Embrace the Mystery [03] Blood Rose Series (23 page)

“Uh-huh.” She worked hard to catch her breath.

He followed suit, then settled his forearms beside her. Once more, his chest filled with that strange, inexplicable sensation and words rushed into his mouth, words he didn’t recognize, so he swallowed them.

She pushed at damp tendrils beside his cheeks. “That was beyond extraordinary. You were right; we are good together.”

“I know I said it at the time, but I never dreamed it would be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like if we kept going we could solve all the problems of the Nine Realms, just the two of us.”

She smiled, her two faint dimples making an appearance. She had a beautiful smile so he kissed her again. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Ditto.”

After cleaning up, Quinlan cradled Batya in his arms until she fell asleep. He remained awake even after dawn crested the land. His thoughts had turned to his journey with Batya, trying to understand what was really happening between them.

Just as his eyelids grew heavy, the strange, impossible thought pierced his mind: Could he have a life with her?

* * * * * * * * *

Late that afternoon, Batya dressed for her audience with the queen in her throne room. Quinlan had already left, needing to confer with Seth who had arrived with a contingent of the Walvashorr Guard.

Having showered, Batya donned the woven gown that Gizelda had provided for her. Ferrenden Peace held to ancient protocols and though Quinlan could be presented in his Guard uniform, she had to wear a long gown made of traditional realm fabrics, the same material that made up the Guard uniform shirts.

Many aspects of the Nine Realms had remained in previous centuries, one more reason why she liked the modern world of Tennessee.

Once dressed, she regarded her reflection in the mirror. She’d braided a portion of her hair and wrapped it in a circle on top of her head, also an ancient tradition for unmarried women. She’d already noticed that many of the women in the main street wore some kind of head-dress, whether a scarf or a hat, indicating they were married.

She added the silver linked belt that gave shape to the gown and hung at a pretty angle over her hips, the attached, decorative chain dangling, no doubt on purpose, to the juncture of her thighs.

She shook her head and laughed. She thought she looked ready for a costume party more than anything else, but these were the rules of the castle. The queen had given her shelter, and dressing in old-realm costume offered in return a small measure of gratitude.

Gizelda had given her instructions as to the location of the main receiving hall, so Batya made her way there with some confidence. Two troll guards stood to either side of an arched stone doorway. The guard on the right informed her that Mastyr Seth was within but that Mastyr Quinlan had gone down to Main Street to see his brigade commander.

She’d met Seth decades earlier when he had visited her father. She had thought him an overly serious type, not given to having fun, or enjoying life.

But when she entered the room, something shifted for her so suddenly that she gasped, even though she didn’t exactly know why.

He stood on the other side of the massive, vaulted chamber, a thumb hooked over the cross-belt of his Guard uniform, his free hand holding a map. His brows were drawn together as he studied what looked like an ancient realm-document.

But he’d never looked so attractive. He was tall. All the mastyrs were.

He turned to meet her gaze, but didn’t smile. If anything, his brows formed an even harder ridge as he stared at her. His nostrils flared and he groaned.

The map fluttered to the floor.

But she was feeling it as well, a need to go to him, to feed him as she’d fed Quinlan last night and for the past several days.

He wore his brown wavy hair held back by the woven clasp. His cheekbones stood out like the sharp edges of a statue, leading to a strong angled chin. His green eyes had the look of a hawk as he stared at her, a predator ready to pounce.

The trouble was, she wanted him to pounce.

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest once more, as it had from the time that Quinlan had started coming around and bugging her.

“Come to me.” His deep voice pulled her toward him.

Batya knew this was wrong, on some level she knew she betrayed Quinlan, even though neither had spoken words of commitment. Still, she shouldn’t be longing for mastyr Seth like this.

She rubbed her throat. Her vein pounded for the vampire.

Just a few feet more.

He pulled her into his arms and she bent her neck. “Take what you need.” The same words she’d spoken to Quinlan.

She felt saliva drip on her neck. He’d strike soon and it would feel wonderful. She needed him to feed, as though somehow her own life depended on feeding this mastyr vampire.

