Byzantine Heartbreak (18 page)

Nayara lifted her head from Cáel’s shoulder and looked up at him. Her eyes were still damp, which made the green limpid and easy to drown in.

“You see?” she said, still using old Greek. “He is such an attractive man. Even your heart jumped when he spoke to you, Cáel. Tell me you found him hard to resist.”

He was coming down from the adrenaline surge Salathiel had provoked. Or else, as Ryan insisted, everything he ever said was deliberate, planned and purposeful and for some reason his brain and gut chose this moment to speak of what lay in his heart and mind. Cáel didn’t know. He just knew that he felt a great tiredness. He had been fighting against the myth of Salathiel for what felt like forever and now he’d actually met the man and found...he was just a man.

“No, I didn’t find him hard to resist at all,” he told Nayara. “Frankly, I’m stupefied, wondering what all the goddam fuss has been about for the last weeks. The last two centuries. It’s not Salathiel this is all about, Nayara. Salathiel is just the excuse. He’s a nice, tidy reason for you and Ryan to hang onto your misery and be alone together, because reaching out for love involves risk and that’s too frightening after Salathiel. You don’t want to play anymore. You’d rather be alone and loveless, because after all, you’ve got Ryan to keep you company. Except you don’t anymore, do you?”

Nayara’s eyes widened, hurt building in them.

The words kept pouring out of him. He had no idea what was driving him. Perhaps Ryan was right. He always had a reason for saying what he did. He just didn’t always know what it was. “Salathiel is an attractive man, Nayara. I don’t deny it. But I didn’t feel anything but admiration for him. How could I? The person that makes my pulse stop and my heart leap every time they walk into the room was in my arms at the time.”

Her lips parted. Her eyes widened. “But...”

Cáel groaned. “Damn it.” He pushed the hood back on her cloak and kissed her. It was the culmination of months of wanting and waiting and his body leapt to instant readiness.

Nia tasted sweeter than he had dreamed she might.

She shifted against him and her breath escaped against his lips and then she was kissing him back. Cáel thought he would explode with the pleasure that burst through his body as she pressed against him, her hand clenching his robes and pulling him to her.

A seagull’s raucous cry overhead reminded him of where they were. Cáel reluctantly let Nia go and sat back. His heart was banging against his chest and his cock was rampantly hard and throbbing under the robes. He blinked in the abruptly too-bright sunshine.

Rob cleared his throat, standing at the back of the buggy.

Nayara lifted her hood and put it back in place. She was breathing heavily. As Cáel watched, she licked her lips. Just the sight of her tongue made his pulse leap again.

The genie was out of the bottle, now, he realized. He had been riding herd on this need, subduing it, diverting it, for too long. Now it was out, it was a powerful beast indeed.

“Rob, let’s find a quiet corner somewhere,” he said in the common tongue. “And get the hell out of here and back home before someone else does something really stupid.”

Rob lifted a brow. “Speak for yourself,” he muttered, moving around to the buggy steps.

Chapter Eighteen

New York, New York, 2263 A.D.

By the time the awards ceremony itself was over, Nayara could feel herself starting to relax. All the high tension points of the evening were done with. The big one, the walk down the red carpet in front of hundreds of cameras, escorted by Cáel and Ryan, had gone off without incident.

And her dress had been an instant hit. Cybelia had reached into medieval Vienna for inspiration, using a design the courtesans themselves might have drooled over, along with modern fabrics and construction. The silvery blue thing—Nayara wasn’t really sure she could call it a dress—revealed most of her legs, most of her breasts, yet had more yardage of fabric in it than the velvet gown she had worn to the ball. It also trailed behind her in an elongated train. Cybelia seemed to like them. So did the fans. There had been other trains on other gowns this evening, too. Had she started a new fashion craze? Dionne had been crowing over it, certain that she had.

She had confirmation that she looked good in it, anyway. When Nayara had walked into the waiting lounge, just before they had left for the awards, Cáel had turned his head to look. Then he had turned around completely to face her.

Hot wanting had flickered in his eyes.

It had been instantly subdued. Hidden away. Ryan had touched his shoulder, drawing his attention and Cáel had turned away.

But she hadn’t imagined that fiery lust. Even the memory of it was enough to make her warm and start a fine trembling in her as she considered the potential behind that look.

They had returned from Constantinople two days ago and for Nayara, it had been like waking up from a long, long period of drunkenness or being drugged. She felt awake, aware, much like she did when she returned to her human state when she jumped back to the past. Only this had much more to do with her mind than her body.

Except when Cáel looked at her. Then her body became involved, too.

The kiss. That kiss. That heavenly, stolen kiss.

Why had she responded to it? She couldn’t answer that question. Her body had acted independently of her mind. She had always considered Cáel as human and beyond consideration. And now here she was, weighing up his potential as a bed mate and liking the possibilities far too much.

