Prince of Power (5 page)

She rested her head against the door after she pulled it shut. Her heart hammered harder in her chest than it ever had when facing an enemy.
Was
he an enemy? Boy, she hoped to hell she was playing this thing right. Not a chance she was going to get any sleep, but she grabbed a blanket from the linen closet anyway, ready to hit the sofa.

A familiar rush lit up Tyra's veins. Only someone whose blood she'd drunk more of than Anton's would do that. She was aware of that vampire's approach only seconds before a thuddy rap came at the door. Siddoh, her old lover.

Anton had always taken pride in the fact that he was nothing—
nothing
—like his father. Yet here he stood in such a blind rage that he shook from it. Dying to rip a vampire's heart out and eat it whole. He could almost taste the fibrous muscle between his teeth.

But it wasn't an indiscriminate desire. Not just any vampire, but the one uttering the low murmurs on the other side of Tyra's bedroom door. That vampire had shown up a few minutes earlier, and he knew her real fucking well.
Knew
her
in “that way.” Anton would have bet his life on it.

The intense desire to slice the bastard from stem to stern might have been more alarming, but it clashed with Anton's effort to keep his feet glued to the floor, under penalty of the painful death Tyra had promised him. He cared far more about pleasing her than he did about the potential dangers of facing down the enemy on the other side of the door.

“Siddoh, I'm fine. Really.”

“You look exhausted, Ty. Listen, if you're having trouble sleeping again I could—”

Anton's fists tightened. The rest of the sentence was muffled, but Anton could only imagine what the vampire would be willing to do to help Tyra sleep.
Over
my
dead
fucking
body, you son of a bitch.

“I'm okay, really. In fact, I just got back from the shelter and I was about to turn in. You're right, I am tired. You should go get some rest too, right? It's awfully early in the afternoon for you to be awake.”

“Hey, listen. I'm not trying to tell you what to do here, but don't you think you need to take a break from everything? The fighting and the volunteer work. You're spreading yourself too thin. Get your head on straight. Make sure you're a hundred percent and all that.”

“You're absolutely right. I'm going to, I swear. I needed to go over there and check on things, you know? I mean, I said I was leaving to go on vacation and then I just disappeared. But you make an excellent point, and as soon as you go, I intend to get in bed and get some sleep. Like I said, you should go do that too. I imagine it's been hard on you without Lee around to help.”

There was an awkward and pregnant pause, during which the male's footsteps sounded like he was roving around the room. Was he looking for something? Did the vampires suspect Anton was here?

“Okay, I wanna know what the hell is up with you, Ty.”

Shit
.

“Siddoh, I don't know what you're talking about. Seriously, I'm really tired. Now would you please get out of here so I can do that resting thing you just lectured me about?”

“All right, Ty. You go ahead and deny it, but I know you, and something weird is going on. I can sense your agitation, and yet you're standing there being all calm and agreeable. You've never been so freaking polite to anybody, babe, not even to me. Not even when we were fucking.”

Anton's toes hit the tops of his shoes. “I knew it,” he whispered. He wasn't sure when or how he had moved those last couple of paces to the door or put his hand on the knob. He did know he was going to tear that asshole limb from—

“Stop!” It wasn't clear whether Tyra's command was directed at the vampire she'd referred to as Siddoh or if X-ray vision was one of her many superpowers, but the authority in her voice stilled Anton's hand as it was about to turn the knob. “Look, just stop, okay? Siddoh, I was trying to be polite and calm because everyone keeps worrying about my health and I didn't want you running to Thad or sending Brayden to poke and prod at me again. I need some damn space so I can deal with what happened and get back to normal, but I don't need your help to do it, except for you to leave so I can get some rest. Please?”

There was a deep sigh followed by some rustling noises that could have been the two sharing a hug. Anton did his level best to not picture it or anything, but it was a damn good thing
he
couldn't see through the door. As it was, he was amazed he hadn't managed to crush the brass knob in his grip. He swore he could've melted it right then.

