Bound By Blood (28 page)

             
Chymeŕah
simply shook her head and
laughed. “If you were more familiar with the old ways and they had not been kept from you
,
then you would know this is something common with our people, especially concerning the High
P
riestess and her saf
e
ty.
He
is the
F
ather of the
B
lood
,
Samanthŕa
,
and
you
are High Priestess of those b
loodline
s.
If he believes you are in danger then he has the right to lay his claim over you for reasons of protection.
Your welfare is his responsibility.
”

             
“And this means he will force an Awakening on me?”

             
Chymeŕah rolled her eyes
regarding
her
daughter’s
paranoia. “
It has
nothing
to do with your Awakening
."

             
"Then why did I act the way I did when I smelt his blood? Why did my fangs . . . why does my beast cry for release . . . why have all the other Viis--"

             
"Samanthŕa, his blood is the most pure, the most p
owerful, and the most untainted essence in which we have ever known. Why, it even stirs forces in me."

             
What she said made sense. Still, Samanthŕa remained cautious. "So he
will not
force an Awakening?"

             
"If you wish it
.” She winked.

             
“You know how I feel about that. I do not wish to be bound to any male because of some n
uis
ance of an Awakening.” Samanthŕa focused on her false reasons.

             
“Yes, well maybe one night soon we shall take advantage of this time we have together and speak about
that
.
"

             
"Why?"

             
"
I am unclear
about
your reasons and feelings and would like to know if Dĩas has brainwashed you concerning them.”

             
Samanthŕa said nothing else. Her mother was picking up on something so she needed to be careful of her words. It would take little to nothing for Chymeŕah to work past Dĩas’ spell that protected Samanthŕa’s knowledge of the curse and kept others from discovering it. Knowing her mother, she would tell Samanthŕa not to worry about such things and just do what every other Vii does,
A
waken
. Chymeŕah w
as all about risk
,
and Samanthŕa was the same way
--
except when it came to the fate of her sisters. She also knew her mother would turn the
Realm
s upside down if she knew of the potions Dĩas had her taking. For his safety and the safety of TEŔAH it was best if Chymeŕah never discovered the truth about this one.

             
Continuing on their journey by foot so that her mother might have a bit of Samanthŕa's time,
Chymeŕah’s
home
began to reflect her own dreams and taste and not that of her children. It was
eccentric as well as eclectic. Some rooms were light and elegant while other rooms were dark and gothic. One type and color of marble ble
nde
d into the next. It was
highly
polished
throughout,
so that
the floors
felt as though you were walking
on liquid
mirrors.
Candles burned from every angle
but not the crystals which glowed in other parts of the
realm
s.
Her mother loved
and preferred
candles
,
much as
Samanthŕa
did. They hung from the ceilings
and
walls and filled tables. Years of wax trickl
ing
down receiv
ing
the new wax which melted
softly
in
to their base
s
.
Hardly any of the NORSŔAH crystals existed. Chymeŕah loathed the race of strangers. She said her reasons were many but the simplest one was that she trusted no one which turned their back on their own. And that’s what the NORSŔAH did to the Ph
ãegens. She wanted nothing of their imprint around her.

             
Pausing, "Are you ready Samanthŕa?" Chymeŕah asked
with a whisper. "For you have a chance to meet someone who witnessed the birth of our world. Who stood before the Great Goddess before she was bound silent and invisible to us. Who may speak of many things our tongues were forbidden to. Who can teach you the old ways . . . of things long forgotten and lost."

             
While all of those things tweaked
Samanthŕa's curiosity like nothing else, she said nothing. Instead, she took a long deep breath and followed the excited steps of her mother.

             
They entered the
D
ining
H
all
,
where everyone seemed to already
be
gather
ed
. A very long
,
sleek
table
,
which was
continually adjusting
to suit
the number of
her mother’s guests
,
centered the room. Fires burned in marble hearths
along
both sides. Chairs and small couches sat in front of them. Before
Samanthŕa
could
register
everyone’s presence, a tall man greeted her
with
others flocked around him. She felt a little dizzy
, eyes burning through her
skin,
as if she had been cornered and swarmed.

             
Chymeŕah
s
immer
ed with excitement
taking another goblet in hand
.
Samanthŕa
sighed with relief. Although tall and intimi
dating, the one who confronted her
was
not
the one called
Daŕ
ēus
. In fact, she could not see
him
at all.
Perhaps when she didn’t skip happily to greet him like her giggling sisters, he left.
She was relieved
by that
at this point.

