Second Chance Desire (Hot Moon Rising #8) Page 11

  Cyrus closed Myron’s fingers over the cards and pushed them back toward her. Her suggestion was a nice way of saying she knew he found peace in the babies’ innocence and, with that peace, some sense of connection.

  ***

  Silvano Božović stepped through the portal, cracked his neck to ease the ache, and moved forward. The first of the nightwalkers to come through, hell, the first one in line at the capital, he sniffed the air. Janessa had arrived first, he could smell her. The need to touch her grew strong. He would have to greet his parents later. They would sense his need and it would only cause more strife between them and Janessa. They already disliked Janessa and his all-consuming passion for her didn’t help.

  He was stronger than this unbearable bonded desire he had for her. Balling his fist, he waited for the need to pass. It wouldn’t pass completely, but the roar of his blood would ease. He learned from others’ mistakes. His grandfather had let his need for his bond mate dictate everything, and the hive had suffered, continued to suffer. His step-grandmother, for lack of a better word, had manipulated Valco and many family heirlooms were lost.

  Imagine his surprise when he found his girlfriend’s family possessed them. Worse to discover the witch in line to inherit them was also his bond mate. Nothing he could do would get them back. And the protection spell placed on the relics prevented any vampire from touching them. Thus his family could no more claim their birthright as the true rulers of their realms than they could stroll in the daylight.

  In one fell swoop, he’d lost a woman he thought he might have a future with, been bonded with a woman he didn’t trust, and discovered what his father feared—they couldn’t prove their blood rights. If anyone questioned their ability to rule, and grumbles had been brewing for decades, they would lose everything.

  “Welcome to the Wiccan Haus, Silvano.” The deep purr of the black tiger prince rumbled through him.

  “Rekkus.” Silvano bowed. The tiger may not have claimed his birthright, but he would show him the respect due. Rising, he put out a hand. Even at his full six foot three inches, Rekkus still towered over him. “I’m thankful to see a familiar as well as friendly face.”

  Rekkus returned the handshake. “How long has it been?”

  “Long before either of us bonded. I understand your mate has blessed you with a litter. Gratulálok.”

  “You must come to our place and meet them all.” Rekkus turned back to the portal as it groaned open again. “We have a great number of paras coming through tonight. We can catch up after dinner. You’re in room nine, second floor. No need to check in. Your mate already did so.”

  The large man in black went back to greeting arriving guests, although with less friendliness than he had greeted Silvano. Rekkus was well-known in the para world for his surly attitude. Only a select few ever got to know the multi-layered man beneath. As for the large number of para guests, Silvano had figured it would be the case when his bond mate requested they come to the island this week. Though he saw no reason to be there for the healing aspects of the resort, Janessa did need to attend the service for their fallen coven. As he could go no more than a few waking hours without her presence, he would have to accompany her. She believed he could go a few days, and he didn’t correct her belief. He wished to give her no more knowledge of the damned power she had over him.

  He was pleasantly shocked when she suggested his parents come to ease some aches his father suffered. His parents had never been in her corner. In fact, they often spoke about their dislike for his witch, as if he had a choice in the matter. As fate would have it, they had spent the minimum amount of time in each other’s presence. The door to his room was open. He paused outside.

  “Come in, Silvano.” Janessa’s voice came from what sounded like the bathroom due to the echo.

  The pleasant smells of fresh-cut herbs and flowers assailed his senses as he crossed the threshold into the rich, deep-burgundy room. Candle sconces on all four walls lit the space. He removed his sunglasses and relaxed. “Have you been here long, Janessa?” He came toward her and brushed his fingers against her shoulders, bared by the low neckline of her dress.

  “I came through this morning. I had some things to prepare for the week.” She cast up at him a sad little smile. Her dull and lifeless eyes lacked their usual brightness. He had noticed her absence of cheer as of late, but chalked it up to the coming week. But, in fact, the light had been ebbing since their last blowout fight.

  “You are enchanting tonight.” She showed far more skin than she usually did.

  She lifted her hand to him turning it to expose the inside of her wrist, inked with the Rowan family tree tattoo. “You are hungry. I can feel your need. Eat.”

  God, he hated this need she alone could meet. As if it weren’t bad enough he could have sex with no other than his bonded mate. Oh, he could feed off others, but it was like a man who had dined in a world class restaurant then been told he must eat from the dog bowl. Only the taste of her would do. And she offered him her wrist, not her neck or, his favorite spot to feed, her inner thigh.

  “I mean no offense, my love. Dinner is served in thirty, and we are required to be there.”

  My love. Weeks had passed since those words had passed her lips. He hadn’t realized he enjoyed them until she took them away. He couldn’t blame her. “Of course. How selfish of me. This weekend, the last thing you need is intimacy with me. I am here to support you.”

