Vampire Elite (35 page)

“My name is Ismen. I’m Leon and Rune’s blood-bond and mate.”
 

“Both of them?” Arianna blurted out, aghast.
 

“Why not? What’s wrong with it?” Ismen smiled coquettishly. “There’s a shortage of Amiti. I’m more than happy to help out by being a partner of two gorgeous males. So why shouldn’t I?”
 

“Well, I don’t know ... I guess you can ... I never thought about it.”
 

“Of course she can.” Theores joined the conversation, startling Arianna, who for a moment had forgotten that the others could hear her talking with Ismen. “It’s also very convenient for all of them. One of them is always available to watch over Ismen.”
 

“Why would you need to watch her? I thought you had a rule about not touching other vampires’ blood-bonds.”
 

“Yes, we have a rule. But it’s not vampires we’re protecting her from,” Leon said softly. “It’s Amiti.”
 

“Amiti? What? Why?”
 

“The Order has condemned all Amiti in real blood-bonds to death. For centuries they’ve been hunting us down and executing us,” explained Ismen. It occurred to Arianna that Ismen was addressing her as she might a child whose mistaken beliefs were appalling, but needed to be corrected patiently and kindly.

“Why would the Order kill their own people? That’s crazy; they’re all about protecting them. Protecting
us
—” But then she remembered Khay telling her that his blood-bond had been killed by Amiti. She’d taken his claim as the raving of a maniac, which he obviously was, but maybe he’d been telling the truth. But Serena was in the Order, and
she
hadn’t said anything about executing Amiti blood-bonds.

“And—and what the hell are
real
blood-bonds? Are there blood-bonds that aren’t real?”
 

“Real blood-bonds are relationships between Amiti and Sekhmi that are based on love and trust, ones where the Amiti partner would never use their power to kill the Sekhmi partner,” Ismen continued. “As far as the Order’s concerned, blood-bonds are only acceptable if they’re used as a means to an end, as a weapon to kill Sekhmi.”

Oh.
 

Of course there were blood-bonds that weren’t real. That was the whole point of Serena’s plan, what Serena wanted her to create with Tor. What Arianna had agreed to
do
to Tor.

Her heart fluttered in panic—
no, no, you can’t do that; take it back!
—and she mentally slapped herself, ordering herself to get a grip. Hadn’t she wished not two hours ago for freedom from doubt, for the strength to follow her path as Queen?

“Amiti who refuse to adhere to that ideology are considered traitors,” Ismen was saying. “They actually issue death warrants against us. And, since Amiti can’t shield themselves from other Amiti, they can find us anywhere. And that’s why either Leon or Rune is always by my side.”
 

Arianna was silent. So much for being freed from her doubts; she’d never felt so conflicted in her life. On the one hand, the Order was right; these Amiti did betray their people. The idea of establishing blood-bonds with vampires while the practice of keeping bloodstock existed—of living among vampires in the very buildings where bloodstock were imprisoned in the basements—was abhorrent to her, even as she’d been wrestling with it herself. It
was
a betrayal.
 

On the other hand, weren’t vampire–Amiti blood-bonds the ultimate expression of loyalty to Hathor’s initial vision? Hadn’t the Goddess created the Amiti for the purpose of binding vampires in love; weren’t they supposed, to form unions, to balance each other? From that perspective, what the Order was doing was totally wrong. As the Queen, could she stop them? Who exactly sanctioned death warrants?
 

Oh, no
. Dread descended upon her.
 

She turned to Tor. “Ismen says that the Order’s been hunting blood-bonds for centuries. I just can’t believe it. My father was the Order’s leader. He would never allow that to happen. He was a kind and compassionate person.”
 

“Kind to
you
,” Ismen shot back, stepping forward aggressively. “Your father sanctioned every Amiti death sentence while he was alive. He’s responsible for the deaths of hundreds and hundreds of innocent people. He was a monster. He even sanctioned your own mother’s murder. And he was one of her executioners.”
 

