Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Kindred, Book 8.1) Read online

  I am home. This woman who can level a battlefield with one blast of her Light, lights my world and guides me home.

  I must taste her. I must feel the silky slide of her velvet blood as it rolls over my tongue and down my throat. I need to drink her in. Through my fingers. Through my touch. Through the physical connection where my body meets hers in carnal delight.

  Through my fangs in her throat, a penetration as basic as the motion of making love.

  My tongue laps at the vein in her neck and she tips her head in a way that extends the line, invites my bite, pleads for me to take what I need from her body. If I am not careful I will take all of her. Not because I want to, but because she is my one weakness, as well as my greatest strength.

  "Lucinda," I breathe, just before my fangs pierce her skin and the world explodes in delicious, mind altering sensations.

  Her blood has changed again. From yesterday to now it has matured. Or maybe I have grown accustomed to this new taste, this hybrid I feel is part her and part the babies. The thought I am drinking from my children as I drink from my wife momentarily gives me pause. But the knowledge that they are ours, made up of both of us, reassures me that this is natural, this is necessary. A bond forming between us all even before they are born.

  I give back equally. I give them love; unconditional, unequivocal, and true. I coat Lucinda and the babes she holds in her womb with blissful, pure love. My love for them. They are my world and they should know it.

  My fangs withdraw, my tongue automatically sealing the wound and the instant the almost innocent-like connection with her blood has passed, the carnal connection with her body takes over.

  I can't hold off the release that approaches with mind-numbing accuracy. My hands stroke over feverish flesh, my fingers find her nipples, and with a thrust of my hips I have her exactly where she needs to be. Teetering on the edge. Impaled by my arousal, stimulated by the jets of water at her apex, and slipping over the side of erotic bliss as my fingers squeeze, eliciting a cry of surprise, followed by a moan of carnal need from her lips.

  Oh, good God she lights my fire. I pour myself into her, lost in the moment, floating on clouds of pure ecstasy, as she joins me under the soft spray of the shower, our moans and whimpers and near screams of release mingling together and rising as one.

  Panting for breath, the world spinning in a way it only ever does when I'm with Lucinda, I cradle her in my arms. Aware that I have most of her weight, her legs turned to jelly and unable to hold her.

  "Je t'aime, ma douce," I murmur against her skin.

  "Je t'aime, Michel," she replies, her French pronunciation improving with every attempt.

  I allow myself to slide out of her, feeling her body shudder against my hold. I turn her in my arms and realise the kiss I am about to bestow is the first of the day. What is wrong with me?

  Ah, that's right, a silver stake to the back in the middle of my sleep.

  My lips press into hers, as my tongue devours her mouth. My hand fisted in the wet strands of her hair, angling her head exactly where I want it.

  I think I am ready for round two, but my Lucinda is not.

  I slow the kiss down until it's a languid exploration of her lips, teeth, and tongue. Then with infinite care I lower her to the bench seat in the shower, allowing her to finally get her equilibrium. She leans back and closes her eyes, a smile stretched wide across her cheeks.

  Oh, she is divine, this vision sitting before me. I would give up my kingdom to see that smile on her face every day.

  As I begin to wash her hair, making sure the soap avoids her eyes, I feel the pressure of said kingdom pressing in on my mind. I would have liked a little longer to ensure Lucinda has climbed the hurdle of self doubt for the day, but the urgency with which Alain calls leaves me in no doubt that our moment of solitude is at an end.

  I answer my Second's mental query as I wash the shampoo from Lucinda's beautiful hair.

  Five minutes, I say, not expanding on the reason why I should need longer to prepare for the night than usual.

  I may enjoy a little public display of affection, but some things, such as tending to my kindred's needs, are entirely private.

  You may wish to ensure Lucinda is occupied, is the ominous reply I receive from the vampyre I consider a close friend, not just part of my line.

  I grit my teeth as the conditioner sluices out of Lucinda's hair.

  What is it? I ask, unsure if I am ready to hear what has put that edge in Alain's mental voice.

