EMBRACE THE DARK (The Blood Rose Novella Series) (6 page)

As she watched the steam rise from the copper tub, she laughed. “Gus, there is something more. Do vampires like hot water, I mean hot like this?”

Gus smiled and his smile broadened to a grin. “Very much. Ah, mistress, you have gladdened my heart.”

“And now, there is one more thing I should like, then I’m hoping you will send all the staff to bed.”

He blinked at least four times. Finally, he bowed to her. He actually bowed. Then he said, “Understood. And what is it you’d like me to do?”

“I should like a platter of fruit and cheese and your mastyr’s favorite German sweet wine. Nothing more, or less, mind.”

“Very good. Very good,” he said.

“You will leave the platter outside the bedroom, in the mastyr’s sitting room.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“And I am asking for complete discretion.”

At that, he blinked as though not understanding. “Discretion?”

Abigail bit back her smile. She couldn’t think why she had bothered asking for his discretion. She might as well have asked him to cut off his right arm. “Well, try for a reduced narrative.”

He screwed up his lips.

“Oh, very well. Speak as you will.”

“Yes, mistress.” But he grinned.

She sighed. She had set her feet on this course, and there was nothing to be done now. No doubt by tomorrow afternoon, when the staff rose early for the night, the entire castle would know she had spent the early morning hours in the Mastyr’s rooms, that is, if Gerrod permitted her to stay.

Abigail waited until the tub was sufficiently full which wasn’t very long. Given Gerrod’s size, he would displace a lot of the water. When she had turned the faucets off, she steeled herself for what she had to do next and for what she wanted to do more than anything else in the world, Realm or otherwise.

When she reached the doorway of the bedroom, before moving into Gerrod’s private sitting room, she removed her heels and placed them by the door, well out of the way. She really didn’t want Gerrod tripping over her shoes.

Chapter Three

Gerrod sat at the map table, elbows on the hard wood, his head in his hands. Fatigue wasn’t the only thing he felt, but a terrible despair. He couldn’t seem to put the images of the attack out of his mind nor could he imagine when this madness would end.

Never
, was the only thing that came to mind.

And how was he to bear ‘never’?

He heard a soft padding of feet in the hallway, very soft and unfamiliar. He lifted his head and felt the frequency of his battle power begin to charge, a low vibration deep in his gut.

His heart thrummed in his throat.

Had the Invictus somehow bypassed all his security measures and invaded the castle?

But red hair appeared, instead of red wind, and the soft clinging cream gown that Abigail still wore from the wedding.

Abigail, oh, dear Goddess, no.

“Why aren’t you in your room?” The sudden burst of adrenaline, of fearing that an enemy had come to the castle, left him irritable once more. “You should be in bed, asleep.”

But she strolled forward, now in her bare feet, as though she belonged in his house. “Just thought I’d have a look around.”

He turned away from her, fatigue settling in hard. He wanted his whisky and the deep leather chair in front of the fire. Whisky always eased the tremor in his hand. He’d have to summon a
doneuse
, but not tonight. “Did you leave your room and forget your way? That part of the castle is a rabbit warren.” He was trying to be polite but he wanted her gone so he wouldn’t have to think about what he wanted to do to her, what he had almost done to her earlier.

“No, I didn’t forget my way.”

“Good, that’s good. But you must be exhausted.”

“Not so fatigued as you, I’m sure.” He looked up at her at that. She was standing just a few feet away. The light from the lamp on his desk seemed to enhance her delicate complexion. She was very beautiful, almost ethereal because of her fair skin.

She held out her hand to him. “Come. I’ve made something for you. I think it’s what you need. I’m not sure, but I believe it will do. Will you trust me?”

“This is a strange sequence of words coming from you.” He narrowed his gaze. “Always the enigma. But I am too tired to decipher your meaning.”

She smiled. An image drifted through his mind, something that felt as though it came from the future, probably just a fantasy. But she was in his bed, asleep on the pillow next to him.

He gave his head a shake. It was late, he had battled tonight, and now he was imagining things.

