Crimson Covenant Page 4

  “You are not feeding on me!” Lyric shouted, jumping away from me as soon as the door shut. She fled to the other side of the massive chamber, and I watched with amusement as she selected the fireplace poker from the hearth as her newest weapon.

  “Didn’t I just say I wouldn’t feed on you?” I never lied. Just the suggestion was insulting.

  “This is just a dream. That’s it. You were knocked unconscious in the parking lot, and this is just a dream,” she whispered to herself, her pupils dilating.

  “If that makes you feel better.” I shook my head and opened the doors of the ebony wardrobe with my hands this time, hoping it might help settle her nerves. There wasn’t much I could do about being a six-foot-five vampire with fangs.

  “And who was that giant?” She swung the poker toward the door. “That guy was massive! Wait, is he a vampire, too?”

  A knot of ugly, insidious…something settled in my gut. “Lachlan is my second-in-command, and I’ll have you know I’m a full two inches taller.”

  Calm the fuck down. You sound like a jealous idiot.

  I didn’t do jealous. Why would I? There was nothing in this world I wanted and couldn’t have, therefore jealousy was a useless emotion.

  Besides, why would I get jealous over a human?

  A human you let sleep in your bed.

  The thought was more than sobering. Last night, I’d broken two of my rigid, personal rules for the first time in four hundred years. Not only had I brought a woman—a human woman—back to my home, and to my bed, but I’d fed her. Fangs had never pierced my skin, and if I was going to play semantics, they still hadn’t. I’d sliced open my own wrist to save her life for the simple reason that I couldn’t stomach the thought of watching her die. Every cell in my body had screamed at the possibility.

  “But he’s a vampire, too, isn’t he?”

  “Everyone on this side of the estate is.” I somehow doubted telling her we had humans over in the Domum for feeding would mollify her, so I walked right past Lyric’s warrior stance and into the wardrobe, which had ceased functioning as a piece of furniture about fifty years ago when it became the hidden entrance to both my closet and my private arms room.

  Lyric turned to face me.

  “Estate…Where am—Wait, what was that about wiping my memory?” She yelled after me, leaning around the entrance, still holding the poker like it was going to help if I decided to change my mind about feeding.

  I wouldn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I wasn’t sure I’d stop—she smelled that damn good. In fact, now that scent wrapped around me, infusing every inch of this space with the fragrance I knew would stay long after I did as I’d promised—wiped her memory and left her safe and sound at her little apartment.

  As soon as it was safe to do so.

  Mine. A dark, primal demand filled my veins at the thought of leaving her anywhere but my bed, my chamber, my estate. Tucked away and safe from the demon who’d hunted her down last night.

  “It’s safer for you to lose the memories, trust me.” I slipped my shoulder holster on over my black T-shirt, then opened the top drawer just beneath where a row of my clothes hung, and took out two Glocks, holstering them both. She couldn’t know anything about this world, or the danger that had come calling for her last night wouldn’t stop until she was dead. She wasn’t fucking dying on my watch.

  “You can’t just—oh, my God, what do you do with those?” She raised the poker at me.

  “Dispense justice.” I slung on a leather jacket over the weapons.

  She stifled a laugh. “Sorry, but if you heard the way you just said that, all serious like some CW drama.” She drew back her head and narrowed her eyes. “Dispense justice.” She tilted her chin and looked off into the distance before another laugh bubbled up. “Now I know this is all in my head.”

  “Whatever makes you feel better.” It was safer for her that way.

  “A clove of garlic might make me feel better,” she muttered.

  “Garlic? If you believe that old wives’ tale, I’d love to show you what I can do with a wooden stake.”

  “How about crosses?”

  “Why would I fear anything having to do with God? I’ll never understand why humans would think we all don’t have the same creator.” I walked out past her, then shut the wardrobe doors behind me, locking them to my biometrics. Her scent was in my lungs, on my tongue. The sooner I got out of this room, the better. “I have matters to attend to. Serge will bring you evening repast.” Had to give credit to the guy, he’d barely blinked when I’d brought her back last night.