  The hesitation of his reply chills me, I battle not to show my discomfort in front of Lucinda. She's still floating in post-coital bliss. For a moment longer I will protect her from the outside world, knowing as I do that it is futile. Lucinda faces my battles alongside me and always will.

  Petra Corvus has turned up in the foyer, demanding to visit with her blood-brother.

  I cannot hide my shock. My vampyre-within equally appalled. Magenta washes the walls, reflects off the droplets of water and slices right through the quiet seclusion we'd been sharing.

  I immediately sense Lucinda at my mental walls, attempting to get inside and discover what has made me a statue before her. Her gentle probing becoming more insistent as I refuse her entry into my thoughts.

  She cannot see what I see. She cannot hear what I hear inside my memories. Oh, mon Dieu, she cannot witness what my mind is forcing me to replay.

  I had feared this day would come, but when I killed him, finally killed him, and she never showed her face, I had naively thought she too had moved on.

  I glance down at my kindred, noting the hue of violet that is cast over her delicate features from the magenta that still shines from my eyes. Worry and yes, a little fear, shadows her intuitive gaze.

  Ah, merde. This is going to be decidedly awkward.

  And possibly quite painful, once Lucinda realises who the woman in the foyer actually is.

  I wonder if I have time to hide her stakes. Probably not, and let's not forget Lucinda can do a hell of a lot with her Light.

  Ah, merde!

  Chapter 2

  Confessions

  I offer a smile, aware that it is probably predatory. An enemy has entered my territory, my vampyre-within is pacing, ready to defend what is ours.

  "Petra, this is a surprise," I say, bowing my head slightly, my hand fisted over my chest in vampyre greeting. I do not wait for her reply before I stand upright. I am the Champion of all vampyre.

  The blonde haired woman before me bows low, offering a deep show of respect. It is warranted, but not necessarily expected. The last time I saw Petra she tried to sever my head from my neck. My fangs itch to descend at the memory.

  "Champion," she purrs, Sanguis Vitam dripping off every syllable. She must know it is useless, I am above her sordid games. "You do me an honour with your greeting."

  I say nothing. Just stand there, in the centre of my hotel's lobby, my guards at my back, Alain standing resolute to the side. The humans who frequent this hotel are oblivious to the preternatural battle of wills being fought in their midst. Vampyres are not common knowledge, as far as they are concerned I own this building, and am merely an extremely rich man.

  "How long has it been?" she asks, her entire demeanour one of friendly banter and old times. "Three centuries? No, maybe three and a half. You look good, Michel. And now you no longer kowtow to the former Champion, but have instead replaced her. Amicus always knew you'd go far."

  "Amicus traded earth for Álfheimr fifty years after he turned me," I point out. "I hardly think he had time before doing so to impart that knowledge to you."

  "Oh, sweet brother. He had more than enough time and do you honestly think we did not converse before you brought him the final death in London?"

  I do not like where this conversation is heading, and I do not wish to encourage her further, but word of Lucinda travelling down in the elevator has reached me through her guard. She will walk in on this within the next few minutes, it must be over or move
d elsewhere.

  By the look on my blood-sister's face this conversation is nowhere near over.

  "Perhaps a drink?" I suggest, indicating the bar off to the side of the foyer we're in.

  "Splendid," she declares, turning in a swish of blood red fabric, displaying a vast amount of naked cream flesh down her back.

  My vampyres uniformly let out a growl. Petra is dressed to impress. Why?

  Lucinda is nearly here, Alain informs me. Would you like me to personally see she is directed away from the bar?

  Yes, I reply, but don't bother to give further instructions. Alain is a master at what he does, even my kindred will fail to see the ruse. For now.

  My attention must remain focused. I need to find out why after all this time Petra has chosen to rise from her coffin and seek me out.