Besides, he was with Ryan.

Ah, but that didn’t stop you in the past
, the tiny still voice in the back of her mind whispered.

But when they had returned from Constantinople, Cáel had virtually ignored her. There had been no seduction. No conversation. Not even an apology for his brutish behaviour. The kiss had been left hanging, unspoken, a big question-mark between them every time she happened to catch him looking at her.

She had sat through the awards ceremony, clapping on cue, while she tried to solve the riddle. Ryan and Cáel sat on either side of her and she was very aware of Cáel’s warmth, on her left.

Finally, once the house lights came up and the stage floated away, she thankfully stood up. Dionne stretched, standing up next to Ryan. “There’s an after-party at the director’s place. It’s a must-be-seen thing,” she said.

Nayara’s heart sank.

“Thirty minutes,” Dionne promised. “Just enough time for the cameras to see you arriving. That’s all.”

“Where is it?” Ryan asked with a sigh.

Old Chile National Park Reserve, 2263 A.D.

The award director’s house was perched on a cliff-top overlooking the Pacific, along the South American coastline. Hover vehicles and jets whooshed into the private landing field, cluttering up the parking lot with luxury limousines and their drivers...and their bodyguards.

Keiren’s pilot dropped them all at the front door of the sprawling mansion, before lifting the limousine away and making room for the next one coming in. Kieren looked around. “It’s a bit lonely,” he remarked unhappily.

“Thirty minutes,” Dionne repeated firmly. “Smile, everyone.” Cameras were floating all around them.

They all smiled.

After a few minutes the cameras moved on and Kieren thankfully shepherded them inside. He looked around. “Two exits, a balcony over the cliff, seventy-five people,” he told his team. “Cover all the quadrants. I’ll stay inside.” He glanced at Cáel. “I’m going to hover, sir. Too many bodies to move through if I have to come in from the outside.”

“It looks like you’re not the first one here.” He nodded toward the stairs. Lined up along the wall were half a dozen men, all wearing black, all watching the party with careful gazes.

“It’s a good vantage point. I may join them.” He nodded and slipped into the crowd.

Cáel looked around. “My soul for an ouzo.”

Ryan pointed toward a big table covered in bottles and a punch bowl. “Over there.”

Cáel looked and his eyes narrowed. “That’s Assemblyman Duncan. Come and meet him, Ryan. He’s worth knowing.” They threaded their way through the people around them and Nayara lost sight of them.

She looked around. There were a lot of people standing on the balcony, probably looking at the cliffs and the sea below, but she had seen many seas and they didn’t hold that much attraction for her.

“Your friends left you alone, I noticed.”

She turned to her left to face the man, forming a polite answer.

Shock slithered through her. He was tall. Blue eyed. Abundant, unruly hair and a leonine nose. He was smiling at her with even white teeth, a pirate’s devil-may-care grin.

It was like seeing Salathiel’s brother, if he’d had one.

“I...I don’t know you,” Nayara said inadequately. Her heart was starting to beat. Much too fast. She strove to control it, to bring her symbiot back in control. Coppery spit flooded her mouth. Adrenaline. She couldn’t afford to lock everything up with an adrenaline overload now. More bad PR was the last thing they needed.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“In a way, I have,” Nayara replied. “You look a lot like a man I once knew, a long time ago. He...” She couldn’t complete the sentence. She didn’t know how. The natural reserve against talking about herself rose up automatically, but now, there was Dionne’s new command to be open, sharing. But the new style went against every ingrained instinct and habit.

“He was a dear friend, I can tell,” the man said. His smile softened. “My name is Luke.”

“Hello, Luke. I am Nayara.”

“I know. Everyone is talking about you and your companions tonight. You’re very hard to miss.” He smiled to take the rudeness out of his statement. “As lovely as you are.”

Her smile was automatic.

“Your friend, the one that looks like me. He has gone now, hasn’t he?” Luke said.

She nodded.

“He was a vampire, too?” He said ‘vampire’ with no hesitation or coyness.

Nayara relaxed a little. “Yes.”

“It must have been traumatic for you. There are so few ways for you to die. When one of you do pass on, after so long a life, it is a tragedy.”

Nayara waited for the pain to rise in her. The upset. But it didn’t. She felt a touch of sadness, but that was all. “Yes, it was a pity,” she told Luke. “Salathiel was a great man in his time.”

“Ah, that was his name, then. I will remember it.” Luke smiled at her. His eyes were really an incredible blue. Much more pure than Lathe’s had ever been. “Do you enjoy your life, Nia?” he murmured. “All that time alone on the station with no one who cares for you?”

“I have people who care for me,” she replied calmly. It was really quite warm in here. Warm and comfortable. She sighed and relaxed.

“Who cares for you, Nia?” Luke asked.