  Her forehead crinkled. “Evening wh…what time is it?”

  I glanced at my watch. “A little after nine p.m.”

  “But it—” Her eyes widened. “How long have I been here?”

  “Almost twenty-four hours.” I took my cell from the charger and pocketed it.

  “What?” she shouted, dropping the poker.

  “It’s not uncommon for it to take a full day’s cycle to heal from a brain injury like that.” I shrugged. “Not that I’ve ever healed a human before.”

  “Healed…” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip like she could still taste me, and heat licked through my veins. Then she shook her head. “Let me go.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can.” She pointed to the door, color rising in her cheeks. “Open the fucking door and let me out! I have a thesis on early American secret societies to write! And a life! And I really have to pee!” Her eyes radiated with undeniable, utterly beguiling fury. “You can’t just keep me prisoner!”

  It was cute.

  “Well, the bathroom is through that door.” I pointed to the right, just past the bed. “And since this is all in your head, consider it your day off. Television remote is on the nightstand, books are on the shelves, and Serge will help you with anything else you need. I’ll be back later.” I walked out of the bedchamber, leaving her stuttering.

  Both Serge and Lachlan waited for me in the hall. The talem stood with a covered tray, and the warrior pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against as he narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Give her whatever she wants, except her freedom,” I said to Serge, who nodded and hurried through the door, closing it behind him. The reassuring sound of the locks sliding home came shortly after.

  “You’re smiling,” Lachlan accused.

  “Fuck off.” I walked right by him, heading down the wide hallway of the residence’s center wing. The building was shaped like a capital E, with the members of the Order living in both the east and west, pretending to give me my space while actually holding a perimeter. Usually, it made me roll my fucking eyes that the house had been designed to protect royalty, but with Lyric in my chamber…well, that changed things.

  “Alek.” The highlander’s heavy footsteps followed mine on the plush runner covering the hardwood as I passed centuries of artwork that had been selected and preserved by my family.

  “Leave it,” I warned him. Lyric wasn’t a topic up for conversation.

  “I can smell you on her!”

  Rage whipped through me in an icy blast, freezing me at the top of the staircase. Every muscle locked as I silently listed the reasons I couldn’t rip his head off his shoulders.

  “Shit,” he muttered as he saw my face, but at least he was smart enough to put a few feet between us. “I meant no disrespect.”

  “Mind your own damned business,” I growled, and started down the steps.

  “If you’ve opened up a vein for the first time in your life, I’d say I have the right to be…” He shook his head slightly like he was looking for a word that wouldn’t get him killed. “Aware.”

  “Not here.” I glanced over the railing and saw Olivia, Avianna’s bodyguard, crossing the foyer.

  Lachlan followed my line of sight and nodded as we made it to the landing where all three staircases converged, then continued down to the foyer. We didn’t speak until we were behind the st
eel door of the war room.

  “Not yet.” I took my place at the head of the table, then devoured the meal Serge had thoughtfully left for me, but it did nothing to satiate my hunger because it wasn’t for food…it was for her. Once my stomach was full, I looked up to find every member of the Order staring at me with the exception of Hawke, who was polishing a dagger.

  “I have a human in my suite,” I announced as if it was another item on our action list. “I suspected that she’d seen the demon in the park, and I was right.”

  “Impossible,” Ransom blurted, blanching.

  “Fuck me,” Lachlan muttered and rubbed his hand over his face.

  “Really?” Benedict leaned forward in his chair, his eyes flaring with curiosity.

  Hawke lifted his eyebrows and set his dagger on the table.

  “She saw him.” I leaned back in my chair. “Described him to me. I tracked her down last night and found her fighting for her life from the same piece of shit. She definitely saw him.”

  “You…tracked her down,” Ransom said, low and slow, his eyes taking on a dangerous sheen.