There was more talking. Anton didn't listen.
Couldn't
listen. He struggled to breathe, to calm the rage, to control the shaking before he did something really stupid. But there was that old saying about the best-laid plans, and as soon as soon as Anton's ears caught the click of a latch, he barreled out of Tyra's bedroom with nothing in his head except confronting her.

She turned to him with her eyes narrowed and arms akimbo. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

His mouth on Tyra's silenced whatever admonishment she had been working to dole out. They were on the floor in no time, and her body was
perfect
underneath his. Hard and muscular and soft and feminine all at the same time, and she smelled so sweet and delicious. Like winter air and apples. It was so good to have her body under his. A couple of times before his confrontation with Tyra—before her coma—he'd dared to lie in his cot at the shelter and imagine holding her this way. Touching her.

The full bells-and-whistles reality blew the fantasy out of the water.

He was hard and ready, and couldn't hold back from pressing his erection against the giving juncture of her thighs. It was a rush better than any other Anton could imagine when her hips softened, her thighs parting a little to accommodate him. At the same time her lips, which had started out pressed in a severe line, yielded and opened. Her tongue slid against his, her fangs grazing him ever so slightly as he adjusted the fit of their mouths and then moved in for more.

Their bodies melted together. Anton's fingers traveled. They tangled in the springy curls at the nape of her neck, and at the same time his tongue probed and tasted. Ah, so that was the source of the apple scent: gum. It felt so right, so natural to be with her like this.

At least it did until Tyra flipped both of them over and kneed him in the balls.

“Shit.” He wound up on his back, disconcerted and nauseous, with her elbow in his chest.

Her hard, dark stare was incongruent with her heavy, ragged breath and kissed-up lips. “What the
fuck
do you think you're doing?”

***

Tyra squinted at him from across a rack at Milligan's Army Surplus. “What are you, a thirty-two, thirty-two?”

“Awkward” didn't begin to describe the mood in Tyra's home over the past twenty-four hours. The initial period after “the incident” had involved barely speaking. After that, they had made polite small talk as if they were two people waiting at the dentist's office, not… whatever the hell they were to each other.

Finally, they had discussed strategy and timing. Their plans to “lay siege” to his father's stronghold, as Tyra had so lightly put it. She was clearly determined to make this a suicide mission, and he was equally determined to see that didn't happen. After all the talking, they had showered and eaten and tiptoed around each other some more until Tyra had announced that Anton's clothing would not do at all.

In this entire debacle of course, that was their
real
problem.

He shook his head. “If you're asking my clothing size, I don't know.”

Now she looked mad. He glanced around for some indication of why. He had been careful not to even come close to touching her since that kiss. Boy, had he learned his lesson there. “What did I do wrong?”

“How can you not even know what size pants you wear?”

Now didn't seem like the time to explain that he hadn't needed to know his pants size during his entire existence as a full-grown adult. He looked around again, this time for signs of a bathroom. “I could go check the tag of these ones I have on, I guess.”

She held a pair of black pants up in front of him. “Whatever. Come on, this place is going to be closing soon. Let's get you changed and find something to eat so we can head out. These look about right. Here. I got you a couple of shirts and a fleece jacket as well.”

She clattered past him with a bunch of stuff. Admittedly, he hadn't totally been paying attention. Army surplus stores carried a ton of cool shit, and he kept getting distracted. He didn't even know what some of the stuff was. He was checking out a display of shoes when he realized she was at the cash register.

“Shit, Tyra.” The blue digital numbers read $158.97. He hadn't been thrilled at the idea of her buying him a pair of pants. But okay, if they ran into a fight, doing battle in blue jeans was less than ideal. Ideal would be wearing his old wizard robes. This? No. Hell no.

“What?” The look on her face was absolutely not to be believed.

“What do you mean, ‘what?'” He'd grabbed her wrist in the middle of handing her credit card to an older man behind the counter who was probably more than a little concerned about Anton's attitude. He let go of Tyra so fast she might as well have been radioactive. “For fuck's sake,” he whispered, “I can't let you pay for all of that.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You pay for it.”

