Atticus slung the heavy wool cloak around his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head as he stepped out of the manor and into the rain. The sound of the rainfall echoed in his ears as the mud from the dirt lane splashed up to stain the bottom of his boots. He didn't hate the English weather as much as Merle but even he was getting tired of this incessant rain and the mud that accompanied it.

He made his way toward the stable and threw back the hood of his cloak to shake the rain from it. The stable was nearly empty except for the young vampire boy feeding the horses. "I'd like to have my horse saddled."

The boy's eyes shot past him to the driving rain beyond the stable doors. "Yes milord."

Atticus turned to watch the rain as it beat against the ground and splashed water out of the puddles forming. It was crazy of him to go out in this weather but he couldn't bring himself to stay inside the manor for one more minute. Mainly because he was tired of listening to his father and his noble cohorts fight over who would rule next. What was making it exceedingly difficult to decide was that none of them seemed to covet the position of king, not anymore.

Merle had slipped away an hour ago with a serving girl and as soon as Atticus had found his chance, he'd also disappeared from the main hall. The stable boy led his horse over to him and handed him the reins. "Your horse milord."

Atticus took the reins from him, placed his foot into the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle. He pulled the hood back over his head and nudged Drago into the rain. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't feel the cold drops of water against his skin as he led the animal down the road and into the woods. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to get as far from his father and his politics as he could. His head had begun to pound as he'd listened to all of those men talk about who was the strongest, how much power they each had, and squabble about the possibility that they might have even a smidgen of that power taken away.

They're determination not to be the next king only increased his certainty that at least some, if not all of them, had gotten together to kill the last king. He wasn't entirely sure what the point of that would have been if none of them were vying for the throne now, but he had a feeling he'd find out over the next couple of weeks, hopefully not months. By then he'd be a prune if this rain continued and Merle might actually attempt to swim back to Italy if he was forced to keep his ship moored at the dock.

Merle already spent most of his nights on his ship, preferring to sleep on the vessel than at his father's manor. All he would need was the word to go and Merle would be throwing the lines off and sailing from here as quickly as possible. Atticus knew exactly how he felt, but he wasn't given the choice on where he could sleep. As his father liked to constantly remind him, even when there was a king on the throne, because of his pure bloodline Atticus was considered a prince amongst their kind, and princes didn't sleep on ships when they had newly built manors to reside in.

There were times he thoroughly enjoyed what his position in life offered him. He had plenty of money, lots of power and a bevy of women at his service. There were other times, like when his life choices were taken away from him, that he despised his social status and cursed his position. Being forced back to England and into the manor was one of those times.

He'd been so focused on his thoughts that he hadn't realized where he was until he entered the clearing where just yesterday he had met Genevieve and her sister. Pulling the hood back from his head, he wiped away the rain that had beaded across his brow and looked around the clearing. The trees glistened with water, the air held a misty quality to it as fog crept through the underbrush and stole across the ground like spirits drifting through a graveyard.

With the fog came the scent of mint and aster on the air. This wasn't where he had intended to come when he'd left the manor but something had drawn him here, or rather someone. He kicked his foot free of the stirrup and dismounted Drago as she stepped around the same large elm as yesterday. The hood of the deep red cloak she wore was pulled over her head but he could still make out her pale skin and the black hair that framed her face.

"Are you lost?" she inquired.

"Sometimes I think I am." Those weren't the words he'd meant to say, in fact he'd meant to laugh off her question, but now that the words were out of his mouth he realized just how true they actually were.

Her raven eyes flickered over his clothes as her forehead furrowed. He didn't know what he was expecting as a response, something terse and indifferent, maybe even no response at all, but when she spoke she didn't respond in either of those ways. "Sometimes we are all lost, at one point in time or another in our lives."

He found himself entranced by her peculiar insight. "I suppose we are. What happens if we are never found though?"

"Well." She stepped away from the tree and climbed gracefully down a couple of rocks so that she was level with him. "I like to believe that there's always something, or someone, that will help us find our way."

"And what happens if we don't recognize the help when we find that something or someone?"

"Then fate hits us over the head until it wakes us up."

He chuckled at her answer but he had to force himself to keep his hands down by his side as the urge to push the hood back from her face took hold of him. "And what happens if we find it but then lose it again?"

Her smile slid away as she frowned thoughtfully. "Well I suppose that would be a sad life then wouldn't it? To be forever lost."

"I suppose it would," he agreed, but lately he felt like he would be lost forever.