“
No
.” Arianna jabbed an accusing finger at Ismen, her voice insistent, commanding, like someone scolding a bad dog. “You can’t say that. You’re wrong. You didn’t know him and I did. He was a good man. You’re lying. Tell me that you’re lying.” Arianna had kept jabbing her finger as she spoke, her posture assertive, but then she felt her butt hit the rail and realized that she’d been backing up the whole time.

“I’m sorry, Arianna, but I’m not lying. You need to know the truth. Your father was one of three adult Keepers of the Key at the time, and they issued a death warrant on your mother. They got her to leave Tor and produce an heir—with your father Marcus, though we don’t know why or how—and then they executed her three months after you were born.
 

“Istara was my dearest friend for a thousand years. If she hadn’t resisted them, the Keepers would have destroyed us all: vampires, Amiti, humans, the whole planet. She also protected Amiti in real blood-bonds, helping us hide from the Order.
 

“But the Order still managed to reach many of us. Even her. I’m sorry, Arianna. I know it hurts, but you have to know the truth.”
 

As soon as Ismen finished, Arianna looked around frantically, half hoping one of the others would step in to disprove what Ismen had said. But of course no one did. They just stood there looking back at her, utterly still and silent.
 

It was that silence, and the compassion in their gazes, that made her realize that what Ismen said was true. For one second she was struck by the thought that in all of their long lives, they must have heard terrible, terrible news, too—but then her whole world collapsed, her stomach heaved, her vision blurred, and strong arms were holding her up and half-carrying her away from the group.
 

She came back into her body to find her face pressed into Tor’s chest, his lips against the top of her head, kissing her and whispering “hush, hush, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Choking on tears and quaking, she hugged him back, fiercely, until the shuddering stopped and her breathing was under control.
 

“Is it true?” she finally asked into his chest.

She felt Tor nod. “Yes, and I am so sorry that you had to hear this news, especially this way and especially on your birthday. I wish you’d found out about it under different circumstances.”
 

Arianna raised her eyes to his. “If we’re going to be doing this truth-telling, I want to know all of it.” She paused. This would be one of the hardest questions she’d ever asked. Did she even want to know?

Yes, she had to. “Did you kill my father to avenge his murder of Istara?”
Please, Hathor, don’t let it be true. Don’t take him away from me. I know he’s my enemy and I’m not supposed to love him. I know I’m losing my mind. But ... I’ve already lost so much. Please.

Tor stopped breathing, leaving Arianna’s question hanging in the air for unbearable seconds. Finally he sighed and pulled her away from him, holding her by the shoulders and locking eyes with hers. Whatever he was about to say, he was trying to show her that he meant it.

“No.”
 

A wave of relief rolled through Arianna’s body so powerful that she felt her body sag. She let herself relax back in his arms and hug him, pressing her cheek to his chest.
 

“Who then?” She could barely hear her own voice, but she knew he heard her.
 

“I think you’ve had enough surprises for one day.”

“I want to know,” she insisted. “Tell me.”
 

“You can’t do anything about it. The person who killed him is dead. That’s all I can tell you for now. Please trust me on this.” His tone told her that she wouldn’t be getting any more information from him on the topic.

Maybe he was right; maybe it was enough for one day. She was exhausted, drained, her whole sense of balance out of whack. She couldn’t process anything else now. Maybe later. All she wanted to do now was go home and go to bed, where she could forget everything but Tor’s strong arms encircling her.
 

She let him hold her for another moment.

Actually, truth be told, what she
wanted
was a lot more than him holding her. In fact, wasn’t that what she’d wanted all along? She’d held herself back, telling herself that her personal feelings weren’t important compared to her responsibilities as Queen. But it was an almost unbearable burden, and she couldn’t help but resent having to clean up this mess—especially now, knowing that Amiti were killing Amiti and hearing that terrible revelation about her father.
 