She had been a good sport and hadn’t complained once during the attack. She had even saved the boy. He owed her this little bit, he supposed, despite how tired he was, to accept whatever kindness she had prepared for him.

He rose to his feet but didn’t take her hand. He feared touching her. Since she was able to connect with his personal frequency, he didn’t want to relive anything as dangerous as what he had shared with her earlier in the forest.

He swept his hand in the direction of the doorway. “Lead the way, Mistress Abigail.”

She turned and without any hint of flirtation, began walking down the long hall. She was going in the opposite direction of the entrance hall, which meant he would have a long trek back to get to his whisky and sink into his leather chair.

But he had told her he would oblige her and so he would.

He only suspected something was wrong when she led him not in the direction of any of the public rooms, or even toward the guest suites of which there were twenty on the far side of the castle, but rather straight down the hall to his private quarters.

He stopped at the top of the hall. “Mistress Abigail, I believe you must have lost your way.”

She didn’t even pause in her steps as she looked over her shoulder and said, “No, I didn’t. Come.”

On she moved. He waited for a long moment even after she disappeared into his private sitting room. Which led to his bedroom.

He felt dizzy suddenly but not precisely fatigued. In fact, his heart had begun a serious pounding and all that activity within his chest put his booted feet in motion again. He was certain he shouldn’t be walking down this hall, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

He didn’t take many women to bed and never at the castle. Far too complicated. The Mastyr of Merhaine couldn’t allow for expectations to arise in any quarter.

But this, a human. Could he engage with Abigail and not get caught in a different kind of net?

He passed through the sitting room. When he reached the angled doorway of his bedroom, he pushed the door wide against the stone wall. He glanced down and saw her matching cream heels sitting side-by-side, close together, very tidy.

He scanned the bedroom but she wasn’t there.

He stood on the threshold, staring at his bed, his dresser, his massive closet. He had lived alone here for a hundred and fifty years. In all that time, he had never brought a woman into his private rooms.

He wanted to call out to Abigail, to tell her to leave at once. He even lifted his chin, parted his lips, but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe he was just too damn tired.

His heart beat harder now and in the distance he heard water splashing.

Was the woman bathing? His body responded, just thinking thoughts of Abigail in his copper tub. Her long red hair, her beautiful eyes, her pale skin, would look almost exotic in his tub.

“Gerrod. It’s all right. Come to me. Just this once. No pressure. No hidden motives. Nothing.” Then her soft chuckle as though she found what she said amusing.

For some reason, perhaps the soft but confident tone of her voice, his boots once more began to move. Some terrible threshold had been crossed in which his profound need, his fatigue, his despair overrode his fear of being involved with Abigail, with this human.

He moved into the bedroom. Looking through the archway into the bathroom, he saw that she sat on a stool at the lower end of the tub, near the faucet, and she had removed her gown. She wore an undergarment that also looked like a gown, but with thin straps. It covered her breasts and ended at her knees in a line of lace.

His desire for her rose, despite the fact that she was still essentially modestly clothed.

Essentially.

As he drew closer, he saw that her gown, which she had worn to the wedding, hung on one of the pegs to the left, opposite the tub.

He still hesitated. She had prepared him a bath. A great kindness, indeed.

He chose in that moment, not to over think any of it, not to have any expectations, not to try to take charge, not to do anything except to give himself over to this strange human.

He stood by the side of the tub and she rose from her stool. As she reached for the thick shoulder strap, she hesitated. She looked up at him. He nodded.

The moment she made contact with the silver buckle, he felt it again, his realm vibration, coming alive with her touch.

She snapped the large silver buckle that held the strap together. She caught one side and slid the rest off his back. She opened the coat wide, then spread her fingers over his left pec. Her lips parted.

“I can feel your vibration,” she said. “It’s powerful and seductive. It strikes me here in a steady rhythm.” She looked back up at him and removed her hand from his chest and put it between her breasts.

He nodded. “We are a world of frequencies. Even when I battle, it’s a frequency that I tap and I’m able to draw energy from the earth and from the air and form it into narrow beams that can do great harm.

