bedchamber Chris opened the small package, which contained a folded note and Father Bartley’s journal. “Someone’s been borrowing things from museums without permission.” She opened the note to read it out loud. “‘Burn this, bury it, but do not let it fall into the hands of another mortal fool. L.’” She tried to hand the note and the journal to Jamys, but the binding split suddenly and the pages from the journal dropped to the floor. “Terrific, I broke it.”

Jamys crouched down and picked up the pages, but when he tried to replace them in the binding, he stopped and lifted one of the inner flaps. “There is something under here.” He took out a yellowed, folded piece of parchment and opened it to reveal an old map of Florida.

“There are some roads or trails marked.” She peered at what had been written in the faded ink in one corner. “This looks like directions to somewhere in central Florida.” She pointed to three gem-shaped symbols drawn next to a circled area. “This could be the first mate’s map.” She looked up at Jamys. “What if the pirate who confessed to Bartley stole it before he jumped ship?”

“We can no longer pursue this quest without exposing you to the high lord.” Jamys took the map from her, folded it up, and placed it in a plain envelope. “We should send it to the Kyn lord who rules over the territory marked on the map, and let him decide what to do with it.”

“Her,” Chris corrected. “The suzeraina of Orlando is Jayr mac Byrne.” She took a pen and jotted the address of Jayr’s stronghold on the envelope before she put it and the journal aside. “Do you think the emeralds are somewhere in her territory?”

“I do not care where they are,” Jamys said as he drew her down to the bed. “I have the only treasure I want right here.”

B
eaumaris knew some humans were born with the natural ability to resist
l’attrait
, the scent produced by the Kyn that allowed them to influence and control mortals. A few were even immune to it, but those mortals were so rare that he had never before personally encountered one.

Until now.

He watched Alys as she retreated into the lobby, her limbs easy in her loose khaki garments, a thick bunch of her fiery hair bobbing from where she’d pulled it through the back of her cap. She intercepted a porter to speak with him before moving on to the elevators. Not once did she glance back at him.

To her I am nothing more than a human male in a bar.

Beau had not bothered with mortal females for so long that the annoyance he now felt with this one gave him pause. Like all Kyn, he had indulged himself with human women from time to time, enjoying their welcoming warmth and the fragile sweetness of their passions. None had ever touched his heart, however, and over the centuries the lovers he had taken had become an endless procession of willing lips and caressing hands, the blur of their features fading from his memory even as he slipped out of their beds.

Alys.
Even her name intrigued him.

This cheeky wench had been neither willing nor welcoming; perhaps that was what rendered her so singular. Her taste in clothing was nothing short of appalling, but even her wretchedly fitted garments could not disguise her charms. Tall and slender as a yearling filly, Alys had been graced with skin like sunlit snow, the eyes of a fawn, and the mouth of an enchantress.

Save for that startled look she had given him when he’d first spoken to her, she’d also shown as much interest in him as she might a potted plant.

Testing the depth of her resistance would please him to no end, but Beau had to find Stuart. Once Alys had disappeared from view, he began making his way along the bar. None of the men answered to the name or knew the man he sought. Exasperated, Beau went to the reception desk and compelled the clerk to give him a key card to Stuart’s room on the seventh floor.

From outside the door to Stuart’s room he heard the sound of the shower and let himself in. He didn’t interrupt the mortal’s bath, but used the time to inspect the man’s cases. He carried no weapons but had filled one case with electronic gadgetry and a second with large old books. He opened one volume to read the title page, but the words were beyond his understanding.

He tossed the book back into the case, infuriated by his own anger. As a mortal he had been taught to fight, not read; as an immortal shame had compelled him to hide his ignorance from the other Kyn. When the Realm had nearly fallen to Byrne’s bastard half brother and his Saracen conspirators, Beau had realized that his own, long-kept secrets could be revealed someday. A week after Jayr had been named suzeraina, Beau had gone into the city to seek a solution.

He’d soon learned that anyone could enroll in a literacy class at one of the public libraries; the mortals who taught them were volunteers who required no payment in return. Even better, most classes were held after sunset to benefit those who were obligated to work during the day.

His first teacher, a retired librarian with seemingly endless patience, had prevented him from giving up several times that first month. “Reading is like learning another language,” Mrs. Decker would say. “You can’t expect to be fluent from the start. You must learn, and practice what you learn.”

As a Darkyn, Beau knew himself to be superior to mortals in almost every way; as a reader, he discovered he was painfully slow and made many mistakes. Mrs. Decker began asking him to stay behind after class was dismissed to work with her for another half hour.

