He had removed himself from the world over three hundred years ago. No doubt everything had changed. Every now and then, when his curiosity surfaced, he would skulk down to the towns at the base of the mountains and observe the humans. They rode around in something they called a car and talked into tiny black contraptions that fit in the pockets of their blue pants. There was so much he would have to learn if he were to return with Falcon. He could not begin to think of ruling his people before he became educated about the ways of this new strange world.
Was he ready? Could he handle such an enormous change?
Was he stable enough to return? He had not fed properly; the vampire in him was hungry, desperate. Could he be trusted around humans or around his Clan members? Kings in the past had been driven mad by the death curse and turned on their own people. Would he do the same?
He turned his gaze upward, studying Falcon. Hadrian would not tell him that the Death Curse had marked him. Before his decent into madness, the curse had settled upon him. The attacks on his mind were far and few between then and he had been able to hide it. When he renounced his throne, the pain had stopped, the curse releasing its hold since he was no longer king. Though painful memories, guilt, shame, and hate still clawed at his soul.
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The curse will attack again. I cannot escape it or my madness.
He could return, reclaim his throne, restore his land to order and peace, then pass on to the great beyond, embrace the true death bestowed upon every vampire ruler by the Shaw witches.
Yes, he would return and he would keep all his secrets locked away. He would bury the madness brushing at his mind, the madness caused by the death of his brother and the effects of the curse.
Clearing his throat, he clasped his hands behind his back and raised his head. “I will need your help, Falcon. I do not want anyone to see me like this.”
Falcon’s eyes lit with a strange light Hadrian had not seen in centuries, hope.
“I cannot guarantee that I will stay and there is no telling whether or not I will be able to…'handle this',” he said, using Falcon’s terminology.
“I will see to it that you get well,” Falcon assured him.
Hadrian’s smile was slow to form.
And I will pray that my dark
memories, haunting secrets, and the curse of death will loosen their
cold vise-like grips on my soul.
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Kerstyn nibbled on the cap of her pen as she slowly circled the display of Viking armor she had just finished setting up.
“Where am I going to put you?” she whispered, her eyes dropping to the drawing of the showroom in her hand.
“It would go well with the weapons you are placing along the right wall.”
Turning, she smiled. “Gannon, I believe that is the first time you have spoken all day. Are you growing tired of being my shadow?”
“Not at all, my lady. It is an honor to protect you.” Kerstyn did not know how to respond. Being referred to as “my lady” was downright weird.
“Would you like some more coffee?” he asked. “You are looking tired.”
Kerstyn raised a brow. “Are you single, Gannon?”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed at her odd question.
“Let me give you a tip, never tell a woman she looks tired. It can be misunderstood and take on the meaning of ‘you look old’.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he said with a light laugh.
“But I would like another coffee; it’s the only thing keeping me on my feet today. I’m getting too old for partying and staying up late,” she laughed.
“You really ought to get your rest.”
“Shouldn’t you be the one sleeping right now; the sun is out.” He laughed again and shook his head. “Would you like another light, white chocolate mocha?”
“Yes, please.”
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“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”
“Like I could. I saw the guards posted at the entrance of the museum and I’ve noticed the security cameras following me like a hawk. I’ll be good, promise.”
He nodded and headed off to the coffee cart that had been stationed just outside the museum per Dimitri’s request.
Kerstyn turned back to the armor. Gannon was right, it would work well along the right wall with the weapons. Walking over to her makeshift desk, a folding card table, she studied the blueprint of what would be the Viking showroom. Scribbling down a note about the armor, she began to sift through the photos of the pieces Dimitri was having shipped from his museum in New York. Despite all the hard work she had done today, planning and mapping out the exhibit, she was nowhere near finished.
Tossing her pen on the table, she straightened her back and stretched her arms over her head. Exhaustion had crept into her bones and she hoped the coffee would help.
Too bad I can’t stand energy drinks. They might have the stuff I
need to wake up
she thought.
As she stretched, she wondered if Dimitri could alleviate drowsiness like he could pain. She laughed at her own thoughts as her gaze flickered over to where they had almost made love. Her body tingled as she remembered how it felt to have her breasts against the wall, his hands on her hips as his breath hissed against her neck.
God, the things he did to her. It only took a look, a word, or a caress from him to turn her body into a raging inferno of need. She knew of lust, infatuation, and the type of over-the-moon and past-the-stars kind of love, but this was so much more. Their attraction went way beyond lust, infatuation, and even love. The sensations both excited and frightened her. It was pure, raw, and primal.
Such intense feelings fell in the category of obsession and addiction and she knew both had infected her. Her body craved his as her soul longed for him to claim her. Everything about them felt right as if this all were meant to happen.
This was all like something out of a movie. Vampires. Witches.
Shape-shifters. Curses. Fate.
Was her destiny truly tied to Dimitri’s? Were they intended for each other? Was there some master plan at work?
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Shaking her head, she sighed and drew her fingers through her hair.
“Now is not the time to worry about all that,” she told herself.
“It will only bring on a stress headache and I’ve had my fair share of those.”
“Do you talk to yourself often?”
Kerstyn jumped at the sound of Gannon’s deep voice.
Swinging around, she snapped, “Do vampires get a kick out of sneaking up on people?”
“You should learn to pay attention to your surroundings,” he said and smiled at her glare. “Coffee?” He held the cup out to her, a peace offering.
Kerstyn snatched the paper cup with a grumbled “thank you” and turned her attention back to the photo pile on the table.
“It is almost five. When would you like to call it a night?” he asked, coming to her side.
