Prince of Power (20 page)

Anton crouched on the stone floor by Tyra's body and rested his forehead against hers. Honest to goodness, his heart was leaden and nearly unmoving. He had no idea what to do.

She was alive, definitely. They had that going for them. Freezing cold to the touch, though. Whatever his father had done had left her tight and tense like she was in pain. She was shaking uncontrollably. He didn't know how to make it stop.

He'd already tried blood. Fucking mess that had been. Nothing like pulling your nearly catatonic not-really girlfriend's tongue out of her mouth to lick the cut on your wrist so you don't bleed to death all over her. Unbelievably romantic. He'd tried his healing power. His current plan of crying all over her face wasn't doing a lot of good, either.

“Is Miss Tyra dead?”

Anton jumped.

The little girl was sitting up and staring at him with eyes that were far too wise for a girl of her age, which couldn't have been more than seven or eight. Then again, he couldn't even imagine what she had seen or experienced tonight, but growing up as Anton had, he could hazard a guess. And he wouldn't wish that on the worst schoolyard bully, much less this sweet-looking child.

He glanced back at Tyra and placed a hand on her chest. It was rising and falling visibly. The
thump, thump
of her heart against his hand provided a very necessary reassurance. “No, she's not dead.”

The girl blinked. “I think my mommy is dead.”

What did he say to that? “We don't know that for sure.”

She looked over at his father's body. “Is he dead?”

There wasn't a strong enough word for the hatred he had over this girl asking him about death over and over. But he met her too-knowing, brown-eyed gaze and answered honestly. “Yes.”

She reached forward and placed her small hand on top of his. Somehow, that was the key that opened the floodgates. Moisture poured over Anton's face and splashed on his collarbone and chest. He didn't bother trying to stop it. Doing so would have taken more energy than he had just then. “We have to get Miss Tyra up.”

The girl was smart indeed. Anton had been so mired in his loss, in the pain of having had to kill his own father and of being unable to get Tyra to rouse, that he had failed to consider that they were still sitting in the heart of the lion's den. “You're right. We have to go. Can you get up, sweetheart?”

“Selena.”

He smiled slightly. “Selena. Do you think you can walk on your own?”

“I think so.”

Good.

Selena moved slowly but seemed agile enough under her own motor. Anton gathered Tyra against him, murmuring senseless reassurances that probably didn't matter. He'd get her back to the estate, and the vampire doctors would fix her up. Everything would be just fine.

Somehow.

He glanced again at the body on the floor.
His
father
was
dead
. The man lying there seemed so small. So unlike the monster that Anton remembered.

The hollow hurt inside him didn't make sense. The important thing was that Tyra was safe now. Without his father to keep the wizards organized, Anton suspected—no, he was certain—there would not be a strong enough leader to take over. It would be easy for the vampires to round up the remaining wizards and clean house.

The nightmare would be over.

“Okay, Selena, let's get out of here.”

A sharp clap of boot steps echoed in the room. His brother, Petros, entered from a door on the far end of the space that had not been visible before. Petros.
Shit
.

“Well done, brother.”

Anton cursed. He should have known they were getting out too easily. He paused, ready to drop Tyra if he had to so that he could fight again. “Selena, get behind me, please.”

Petros held up a hand. “No, don't change your plans on my account. I was just leaving myself.” He gestured grandly around the room. “About time for a changing of the guard, don't you think?” Petros kicked at their dead father's body like it was an old sofa he wanted to discard.

About time for a
what
? “You wanted our father to die?”

Petros nearly beamed. “Of course. Didn't you?” At Anton's stunned expression, Petros scoffed. “Oh, come on, brother. This whole operation has limped along badly for centuries. Frankly I can't believe the vampires hadn't killed off every wizard alive long before you and I were ever sired. It was time for a change. New blood. New ways.” Petros smiled wider, revealing a set of very real-looking fangs.

Anton shook his head. “Fangs? You can't think you're going to fool anyone that way.”

Petros laughed. “It's already worked, and it's not the only upgrade I've made.” He held up a finger. “You should be thanking me, Brother. I was the one who saw to it you stayed alive out in those woods when the Master wanted to kill you, you know. If it were not for me, you wouldn't be holding your beloved Tyra in your arms just now. Well, I'd better be off. Lots to do,” Petros said brightly. “Oh. A little gift for you, first.” A piece of metal flashed and flipped through the air. It landed softly on the ground midway between the two of them. One of those computer flash drive things.

Anton cursed himself for the moment of stunned inattention. He scrabbled for his nearly forgotten weapon, but Petros was gone too quickly. Some sort of black hole had opened in the middle of the room and Petros just… stepped into it, like the guy was getting onto an elevator. Anton hadn't seen that before.

He sagged, taking Tyra's weight against his chest. The stone inside his chest got bigger and heavier. Petros was taking over where his father had left off. With plans to… to what, upgrade the wizard establishment, somehow?

With fangs?

Selena placed a small hand on Anton's arm. What a sad statement that this little girl was keeping him grounded. “Let's get out of here.”

