Kiss of Pride (12 page)

“Bloody damn frickin’—” he started to swear, then exclaimed with surprise, “What are you all doing here?”

As he stepped aside, Alex saw three large men. Three very large men, at least six-foot-four. All with long hair and war braids. All with stunning blue eyes. All wearing silver upper arm rings identical to Vikar’s. All with hands on hips in an exasperated manner.

“Alex,” Vikar said with a groan, “these are my little brothers. Ivak, Sigurd, and Mordr. Come to plague me, no doubt.”

“Little?” the men scoffed.

“Younger,” Vikar conceded.

She nodded at the men, mute with shock. Alex knew that Vikar’s brothers and their entourages weren’t supposed to arrive for another week or more. She hoped, for Vikar’s sake, that they came alone; the castle accommodations weren’t ready for large numbers yet.

Now she’d met all seven brothers. Vikar. Trond. Cnut. Harek. Ivak. Sigurd. Mordr.

“And she is . . . ?” one of the brothers demanded to know, and not politely.

“Mine,” Vikar said.

When brotherly love goes too far . . .

Vikar’s brothers had come to help heal Harek, and yet they were wasting their time, and his, interfering with him about Alex. As if he needed their help with a woman! Right now, since Alex had left their company, they crowded their big selves into his small office and would not leave.

“The wench has Lucie blood in her. We should kill her,” said Mordr, who’d just consumed vast amounts of the food prepared for them by said wench, and in fact had filched several cookies that he munched on as he spoke. As a former berserker, Mordr ever had been bloodthirsty.
And wasn’t that a perfect choice of word for a vampire angel?
Leastways, Mordr had been wrathful in his human life. Still was, though he was fighting the inclination.

“Harek has Lucie blood in him, too. Should we kill our brother?” Vikar retorted.

“That is different,” Mordr contended.

Vikar just arched a brow. Then, wanting to change the subject, he gave a report on their recent deadly encounter with the Lucipires. “There were a dozen Lucipires in all sent here by Jasper. We destroyed ten of them, and badly wounded two others who escaped.”

Ivak shook his head with disgust. “Not Jasper himself, I warrant.”

Vikar also shook his head with disgust. “The bastard always sends others to do his dirty work.”

Cnut, who had been with him on the mission, elaborated, “One of them was a haakai. He escaped along with a female hordling. Aside from the haakai, six were full demons, including two mungs, and the rest were hordlings.”

In demon society, there was a social order, so to speak, just as there was with angels, or vangels. Haakai were the most powerful demons, and the highest of those were lords. Below them were full demons, or captains. The mysterious mung demons, a type of full demon, were usually large, mute, and covered with a slimy, poisonous mung. Finally, the imps and their cousins, the hordlings, were the foot soldiers of Hell.

“Did any of them talk?” Mordr asked.

Vikar nodded. “A little. The best thing is that we managed to draw them far away from here. So hopefully they are still unaware of our large numbers in this one place. Besides, it appears that Jasper is busy elsewhere, planning some big event where he will suck large numbers of lost souls into his unholy domain, all in one fell swoop. We’re talking hundreds, or thousands, at one time.”

“A terrorist attack?” Mordr inquired, his eyes suddenly piercing with silver fire. Mordr had been particularly agonized over his failure to prevent 9/11.

“I don’t think so,” Vikar said, tapping his desk thoughtfully. “In that type of event, there are as many if not more souls going to the good side as there are bad. This plan of his reeks of a harvest with the odds more in his favor.”

“Before he was struck down, Harek found some disturbing information on the Internet,” Cnut told them. “Remember, Vikar, that Sin Cruise?”

“Ah,
yes
, now that you mention it.” He explained what Harek had shown them that day on the computer.

All the men were fascinated and horrified at the same time by the depth of depravity Jasper could get away with or that humans could be attracted to.

“Well, then, we must heal Harek as soon as possible so we can investigate this further,” said Sigurd, a physician, who had already examined his wounded brother and pronounced his injuries to be grievous, but not deadly, provided his blood could be cleansed. “Harek understands computers and the Internet better than any of us.”

“You can say that again. I still have trouble writing a legible letter with a quill and ink, let alone my big fingers stumbling over a keyboard,” grumbled Mordr.

