The Dracove (The Prophecy series) (17 page)

A loud bark of laughter came out of her.

“What’s so funny?”

“A gentleman to the end, huh? Well, in that case, I have a guestroom. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, right.” He lowered himself to her again. “I forgot.” She giggled and he laughed. “You’re just a giggle freak, aren’t you?”

She opened her mouth. He quickly kissed her again before she had a chance to respond.

When they kissed, her energy consumed him. So much so that he almost forgot what he was. The incredible power she had over him made him want to stay like this forever. When he was with her, he was no longer Grant the vampyre; only Grant the man. The man whose love had been captured by a beautiful mortal woman he could grow old with, die with, and spend an eternity with. She was his reason for living such a long life. He could see it now. She was the one he dreamed of when he was a young lad. The one he hoped to meet someday. The one his friends told him long ago he would never find. And he finally found her here, in a century he’d never thought he’d see, in a world he never thought would exist. He was once again reminded that Siobhán was only a glimpse of the woman he’d waited for all his life.

“Now I
really
need to leave or go to bed,” he told her when she didn’t stop his hand from exploring under her shirt.

In truth, he only had a small buzz from the alcohol, and it was wearing off quickly because of his high metabolism. The only drink that could make vampyres drunk to the point of stumbling was blood.

“Oh, fine.” She pushed herself up.

Grant tumbled into the back cushions. He laughed and sat up. “Okay, then.”

“I should go to bed, myself. This is going to be one hell of a hangover in the morning.”

“Wine does that to you.” He followed her down the hall. For someone who’d imbibed a lot of wine, she sure moved fast.

She opened the door to one of the spare rooms and turned on the light. “Sure you want to sleep in here?” She leaned against the doorway.

He bit back a laugh when she slid off the doorjamb. Luckily, he caught in time. He drew in a deep breath and looked at her as he held her up.

“Definitely,” he said. “But first, I think I’ll tuck you in.”

“Okay.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Are you a good tucker-inner?”

He laughed at the old Jack Lemmon movie quote and carried her to her bed.

“Aye.” He pulled the blanket over her and kissed her forehead. “Now go to sleep, young lady.”

“Goodnight, Grant,” she said softly.

“Night, Kylie.”

“I could so fall in love with you . . . is that strange?” She whispered it so softly, if he were a mortal man he wouldn’t have heard it. But he did. A single blood tear rolled down his cheek and he walked into the bathroom. She continued to mumble to herself, wondering how it was possible she felt that way. He listened, staring into the mirror. When she quieted down, he washed the blood streak from his face.

“I feel the same way, Ky.” He turned off the light and headed to his room.
Gods, do I ever feel the same.

Sleep wouldn’t come to him. He went in to check on Kylie, to make sure she was okay. He’d sensed someone’s presence earlier and knew the Master had an invitation into her home.

Which meant he could get to either of them.

Before he left the room, her hand moved slowly up her stomach, pulled up her shirt, and scratched the area around her left ribcage. A portion of her birthmark showed itself. He carefully moved her shirt up a bit more to see it.
Funny
—she brushed his hand away—
Siobhán had that same mark on her, only hers was on her arm.
It was also the same symbol as on the locket. He remembered why he’d placed the symbol on the locket—to have Siobhán’s own mark protect her by flesh and blood. No wonder Kylie was asking about it.

He thought about earlier, when he was overwhelmed by her presence, by her touch.
Damn, Ky, why do you make me feel this way? I feel mortal when I’m with you. I don’t understand.

Grant watched her for some time before quietly turning around. Tobak looked up at him from where she lay. He smiled and winked at her, and she put her head down. He turned his attention outside. The French doors were still open and the cool breeze coming through felt good against his skin, but there was something else.

Cianán was still nearby . . . and calling him.

Go figure.

Grant stood and walked to the patio. He wasn’t ready to tell Kylie about himself yet, especially since he didn’t know how she’d react to such a revelation—vampyres being real. It was time to confront Cianán anyway. They hadn’t seen each other in a while and needed to talk. He also didn’t believe Cianán was ready to reveal himself, which was why he called from several miles away.

The gentle breeze flowed through his long black mane. He heard Cianán’s voice on the wind—a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time, but it was definitely Cianán. The call was unmistakable, similar to a mother wolf calling for her cubs, but much, much deeper. The wolf was one of Cianán’s favorite forms. Rather fitting that he’d use it. Tobak woke, hearing the call as well. He was surprised she wasn’t outside searching the yard.

He turned to the west looking for him.
There you are
. He ran across the yard—a blur with his speed. Wings sprouted from his bare back and he jumped into the night.