He didn't belong amongst the vampires, or at least not where his father thought he belonged. The idea of sitting in a room and arguing with a bunch of powerful, greedy old vampires made him consider running as far as he could, but he knew that would never be possible. If something were to happen to his father, he would have to step forward to take his place. Immortals weren't immortal, not when they were climbing over top of one another, killing kings, and stabbing each other in the back in order to gain more power.

As much as he didn't want to take his father's place, it was a fact that he had resigned himself to years ago. Rogue vampires were hunted as it was, if he were to ever try and shirk his duties by disappearing, he would be pursued relentlessly.

There were far more pleasant things to think about now though, he realized as she shifted before him. His gaze flickered past her but he didn't detect the aroma of roses amongst the trees. "Where is your sister?" he inquired.

Her shoulders went back, her jaw clenched as her hands folded before her. "She is not with me today, milord."

The use of the word milord and the terse tone of her voice surprised him. He didn't know what he had done to provoke her. He would have thought that perhaps she was jealous of her sister and his question had pricked that jealousy. That wasn't the impression he got from her though as she shifted her stance to a position that was more protective and her hands unfolded to fall before her.

"Where is she?" It probably would have been better to change the topic but he liked the fire in her eyes as she stood before him. Most were so afraid of him and his heritage that they didn't dare defy him or glare at him as if they were about to slap him, she was doing exactly that and he found her amusing.

"In the village. I'll give her your regards."

She went to step away from him but his hand shot out before he could stop it. His fingers touched together as they encircled her bicep. Through the thick material of the clothing she wore, he could feel the tightening of muscle beneath his touch. Her mouth parted, her eyes reminded him of those of a cornered deer when they flew up to his. She remained rigid in his grasp but she didn't try to pull away from him. Her gaze fell briefly to his lips before flying back up to meet his.

Her eyes on his mouth had caused his hand to clench involuntarily around her arm. He almost pulled her a step closer but he was concerned that she would bolt if he did. The aroma of asters became stronger as her gaze fell to his mouth again. He inhaled her sweet scent and instinctively leaned closer to her. Never in his life had he craved the feel of a woman's skin as badly as he craved hers right now, but still he kept a safe distance so he didn't frighten her with his intensity.

"What are you doing out here?" he inquired.

Her hand fluttered up to brush back her dampened hair. "I like to walk in the woods."

"I'll walk with you."

***

Genny didn't know how to respond to that. The idea of walking with him was entirely exciting and intriguing but she knew it could also be risky. It had been awhile since she'd had anything to do with the aristocratic vampires; Marie had once dated a servant employed by a nobleman and they'd stayed in the manor for a month before the relationship had fallen apart. She had barely interacted with the lord and lady of the manor but what she remembered of them was that they were condescending, egotistical, and sometimes cruel. She'd encountered a few nobles that had seemed decent but they'd been few and far between.

She wanted to believe that he was kind; especially when he was staring at her with those beautiful eyes that were so piercing she found she couldn't look away from them. His shoulder length black hair hung in damp tendrils around his broad cheekbones. He was exceedingly handsome with his stubble-roughened square jaw, thin-bridged nose, full mouth, and carved cheekbones.

But handsome didn't equal kind, that was a lesson she'd learned often over the years. Marie had been one of the most beautiful women Genny had ever seen, but there was no soul beneath her mother's faultless exterior. She supposed, to many, Marie would still be considered beautiful but Genny now found her to be the ugliest woman she'd ever encountered.

Genny's gaze darted around the woods as she realized that she was alone with him. Seeming to sense her thoughts he released her arm and took a small step back. "I mean you no harm; I would simply like to walk with you."

His strange accent caused a little thrill to go through her. From what she could tell it was a mixture of Italian, English, Spanish, French and some others that she couldn't recognize. She thought it would have been an odd combination to have, but she found his voice as exotic and enthralling as he was.

"Why?" she managed to ask when she found her voice.

It was a smile that would disarm almost anyone she was sure, but she wasn't so easily fooled. He seemed to realize this as he took another step away from her and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'll leave if you would like me to."

She thought over those words as the first bird began to sing again. The water dripping off of the leaves and landing on the mossy rocks around them sounded exceedingly loud as he awaited her decision. She pondered what he would do if she did ask him to leave but those were not the words forming on the tip of her tongue.