“Are you saying that we’re safe here from another attack?” Ivak asked skeptically. “You do not think that the same scent that drew the Lucies in the first place will draw them again?”

Vikar felt his face heat before he admitted, “I believe it was Alex’s sin scent that drew them initially, and they were only hordlings on a prowl, not any particular assignment.”

“What is her sin?” Sigurd wanted to know.

“I’m not certain . . .”

Mordr snorted his opinion at his failure to obtain that information.

He ignored Mordr and continued, “I do know it is a contemplation of sin, not the sin itself. Yet. I believe it involves the murder of her husband and daughter. Revenge.”

The others nodded their understanding, knowing full well the sins that could spin out from grief. Even Mordr.

“I sensed the second we saw you in that storeroom that the woman was dangerous to us,” Mordr said, still hoping that they would opt for killing Alex, no doubt. So much for his understanding!

“But sex, Vikar? Just weeks afore Reckoning? What were you thinking? Talk about poor decisions, lackbrain!” This from Ivak, whose lust had led to more poor decisions than Vikar could count, and most involving women.

“Not sex. Near-sex,” Vikar contended, though he should not be bothering to make that distinction with his thickheaded brothers. It was none of their business, really, and it would just give them more ammunition for their mockery.

“I saw what you were doing in the storeroom, Vikar. That was sex. Believe you me, if anyone knows sex, ’tis me,” Ivak persisted.

Vikar’s face was probably turning as red as a sun-exposed Lucipire. “
Near
-sex,” he repeated.

His brothers burst out laughing, including Cnut, who felt the need to share, “He told me and Harek that selfsame story. ’Twould seem Trond gave him the idea that near-sex was not real sex.”

“You do not need to speak for me, Cnut. I do have a voice.”

“Trond?” They all hooted with more laughter.

“I am pleased that you find humor here whilst our brother lies dying.”

They all turned sober. “You are right, Vikar,” said Sigurd. “Since our blood is pure, or fairly pure . . .” None of them were perfect, and they well knew it. “. . . we three will feed Harek, whilst you, Cnut, Armod, Svein, and Jogeir take turns drinking. That way each of you will not have to drink so much of the tainted blood.”

“But what of the woman?” Ivak asked.

Aaarrgh! We are back to Alex again.

He dug in his heels. “Mike sent her to me. To save. I am convinced of that.”

“That may very well be, but you have not finished the cleansing, Vikar, and now that you have fed from Harek, you are infected. You cannot feed her.” Ivak spoke to Vikar as if he were a new vangel and did not know the rules. “Not for days, leastways.”

“ ’Tis obvious that it was the woman’s sin scent that drew the Lucies here in the first place, even you admit that. I still say we should just kill her.” Mordr folded his arms over his chest and attempted to stare down Vikar’s glare.

“Alex lives,” Vikar declared. “I insist and Mike will, too.” He wasn’t certain about the latter. Mayhap it was just hopeful thinking, but Mordr didn’t need to know that.

“Then you must step back and let one of us feed her. That will leave two others to feed Harek.” Sigurd folded his arms over his chest and stared at him, too, after making that pronouncement.

Vikar fought his temper, even though he wanted to say,
Hell, no!
When he was able to speak below a shout, he said, “Alex would have a screaming fit. She isn’t all that happy at the intimacy of
my
feeding her. She would view another man involved in the ritual as an assault.”

“Vikar, Vikar, Vikar,” Ivak tsked at him. “She will be given no choice.”

He curled his upper lip at Ivak, but said nothing.

“You know it is the only way,” Cnut added quickly, no doubt wanting to avoid a fight. Cnut at least knew Alex better than these three newcomers to the scene and presumably had some care about her.

Reluctantly he nodded.

“Where is she now?” Mordr wanted to know.

One thing was certain. He was not letting Mordr near Alex’s fair skin. If the rage came over him, he could drain her afore she knew what was happening. And he wasn’t too happy about allowing Ivak with his constant raging lust near her, either. With his wenching ways, Ivak would be impaling her with more than his teeth.

“Vikar?” Mordr prodded. “Where is the wench?”

“Taking a bubble bath.”

Silence reigned then as five male minds went haywire imaging the frothy scene.