  “Pretty sure I just said that.” I stared him down.

  “Alone?” he snapped, then swung his gaze toward Lachlan, who shook his head in warning. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “Aye. Afterward.” He crossed his arms over his chest as his jaw ticked.

  “You could have been—” Ransom started.

  “She’s a witch,” Benedict interrupted. “If she saw through the glamour, she has to be a witch. There’s no other explanation.”

  “This isn't a test. You don’t get extra credit for answering first,” Ransom fired back, waving his hand across the table at Benedict.

  “Enough.” I didn’t even have to raise my voice. They obeyed, focusing their eyes forward on me. “When I found her, she was nearly dead. I brought her back here to heal.”

  “And to question, right?” Benedict arched an eyebrow.

  My fangs elongated.

  Benedict sat back, his eyes widening slightly.

  “We have a problem. There was obviously a plot to kill my sister. Those demons weren’t surprised to see us, and then they hunted the only other evidence—Lyric.” I wanted to shred the demon apart again at the thought of it.

  “They wanted a song?” Ransom blinked.

  “That’s her name, you idiot. The human’s name is Lyric,” Lachlan shook his head.

  Hawke watched with narrowed, interested eyes, but remained silent as usual, no doubt waiting for all the information before deciding what he deemed worth his time.

  “And this human is the reason you stayed tucked away all last night while the nobles circled like vultures, hoping for a glimpse of your sister?” Benedict put the pieces together.

  I nodded. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off the woman, not that I was about to offer that piece of information. “Tell Xavier to expect us tonight,” I said to Lachlan.

  He nodded.

  “Hate to point out the obvious, but O’Flannery is going to have the Consortium up our asses if he finds out we’re holding a human.” Benedict drummed his fingers on the table as though already seeking a solution.

  “I’ll deal with O’Flannery. An assassination plot against the royal family trumps everything else.” The Human Consortium—those who knew of our existence and lived within the Covenant—were a key part of keeping the peace.

  “It was easier when we could just kill everyone,” Hawke muttered, earning a look from every other warrior. “Just kidding,” he added with a flash of a smile.

  He wasn’t.

  “Right, and on that note, Benedict and Hawke are with me. We leave for Xavier’s in two hours.”

  Lachlan’s gaze snapped in my direction.

  “Avianna is in residence. I need you here,” I answered his unspoken question. “Lyric might not be happy about it, but she’ll remain on the estate and is under my protection. Is that understood?”

  They all nodded.

  “You need her to identify the demon who attacked Avianna?” Ransom guessed.

  “He’s dead. I messengered the body back to the demons last night.” A cruel smile toyed at the edge of my lips.

  There was a grunt of approval up down the table.

  “So, then why is the human our…guest?” Ransom asked, leaning forward slightly.

  I could very well snarl that it was my decision and they could live with it, but that wasn’t how our species had survived this long. In this room, and this room alone, we answered to each other. “Because if she can see through glamours, there’s something supernatural about her, and there’s no telling if she can track me. Until we’re certain, she’s a…liability.”

  “Track you would imply—” Benedict started.

  “I fed her. That’s how I saved her life.”

  The entire room fell silent for exactly the length of six heartbeats. Then it wasn’t.

  “You fed her?” That was Hawke.

  “Then she can’t be human. Humans wouldn’t survive a feeding, right?” Benedict.

  “You’ve never fed anyone.” Ransom.

  I slammed my fist onto the table, and silence reigned again. “Enough. Make the arrangements.”

  Phones appeared, and calls were made. Xavier would be at the opera house at the designated time. Within a half-hour, everything was set, including the one heinous task that lay directly ahead of me.

  “Alek.” Benedict followed me out of the chamber. I paused, giving him time to catch up to my side. “I am at fault for Avianna’s attack.” He held my gaze as the bitter scent of regret filled the air between us.

  “How?” I continued walking up the stairs.