***

Tyra never would have thought she'd see the day when she was in the sun and still freezing cold. Her teeth were chattering like crazy, though, and her jaw was wired so tightly she could barely pry it open. “Anton.”

He stopped so fast she thought he might drop her. “Tyra. God. Are you okay?”

“No.” Not even a little bit. “But I think I can walk,” she managed.

Whatever Master Asshole had done to her, she'd managed to shake it off a little out under the bright morning rays, but movement was a struggle. Still, it felt important to get out of the woods on her own two feet.

Her heart broke that she'd failed to dispatch Anton's father in time to save Anton from doing that. Holy hell, had she even known he had a brother? The conversation between the two men had been chilling. All this time they'd hoped that killing the Master would destroy the clan.

His brother had promised to take the wizards and—what, overhaul the organization? Make it better, stronger, faster? As it was, the vampire society was beating the wizard society back but barely, like a constant game of Whac-A-Mole. How would they all stay safe in the face of an even greater evil?

This was only the beginning.

She abhorred the helplessness of limping along and letting him hold her up. Anton cradled her as carefully as he could, but they had to move fast over terrain that was rocky, covered with branches, and slippery with pine needles. Fatigue or maybe concern caused him to grip her bicep with iron fingers, as if he didn't dare let her slip. It would have been endearing if it hadn't been so painful. She'd have bruises, for certain.

Anton was talking to Selena now, and Tyra could read the concern in his tone loud and clear. No way could she flex her powers then so she couldn't tap into his emotions. Listening to the undertones in his voice and the language of his body told her just as much right then, maybe even things she wouldn't have found out by trying to use her powers.

“Are you hanging in there? We have to go fast, Selena.”

Tyra had to admit that the firm but gentle manner Anton used with the young girl made her go a little squishy.

She forced her mouth to work again. “Your brother… was he bluffing?”

“We can only hope.” Pain lanced down her arm when his fingers gripped even tighter.

“You don't think so.”

“No.”

It was difficult to breathe, and the sun was hot. She didn't burn as fast in the daytime as full-blooded vampires did, but the heat was still mighty stifling. It didn't calm her agitation while she was helped as gently as she was sure Anton could manage into the front seat of a vehicle and belted. He paused for a moment with his forehead pressed against hers.

Little did he know that there was a war going on inside her. He was trying to care for her, but she had never needed or wanted that. While she could move, doing so drove a thousand needles and knives into her bones. That she had so reveled in that momentary gift of the Master's power sickened her. She hated herself. Hated the Master. Hated Anton a little for what he had done and who he was. And maybe she hated that she was starting to care for him.

Anton helped Selena into the car. When he was seated and belted himself, he placed his hand on Tyra's knee and looked at her with deep concern. “I'm so sorry, Ty. I can tell it hurts. I don't know what else to do. If my blood didn't work and neither did my healing power, what else can I try?”

She wished she knew. “Just get me home.”

When the doctor checked someone over and then called another doctor, and then the two of them conferred quietly in a corner for a long time before finally suggesting that they might need to call in a specialist at sundown… there was definitely a Big Problem.

As if Anton hadn't known that already.

Somehow, everyone else knowing that made it a thousand times more horrible. They finally seemed to trust him on some level because he'd been left alone with Tyra in her bedroom. She'd asked them all to leave, and he couldn't blame her.

So he lay next to her on the bed, unsure of what to say and fully clothed because when he'd started to take his ripped, bloody clothes off to get comfortable, he felt a little pervy about it. Besides, they hadn't talked much about the fact that they'd made love and he wasn't sure where they stood on that score. Now, when she was in pain from whatever his father had done, sure as hell wasn't the time.

So Anton prayed.

His father would have been ashamed.

Well, fuck him.

“I'm so sorry, Tyra.”

She pulled herself up to sitting. The grimace on her face told him that the movement was painful, but she did it anyway. “Stop. You didn't do this.”

Hadn't he? He rested his head on her shoulder. He would never forgive himself if she was stuck with this debilitating pain forever.

“I can't believe I knocked my father out of the way only for Petros to take over.” His lips brushed against her lips when he spoke.

“You couldn't have anticipated that.”

Perhaps not, but he should have. Heaven only knew what Petros had planned.

He lifted his head and ran a hand over Tyra's cheek. The bridge of her perfect nose. Gently, he kissed her lips. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly and he thought his chest would explode. She shifted to lean against the curved headboard of her bed, and one of her boots bumped his knee.

“That can't be comfortable. Let me get those off you.” He jumped off the bed. Truthfully, he was overjoyed that she had let him kiss her. He couldn't bear to hurt her. She seemed fragile right now. It was hard to think of Tyra that way.

Her hand landed on his. “Anton, you don't have to.”

“Please. Let me do this. Let me take care of you.” He unlaced and pulled each heavy piece of footwear off as gently as he could and dropped them quietly to the floor. “Just gonna take your socks off now, Ty.”

Her feet were icy to the touch, despite the thick wool coverings she'd had on. He rubbed her feet between his hands, alternating briskly and gently. His body got warm, the heat flowing out through his fingers.