When they’d been ordering towels and bed linens from the Internet, Alex had requested a supply of bath products, as well. To his chagrin, delivery had included dozens of toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste, shampoos, conditioners, soaps, bath gels, and, yes, bubble baths. He just knew there were going to be vangels up to their fangs in bubbles come nightfall.

Sigurd summed up the situation aptly: “Have we mentioned lately that you are in big trouble?”

Ten

Bubbles, tiny bubbles ! . . .

Transylvania feature, Kelly      Page 1

Draft Six

War is hell.

No matter if it is a family member off to battle . . . husband, wife, father, mother, brother, sister, son, or daughter . . . the pain is the same for those left behind, on both sides.

This is especially true in the Holy War going on across the world at the moment, and it’s not between Muslims and Christians. It is a hidden war that threatens all souls, regardless of religion. Some would say . . .

Alex sighed, and sank lower into the lavender-scented bubbles, her one hand dangling over the side with a crystal tumbler of vodka and orange juice. Was there anything more sybaritic to a woman than a warm bath overflowing with bubbles to soothe her on the outside and a glass of wine or mixed drink to ease her on the inside?

With everything she’d seen today, her perceptions were skewed. She did not know what to believe at this point. Her famous objectivity as a reporter seemed to have faded into nothingness. How could she judge what was truth or fiction anymore?

Her life was careening out of control.

She was scared.

Setting the glass on a small metal dressing table stool she’d pulled close to the tub, she dunked under water. Time to rinse out the conditioner she’d put in her hair after shampooing. Without it, her hair went frizzy.

When she came back up, it was to see Vikar sitting on the stool, sniffing at her drink that he held cradled in his big hands.

She yelped and sank down to shoulder level. Luckily she’d put three capfuls of bubble bath in the tub, so she was covered. For now. “I locked that door. How did you get in?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Just get out.”

“I need to tell you something.”

He always needs to tell me something. It is never good news.
“Can’t it wait until I’m done in here?”

“Well,
yes
, but since I’m already here.” Shrugging, he spread his thighs to get better purchase on the small stool, causing Alex’s blood to warm, even more than it already was, at the sight of those muscular quadriceps and the package in between, all too evident in tight jeans. After sniffing at the drink, he took a sip, then a long swallow that pretty much emptied the glass.

“Be careful. You’ll break that stool.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

Hardly.
She pretended to consider the question.

“I wonder if two people could fit into that tub.”

It was one of those old, deep, claw-footed tubs that probably
could
hold two. “Not if one of them was as big as you.”

A grin twitched at his lips, telling her that he knew exactly what she thought of his bigness. He put his elbows on his knees and braced his chin on both palms, staring at the tub. “How long does it take for those bubbles to fade?”

“You’ll never know,” she asserted with a laugh.

He leaned forward and blew. Hard. Causing a bunch of bubbles to fly.

“Hey! Stop it! Really, what kind of angel invades a woman’s privacy and—”

“We need to resume your cleansing,” he said before she could say more.

Alex closed her eyes and sighed deeply. When she opened them, Vikar was still staring at her intently through eyes that were such an incredible shade of blue, like aquamarines. “Not that again! I don’t think so! Honestly, Vikar, I have always prided myself on my intelligence and independence. I don’t suffer fools gladly and certainly don’t suffer being fooled myself. However, I have to admit that I’m in way over my head here, and I don’t mean bubbles. There are too many anomalies that I don’t understand.”

He nodded. “I’ve had a thousand years to live with these
anomalies
, and I still don’t understand half of them.”

That was scary. If
he
didn’t understand, how could she possibly stay here and blindly agree to the craziness? “The blood feeding/sucking stuff is what I find hardest to accept. That’s why I’ve decided to leave, Vikar. Now, don’t get pissed off. I’m aware of the danger. I won’t rush out blindly. I’ll take steps.”

“Steps!” he scoffed.

She put up a hand to halt his further protests. “It alarms the hell out of me that I didn’t hate what you did to me. I’m afraid I’ll grow addicted to it.”

If he’d smirked, she would have an excuse to swat him in the face with a soapy loofah. But instead, he took the hand that she’d raised and kissed each of her fingertips, one at a time. “I wish . . . ah, I wish . . .”