Kerstyn shrugged and sipped the hot, sweet liquid. Heaven.
She peeked at Gannon from beneath her lashes. He stood just over six-feet and was well-muscled. His face was handsome, his features strong, defined, and slightly dark.
Dropping her eyes back to her work, she asked, “Are you of Native American descent?”
“I’m a half-breed.”
His confirmation and use of terms sparked her curiosity.
Turning her back to the table, focusing her attention on Gannon, she asked, “Do you mind me asking?”
“Not at all. Dimitri warned me about your curiosity.” She smiled. Her vampire knew her well. “I could have used a vampire friend in college. Would have helped so much when it came to research papers and projects.”
He laughed and unscrewed the cap to his water bottle, “What would you like to know?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable sharing. I don’t want to pry.” Taking a swig of the water, he drew his hand across his mouth,
“Well, my mother was white from Northern Europe. Shaw territory.
My father was a Cherokee healer. Interesting pair, huh?”
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“Well, you certainly turned out handsome. How did your parents meet?”
“Thanks. They were good people. My father…” He smiled, his gaze turning distant. “They died when I was fifteen.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“Everything was hard at that time.” He shook his head.
“Anyway, my mortal life ended during the March, I was twenty-two.”
“March? Do you mean the Trail of Tears in 1838?” He nodded. “We were being ‘relocated’,” he said with a snort.
“I had been giving my rations to the orphaned children whose parents had either died of disease or exhaustion. In the end, my compassion is what led to my demise. I was weak from hunger and fell out of rank.
The soldiers beat me, hoping I would get up, but I couldn’t move. My body had given up on me. They left me for dead along the side of the trail. The blood that trickled from my wounds drew a small group of vampires to me.” He took another drink of the water. “They were all outcasts, only they were not bastard vampires. They had been nobles of the Validus Clan banished for inciting civil war. Needless to say, their blood was powerful. They stood over me, watching me while I struggled to hold onto my mortal life. Speaking in a strange language, they seemed to argue until one stepped forward. I don’t know his name and that night was the first and last time I’ve ever seen him.”
“He changed you?”
“Yes, he said I would be strong and that I was worthy.” Gannon shrugged. “I don’t know what made me worthy of being a vampire, but what's done is done. There is no going back.”
“That’s a surprisingly good attitude you have.”
“No sense in trying to fight what you are,” he said.
She nodded. He had a point.
“So, they changed me and brought me to a small shack where they left me to find my own way in life after death.”
“They just abandoned you?”
How horrible,
she thought.
He
must have been so confused, lost, and, no doubt, in pain.
“Pretty much,” he chuckled. “Don’t be surprised, it happens often when we bastards are made. Not long after, I somehow found my way to New Orleans and stumbled into a saloon Gabriel owned. I had
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started a fight that Gabriel felt he had to finish and, from that point on, I’ve been his sidekick. Happy ending.”
“Happy ending? Seems like an interesting beginning to me.”
“Yeah, I suppose it was.”
She laughed, “You are truly amazing. Dimitri feels as if being a vampire is a curse.”
“Don’t get me wrong, my lady,” Gannon said, “this life is a curse and I wouldn’t wish it upon my greatest enemy.” Kerstyn nodded slowly as she thought about his words. Gannon seemed so upbeat, yet he too disliked being a vampire. Was it really so horrible? With a shrug, she cast aside the thought. Dimitri would never change her therefore she would never know. He was dead set against turning anyone and that both hurt and comforted her.
“So, what's next?” Gannon asked, his voice slapping Kerstyn from her thoughts. Shaking her head, she violently shoved her mixed emotions aside. She had plenty of time to dwell on them later.
“I need to figure out where I am going to put the Viking longship,” she said, twisting around to gaze at the photos again. “I was thinking of placing it in the center of the room.”
“It would be cool in the middle.”
“You know, Gannon, you have hardly spoken a word all day and yet you can’t seem to stop talking now.”
“Have you noticed the time? The museum is closed.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the largest threat is gone, though when I was getting coffee, I asked the guards to do a sweep of the museum just in case anyone left a mysterious looking device or a bag behind,” he explained.
“Do you really think a vampire would come here during the day? Plus, Gabriel has this building wired like Fort Knox.”
“No, very few can resist sleep when the sun is high and there are even fewer who can face its rays and survive. During the day, we are concerned about humans. Ven could have hired a human to track you down or worse.”
“Why do I feel I’m trapped inside a movie?” she said under her breath. “I’m the attractive female caught in a vampire war in Las Vegas.” Looking up, she said, “Thanks for protecting me, Gannon.” He
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smiled and she continued, “Next on the list is the map of the Vikings'
raiding and trading routes.” She studied the empty walls. “I think it should go to the left and,” she snatched up a photo of golden plates, crucifixes, ornate jewelry, and various coins, “their loot can go in a display case below the map.”
“Some nice stuff, definitely worth raiding and pillaging.” Kerstyn scrunched her nose at Gannon’s comment. Viking era was her specialty, but the blood and gore was hardly pleasant.
“This is a long shot, but I’ll suggest it anyway,” Gannon said, again drawing Kerstyn’s attention from her work. “Gabriel hates talking about his past. When I say hates, I mean loathes, despises, and detests it with a passion at a level of intensity that demands admiration.”
“Exactly, where are you going with this?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. If the tall, blond vampire didn’t already intimidate her, he did now.
“He lived during this time period,” he said, waving his hand at the photos.
“Was he a Viking?” she asked, her heart speeding up with excitement. Could she be working with a real Viking? Gabriel was tall, broad, blond, and menacing.