  “When I went for the car, I found Cassandra among the nobles and told her to have the nobles ready for Avianna’s arrival, since she’d just arrived early.” His jaw ticked. “I thought I was following protocol, especially if Avi expected a formal reception.”

  “You were following protocol.” We reached the main level of the residence and found Serge waiting for us along with Benedict’s talem, William. I turned to face Benedict at the head of the stairs. “This was not your fault.”

  My thoughts spiraled for a moment. If Benedict told Cassandra that Avi was early, then others would have heard. Hell, the news would have been all over the estate before we’d even had the chance to make it to the park. That meant two things. There was in fact, a plot on my sister’s life, and there was a traitor among the nobles.

  “You need to make a list of every noble in residence, and who was around you when you broke the news to Cassandra,” I ordered Benedict.

  “Consider it done.” He nodded.

  Serge hovered, an uncharacteristic look of concern wrinkling his brow.

  “What is it Serge?”

  “Miss Lyric is quite…beside herself.” He swallowed. “She’s been vocal about the fact that you may cost her the doctorate she’s been working on for years. Very. Vocal.”

  “And what would you have me do about it?” Guilt was a familiar emotion—there was never enough time or energy to fulfill my duties—but the pit that formed in my stomach was an all-new degree of hell. But…why? Why was I so concerned over the inconvenience to one human when Avi’s life was at risk? Why had I put my wrist to those plump lips? Why had I stared at her until I’d eventually fallen asleep? Why was the thought of letting her go so very painful?

  “Actually,” Serge said with a slow smile. “I have an idea about that.”

  “Whoa.” Lyric looked up and up, taking in the vast expanse of my private library. The room was at the corner of the East Wing, vaulted to the second story, and though two of the walls boasted floor-to-ceiling windows to let the moonlight in, the others were filled to the brim with books—both ancient and modern. The wide balcony on the second floor and sliding ladders would give her easy access. “This is…incredible.”

  She stared at the room with rapt adoration and more than a little hunger. My dick swelled as a hunger of my own
took hold.

  Touch her. Taste her.

  Shut it, I warned my instincts.

  Benedict, Serge, and I stood in the middle of the room, between the plush, leather couches that served as the library’s primary seating arrangement. At least I had an audience to help keep the roaring need in my blood in check.

  “Sorry,” she said, turning in a slow circle, studying the space. “I’m just having a Beauty and the Beast moment over here.” Her wide, emerald gaze flew to mine. “Not that you’re giving me a library or anything, but you are holding me prisoner.”

  And I was a beast.

  She folded her arms across her chest and eyed the distance to the window like she was contemplating escape. I couldn’t blame her. I also couldn’t let her.

  “Serge thought you might be able to continue your work here.” I watched her with a predator’s eye, noting the pulse pounding at her neck, the flush of pink in her cheeks, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon blending with my own.

  “Thank you, and it’s so very sweet of you, but I have to go home.” She shot a smile at Serge, and I narrowed my eyes at my talem, a soft, nearly inaudible growl slipping free.

  Serge noted it, paling slightly and bowed deeply toward Lyric. “It was only a suggestion. I’ll…um…be somewhere else.”

  She blinked in confusion at Serge’s hasty exit.

  Benedict laughed.

  “I have texts here you can’t find anywhere else.” Well, that came out as awkward as possible.

  “Are you trying to bribe me?” She asked, tilting her head at me.

  “Yes,” I answered. “I don’t know how long you’ll need to be here, and your...cooperation would be appreciated. So, if you check that section,” I pointed toward the East corner. “You’ll find more than a few books written about and by secret societies that might help you.”

  “By?” She was already walking toward the corner. “Oh my God, these are…” her fingers ghosted over the spines, hovering over, but not touching the books. “How old are these books?”

  I’d barely thought about wanting to be near her, and suddenly I was standing right behind her. Damn, the pull between us was stronger than I’d ever felt for a female. “They vary. Long life spans come with a few perks.”