He didn’t have to finish his thought. She knew what he was wishing. In fact, she shared his sentiments.
I wish we had met at a different time, under different circumstances.

“While much that you have witnessed horrifies you, it is my reality. There is a God. There is a St. Michael the Archangel who mentors us. There are demon vampires, and there are Viking vampire angels.”

She shook her head, still unable to accept his words as truth. “The only explanation I can come up with is that this must be the promotional setup for some Hollywood film. The new
Twilight
, or a Pennsylvania Dutch version of
True
Blood
, or some such thing. Yes, it would be a whole lot of trouble and at times it seems so real, but what else can I believe? Any day now Stephen Spielberg or Brad Pitt will be jumping out of the woodwork.”

He smiled sadly. “I would not do that to you, at this stage of our relationship.”

Relationship? What relationship?

But then he added, “Dost think I resemble Brad Pitt?” He referred, of course, to Anne Rice’s Creole vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac.

“No.”
You’re better.
“More like Eric Northman, if you must know.” But, even then, he was better. Not so lean. Not so modern-looking. “I’m leaving in the morning,” she told him bluntly.

He just smiled, as if to say,
Not a chance, sweetheart!

“It’s best if I leave now. If nothing else, I want to testify at the trial. I owe it to Brian and Linda. And, frankly, it’s better if I go and offer, rather than have them coming here to look for me, blowing your cover.”

“For me? Pfff!” He bristled at the idea she would leave for his sake. “What about your story?”

“I’ll tell Ben there was no story. Not all story ideas pan out.”

“You have to be cleansed. It is the reason you were sent here to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was sent here by a magazine editor who saw a story in a bizarre town of vampire wannabes. You were just the icing on the cake.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am that sweet?”

“No, you are definitely not sweet.” She looked down at the bubbles that were beginning to fade, and noted that the water was cooling down. She needed to get out soon. “Vikar, you can’t take away my free will. That’s supposedly the principle your whole vangel society revolves around.”

He shrugged.

Which infuriated her. She thought a moment, and the most outrageous idea came to her. “I don’t suppose you would kill someone for me. Two someones, in fact.”

“Aaahhh,” he said as if he finally understood. “That is the sin you are contemplating?”

She nodded hesitantly.

“Murder?
You?
Never!”

She shrugged. “Despite my anger, I might eventually be able to accept life imprisonment for the two men who killed my husband and daughter, but it appears as if they might get off, totally, or with a lesser punishment. I can’t allow that to happen. I just can’t.”

“What I have failed to explain to you, dearling, is we do not kill humans. If I went to those two men, I would try to save them, give them a chance to repent.”

Alex felt pain like a sword through her heart. “You would betray me like that?” she choked out.

“It would be my duty, just as it is my duty to save you,” he explained, his eyes pleading with her for understanding.

Not bloody likely! She did not understand. Not at all. “I think I could hate you for that.”

He exhaled and said, “So be it!”

Grabbing a large bath towel, he lifted her from the tub and covered her with it. Despite her shrieks and flailing arms and legs, he managed to dry her off briskly, then wrap her tightly in a terry-cloth robe that had been hanging on the door. While she struggled and hurled insults at him, he rubbed the moisture from her hair and ran a comb through its length.

The whole time, he kept repeating, “I am sorry, Alex, but this is how it must be. I am truly sorry.”

Picking her up in his arms, he proceeded to carry her from the bathroom, heading toward his bedroom, where Sigurd waited for him, leaning lazily against a bedpost. His fangs were out.

Alex stilled, glanced at the bed, at his brother, back to Vikar, whose fangs were also extended. Then she let loose with an ear-splitting scream, “
Nooooooo!
”

Share and share alike . . .

This was the hardest thing Vikar had ever had to do, and there had been plenty of horrendously difficult tasks he’d been assigned over the years. But sharing Alex? He’d rather rip out his heart.

Hah! Given a chance, she might just do it for him.

Pounding his chest, attempting to claw his face, screeching like a banshee, she fought valiantly, but he was a Viking. Like a feather in a bear’s paw she was.

“If you think I’m getting involved in some ménage à dopes, you are crazier than I thought.”

“Now, sweetling, that is not what we intend.”
There is no appeal in such an arrangement for me. One-on-one is the only way. Not that I am contemplating such. A man can dream, though. Can’t he?