  With those words, he bit down on her wrist. His tongue knew which vein to drink from and led his teeth to where to pierce. With a hiss, she tensed. He let the thick, red fluid enter his mouth. When she finally moaned, he swallowed and sucked, careful not to drink too much or take her too far into the sensual haze his feeding created.

  Drawing only enough to appease his hunger, he licked the two holes shut and kissed her skin. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged, taking her hand from his and focusing on her image in the mirror to fix her makeup. “It is the least I can do for you.”

  And there it was. This new stance she had taken. “Are we going to go through this every sunset?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She paused mid mascara swipe.

  “The hell you don’t. You are my bond mate, not a servant or employee.”

  “I’m your bond mate not by your choice. I’m here to feed you, to take care of your ‘needs.’ Is that not what a servant does?”

  “I do not employ you—”

  “I get my payment through the surge to my powers. Call it bartering, call it payment. We are but two unlucky—” She stormed toward the door, and he could have sworn he smelled her tears, but when she turned back to him, her cheeks were dry. “Actually, if you are accommodating, sex would be a wonderful diversion while we are here.”

  “I am ever yours.” He gave a mock bow. He hated this pain she felt, but he knew not how to fix the situation. “I understand there are some rules I am to sign.”

  “Yes, the list is on the desk.”

  He crossed the room, lifted the pages, and started to read. “In blood?”

  “It’s Sarka. Of course you will be signing in blood.”

  Sarka Rowan was well-known in the Nightwalker community. First, because of the great love affair she’d enjoyed with another vamp and now for her sudden change of heart and great hatred of their kind. He picked up the silver pen and ignored the sting running through his fingertips.

  The Rules

  You shall use no glamour on any human to get them to take you to the human floor.

  No human who has not signed a contract may be used as a meal.

  “Have you signed a contract?” He knew for a fact Sarka would love nothing more than to throw his ass through the portal at sunrise.

  “We are bond mates. The rule doesn’t apply to us.” She laced her boot but never looked in his direction.

  You will be back in your room at thirty minutes to sunrise.

  No scaring the humans.

  You will come to
the dining room for dinner every night, no exceptions.

  The rules continued for three pages and ended with, If any of these rules are broken, your fangs will be physically removed by security and handed to you in a jar as your ass is kicked off the island.

  He pricked his finger with the end of the pen and signed his name. He turned to find Janessa staring at him in the odd manner she employed now and again lately. As if studying his every line. “Are you well?”

  She blushed. “Fine. Come on, we should head downstairs.”

  “We still have ten minutes. But, if you wish to go, we shall.”

  “Thank you.” The speed of her steps increased as if she had a tremendous need to get out of the privacy of their room. To his surprise, a great many people congregated at the end of the hallway for the lift to take them to the dining room.

  After handing off the signed contract to Myron the Romany at the reception desk, he entered the dining room with an arm intimately wrapped around his wife’s waist. He knew to stay in the darker-green area; staff left no trick unused to keep it so. The humans dined with sterling silver forks and spoons, anathema to the weres. They dipped their bread in oil laced with fresh garlic, which vamps were known to avoid, and cut their meat with iron knives to keep the fairies at bay. No superstition seemed to be left out.

  “Janessa.” A blond warlock with hair down to his waist came up and enveloped her in his arms. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you this morning.”

  “Cemil.” She greeted him with warmth long absent in her. “Sage met me when I arrived, and then Cyrus and I lunched together. They said you were working with someone.”

  “I assume this is Silvano?”

  “Forgive me. Where are my manners? Silvano, this is my cousin Cemil.”

  Silvano gave a short bow. “A pleasure. I have heard a great many things. Your talents are legendary.” He spoke the truth. One of the great empaths, Cemil would have gone far in their world had he not retreated here.

  “As I have of you. Your ability to keep peace is no small feat. Welcome to our home. I hope you have a productive stay.” His friendly smile faded as he faced his cousin. All too quickly, Cemil’s brow marred with concern. “Janessa, we might need to have a session tonight.”

  She nodded, her shoulders slumping wearily.

  “My sweet, we must get you some protein. I fear I feed too deeply.”

  She shook her head placing a hand on his chest. “No, really, you were very gentle. But I am hungry.”

  “Have a seat. I will have someone bring you something immediately. What would you prefer?” Cemil gestured for one of the serving staff to approach.

  “Steak, rare, if you please.”

  “Coming right up. And for you, Silvano. Would you like some wine perhaps?”