Obviously she and Tor couldn’t be together forever, but couldn’t she throw caution to the wind just this once and be with him? And—and really, when she thought about it, the whole reason she was here was to blood-bond with him, and wouldn’t he be more likely to take her vein if they made love? So it wouldn’t be irresponsible to follow her heart down this path, just for a little while.
 

And besides, he smelled really, really good.

She realized that the mood of their embrace had shifted, that she was pressing her body against his in a way that wasn’t about comfort anymore, and that he was drawing the deep, steady breaths of someone trying to keep their emotions in check.
 

She pulled back to look into his face. The grey of his eyes looked like dark clouds seething in a furious thunderstorm. “Can we go home?”
 

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

Chapter 48

They returned to the villa in total silence, and was it Tor’s imagination or was Arianna setting a faster pace than usual?
 

Oh, no, it hadn’t been his imagination. She
was
in a rush, he confirmed as soon as the door to his suite closed behind them. She threw herself into his arms, her open mouth finding his and kissing him fiercely. Lust roared through him, and he clutched her hard against him, feeling all of the pent-up sexual energy of the past months flowing through his kiss. One of her hands gripped the back of his neck while the other shoved at the shoulder of his jacket, trying to pull it off. He let go of her for a second to help her out. The jacket fell to the floor, and then she was starting on the buttons of his shirt while he reached around to unzip the back of her gown, their mouths never leaving each other’s.
 

Then the gown was on the floor and her bare skin was blazing its heat into his. She was trying to reach his belt, but just for a moment he wasn’t willing to give her room: he had to press her body tight against his, absorbing her heat, holding still so he could feel the blood pulsing under the surface of her skin.
 

That was when the bloodlust surged again with such intensity that it almost bowled Tor over.
 

A tiny voice cried out its objection in the back of his mind, warning him that the bloodlust and arousal were joining forces, that his inner beast was starving and would do whatever it took to satisfy its hunger. It would take over Tor’s rational mind, and if he gave in to it now there’d be no turning back.
 

“I need to go,” he whispered, half to himself, releasing his grip on her.
 

“No, you don’t,” she replied, stepping back. “You want to run away from me, but I won’t let you.” Fluid as a dancer, she reached up and took the broach out of her hair, letting it spill over her shoulders and back like a waterfall.
 

Tor’s eyes followed the waterfall down, then kept going, transfixed by the curves of her body and the lacy black lingerie that covered them. “We can’t do this, Arianna.” His voice sounded hoarse, as though he couldn’t decide whether to demand or beg. Which wasn’t far from accurate, he realized.

In response, she bent over and slid her panties off, then straightened and removed her bra. Tossing both to the side, she faced him, completely naked.
 

Tor swallowed, hard.
 

“Why can’t we do this?” She stepped forward until their bodies were almost touching again. Her lips whispered across his chest, and she put her arms around him gently, barely touching him.
 

Tor was losing this battle.
 

“No, Arianna, I can’t. Let me go ... ” He wanted to pry her hands from his body, but his own hands wouldn’t cooperate.
 

Suddenly she released him from her embrace, took his hand, and led him into the bedroom. His body followed obediently, ignoring the protests of his rational mind. She let her hand slip from his and then slid onto the bed.
 

She lay on her side, regarding him, elbow bent, palm supporting her head, her other arm draped languidly on her hip, innocent and sensual at the same time. And although she was totally still, Tor could feel her calling him, her Amiti energies opened to him. She lay here on his bed, emitting warmth and affection for him—and something much deeper Tor couldn’t name. Was it love?

Shame roiled through him like thunderclouds, overwhelming him so that he shrank back and covered his face with his hands as if hiding from her.
 

He’d planned this, all of it. He’d put her through hell to get her to love him, to love him for his own selfish purposes. It was true. Well, here she was, offering herself to him. He’d almost reached his goal. So why didn’t he feel victorious?
 

And then a revelation crashed through him. He wanted her to love him—really love him, for all that he was. Not because he’d managed to manipulate her into it.