His power.

He'd thought that he could only channel the heat through anger. What if that wasn't the case? It stood to reason; he could channel his healing power when he wasn't angry. But the heat was still very new.

Anton breathed into it, focusing his intentions, his desire, and his love for her into warming those feet. Into making her as comfortable as he could.

He massaged and stroked. Kneaded the balls of her feet and that spot on the back of her ankle that he found always ached on his own legs after a long day of standing, and he even rubbed her calves a little. He hadn't been able to convince her with his words so perhaps saying it with his hands would do the trick.

That he truly did love her.

That he was sure of it now, even if he hadn't been before. And that if she let him, he would take care of her always. Keep her safe at times like this when she couldn't do it for herself. Keep her warm. That much, he could do. He placed a tiny kiss on the top of her right foot before moving on to the left.

“Anton,” she breathed. “Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. I can feel my foot again.”

***

It was a little like when she'd sat on her own foot for way too long. Only… more. A lot more. A mere flex of Tyra's foot had gripped her with a painful spasm and a thousand tiny pins and needles. So much physical effort for results that seemed so little.

Or would have, had it not been for Anton's grateful gasp.

She worked to move her fingers and her entire arm seized. Enough that she would have grabbed the bed and moaned in a manner unbecoming, were she not concerned about Anton's response.

“Tyra? Oh my God, it really is working. Please tell me you're okay.”

His face was damp. How lovely that he was the sort of man who wasn't afraid to cry. Since she was the sort of female who hated her own feelings tremendously, maybe they could balance each other out somehow.

Who knew?

He kissed her lips gently. His eyes… oh heaven, those gray eyes of his were dark and clear at the same time. “I knew you would be fine.” He laughed a little, at himself it seemed. “Okay, I didn't. I hoped you would.” He rubbed gentle circles over her face and arms, slow, easy loops that breathed warmth she didn't know she'd been missing into her body.

“This seemed to do it. When I started rubbing your feet this way.” He shook his head, and a sad smile ghosted across his face. “I don't know why it never occurred to me to try that before. Even when I knew I could heal. They don't have to be used to destroy, these powers. Why didn't that occur to me?”

Tyra opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a hand over hers. “I'm sorry. I'm just rambling.” He pressed his palms against his eyes. “I should have gone with you to the shelter. I could have stopped this from happening.”

“Don't be,” she managed.

Anton took a deep breath. “I just can't seem to get a handle on it. Everything…” His hands dropped to his side, and he stared into space like he didn't know what to say.

“Exactly,” she said slowly. “Everything. You had to kill your father. That alone entitles you to be overwhelmed.”

He gathered her hands between his and rubbed warmth into them. The pins and needles were less intense now. He leaned down and rubbed his stubbly cheek against the back of her hand. “I don't even want to think about what would have happened if he had managed to get that saw into you.”

She combed her fingers over his unshaven stubble. There was a little bit of gray and brown hair interspersed with the black. “So don't think about it.”

Against all odds, he smiled at her. Such a gorgeous smile. More charming than his father's. Anton was so much more than his father. They both were so much more than their fathers.

He touched her arms again, rubbing those delicious circles again. “May I?”

She relaxed into the bed. Maybe she could get used to this sort of pampering. “You certainly may.”

Under Anton's touch the needles became more bearable. Duller. The pain gave way to pleasure. He was gentlemanly enough to bypass the clothed sections of her body, skipping down to her feet and calves again, though he did work as high up her leg as her fatigues would allow him to.

He didn't push for more. Instead, he pulled her pant legs back down and moved behind her on the bed to rub her neck and shoulders. It was comforting to lean back and allow herself to be cradled in his arms. She'd never trusted anyone before to hold her like this.

She
did
trust him, didn't she?

Anton had watched over her and continued to do so. She could pull out all of her supernatural lie-detector tests and her doubts. Truthfully, there were many doubts. A man who had grown up as Anton had. Was he really capable of good? Well, he hadn't shown her anything but. Somewhere along the way, she had to stop fighting.

She had doubts about herself, too. About her father and whether he'd done what the wizard leader claimed. As for herself, she hadn't been swayed by the Master's arguments and appeals and insistences that she belonged on his side, had she?

Not even for a second.

Tyra was jolted out of her thoughts. “Selena. I just remembered. Is she okay? What about her mother?”

Anton hugged his arms around her from behind. “Thad called over to the shelter. Things are in chaos over there. Selena's mother is alive. That's the good news. The bad is that she'll be in the hospital for a while. Thad and Isabel have Selena for right now.”

Anton gave another little squeeze and continued kneading, more gently now. More holding than massaging, really. His stubble scraped against her cheek, and before she realized it, Tyra had turned her head.

The kiss was a kind of awkward stumbling, the way it seemed almost everything had been between them. Their noses dueled and they couldn't pick a side, and then finally Tyra rose onto her knees and knelt between Anton's parted thighs so that they could really sink into it.

They were just getting to the good stuff, his firm lips against her slightly chapped ones and their tongues sliding together, when the cell phone on Tyra's nightstand rang.