“Ryan.” And Cáel. Cáel cares for me.

Does he? Very much?

She struggled with the answer, knowing the truth deep in her heart, but unable to speak it aloud.

Tell me this way, Nia.

Yes, he cares for me very much
, she whispered in her mind, where only she and Luke could hear.

But you will never have a family... Luke said sadly.

I could. I could have a family like—

Nayara stared at Luke, the deep inhibition against speaking the deeply held secret pulling her from her cozy dreamlike state. “Who are you?” she demanded, stepping away from him.

“No, you don’t,” Luke snarled and grabbed the back of her head. His other hand slapped against the side of her face. She felt him thrust like a knife into her mind. He pummelled his way to the knowledge she tried to shield from him and wrenched it from her. She
felt
it. It was torn from her like flesh from the bone.

He stepped away from her, his grin victorious. “So...” he breathed. “You can breed, vampire.”

But Nayara had seen his disguise disintegrate while he had been in her mind.

“Gabriel,” she breathed.

“Surprise,” he told her. He spun on one foot and disappeared.

“
Kieren
!” she screamed, sick horror spreading through her.

* * * * *

High Earth Atmosphere, over the Pacific. 2263 A.D.

“Brenden is already there,” Cáel said, as Kieren banked the limousine sharply to the starboard. “He’ll question my staff and find out who Gabriel got at and have them ready for us when we get there.”

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Ryan complained.

“Sir, this is a Mark II Astin Martin. There
is
nothing faster,” Kieren said calmly.

“I could jump there faster.”

“You can’t take the both of us,” Cáel said. “And I can’t guarantee a landing at the other end. Patience, Ryan. Brenden is good. He’ll figure it out.”

But Cáel was aware of his own barely contained fury, bottled up like an unexploded bomb inside him. “They took Nia back to the station?” he asked.

“Justin and Christian jumped over and escorted her and Dionne back,” Kieren said. “I assigned a man each to the pair of them.”

Cáel gripped the back of the pilot’s chair, his fingers digging in. He had heard Nayara’s scream from across the room and his blood had run cold. By the time he had reached Nayara, pushing and ramming his way through people, a crowd had formed around her. Kieren was holding her up with one arm, a lethal looking gun in the other, as he scanned the room.

Nia turned to Cáel and threw herself into his arms as he pushed his way into the space formed by the circle around her. “It was Gabriel,” she cried softly into his ear. “He was here and he was in my mind. Cáel, he knows about the child!”

Ryan stepped up next to them and Cáel tried to give Nia to him, but she simply wrapped her arms about both of them. She was trembling badly. Ryan picked her up around the waist, settling her on her feet again. He lifted her chin. “Hold it together for a few moments more, Nia. Do you hear me?”

She nodded.

“I need you to reach out to Brenden, Justin, Christian, Rob. Get Justin and Christian down here. Tell Rob to pull up the drawbridge. Send Brenden to Cáel’s island.” Ryan looked at Cáel. “You need to give the order, Cáel. They’re your staff.”

Cáel nodded. “Do it.” His voice came out hoarse.

“Tell Brenden to start questioning the staff. There’s a leak somewhere. That’s how Gabriel knew we would be here tonight. Christ, even we didn’t know. It’s someone Dionne has spoken to. Tell Brenden that.”

Nia’s eyes drifted shut as she concentrated. They stayed silent, letting her talk to the station via her implant. She sighed, her arms tightening about them. “It is done,” she said softly.

There was a murmur and gasps, mutters and a woman gave a little die-away scream. The crowd parted and one of Cáel’s Wardens threaded his way through, along with Christian, wearing a long sword on his hip and a long blade on the other, strapped on over a pair of designer jeans and Justin, in a bushman’s overcoat. Both vampires pushed their way through the crowd, their eyes on Nayara.

Dionne trailed behind them. Her face was white to the point of illness and her eyes were very large. Justin had hold of her wrist.

“Dionne is not the enemy here,” Cáel told him shortly.

“She was the only one who knew where you would be,” Justin pointed out.

“My staff are all human. Gabriel preys on human minds,” Cáel said.

“He was in mine,” Nia said. “I’m not human.”

The silence that greeted her words was profound.

Ryan shoved his hand through his hair. “We start with Cáel’s staff,” he amended. “And we go from there. Christian, Justin, take Nia home.” He cupped her cheek and kissed it.

Nia turned her face up towards Cáel, her eyes brimming with unspoken words and emotions. Cáel’s world seemed to come to a shining, glittering halt. He kissed her. It was the lightest, most chaste of touches of his lips, but his whole body came instantly alert. “Go with them,” he told her. “We’ll deal with this.”

She gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Cáel dared to look at Ryan. Ryan was watching him, with no emotion showing on his face. But there was a shine to his eyes that told Cáel there was plenty he would say if they didn’t have an audience.