Blood Bond (Anna Strong Chronicles #9) Read online

  I release a noisy breath. “Okay. Tell Steffan we accept. Let’s get this over with. Will you be taking us?”

  “I will arrange transportation. Shall we meet at the café in the village at seven?”

  Frey and I agree and walk Chael back to his car—a sleek new Jaguar sedan—brand-new. The dealer plates are still in place. Impulsively, I run a gentle finger over a door panel. “Nice car.”

  “I thought you would like it. It is yours to use while you are here if you wish.”

  The offer is tempting. But I decline. No way do I want to become further in Chael’s debt even for a small thing like the loan of a car. If, as we suspect, he is responsible for getting the law off our backs in the deaths of Warren and Judith Williams, that bill will be high enough.

  Chael has his hand on the door. “Oh, by the way. The dinner is a formal affair.” He reaches in and produces a garment bag from the passenger seat. “For Anna. Steffan wasn’t sure you would have anything appropriate to wear. Except your wedding dress, of course.” He winks at Frey. “We all know the old adage about the groom seeing the bride before the wedding.”

  He thrusts the bag at Frey, whose expression is thunderous. He looks past Chael to the backseat. “What? Nothing for me?”

  Chael smiles another of his most charming smiles and settles himself into the driver’s seat.

  I watch the Jag purr its way down the drive and sigh.

  Then I take the garment bag from Frey’s hands. He gives me the evil eye.

  “What? I’m curious.” I draw the zipper down and peek inside.

  Wow. Steffan has very good taste.

  * * *

  WE PASS THE DAY IN FAMILIAL COMPANIONSHIP: DAD, Trish, Frey and I. A trip next door to meet the horses (and the neighbors, of course; they are almost as excited about the wedding as my family). A trip to town to the outdoor market for fresh vegetables and bread. A trip to the vineyards to supervise the cultivating of the fields.

  Frey and I hold hands, the kids never stop chattering and Dad does his best to appear cheerful. Once, when he doesn’t realize I’m watching, the mask falls. Sadness is stamped in dark bold relief on his face.

  I leave Frey’s side and link my arm through his. “You doing okay?”

  He squeezes my arm. “I’m fine.”

  “No. You aren’t. And it’s all right if you aren’t.”

  He smiles. “It’s wonderful to have you here. And the kids. I worry how it will be with Trish when you leave. She puts on such a brave front.”

  “It’s not just Trish putting up a brave front,” I remind him. “You’re doing a pretty good job of it yourself.”

  “Am I? Sometimes I wonder.” He lets his voice drop.

  “When the time comes,” I say, not able to bring myself to say the obvious, “why don’t you and Trish plan to spend a few weeks in San Diego with me? Frey will have to go back to Monument Valley so John-John can finish up the school year. I have plenty of room.”

  He squeezes my arm once again. “I’ll think about it. See what Trish wants to do. I thank God every day for that girl. You and she are the only things holding me together.”

  John-John comes skipping back to ask Dad a question about the grapes and he lets himself be pulled ahead to where Trish is waiting. Frey steps up beside me. “Everything okay?”

  “As okay as it can be.” I put my arms around Frey’s waist and give him a hug. “He’s very glad we’re here.”

  Frey’s lips brush the top of my head. “Me, too.”

  * * *

  WE PLAN TO LEAVE THE FAMILY AT DINNERTIME TO GO into Lorgues. We retreat upstairs late in the afternoon to shower and change. Frey has qualms about my wearing the dress Steffan provided.

  Until he sees me in it.

  It’s a simple design, a shift of cream chiffon with strategically placed beads and sequins that seem to follow the silhouette of my body. It has a modest boat neckline and short sleeves and hits just above the knees with a scalloped fringe hem.

  Not revealing. Not formfitting. It’s beautiful without being ostentatious. Feminine without being overtly sexy. There is a pair of silver sandals in the bottom of the bag to complete the ensemble.

  I slip them on and pirouette for Frey to get the full effect.

  “So. What do you think?”

  “I think Steffan knows too damned much about you.” But his eyes shine and he steps closer to trace a curving line of crystals from the top of the dress to a point just above my right breast. “I like it. Take it off.”