He gritted his teeth together. He'd been doing that a lot since meeting Tyra face to face.

“Right, so I'll pay then,” she said. She handed the card to the man behind the counter. “We want to get some hunting in before the season's over.” She turned back to Anton, a strange closed-mouth smile plastered on her face. “It's our first time going together.”

“Well, that's nice.” The man behind the counter smiled approvingly as he rang up their purchases. “You know, my wife and I go every year together. She always said she wasn't into it, but when she bagged her first deer, she was hooked. It's a great bonding experience.”

All the breath squeezed out of Anton's lungs when Tyra threw a surprise arm around his shoulder. “We'll just bet it is.” Mother of mercy, she had strong arms.

“You know, my wife even collects guns and goes to the shooting range with me now. You guys shoot?”

“Absolutely,” Tyra replied.

What the hell? Why was she having a conversation with this guy? Wasn't the idea to get the hell out of there? The arm around Anton's shoulder squeezed tighter. “Well, I shoot. I'm trying to get him into it.”

“Now there's something you don't hear every day. Little woman'll make a man out of you yet, huh, boss?”

Heat swept Anton's body head to toe. He forced a smile. “You bet.”

New conviction to respect boundaries be damned. Two could play at this game. He threw an arm around Tyra and returned the too-hard, not really affectionate squeeze. “Come on, honey. Daddy needs dinner and a beer.”

He gave an exaggerated wink to the guy behind the counter.

She smiled tightly and squeezed even harder. If they kept this up, he was going to wind up with a cracked rib. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

He opened his mouth to speak when they left the store but she held up a finger.

Finally, when they reached the car, she said, “‘Daddy needs dinner and a beer.' Are you kidding me?”

She was biting her lip, and her cheeks were flushed. Anton couldn't hold the laughter in. So much for being pissed off at her. “Hey,” he said, gasping to catch his breath. “I was playing along. What was that about, anyway?”

She leaned her head back and breathed deeply. He tried not to notice how pretty her cheeks were, stained with red like that, and how her chest rose and fell gracefully under the V-neck of her T-shirt. “You never know who's listening or watching. The wizards… well, your… the wizards…” She shook her head. “They're all over the place. And we're starting to suspect that they hide in plain sight. I've never been as good at detecting them—you—them. Maybe because I'm part human.” She shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, I guess.”

He swallowed. “I guess that makes sense. I don't honestly know what he's got them doing these days. I've obviously been out of the loop.” He put a hand on the bag of clothing in her lap. “I'm not happy about this, Tyra.”

She honestly seemed incredulous. “What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to buy me a pair of pants. I agreed to one pair of pants. One. For practical reasons and because I have no money right now. But what the hell was the rest of that stuff?”

If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she shrank back. “It wasn't that much.”

“Tyra, this is more than I've spent on clothes in probably my entire life.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. That move was already getting old. “You can't be serious.”

“Why do you think the wizards wear those stupid robes all the time?” Anton clunked his head back against the window glass. “They're easy to fight in, and they're cheap. Bolt of fabric, and teach a few of us peons how to sew. No need to buy anybody clothes. Bad enough the Master's gotta feed us—
them—
and give everyone a place to sleep.”

A hand landed on his knee. Reluctantly Anton met Tyra's gaze, expecting sadness or pity or… he wasn't sure what. What he hadn't expected were the teeth sinking into her full lips, the tiny lift to the corners of her mouth, and the sparkle of humor in her brown eyes. “Do you really know how to sew?”

He jerked. His body was hot again, although Tyra had barely gotten the heat going in the car. Uncomfortable prickles danced over his skin. Her amusing little jab landed squarely in his gut, and suddenly he couldn't sit still. If he looked down at himself just then, he'd probably have seen a hole straight through him to the seat back.

“You know what?” The sound of the clothing bag was deafening when he crushed the plastic material to shove it back into her lap. “I managed to get out of having to cut open one of your brethren a time or two by being useful in other ways, so it's not a fucking joke to me.”