“You’re fighting this too much, my dear,” she’d told him after he’d struggled through a line from his primer. “Words are not bombs, ready to explode if you fumble them. Think of them as more like gifts under the Christmas tree, waiting to be unwrapped.” Her finger went to the line he’d mangled. “
Sally.
You know that’s the name for the little girl in the story.
Blue
is the color of the sky on a summer day.
Ball
is her brother’s favorite toy.”

Beau nodded and sounded out the word in the middle of the line.
“Kicks.”
He thought for a moment. “What Sally wants to do to her brother’s . . . toy.”

Mrs. Decker had chuckled. “Exactly.”

Beau heard the shower shut off, and replaced the book in the case. Once he used
l’attrait
to bring the professor under his control, he would interrogate him and learn how much he knew about the renegades and how best to lure their leader into Beau’s hands.

The bathroom door opened and Alys walked out, her hands busy tucking a towel around her damp body. Beau was so astonished to see her that at first all he did was stare. She stopped as soon as she saw him, turned, and ran for the door.

Beau reached it before she did and slapped a hand against it to keep it closed. She spun around him, and without thinking, Beau clamped an arm around her waist. “You needn’t—”

She kicked at him, knocking them both off-balance. As they fell forward, Beau brought up his free arm so that it would land on the carpet before her face, then used it to kept most of his weight off her.

“Be still,” he said into her arm as she wriggled under him. Her warm, damp body smelled of almond-scented soap and her own fiery scent. She was not afraid, he realized, but furious, and the scent he was shedding was not affecting her in the slightest. “I am not here to hurt you.”

Beau lifted up enough to roll her onto her back, but when she struck at his face he pinned her wrists to the carpet. He glanced down and saw that her towel now lay wadded under her. That was what burned through his garments against his cool skin—the bare front of her body.

“I’ll fight you,” she promised, “and whatever you do to me, I
will
hurt you.”

“This is a mistake.” Beau started to lift himself from her, then stopped. “I did not come here to assault you or see you naked, or whatever you are thinking.”

“You’re on top of me,” she pointed out. “I’m naked. You have an erection. What am I supposed to think?”

“I do not . . .” Bloody hell, he was as hard as a club. Softening his voice, he said, “I apologize.”

“I’ll press charges,” she promised. “After I hurt you.”

Beau released her wrists and pushed himself up, turning away as quickly as he could. “Cover yourself now, girl.” He could hear her crawling backward and wrapping the towel around herself. “I came to see—”

She tried to get at the door again, and he was obliged to trap her against it.

“This didn’t work for you the last time,” Beau told her. “We can roll about on the floor again or you can listen to me and stop trying to run out of here screaming.” She instantly opened her mouth and took in a deep breath, forcing him to clamp his hand over her lips. “That was not a suggestion.”

She made an angry, muffled sound.

“Listen to me. I can stuff something in your mouth”—Christ Jesus, why had he said that?—“or you can promise me you will not scream by nodding. What’s it to be, then?”

Over the edge of his hand, her eyes narrowed, and then she gave a single nod. As soon as he took his hand away she said, “Would you please get off me?” As soon as he shifted his body away from hers she ducked under his arm and retreated a safe distance. “Now get out of here or I’ll call security.”

“I can’t. I have business with Dr. Stuart.” When she moved toward the phone, he added, “I did check with the front desk. The clerk said that his room number was seven-fourteen, and unless they’ve changed the numbers in the last three minutes,
this
is room seven-fourteen.”

She picked up the receiver, placing it on her shoulder before she hitched up the front of the towel. “How did you get in here?”

“You left the door ajar.” She wore no ring on her wedding finger, and she didn’t behave like a wife. Beau’s lust darkened as he imagined her long, graceful body spread beneath some rutting, gray-haired scholar—but surely she was too young for that. “Forgive me, but who are you? The professor’s daughter?”

“I didn’t leave the door open.” Doubt flickered over her features, and her confusion made her seem even younger. “At least I don’t think I did.” She slowly replaced the receiver. “I’m Dr. Stuart. The
only
Dr. Stuart.”

“You can’t be.” He studied her. “I’m looking for Dr.
Al
Stuart.”

“That’s me,” she insisted. “A. L. Stuart. I use my initials for professional purposes.”

Beau dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re a woman, and hardly more than a child.”

“I’m twenty-six, and I earned my first PhD when I was twenty-one. Excuse me, but I’m uncomfortable talking to you like this.” She unzipped a backpack and bent over to rummage through it. “Why did you assume I was a man?”