             
“
Samanthŕa
, this is one of the
B
rothers
—Maŕ
ēus
Morãe
.”
Chymeŕah
introduced him a
nd
Samanthŕa
remembered
Morrgãyne
speaking his name earlier. He looked quite fierce
,
with
deep, distinct
features and shoulder length dark brown hair. His skin was tan a
nd
his dark foreboding eyes shimmered with
a
soft silver
y
glow. He was handsome but distant. He kept himself that way, she sense
d, a
lways watching, observing,
and exhibiting
little to no emotion whatsoever.

             
“Sister,” he said
,
which was a common
way
they
address
ed one another.
Strygĩ
and Lycãon
families were so large that they did not sort them out with titles of aunt, uncle or cousin
unless it was an Elder or one of great power
. They did not age
,
but instead reflected the age they desired to show. There were no signs to determine who was eldest or not, so everyone simply was c
alled sister, brother,
daughter, son, mother and father when it applied.

             
He kissed her hand when another slipped in
at
his side.
Chymeŕah
announced proudly
,
“
Lucēan
Lycãon
.”

             
“It is a pleasure.” He bowed to her so very gently while
Sameŕald
hung on every word, every movement.
Samanthŕa
,
however
,
was
intrigued by
the surname.
Her Great Aunt Vlachŕa
Kaléé
was a
Lycãon
.

             
His eyes were a pale blue and his features were very sharp and defined
,
much like
Daŕ
ēus
. He was very handsome and she could tell that those charms of his flattered anyone who came across his path. She sensed a poet and writer in him as well as a warrior.
These things meshed well with the dominant wolf inside him.

             
“Will you please quit hogging her?” A
nother
man zestfully pushed him out of the way. Before
Samanthŕa
had a chance to register what was going on, a very tall
someon
e grabbed and hugged her. He let her go but kept her hands in his.

             
“
Samanthŕa
,”
Keysãe
started to giggle. “This is
Danyól Remŕak.
The one I told you of earlier
.
”
Danyól
had gold flickering eyes. He had light brown and blond hair, slightly past his shoulders. He was tall and alluring. She saw mischief on his face. He seemed so familiar to her yet she didn’t know why. Since they shared the same bloodlines this could be one of the reasons, though she didn’t think so. It was too simple an explanation. Was it their kindred mischief? She had no time to sort it out. Another tall warrior pulled her away.

             
“Since
Danyól
will not willingly give you up, I shall just take you. I am
Mãi
ŕyk Ampére
and it is wonderful to see you.”
Mãi
ŕyk
bowed as he stole her hands away from
Danyól
. He had blond hair
paired with
deep blue eyes. His features much like
Danyól’s
, soft, yet masculine
and
defined.
Samanthŕa
caught the scent of
Jezaŕah
upon his skin. She raised a brow but had no chance to deliver a warning look when
Chymeŕah
introduced yet another one,
Lushãyen
Ruvr
ãe
. He
looked as though he
was
Lucēan’s
twin except his features were
much
darker. He had a wilder look about him as well. The
beast
was strong in this one. He was feral, untamed.

             
Lukaŕd Lyc
ãeus
was the last in line
.
Lukaŕd
brought
Dezarãe
with him as he offered his arm to her. He had very long hair like
Lucēan
, almost black,
and
jade colored eyes.

             
Each held the name of
one of the
six bloodlines. Now this she found interesting
,
especially when she realized her sisters held the names of the other six, including her. The only
asymmetry
which stumped her was that
Dezarãe
had the name Lampiŕ
,
as
Samanthŕa
herself
did. The mystery
rankl
ed. She felt she was on
to something but the shared name threw her off track. She had no time to sort it out in her mind
,
which
f
ed her frustration. She had one more person to meet. Dread overcame her
other
emotions.

             
Samanthŕa
watched the
others
move away as the giant appeared.
Daŕ
ēus
Dracuŕa
,
Father of the Blood
--
his was
the thirteenth bloodline and lost surname of the ancient world. He seemed more tamed this evening than he had before. No longer w
ere
his clothes ripped by battle nor was the blood of his enemy stained upon his skin. He wore black, like the rest of them
—gathered
sleeveless
shirt
revealing his strange marks
, leather pants,
and high
boots. His hair was neatly pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. His eyes
,
though
,
were still just as powerful.
Samanthŕa
made sure to avoid them.