  I wave a finger in front of his face. “Later. Right now, we need to get on the road.”

  He groans and shrugs into his jacket. He’s wearing a blue Armani suit with a pale silk shirt and a conservative striped tie. I reach up and straighten the knot. “Just like an old married couple,” I tell him.

  The family is at the dining room table when we appear. We get a chorus of whistles and a round of applause, which makes Frey take me into his arms and dance us around the table.

  Mom has come down to join the family for dinner, too, and her presence makes it hard to pull myself away. Once again, her skin glows, her eyes burn bright. We’d excused ourselves from the family dinner with the pretext of one final romantic dinner between Frey and me before we tie the knot.

  “Good idea,” Dad says with a grin. “After you’re married those romantic evenings will be few and far between.”

  Mom swats his arm. “Don’t listen to him. We’ve had plenty of romantic evenings. He’s just too busy watching football to notice.”

  “Football, huh?” Frey says. “I’m a baseball man myself.”

  “You are?” I blink up at him. I can’t believe I didn’t know this about the man I’m about to marry.

  He gives me an amused smile. “Well, when was the last time we discussed sports?”

  He has a point. “Guess there are still a few things I don’t know about you.”

  He puts an arm over my shoulder. “Honey, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  Mom laughs. “Uh-oh, Anna. A man of secrets.”

  “It’s good to have a little mystery in your life.” This from Dad. “Keeps the marriage fresh.”

  I give Frey another good-natured slap on the arm. “As long as none of these mysteries is named Susan or Elizabeth.”

  Frey points to the door. “I think it’s time we were on our way.”

  “Evasive, isn’t he?” Mom says.

  I let Frey pull me toward the door, turning back to mouth, “I’ll keep him on a short leash.”

  Dad has taken Mom in his arms. He leans down to whisper something in her ear. The sound of their laughter as they hold each other warms—and breaks—my heart.

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAEL IS WAITING FOR US IN FRONT OF THE CAFÉ. He’s in the Jag, the engine running. The sound is like the quiet growl of a big cat waiting to spring. I tip my face to Frey. “Sound familiar?”

  He rumbles a growl of his own and holds the door open for me to slip inside.

  Chael puts the car in gear and gives it its head. He glances over his shoulder. “You look quite beautiful in the dress, Anna.”

  “What about me?” Frey says. “Don’t I look beautiful, too?”

  Chael grunts and turns his attention to the road. I noticed when we got in that he was in very formal dress—a black tux and pleated white shirt. He’s concentrating on the driving, his manner relaxed.

  “Tell me,” I say after a moment. “Who will be at this party tonight?”

  He shrugs. “I am not privy to the entire guest list. But I do expect one or two dignitaries from the EVL.” He pauses, reading that I don’t know what that is, before continuing. “European Vampire League. Counterpart to our Thirteen Tribes. Many are in town because they are curious about you.” He glances over his shoulder once again. “This is your chance to make an impression on the oldest vampires in existence.”

  “Older than Steffan?”

  “Oh yes.” He chuckles. “I think you will be su
rprised.”

  “But Steffan is their leader.”

  “For the moment.”

  His nonchalance raises the hair on my arm. “What do you mean?”

  “I did not want to say anything before but there are rumblings in the community. We may be witness to history in the making tonight.”

  Frey’s grip on my hand tightens. “What kind of history?”

  “You’ll see. Shifter, you should feel honored to be included as consort to the Chosen One. Few such as yourself have been granted the privilege.”

  Frey grows restive beside me. I sense an end to his patience with Chael.

  “You forget yourself, Chael.” I bite off each word. “Frey is more than a match for any vampire. I suggest you don’t give him the opportunity to prove it.”

  Chael takes the admonition calmly. He turns his thoughts inward and closes them off. Frey, meanwhile, is still fuming. I bring his hand to my lips. When his eyes snap to mine, I watch the transformation from anger to warmth as I rub his hand against my cheek. He nods that he is once more in control. Our hands remain clasped tightly together and we relax in our seats.