  He shook his head. He had no interest in drinking the blood of a stranger, his thirst eased only by the busty redhead he led to the far table. Once she’d devoured half her steak, and not likely to pass out on him, as she had done so in the early stages of their relationship, he assessed the room. A very long time since he had been in the presence of humans, it amazed him they didn’t try to cross over to the darker-green side, although they didn’t understand the danger they might be in.

  He waved over one of the security working the room. “Will Rekkus be coming up for dinner?”

  “No, milord. He dines with Ms. Dana and the children for their evening meals,” the other man, part fae by the smell of it, answered before continuing between the tables.

  “I met Rekkus’s mate this morning,” Janessa said between bites. How he loved to watch her eat. Loved to see her color brighten and smell her blood thicken. When she next spoke, genuine joy filled every word. “The cubs might be the cutest babies I have ever seen.”

  Addicting. How long since she displayed anything but melancholy, he’d almost forgotten the pleasure he derived from her happiness. “Were they in human form?”

  “Two were. According to Dana, the boys are very strong for their age, but the girl is still small, so she is having a harder time holding forms.”

  “I had wondered at the strange scent when I approached you tonight.” He raised his nose as he sniffed in the intoxicating rich aroma.

  She cocked her head to the side, a half-formed smile upon her lips. “Smell?”

  “Mother’s milk. Your maternal instincts awoke this afternoon. The scent is quite heady. Perhaps, when we leave, we should start a conversation about getting you with child.”

  He had sensed her growing maternal needs over the last two years but done his best to ignore them. Still adjusting to being bonded, fatherhood had not been on his agenda. Unlike his grandfather who had a Dhampir bride to reproduce with before a bond mate appeared. He could not say what characteristics any child of theirs would have. But, so far, all offspring of vampires remained nightwalkers.

  Her smile faded at his words. Not the result he had expected.

  “There you are.” The voice sang over him, and he searched Janessa first with surprise then confusion before switching his attention to the owner of the voice. “Silvano.”

  Standing, he instinctively stopped Narsaria from throwing her arms around him. It would be disrespectful for his past lover to show such familiarity in public, but his soul also fought the idea of anyone but his bond mate touching him in such a manner. “What are you doing here?”

  “Janessa invited me.”

  “She did?” How unlike her. Janessa’s irrational jealously of her sister had started many of the fights between them. His bond mate shrugged before getting up and offering air kisses to a stepsister she didn’t particularly like let alone trust.

  “Glad you could make it.” He sensed no sarcasm in her voice, only some foreign resignation.

  “I was so shocked when you invited me I almost didn’t come for fear of some sort of setup.” She took a seat and ordered a salad before turning her attention to him. “But Janessa has never been the unkind type, and as I have never been invited to any of the Rowan witchy stuff, this seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.”

  “Narsaria, please remember there are humans present who do not know of our world.”

  “Oh, right,” she continued, a few degrees quieter. “Forgive me. Anyway, a free trip to the Wiccan Haus, I would be a complete idiot to decline.”

  He could almost hear Janessa biting her tongue before he realized he had no idea what the week cost them as no bill had crossed his desk. His wife had some money of her own, not much, but enough, and rarely if ever did she spend any of his bankroll on anything except when it involved his house. “Who is paying for this, Janessa?” He kept his voice neutral.

  “There is never a charge for family to come to the Wiccan Haus.” She brought a glass of wine to her lips, neatly sidestepping his questions.

  “Nessa,” he murmured close to her ear.

  “You are considered family as well.”

  He nearly flinched at the subtle barb. He might be considered family by her kin, but no one from his family had treated her with anything but disdain. “Yes, but my parents and your stepsister are not.”

  “I paid for all three trips. What does it matter?”

  “Let me cover my mother and father’s visit.” He knew asking to cover Narsaria would only start an argument, and his mate’s mental state was too frail to deal with a debate right now. He hoped being near family after the séance would help her mend. When they first met, she was a spitfire, full of light and energy. Now he didn’t know if she could make it through the coming full moon.

  Lifting a hand, she shook her head. “Please don’t take my blessing. This is my gift to everyone. I don’t want you to pay any more than I want their thanks. They don’t know and it’s the way I would like to keep it.”

  He knew for a fact a stay here very likely drained the meager funds she had available to her, but they could discuss it later. His attention moved to the hand now resting on the crook of his arm. Without thinking, he removed Narsaria’
s grip, placing her hand on the table in front her. Although he wanted to find out what went on in his wife’s beautiful head, he couldn’t turn away from Narsaria without being completely rude. Yet he hadn’t remembered her chatter annoying him so much.

  Torn between social etiquette bred into him through centuries, and dealing with a mate who didn’t have much to say, he did the only thing he could. He grabbed his mate’s hand with a squeeze before returning his attention to a conversation in which he had no interest.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Breaking the Mating Bond by Dominique Eastwick