“Here’s what
I
intend.” She bit his shoulder. Hard.

Even though he’d like to shake some sense into the foolish woman, he laid her in the middle of his bed and immediately came down over her, pinning her to the mattress. Holding her hands above her head and pressing his weight onto her belly and chest, he whispered against her ear, “Shh, settle down. You cannot fight what is to come.”

“You bastard. You sonofabitch. You ignorant asshole! Don’t you dare tell me to settle down. I am not having sex with you two morons.”

Whoa! Even a bar of soap wouldn’t clean that mouth.
“You give new meaning to ‘potty mouth.’ Tsk, tsk, tsk! ’Tis unseemly, m’lady.”

“Fuck you!”

“I wish!”
Mike is going to have a fire-breathing fit if she speaks thus to him. If she is still here. Oh please, God, let her still be here. I am not ready to let her go.

“And, furthermore, if anyone from your dimwit gene pool lays a hand on me, I’ll write an exposé on your group that will blow your cover to high Heaven . . . or Hell, for all I care.”

Vikar winced, even though he knew she would not . . . could not . . . follow through on that threat.

He heard Sigurd chuckling behind him.

“Not sex, sweetling,” he tried to explain. “Just—”

“What? More near-sex? I am not having that, either. And ditch the endearments. I was not your sweet anything before and I am definitely not your sweet anything now.”

“Not near-sex, either.”
Except mayhap a little bit before, and mayhap a lot afterward. If you are in the mood. I know I am in the mood. Bloody hell! I am always in the mood these days.

“I’m going to sue your pants off.”

“My pants off, hmm? Is that a promise?” he asked, trying to soften her mood.

But she’d somehow managed to get her knee out from under him and when he lifted himself slightly to tuck her back under, she slammed him where it hurt the most.

“Ow, ow, ow!” he yelped like a little girling, but he managed to hold on to the wiggling woman, and it served her right that, with all that wiggling, her robe came undone and he got an up close and personal view of all her frontal assets. Despite his pain, he smiled.

Which caused her to glance downward and see what was pleasing him so. Fire practically came out of her flared nostrils now. “I swear, I am going to kill you.”

“I’m already dead.” Apparently, she still hadn’t accepted that concept.

“Uh, do you think we could get on with this sometime soon,” Sigurd said. “
Antiques Roadshow
is coming on in a half hour, and . . . whoa! No wonder you are all moon-eyed, Vikar. She is a goddess.”

Vikar turned to see that Sigurd had moved to the side of the bed and was ogling Alex’s bare breasts and belly. He could have spit fire himself at that moment, not wanting any other man looking on his woman. Already he could feel his eyes turning silver with fury.

“Begone!” he yelled as he laid himself over her bare skin. “I will call for you when she is ready.”

“Jeesh! All I did was look,” Sigurd grumbled. “Methinks you are way too jealous, my brother, and jealousy is a sin, same as envy. Tsk, tsk, tsk!”

Sigurd is preaching. At me?

“Jealousy and envy are definitely not the same thing, which you should know since envy was your deadly sin,” Vikar said.

“Yoo-hoo, is everyone forgetting that I am lying here pinned to the bed by a big baboon?” Alex complained, attempting futilely to shove upward against his immovable chest.

Sigurd winked at Alex.

But Vikar couldn’t be angry about that, he was too aroused by her wriggling under him.

“In any case, methinks you have found your life mate,” Sigurd went on.

“Do vangels get to have life mates?” Vikar asked, when he should have just kicked Sigurd out of the bedchamber.

“I do not know. We should ask Mike when he gets here,” Sigurd replied.

“Have either of you ever considered applying for entrance to the Clueless Hall of Fame?” Alex asked with exaggerated sweetness.

“Aaarrgh! We are not asking Mike about this because it does not matter. She is not my life mate. I am just saving a sinner,” Vikar explained. “Now go, I’ll call when she is ready.”

Sigurd left with a little wave.

When Vikar turned his attention back to Alex, she was no longer squirming under him, but instead shooting icy daggers at him with her cold green eyes. Cold eyes, fiery breath . . . should be a contradiction but somehow fit her outraged demeanor. “When I’m
ready
?”