  I let my eyes drift to the world outside our car. We are traveling the main road out of Lourges—to the west instead of the route traveled last night. Up into the gentle hills that surround the village. In the lingering twilight, we pass several side roads that end in huge houses perched like jewels on manicured lots.

  Suddenly, an icy finger touches the back of my neck and I shiver.

  Frey feels it. His eyes snap to mine. “What’s wrong?”

  But I brush his concern away with a hand wave. “Nothing. Really.”

  I turn my face away. Glad once again that he can’t read my thoughts; carefully locking those thoughts away from Chael’s prying mind.

  Because it is something. This night reminds me of another night, almost two years ago. A ride up another hill in another part of the world that ended in a fight to the death against an old-soul vampire.

  Avery.

  Instinctively, my hand touches the hem of my dress. I was wearing Avery’s gift that night. Just as I’m wearing Steffan’s now.

  I was driven to the house then, just as I’m being driven now.

  My throat is dry. I have the terrible feeling I shouldn’t have accepted Steffan’s invitation. Worse, I shouldn’t have brought Frey along. I may have read too much into Chael’s show of goodwill, his compassion for my mother. Was it all just a trick to win my confidence?

  Blood pounds through my veins, heat rising as the vampire seizes control.

  Frey can feel it. My skin hot against his. He turns a puzzled frown my way. “Anna?”

  Chael senses a change, too. He can’t see me in the mirror, but he is acutely aware of the transformation taking place in the seat right behind him. It makes him nervous enough to pull the car over.

  Once the car is stopped, I’m out of it, at the driver’s door in a heartbeat. I fling the door open, grab Chael by the neck and pull him out, moving too fast to give him a chance to fight back. His vampire nature flashes, then retreats. He acts like a dog showing his stomach to an alpha, submissively waiting for whatever I choose to do.

  I choose to shake him until his teeth rattle. What game are you playing?

  None. I am doing as you asked. Taking you to King Steffan.

  His mind is open, his thoughts as passive as his body.

  I shake him again. There must be more. All this talk of making history and of King Steffan’s unseating. Do you expect me to fight him?

  At this, a smile, thin, unnerving. No. Not you.

  Then who? I shove him away, stand ready to defend myself if he unleashes his beast.

  He tugs at the hem of his jacket, straightens his tie, smoothes his hair back with both hands. You are still too impulsive, Anna Strong, he says through gritted teeth and tight jaw. Has it ever occurred to you to ask first before you resort to violence?

  Not when it comes to you. Now answer the question. Who do you think is going to attack King Steffan tonight?

  Chael shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, locks his eyes with mine. Ever heard of a vampire named Vlad?

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAEL’S WORDS SNAP THE HUMAN ANNA BACK IN A HEARTBEAT.

  I stare at Chael. “Vlad is a mythical creature.” I speak the words aloud as if by doing so they will carry more conviction.

  We are all mythical creatures, is Chael’s heated but mocking reply. Or have you forgotten?

  Frey is standing beside me. I was so caught up with Chael, I hadn’t heard or seen him climb from the car. But he has obviously been there long enough to catch the gist of our conversation. His voice at my elbow makes me jump.

  “Vlad the Impaler? Not possible.”

  “Oh, then, shifter,” Chael says, his voice dripping sarcasm. “You must be sure to tell Vlad that he does not exist. Your opinion will be valuable to him.”

  Frey lunges at Chael, moving almost as fast as the panther, catching him off guard and connecting with a solid right to Chael’s jaw. Chael lands on his butt, but when he jumps to his feet, the vampire has surfaced. I step between them then, knowing unless Frey shifts, he is no match for an enraged Chael. Much as I’d love to see the arrogant Chael brought down by the panther, this is neither the time nor place.

  “Enough.” The roar of my voice, of vampire’s voice, brings both men to a halt. Their heads snap around.

  Frey’s blood is still running high, the panther lurks behind his eyes. The growl that erupts from his chest is more animal than human. Chael’s eyes flash yellow slits, the vampire full-blown.

  “Heel your pet,” Chael snarls.

  Frey lunges again. I step between them again, stop Frey with a look and an upturned hand.