  We sit down opposite each other in a small, enclosed and private booth, the padded velvet seats and high backs providing comfort and luxury without the inconvenience of an audience. I may no longer own Sensations, but the Plaza Hotel Bar is becoming synonymous with fine dining and exquisite entertainment in Auckland city. Just because the Iunctio Council chooses to reside several stories above this room does not mean it cannot be an establishment to rival any other.

  I watch my quarry, who watches me back with equal determination. We size each other up, but for the life of me, I cannot work out why she is here. Why now? Glasses of my finest Merlot are placed before us, Doug making eye contact as he pulls away. All my vampyres are on guard. They sense my unease, it ripples throughout the room in a malevolent wave.

  "Where have you been?" I ask, lifting my glass to my lips and inhaling the rich aroma. Lucinda likes this vintage, but has been unable to partake during her pregnancy. I avoid drinking this wine in front of her usually, and suddenly I have an attack of guilt.

  I am drinking one of my wife's favourite alcoholic beverages with another woman.

  I'd be lucky if it was only a stake to the chest I receive.

  My lips twitch at the vision. The movement not missed by my enemy.

  "Here and there. Keeping busy and out of trouble."

  I do manage a smile on those words. Petra craves trouble, she does not shun it.

  "And why have you chosen to visit New Zealand?"

  "The Iunctio resides here now, it is our duty as vampyre to make the effort to visit."

  "Just the Iunctio?" I query.

  Her eyelids lower in a fashion designed to look demure. Petra Corvus is in no way meek and unassuming. She is a snake, waiting to attack. The blood of my Sire runs through her veins. It is my blood, too. But where I have rejected all that was Amicus, Petra embraced him.

  "Of course not, Michel. I come to see you."

  Why? I want to ask, but to do so would appear too interested. I must set Alain and Daniel on this, and in the meantime keep this creature at a distance.

  "I do hope your journey has not been wasted. Enjoy our city, and leave with the Iunctio's blessing."

  "Oh," she says, with a delicate smirk of her ruby red lips. "I have no intention of leaving, Michel. Not yet, at any rate."

  Unless she misbehaves, breaks an Iunctio rule, I cannot order her from our borders. The Iunctio must be accessible to all vampyre. We are their safe harbour in a dangerous world.

  "Very well. It was a pleasure," I say, standing from my seat and preparing to leave. "I have business I must now attend." Then at the last second consider one thing. "Where are you staying?"

  The smirk become a rapacious smile.

  "Here, of course, silly," she replies, as if we are close, as if we are truly siblings. "This beautiful hotel has all that I require."

  I glance around the bar, taking in the sumptuous setting, the expensive décor, and the elaborate detail. The Plaza was a fine hotel before we acquired it, now it is simply superb. Many vampyre choose to stay here, those with nothing to hide from the Iunctio. I had not expected it of Petra. Though I am sure, her reasons will be more complicated and troublesome than most.

  I smile. It's calculating. It's the Champion at his level best. You are in my territory now, vampyre. Tread very carefully.

  The smirk slips off her face like petals from a dying flower. She blinks, takes a sip of her wine and then, as though a mask has fallen back into place, raises brilliant sapphire blue eyes to mine.

  "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again, Michel," she informs me, then returns her attention to her wine.

  I have been dismissed and I do not like it.

  I walk from the room, those vampyres before me spreading swiftly and far, offering me a wide berth. My anger at this upheaval, right before the babies are due, is terrible in its volatility. I offer a quick glance at Douglas behind the bar, the message clear even if I don't mentally give it. He'll watch her until Daniel arrives, keeping Alain's spy-master abreast of her behaviour until then.

  Alain! I call in my head and receive an instant reply.

  Master. It has been a long time since he has called me that. My rage - and fear - must be tangible.

  My office. Now! I inform him, knowing he'll beat me there if at all possible.

  The door swings open on my arrival, Alain already standing by the artificial fireplace inside. How I miss the real thing from our home in St Helier's Bay.

  "How is she here?" I demand, unbuttoning my suit jacket and throwing myself into my chair, by my desk.

  "She arrived without setting off any of our perimeter alarms."