Beau caught himself admiring the long, elegant lines of her bare legs. “Tremayne told me your name was
Al
Stuart. When we spoke in the bar, you knew I was looking for a man.”

“I didn’t know who you were or what you wanted, so I was simply being careful.” She straightened. “You should have mentioned that you were from the Hylord Foundation.”

He inclined his head. “I also happen to be cautious with strangers.”

“You mean when you’re not tackling them?” She scooped up a robe from the end of the bed. “I have the preliminary excavation schedule prepared. I was going to fax it to Ireland in the morning.” She shrugged into the robe, turning her back to him as she let the towel drop to the floor and tied the belt. “I also plan to file progress reports twice a week, if that’s acceptable.” She faced him, her features completely composed, but her scent was still hot with anger and something more. “Are you with Hylord’s local office? Should I e-mail a copy to you?”

Obviously the girl was immune to
l’attrait
, which meant he would have to rely on persuasion. “I have been sent by the—by Hylord to oversee your project.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “
You’re
an archaeologist?” When he shook his head, her gaze went from his face to his chest and toes, and then flashed up again. “What other digs have you worked on?”

He couldn’t deceive her on that score. “This would be my first.”

Her jaw set. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have this.”

“It’s done,” he assured her. “I’m yours.”

Her scent abruptly cooled. “This project is very problematical. I have a great deal of work to do in a very short amount of time.” As even as her tone was, her eyes filled with some strange emotion, as if she regretted the words she spoke. “I can’t afford to be distracted by someone like you.”

She had no choice in the matter, but still her rejection rankled. “Why do you believe that I would be a hindrance?” He gestured at the carpet. “Other than the unfortunate tackling incident, which I promise will not be repeated.”

“In order to make accurate reports to the foundation on my progress, you’ll have to shadow me constantly.” Her lips twisted. “That is the real reason they sent you, isn’t it, Mr. . . . ah . . . ?”

“Beauregard York.” He offered the Americanized name that he used when among mortals. “Do call me Beau.” He offered her his most fetching smile as he lied to her. “I was not sent here to spy on you, Dr. Stuart.”

“Logic dictates no other alternative,” she informed him. “Your foundation has been very generous, but they’ve also made several stipulations to ensure secrecy. This is the first major project I’ve conducted, making me unproven in the field. My peers already consider my theories to be everything from unfounded to ludicrous.”

Beau was surprised she could speak so calmly about it. “What would make them believe that?”

“When the Order of the Knights Templar was disbanded by the Pope, some were able to escape. According to my research, at least one of them fled Europe for the Spanish Main, and then sailed from there to Florida. I believe he came here with a group of Spanish priests and with them founded a mission to convert the Timucua natives.” She hesitated, tugging at the belt of her robe. “My colleagues think that is nonsensical, but what they flatly refuse to accept is my theory as to the Templars’ other motive for coming here.”

“You have a second theory?”

She nodded. “Before he left the mission, the Templar concealed something very old and valuable there. I’ve never been able to precisely identify the artifact he left behind, but I have a very good idea of what it is. I’ve also published several articles in trade magazines about it, which is why my colleagues think I’m crazy.”

Beau wondered what she would say if she knew a former Templar was standing right in front of her. “Your colleagues sound small-minded.”

“They’re limited by ego and fear. I’m not, although I do understand the risk I’m taking. Failure on my part will put an end to my career, and a connection to me has the potential to damage the foundation’s reputation.” Alys watched his face. “So, Mr. York. If you’re not here to monitor me, then why would they give someone with no archaeological experience this assignment?”

He grinned. “Oh, to manage things.”

“And that.” She shook a finger at his face. “
That
is the other problem I have with you. You’re far too attractive. Half of my interns are young, impressionable girls. I don’t want them distracted from their work, especially if you decide to tackle one of them.”

So she thinks me handsome.
Beau had never been especially vain, but her compliment pleased him. “You seem to think I can do nothing but roll about on the floor with women.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I can go only by experience.”

“Well, Doctor, I don’t. And if your young interns are hoping to impress me, perhaps they’ll work harder.” Someone knocked on the door behind him, and he glanced through the peephole. “There’s an Asian lad standing in the hall. He’s carrying a very large case.”

“One of my interns. I have some equipment to check.” She offered him her hand, and when he took it, she gave him a brisk handshake. “Thank you for stopping in to meet me, Mr. York, but I really can’t use you on the project. Please give my regrets and my regards to Mr. Tremayne.”