In that moment, she finally understood all that had happened over the past several weeks and more importantly, exactly what she was.

A blood rose.

Oh, Sweet Goddess, no.

“What the fuck is going on here!” Quinlan’s voice rumbled through the lofty chamber.

Mastyr Seth released her, setting her off to the side and behind her as though protecting her.

Uh-oh.

Quinlan launched, but Seth did too. The next thing she knew, the vampires grappled midair, two of the toughest mastyrs in the Nine Realms. A fist caught Quinlan on his chin, jerking his head and his body backward toward the floor, but he’d been a warrior a long time and righted himself.

Flying at top-speed, he plowed into Seth with a hard shoulder to his abdomen. His momentum sent both of them hurtling toward the tall arched cathedral window that overlooked the town’s southern aspect.

“Oh, Sweet Goddess, no!” she screamed, stretching out a hand, but to do what?

At exactly the same moment, she felt a rush of energy sweep past her and both men ended up hanging in the air, frozen in place. Seth’s head was flung back, his body almost parallel to the floor, Quinlan above him, twisted, his face red with rage, but still as death.

“I must say, this wasn’t the welcome I’d expected.”

Batya turned slowly and met the gaze of one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in her life. “You’re Queen Rosamunde.”

“I am.” A wry smile twisted her lips. She had exquisite dark violet eyes, unusual even among realm-folk, and she stood at least an inch taller than Batya. She wore her red-violet hair in several braids looped and twisted elegantly on top of her head.

“And you did this?” Batya asked, turning back to point at the men, still unable to credit that the queen, or anyone, had that kind of power.

“Come chat with me for a few minutes. Once I remove the stasis, the focus of my efforts will have to be on them.” She climbed three stone steps to her throne, turned, then sat down. “So, how long have you been a blood rose, Mistress Batya?”

The question startled Batya because on some level she supposed that the queen, living behind an enthrallment veil, wouldn’t be aware of what was happening in the Nine Realms.

“So you know about the blood rose phenomenon?”

She nodded. “I do. I might have kept Ferrenden peace from the rest of the world, but I have several spies and have always remained current on everything happening beyond our borders.” She smiled. “I believe the blood rose marks the beginning of a new era. So, how long have you known what you were?”

She moved toward the throne. “I think I’ve known for a long time, but I couldn’t believe it.” She put her hand to her chest. When had her heart started feeling so weighed down with blood?

She remembered now. The day Quinlan had trapped her in the corner of her gallery and kissed her neck, licking above the vein. That’s when the whole thing had started.

“Tell me everything.” The words were spoken in the same way Vojalie spoke to any realm-folk she meant to enthrall. Rosamunde clearly had the same gift because Batya began to talk. She told the queen about her gallery and Lorelei, about Margetta and the attack, Quinlan’s burns and healing, then their entire journey to Ferrenden Peace.

Rosamunde frowned slightly, biting at her lips as her gaze drifted to the two vampires hanging in the delicate balance between time and space.

Batya looked at them as well, but the experience proved difficult since she once more felt an overwhelming need to offer up a vein to each.

Steadying herself, she turned back to the queen. “May I ask a few questions of my own?”

Rosamunde shifted her gaze to Batya and smiled. She had the delicate features of the fae and softly pointed chin. Her ears were beautifully peaked and curled, well-studded with diamonds and gold. “Let me tell you about Ferrenden Peace first and about myself. Then if you have questions, you may ask them.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“First, I have been dreaming about you for two months now, which I believe is about the time Mastyr Quinlan sought you out.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ah, that explains so much. You see, your presence here is fulfilling an epoch prophesied centuries ago. We’ve been waiting for your arrival and for Lorelei’s for some time, and I for one am grateful that the enthrallment has finally rolled away from this area. I have missed communion with the Nine Realms, and with Walvashorr.”

Batya listened enrapt, but suddenly all she could feel was the powerful depth of the queen’s loneliness, that she’d been in a position of solitude for longer than Batya could even imagine.