“My personal frequency is a very different thing. When you touch it, as you just did, it’s as though all that I am, to the end of each extremity, begins pulsing toward the center of my being.” He laid a hand flat on his upper abdomen. “Here. Put your hand here.”

She laid her hand against his stomach and her brows rose. “I can feel it all up my arm.” Her lips were still parted as once more she met his gaze. “It’s very sexual.”

“It should be. It’s called the mating frequency.”

“Well, I won’t deny that it fills me with desire, the way I felt in the forest earlier. So, have all the women you’ve known enjoyed your frequency?”

She was smiling, thinking she understood, but she didn’t.

He shook his head slowly. “Never. I have to allow it to happen and I’ve never wanted to because it would mean a deeper connection. The women I have known couldn’t do what you seem to do so easily, to access my personal vibration, which makes you a mystery I cannot solve.”

She seemed truly shocked. “Then how the hell can I do this?”

“I do not know, Abigail. It worries me.”

She nodded several times but fell silent. Finally, she said, “Very well, we can’t understand everything right now but we’ll just have to make the best of it.” Then her smile appeared. His breath caught. He realized he loved her smile, that just seeing that bright display of even teeth, her expression full of nothing but good-will, eased his heart.

His own need for her grew. He was hard beneath his leathers, stiff with desire. Who was she that she could bring forth his frequency?

He removed the long leather, sleeveless coat. She took it from him and hung it on a peg next to her gown, as well as the shoulder strap.

She waved him to the stool. He sat down. She drew the rug close and knelt before him. She unbuckled his boots, another kindness. She leaned back and he slid them off, along with the thick socks. She took them from him and set them beneath his coat.

He unbuttoned the dozen small buttons that held the soft woven shirt together. He pulled the shirttails from the pants and let the garment slide from his shoulders.

Though he extended the shirt toward her, she stood staring at him. Of course she would never have seen him like this before and his pecs tightened and swelled, his shoulders and biceps flexed. He drew his stomach in tight. He was what the humans called ‘built’, muscled as all Guardsmen were.

Her pupils had dilated and through her slip he could see the taut beads of her nipples. She shared his desire.

She blinked a couple of times as though clearing her thoughts, then said, “You may remove your fighting leathers.” She knew that was what they were called. He almost smiled.

He met her gaze as he took them off. He was naked as he handed them to her. She folded them up but in so doing, some of the dried blood, and some not so dry from the nicks he had received, ended up on her arms and hands. Fortunately, he healed quickly and the various cuts were long gone.

She gasped, just a little, then squared her shoulders. She folded the pants and settled them beside the boots.

When he stood there, now fully aroused in front of a woman he desired, her gaze dipped to his erection then back to his eyes. She gestured to the tub and smiled. “Get in, Gerrod. And when you can tolerate it, sink beneath the water. I mean to wash your hair.”

He was sore from battling and very tired. He was also weak from blood starvation. He stumbled getting in, but righted himself only to find her hand on his back as if to steady him. The gesture moved something in his heart and suddenly he hurt so deep that he wished her gone, wished he had never met her, wished she had kept her kindnesses to herself.

How long had it been since he had known such attention and care? Yes, his people were good to him and showed him many respectful tender gestures. But he never let anyone get this close that after a battle, he might be soothed.

He sank into the water, pulling the woven clasp from his hair and let it drop to the stone floor. “The temperature is perfect,” he said. He didn’t look at her until she leaned over and slid her hands in the water as well and began rinsing the blood from her arms. Then she drew close, hovering above his lips. He leaned up slightly, which encouraged her so that she came down to him the rest of the way and kissed him, a soft warm pressure, and so very welcome.

He sighed when she drew back. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have seen how you care for your people and I appreciate what you do. I have known you long enough, Gerrod, to understand that there is no one to comfort you. So I thought, just this once, I would do what I could, with no plan in mind other than to give you what I can this dawn, maybe to comfort you, if I could. But please don’t worry. I have no purpose other than that, no hopes or intention for sharing a future with you. Rest assured, there is no obligation here except to enjoy the moment.”