They weren't human, they didn't abide by the silly human rules that a woman alone with a man was considered ruined or that she was a prostitute. Sexuality amongst vampires was often used to climb the social ladder. Marie had used it to the fullest of her ability over the years and continued to do so now, although with much less success these days. Genny knew she wouldn't be ruined by taking a walk with him but he was stronger than her, she could sense that in the aura of power that seemed to radiate from him, an aura that even a human would be able to detect. He also wasn't used to hearing the word no, no aristocrat was.

She should keep her distance from him, given his status in their world. But what harm could a simple walk in the woods do? If he'd wanted to hurt her, he would have done so already.

"Genevieve," he said in a low voice. "I truly just mean to walk with you. I'm in no rush to return to my manor."

"Why?"

He shrugged as he took another step away from her and pushed back the straggling strands of his wet hair. "The intricacies of politics makes my head pound."

A small laugh escaped her; she took a step closer to him as she put her foot on a rock that had no moss on top of it, one that she had used as her steppingstone often since coming to live with Felix. Not only did she and Camille use these woods to hunt for animals, but they were also a shortcut to the human village two miles away.

"I can understand that. Have they elected a new king?" she inquired.

"Not yet."

"I don't know why anyone would take that position," she muttered as she lifted her tunic.

The wet bottom of it made the material even heavier and more cumbersome than normal. She despised the silly human custom of covering themselves from head to toe like some kind of sacred relic that no one should ever lay eyes on. However, if she was going to continue to blend in amongst the humans, then she had to wear the clothes. Often, when it was just her in these woods, she would strip down to her thin chemise in order to experience the cool air caressing her skin.

"Neither do I," he said.

Genny tilted her head back to look up at him. "You're not in the running?"

"My father is still alive."

"Would you be in the running if he wasn't?"

"I would probably be in the lead." He didn't say it with bravado; in fact his upper lip curled in displeasure.

"Do you mind if I ask why you would be in the lead?"

The horse he had ridden into the clearing lifted its head to watch them before returning to munch on the grass beneath its hooves. Atticus fell into step beside her as she lowered her skirts and began to walk through the woods. He'd just been asking if it was ok for him to join her and yet as they walked side by side it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

His head turned and tilted to the side as he studied her. "Are you unaware of the order of the aristocrats then?"

Genny laughed and went to push back a low hanging branch but his hand shot out before her and he shoved it out of the way before she could. The speed with which he had moved startled her and she took an odd little half step back that almost caused her to trip over her hem. His hand wrapped around her elbow to steady her. Even through the layers of cloth covering her, she could feel the heat of his palm as if it were actually his skin against hers.

"I know that the aristocrats are the oldest and purest bloodlines amongst us but I've never really paid attention to the lines," she said in a tone that was far more breathy than it had been moments before.

This man did the strangest things to her. She'd spent her entire life dealing with the fallout from one of Marie's disastrous relationships after another and taking care of Camille. She'd never had the time, or the inclination to notice men, and they'd barely stayed in one place long enough for her to get to know anyone. The few men she'd had the chance to speak with on more than one occasion had never shown much interest in her. She was the sister of Camille and they rarely looked at her twice, but she had to admit that she hadn't looked at many of them more than once either. She couldn't take her eyes away from him though.

"I can understand that." He continued to hold the branch aside for her as she stepped down a small incline. "I think I know far too much about them."

She stopped walking and turned to look at him. "Are the lines as old as some say?"

The branch slid back into place as he released it and moved to join her. She was tall for a female, at least a head taller than most, including Camille, but he made her feel small as he still had a good six or seven inches on her. Though he didn't seem to be aware of it, his hand rested upon her elbow again and he kept hold of it as they continued through the forest.

"I suppose some are even older than what you've heard."

"Truly?" She was unable to keep the awe from her voice. It must be an amazing thing to know how far ones line went, how old and pure their blood was. She had no idea of her history on her father's side. Marie was seventy-two, her grandmother was one hundred and fifty if she was still alive, and Marie's father would be one hundred, or so she had said once. Genny had never met either of her grandparents and Marie hadn't seen them since she was twenty years old. According to Marie, neither of them had known much about their own heritage as the vampires with lesser bloodlines rarely kept track of them. There really wasn't much of a reason to, and even if there had been a reason, many didn't know at least one of their parents, sometimes even both of them.

He smiled at her as he held back another branch aside for her. "Many of them go back thousands of years."

"Amazing," she murmured. "May I ask how far yours goes back?"

"To the beginning." Again his voice and tone didn't sound as if he was bragging, in fact he looked as if he had tasted something sour as he spoke the words.