Rosamunde offered a brief history of Ferrenden Peace, that the fables mostly were true though much more elaborate than reality, that she’d ruled for a very long time, and that her kingdom was entirely self-sufficient and, like the namesake, peaceful.

She then turned the subject slightly and spoke of the time over a thousand years ago, before the creation of the terrible Invictus wraith-pairs, when wraiths were a natural and welcomed part of realm life, when peace reigned throughout all the realms.

Given the eras she covered, Batya said, “Then you must know my father.”

“Davido? Yes, of course.” She smiled, her violet eyes full of affection.

“But you haven’t spoken with him.”

She shook her head. “Not in all these years.”

“Will that change now?”

“In the coming era, yes, but not right away and now I think it’s time to bring the men back to earth.”

Rosamunde waved a hand, which sent another powerful vibration streaking through the air. Batya turned and watched as both men, rather than continuing forward through the window, dropped a hard four feet to the stone floor, although Quinlan landed on top of Seth.

He quickly pulled away, almost flying backward. “What the fuck?”

He turned and saw Batya first, then the queen. “I beg your pardon. But what happened? Ah, hell we would have gone through that window.”

Chapter Ten

Quinlan stood halfway between Seth and Batya, glancing back to his fellow mastyr then turning to look at Batya. His memory returned in a sudden flash, of Seth preparing to bite down on her, to take her blood, and his former rage returned, a flow of heat and anger so sharp, so sudden, that he was turning once again in Seth’s direction, when Batya suddenly appeared right in front of him.

She took hold of the front of his coat, gripping the soft leather in her hands and staring up at him. Her gaze kept him frozen in place, though fury still boiled in his veins. She leaned up and kissed him, not a simple touch of her lips on his, but a full, warm kiss that had him piercing her mouth with his tongue and enfolding her in his arms.

You’re not to feed him.

I know.

He drew back. “Then why were you going to?”

“Because I didn’t know what I was then. I’d hidden that truth from myself. Did you know I was a blood rose?”

He sighed heavily. “I figured it out while I flew you over the snowfields and you slept in my arms, why I pursued you like I did, why I couldn’t keep away from you, why I desire you so much. But I couldn’t tell you. I was waiting for the right time.”

She nodded. “I can appreciate that.” But tears touched her eyes. “Then none of this is real? We’re just caught in some kind of strange realm phenomenon?”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what any of this is.”

The queen intruded. “Are you done trying to kill the Mastyr of Walvashorr?”

He turned toward Seth, aware that his ire had diminished, then nodded.

Once more, the queen spoke. “And you, Mastyr Seth. Are you calm enough to speak with me?”

“Yes, my queen.”

“Good. Then will all of you approach because I have commands to give you from our kingdom’s prophecies.”

Quinlan felt disoriented as he slid his arm around Batya’s waist then moved with her to stand before Queen Rosamunde. Seth joined him on his left and for that he was grateful. If the vampire had positioned himself next to Batya, the battle would have started all over again.

“Mastyr Quinlan, your troll brigade must remain behind for two weeks to enjoy a period of revelry with our maidens.” She shifted to meet Seth’s gaze. “Your force as well, Mastyr Seth.”

Quinlan frowned. “May I ask why?”

But Batya whispered. “The town needs an infusion of what only these Guardsmen can give.”

“Your blood rose has spoken correctly. We need new seed in our population, so let your troops know that they may give freely, without need of protection.”

Quinlan couldn’t help but smile. How many times, over the decades, had he been required to negotiate parents-rights issues because of accidental pregnancy. “Are you saying this would be without repercussion should children be born of this arrangement?”

“You have my word.”

He couldn’t help but glance at Seth. If Ethan had been next to him, he would have exchanged a wink with him. But Seth was cut from a different sort of cloth. “With all due reverence, my queen, I want your command in writing.”

Queen Rosamunde lifted a hand. “You shall have it, of course. These modern times require written contracts. And you, mastyr Seth, may remain as well or return to Walvashorr. The prophecies were not specific to you except that you would arrive to support the Mastyr of Grochaire. I have no specific command for you.”