Grant soared the desert skies, searching for sign of his Master. The call came again, louder. Grant spotted him and glided down quietly.

Cianán stood under the boulders waiting for his rogue progeny. He felt his approach and anticipated seeing this child of his again. The last time they’d met, things hadn’t gone well. Not to mention, he called to him for a specific reason.

“You called?”

Cianán spun around and grinned. “Aye. What took ye so long?”

Grant stood behind him on one of the boulders. “Does it matter?”

“Ye know it does,” Cianán replied sternly, eyes narrowed.

“What I find interesting,” Grant said, “is that you’re not normally so easily surprised. Age getting to you,
father
?” He smirked.

Cianán sneered. He hated the tone Grantlund used when calling him father. “Perhaps ye should stay out o’ my affairs an’ not underestimate me. I’d hate to see ye dead.”

“Aye, I know. I’m most certain ye would,
father
.” Grant shifted his footing on the boulder. “Why’d you call me?”

“Where is she?”

“Where is who?”

“Ye know who. I saw ye with ‘er today.” This child of his enjoyed playing games; always had. If Grantlund hadn’t decided to leave on his own, he’d likely have tossed him out of the coven.

Which would have meant death back then.

Grant stepped to the edge of the boulder and sat. His arms cradled his knees. “My, aren’t we in a lovely mood this evening? What were you doing out in the sun today, getting a tan? I thought you despised it.”

“Ye know it true. Stop evadin’ the question; tell me what you’ve done with ‘er.”

Grant turned his eyes to the stars and sighed. “I haven’t the faintest idea who or what you’re talking about.”

Cianán’s face flushed with heat and he drew in a deep breath. He didn’t have time for this childishness. “Aye. You. Do. Kylie, I’m talking about
Kylie
. Ye were with ‘er today, in the art district. Hell, ye were at her house just now. I can smell her on ye.”

Grant smiled and asked Cianán the question he’d been waiting to ask for the last six hundred years. “How does it feel?”

Cianán sneered.

Grant looked to the sky again. “Kylie, Kylie, Kylie. She’s such a lovely woman. Her beauty runs deep . . . Well, I suppose you would know now, wouldn’t you?”

“Aye. You also think she resembles Siobhán.”

Grant jumped off the boulder, landing in front of him. “Not just resembles her, she
is
her,” he said sharply and wished he hadn’t. He knew it wasn’t true.

“Oh?” Cianán looked at him curiously. “You’re in love with ‘er. How could ye fall in love in such a short time? Best be careful, Grantlund, ye recall what happened the last time ye fell in love.”

Grant remembered all right. How could he forget? “I don’t want you near her.” Seeing the birthmark on her confirmed what Cianán had planned.

“Me? What of ye, child?”

“If it wasn’t for you, Siobhán wouldn’t have died.”

“I think you’re mistaken. ‘Twas her destiny to be with me, a destiny she couldn’t fulfill because of you. You’re the cause of her death. Not me.”

“Are you crazy? I loved her.”

“As did I.”

Grant ignored him, knowing it wasn’t true. “I’d never have done anything to harm her.”

“And you’re saying I would?”

“Aye . . . you did. Or you were going to. I know what you had planned for her.” He pointed his finger and shoved him. He glared into Cianán’s now red eyes. “You took her away from me. She belonged to me an’ you stole her.” Grant’s fangs forced their way down.

“Ye were already dead.”

Nature around them went silent. Not a slither through the sand, or the hoot of an owl. Crickets ceased their chirping, and coyotes stood still in the distance.

“Only because
you
changed me,” Grant replied. “An’ because o’ that, I couldn’t show myself to her.”

“Ye could ‘ave—”

“Right, an’ have her do what, welcome her dead fiancé with open arms?” He threw his arms in the air.

Cianán shrugged. “I don’ see why not? She would have accepted ye still, as Kylie has . . . oh, she doesn’t know what ye are yet, does she?”

Grant leaned forward, glaring at him. “She knows as much about me as she does about you. An’ Siobhán never would have accepted it.”

Grant paced. Cianán rolled his eyes the moment he made eye contact.

“You murdered her,” he finally said.

Grant abruptly turned his head. “No, I didn’t. I found her.”

“Believe what ye wish, Grantlund—”

“It’s not a matter of believin’, I know what happened.”

Cianán’s voice boomed. “
Do you
?”

Grant stopped in front of him and glared. He wondered what Cianán was thinking. He hated that he’d broken their link so long ago. It wasn’t that he could ever read Cianán’s mind, but he usually had a good idea of the thoughts going through the Master’s mind. At the moment, Grant couldn’t even read his emotions.
Been away too long
. “If what you say is true, then why was I not placed before your court?”