A Stone-Kissed Sea
Page 79
“There,” he said. “He’ll have a quick death.”
He was leaving the assassin there. The sun would burn the vampire as soon as it crested the horizon.
Lucien grabbed Makeda’s hand and kicked back toward the villa, floating on his back and spreading his arms on the surface of the water. She relaxed and swam next to him, watching the sky as he led them back toward shore.
“He was going to kill you,” Makeda said.
“He was going to try.” Lucien kissed the back of her hand. “I’m quite difficult to kill.”
“Please be careful.”
“I will.” He flipped water in her face, clearly more invigorated than concerned by the fight. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I have your blood in me,” she said quietly. “It would hurt, Lucien. And the pain wouldn’t only be physical.”
Lucien didn’t say another word, but he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as they swam toward shore.
Kayseri, Turkey
They were deep underground, conferring with the regional vampire leader, who was descended directly from Saba. While Laskaris controlled the coast, he’d never controlled the interior of Asia Minor where Saba’s kin had ruled for years.
Makeda was sitting on a low bench carved into the wall of the cave, examining the intricate and vivid paintings lit by candlelight. The regional leader of Cappadocia had a palace as luxurious as Inaya’s. It was just dug into the volcanic tuff of the hills and hidden from human eyes. Lucien and Saba were sitting by a fire, drinking tea and hashing out details of their alliance with Saba and Kato’s new regime. Kato and Ziri were elsewhere; they hadn’t told anyone where they were going.
Makeda also had the feeling they were waiting. For what, she didn’t know until she caught a scent growing closer in the darkness.
She turned toward the tunnel where a man emerged. Handsome was too civilized a word for him.
Primal.
She froze instinctually, because if there was a single vision of the word predator, this man—this creature—was it.
Saba turned and rose. “Arosh.”
The man’s skin was burnished bronze. His smile cut through the gloom of the cavern as he walked toward Saba.
“My queen.” He bent and kissed her fully, murmuring something Makeda couldn’t understand against Saba’s lips.
He was tall, but not as tall as Lucien. It was his bearing that made him imposing, not his size. He wore nothing but scarred leather pants, and black hair fell to the middle of his back. When he turned his attention to Makeda, she shivered. Black tattoos marked the rise of his cheekbones, accentuating the hard planes of his face.
“And this is the little water vampire I have heard of,” he said. His face softened, and Makeda’s eyes fell to his full lips. “She is truly lovely.”
Makeda’s eyes darted to Lucien. He was glaring at Arosh but made no move toward Makeda.
“Speak, child,” Saba said. “For this one has no intention to harm you.”
Makeda spoke to Lucien. “This is the fire king?”
“Yes,” he said. “Makeda, meet Arosh.”
She kept her eyes on Lucien. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d want to have sex with him. He’s pretty frightening. That’s not a turn-on for me.”
Arosh laughed, and his dark eyes danced when she looked at him. “Now you’re just challenging me, my beauty.”
“I am not your beauty,” Makeda said.
Arosh turned his attention away from Makeda and brought Saba’s hand to his lips. “What are you scheming, my queen? Did we not have plans?”
“We had… thoughts,” Saba said. “I changed my mind.”
“It is your prerogative to do so, but I would know why.” Arosh glanced at Lucien. “But perhaps I already know.”
“My king.” Saba put Arosh’s hand at her waist. “Come to my quarters that we may speak privately. For there is much to say between us.”
“Our friends?”
“We will meet Ziri and Kato before dawn, but right now”—she rose up and pressed her full mouth to his—“I would be selfish with your attention.”
Arosh’s eyes turned lazy, sensuous, and hungry. “You command me, my queen, and I come.”
Without another word, they left the room. Lucien looked at Makeda, waited for her nod, and sat back down with the man he’d been negotiating with.
“Elia, my apologies. May we continue?”
The older man smiled. He was older than most immortals, and the candlelight showed deep lines in his face. “Of course, my friend. There are only details to sort out between us. The immortals in our region will be most happy with a new regime in Alitea, for our dealings with Istanbul grow tenser every decade.”
Lucien nodded slowly. “I appreciate your loyalty, but can we depend on you for material support?”
“Of what kind?”
“Your people.”
Elia glanced at Makeda. “Should you need feeding—”
“Warriors,” Lucien said. “Soldiers, not donors.”
Elia’s smile was guarded. “But surely the four ancients need no assistance in taking the island? Kato is the lord of the sea. Saba is… Saba. The earth falls under her command.”
“We cannot underestimate Laskaris and the council,” Lucien said. “They are near-ancients themselves. My mother and Kato are too wise to take anything for granted. We ask for four warriors, Elia. Only four.”