  "How is that possible? She is of Amicus' line." Our wards on the city are based on blood. Her blood of all blood should have set them clanging.

  "Perhaps she has aligned herself with another," Alain supplies, an explanation which makes complete sense, and leaves me startled in its duplicity.

  "Why is she here?" I say, my voice more level and contained.

  "I am looking into it," my Second advises. "It has been over a century since I last kept tabs on her. I should have thought to do so again when Amicus recently met the final death."

  It is an oversight we both have made. Excuses are plentiful, but useless right now. I choose not to chastise him, we both know the consequences of our failure.

  "Does Lucinda know?" Alain asks, his voice level and non-threatening. But even then my vampyre responds.

  Magenta washing the room. I had thought the frequency of this colour change to my eyes was because of the impending births, but now I have another reason to add to the pile.

  "No and she mustn't," I reply, receiving a scowl from Alain. He has taken to my kindred, as all my vampyre have. Deception is not welcome. "Not until after the babies are born," I clarify, needing at least him to understand.

  None of this sits well with me, an angry pit of vipers taking up shop inside my gut. I rub a hand over my heart, aware it is because Lucinda approaches. Or maybe because I am appalled I have chosen to keep a secret from my wife.

  A gentle knock at the door and Alain opens it. His wary eyes on my face, a message of support mixed with condemnation. The magenta flashes again. He stiffens at the warning my vampyre-within has just given.

  With a nod to me, and a smile to Lucinda, he slips from the office and closes the door.

  I am conflicted. I am set adrift. My vampyre-within insists on protecting her. The man in me knows to do so will cause her more harm.

  "OK," she says, as she crosses the room, noting the hue cast on every available surface, and unflinchingly perches herself on the desk between my knees.

  I say perch, it's more of a scrabble to get herself up there, making the magenta clear and my amusement show in a more usual azure blue.

  "What's got your dragon in a tizz?"

  "A tizz?" I challenge, my fingers automatically going to her knees, starting to rub some of her aches away. I let one hand run down her leg, as I lift it to remove her shoe. Lucinda always wears flats, no heels. It's better to chase the vampires, she says. I do love a woman in heels, but my hunter in flats turns me on.

  I start rubbing the sole of her foot,
massaging the knots out, receiving a satisfying moan in return.

  "Well," she breathes, leaning back on the desk and giving me ideas I should not entertain right now. "'Fess up, Michel. The whole place is swimming in aggravated Sanguis Vitam all of a sudden and I'm guessing it started with you."

  Of course she senses the rise in power, it's crackling across the hotel as we speak.

  Enemy, my vampyres are murmuring. In our territory, they say in unison. Their Sanguis Vitam echoing their anger, like mine.

  "I think you should ask Amisi to visit," I say in way of explanation. I'll get to it, I just need some time to prepare.

  Me, not her.

  "Why?" she asks slowly but pointedly. Lucinda has never feared questioning my directives before, she wouldn't start now just because she is pregnant.

  "I want extra protection for you and the babes," I advise, starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me. The need to stretch my legs, walk the streets, a burning desire.

  The Champion of the Iunctio afraid to face up to his kindred Nosferatin.

  My back straightens, my chin lifts and I meet her inquisitive beautiful eyes.

  Her foot slips from my hand and she tilts her head, staring at me as though she can see right through to my soul.

  "If you don't start telling me what is going on, I will glaze one of your vampires."

  It's an idle threat, maybe, she hates to glaze. The desire to protect her from walking that path spurs me on, even as my vampyre-within begins to rage. A strange violet colour bathes the space between us. She doesn't even blink or flinch, when others would.

  "We have received a visitor," I say, seeing the confusion at the innocuous statement spread across her face.

  "A visitor? I gather an uninvited one."

  "Oui," I answer without thought, then grimace. The cursed French giving my turmoil away.

  "Michel," she warns, and Light begins to thrum around her. Whether she's picked up on my disquiet and her Light, so entwined with mine, is reacting in kind. Or whether she is losing patience with my stalling, I cannot tell.