  A rumbling, hostile murmur of protest spews from his gut but he backs away.

  I touch his cheek. “Not now.”

  Panther gradually retreats from his eyes. He shakes his head as if to clear it and takes another step back.

  I whirl on Chael. You should tread lightly. I stopped Frey this time, but I may not always be able to. Or want to.

  Chael has turned away, going through his grooming routine again, straightening his jacket, smoothing his black lacquered hair. His thoughts are shielded. A good thing. I imagine they are filled with images of Frey, torn and bleeding, his neck at Chael’s mouth.

  He has never seen panther in action. I glance at Frey. He is leaning back against the car but his eyes are locked on Chael. Similar scenes are most likely playing in his head, too. But in his, it is Chael’s throat torn and bleeding before he severs it completely with a snap of powerful jaws.

  The showdown will come. I’m sure of it. Just not tonight.

  I take Frey’s hand. “We need to go.”

  Frey straightens, pushing himself from the car. “What about this Vlad nonsense? You should make Chael tell you what the hell is going on.”

  Chael glares at Frey. “You will soon know what is going on. You should pray Vlad doesn’t take umbrage at your attitude and snap your neck like kindling.”

  Frey’s back stiffens. Once more, I intervene. “Enough, Chael. Get back into the car.”

  Chael moves, slowly, grudgingly, taking his place in the driver’s seat. Once Frey and I are seated, too, he steers the car onto the road.

  The silence in the car is suffocating.

  Great. This is going to be some party. I may end up acting as a referee between Frey and Chael the entire evening. I hope Steffan has lots of champagne.

  I let my eyes drift to the road, to the soft spring greenery on either side. We are still climbing. To the top, I’m sure.

  Where else would a king have his castle?

  * * *

  WHEN WE FINALLY REACH THE END OF THE PUBLIC road, we are faced with a guardhouse and tall, iron gates. A watchman, a vampire, comes to the car, glances inside, then presses a remote. The gates swing open.

  Chael drives on, up and up, the driveway bordered by a brilliant
display of spring color. Lavender and Lavendula, almond trees in full bloom, roses. I roll the window down to breathe in the fragrance.

  This may be the last peaceful moment I have tonight.

  When the house comes into view it’s a surprise, though not an entirely unexpected one. I’ve come to know that old-soul vampires do not stick with the stereotypes most often associated with them. Steffan’s castle is not a stone fortress, but a modern one built of steel and glass.

  The turnaround in front of the house is filled with cars—I’d guess close to fifty. Chael pulls up to a valet stand.

  “I thought you said one or two of the old guard would be here,” I mumble to him as he comes around to open my door.

  He shrugs and waits for me to alight, turning away quickly when it’s Frey’s turn. I smile as a guttural sound like a dog’s soft snarl rasps in Frey’s throat.

  A valet has already whisked the car away; a doorman stands on the porch. Both vampires. The double front door is gigantic, solid mahogany, at least twenty feet high and as wide across with opaque leaded-glass inserts. The glass displays a mosaic of a spider’s web, intricate, ornate, done in gold leaf.

  No spider.

  How appropriate. A work of art that also delivers a warning. The spider is inside.

  You are very perceptive. Steffan’s amused voice from the top of the porch stairs has infiltrated my thoughts. And very beautiful. Welcome to my home.

  He waits for us in the doorway, light spilling out from a tiled entryway. He is resplendent in an artfully tailored black tuxedo, the cummerbund and tie exactly the same shade as a lilac rose boutonniere. Frey takes my arm and we move to the door, Chael following behind. When we are face-to-face, Steffan holds out a hand to Frey.

  “Welcome. You are a very lucky man to have landed this woman,” he says. “Also, a very special one if Anna has chosen you as consort above all others.”

  I sense Frey bristle a little at the title “consort”—one that keeps coming up among the vampires we meet. But Steffan’s tone is not condescending and his greeting is warm. Quite a contrast from Chael and his constant, grating derision.

  Frey responds by returning the handshake and a smiling “thank you.” He gestures to the house. “And you are lucky to have such a beautiful home.”