He was leaving the assassin there. The sun would burn the vampire as soon as it crested the horizon.
Lucien grabbed Makeda’s hand and kicked back toward the villa, floating on his back and spreading his arms on the surface of the water. She relaxed and swam next to him, watching the sky as he led them back toward shore.
“He was going to kill you,” Makeda said.
“He was going to try.” Lucien kissed the back of her hand. “I’m quite difficult to kill.”
“Please be careful.”
“I will.” He flipped water in her face, clearly more invigorated than concerned by the fight. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I have your blood in me,” she said quietly. “It would hurt, Lucien. And the pain wouldn’t only be physical.”
Lucien didn’t say another word, but he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as they swam toward shore.
Kayseri, Turkey
They were deep underground, conferring with the regional vampire leader, who was descended directly from Saba. While Laskaris controlled the coast, he’d never controlled the interior of Asia Minor where Saba’s kin had ruled for years.
Makeda was sitting on a low bench carved into the wall of the cave, examining the intricate and vivid paintings lit by candlelight. The regional leader of Cappadocia had a palace as luxurious as Inaya’s. It was just dug into the volcanic tuff of the hills and hidden from human eyes. Lucien and Saba were sitting by a fire, drinking tea and hashing out details of their alliance with Saba and Kato’s new regime. Kato and Ziri were elsewhere; they hadn’t told anyone where they were going.
Makeda also had the feeling they were waiting. For what, she didn’t know until she caught a scent growing closer in the darkness.
She turned toward the tunnel where a man emerged. Handsome was too civilized a word for him.
Primal.
She froze instinctually, because if there was a single vision of the word predator, this man—this creature—was it.
Saba turned and rose. “Arosh.”
The man’s skin was burnished bronze. His smile cut through the gloom of the cavern as he walked toward Saba.
“My queen.” He bent and kissed her fully, murmuring something Makeda couldn’t understand against Saba’s lips.
He was tall, but not as tall as Lucien. It was his bearing that made him imposing, not his size. He wore nothing but scarred leather pants, and black hair fell to the middle of his back. When he turned his attention to Makeda, she shivered. Black tattoos marked the rise of his cheekbones, accentuating the hard planes of his face.
“And this is the little water vampire I have heard of,” he said. His face softened, and Makeda’s eyes fell to his full lips. “She is truly lovely.”
Makeda’s eyes darted to Lucien. He was glaring at Arosh but made no move toward Makeda.
“Speak, child,” Saba said. “For this one has no intention to harm you.”
Makeda spoke to Lucien. “This is the fire king?”
“Yes,” he said. “Makeda, meet Arosh.”
She kept her eyes on Lucien. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d want to have sex with him. He’s pretty frightening. That’s not a turn-on for me.”
Arosh laughed, and his dark eyes danced when she looked at him. “Now you’re just challenging me, my beauty.”
“I am not your beauty,” Makeda said.
Arosh turned his attention away from Makeda and brought Saba’s hand to his lips. “What are you scheming, my queen? Did we not have plans?”
“We had… thoughts,” Saba said. “I changed my mind.”
“It is your prerogative to do so, but I would know why.” Arosh glanced at Lucien. “But perhaps I already know.”
“My king.” Saba put Arosh’s hand at her waist. “Come to my quarters that we may speak privately. For there is much to say between us.”
“Our friends?”
“We will meet Ziri and Kato before dawn, but right now”—she rose up and pressed her full mouth to his—“I would be selfish with your attention.”
Arosh’s eyes turned lazy, sensuous, and hungry. “You command me, my queen, and I come.”
Without another word, they left the room. Lucien looked at Makeda, waited for her nod, and sat back down with the man he’d been negotiating with.
“Elia, my apologies. May we continue?”
The older man smiled. He was older than most immortals, and the candlelight showed deep lines in his face. “Of course, my friend. There are only details to sort out between us. The immortals in our region will be most happy with a new regime in Alitea, for our dealings with Istanbul grow tenser every decade.”
Lucien nodded slowly. “I appreciate your loyalty, but can we depend on you for material support?”
“Of what kind?”
“Your people.”
Elia glanced at Makeda. “Should you need feeding—”
“Warriors,” Lucien said. “Soldiers, not donors.”
Elia’s smile was guarded. “But surely the four ancients need no assistance in taking the island? Kato is the lord of the sea. Saba is… Saba. The earth falls under her command.”
“We cannot underestimate Laskaris and the council,” Lucien said. “They are near-ancients themselves. My mother and Kato are too wise to take anything for granted. We ask for four warriors, Elia. Only four.”