Genny stopped walking as his words sank in. "To our beginning?"

He straightened his blue tunic and nodded briskly. "Yes. On my mother's side I am able to track my lineage back to the first vampire."

Genny didn't know much about the lines but she knew enough to understand what that meant. "You're of the last pure vampire line. The last of Lucifer's line?"

"If you believe that Lucifer is the one to have created us then yes, I am the last of the pure vampire line. At least until I have offspring."

She forced her mouth closed. "You don't believe it was Lucifer that created us?"

"I do actually. The legend of my mother's line is that after Lucifer created the first vampire, he created a woman vampire to keep him company and inflict more punishment upon the human race. My line is said to originate from that couple."

"And the aristocratic line originates from where?" she inquired.

"The aristocrats can trace their lines back to the first few humans that survived the change. Those turned humans then mated with each other, creating another pure vampire but one not as powerful as the original line."

"And us village vampires are from the lowly mating of a human and a vampire that produced a vampire offspring." This part was at least something she knew well.

He took hold of her arm and resumed their steady pace through the woods. "Of course it could all just be rumors started by my mother's line so that they could become a form of royalty amongst our kind. However, there is a reason why the vampires of my line are the most powerful amongst us and this legend would explain it."

Genny grappled to try and process everything he'd just told her as he stepped onto a boulder and helped her climb it. "So are they looking to you to be the next king?"

"I'm only just now being brought in on the meetings held amongst the nobles. They may consider me the prince of the bloodlines but I'm not ready to be a king. They all know it. I suppose one day they will look to me to fill the space."

"Most would sound more enthusiastic about that," she said as she lifted the heavy cloth of her tunic again to climb onto another boulder.

"I'm not most."

She lifted her head to find those clover eyes fixed on her. Something within his gaze seemed to be urging her to understand but she wasn't sure what it was that she was supposed to understand. That he was different from anyone she had ever known before was obvious, that he was different from the rest of their kind was something that she was just beginning to understand, but still she sensed it was more than that.

"You don't want it," she whispered with dawning comprehension.

"I don't want it," he confirmed.

"What are you going to do then?"

"I don't know."

He shook his head and went to turn away but he changed his mind and spun back to her. Genny froze when he took hold of the edges of her hood. He searched her face as he waited for her to tell him to stop, but she remained unmoving while he slid the hood away from her face. Mist still hung heavily in the air but the heaviest of the rain had stopped. She bit into her bottom lip as his fingers brushed over her cheeks and toward her hair.

Tugging her braid forward, he draped it over her shoulder. She was fascinated by his movements, entranced by the almost captivated look upon his face. No one had ever looked at her like all they wanted in the world was to kiss her, but that appeared to be exactly what he wanted to do as his eyes focused on her mouth. She was in over her head with him but she was going to have to become a stronger swimmer as she found herself lost to him. His fingers caused a shiver to go through her when they brushed over her lips and his eyes came back to hers.

As before, he seemed to be asking her permission but she wasn't sure it was even hers to give anymore. Her body seemed completely out of her control right now. It was the strangest sensation but not at all unpleasant. His eyes filled her vision as he bent over her and his lips pressed against hers. The earth dropped out from under her, she was tempted to grab him and pull him closer but just as tempted to push him away as confusion and need warred within her.

The kiss only lasted seconds but when he pulled his lips away from hers she could still feel the warmth of him against her, still feel the strange sensations he aroused within her. His eyes were latched onto hers as his mouth hovered just inches away from hers. She had to put some distance between them if she was going to have any chance of gathering her scattered thoughts. Taking a step away, she recalled too late that they were standing on a boulder.

Her foot slipped away into nothingness, her arms whirled in an attempt to keep her balance. Atticus leapt forward, grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her forward. She'd just been trying to get some distance from him but now she found herself brought up firmly against him. She couldn't help but marvel at how broad and solid his chest was as her forearms were pinned against it.

His hands slid briefly down her arms and over the wool of her mantle before slipping away. "Careful Genevieve, don't want you to get injured."

"Genny," she whispered when all other words failed her. "Please call me Genny."

A sexy smile curved his full lips. A twinkle in his eyes called for her to kiss him all over again, but that could prove even more treacherous than falling off this boulder. He was a nobleman, but even more than that, he was the nobleman. Even if he wasn't related to the last king, he was the prince amongst their people. Becoming entangled with him would only get her tossed aside one day; much like Marie had repeatedly been over the years. And the one thing she had always vowed to never do, was become was anything like Marie.