London, England, 1865
THE HAIRS ON THE BACK of my neck rose and I stiffened, eyes searching the crowd in the garden below.
Something was off. It wasn’t a threat, but more of an awareness.
It didn’t take me long to discover what had my attention, because the moment my eyes landed on her, everything in my body shifted. It was as if I’d been breathing stale air and finally it was fresh and alive.
Even my Ink, the tattoo snake on my neck, woke and slithered over my skin. Not in anger, but quiet and soothing.
A young woman strolled up the stone pathway toward Jedrik and Damien. Her tanned face glistened in the sunlight, highlighting her upturned nose and smooth, flawless skin.
Her eyes were the color of dark-roasted coffee beans and scintillated with delight as they danced from one person to another in greeting. High cheekbones and thin expressive brows gave her an exotic look, while plush lips softened the severity of her features.
She walked with a skip in her step, but it was seductive, as if she knew it swayed her hips perfectly. Head high and slim shoulders pulled back, she walked with complete confidence and something else… Purity, as if she was a filly set out to pasture for the first time.
Magnificent.
I crossed my arms while leaning my shoulder against the archway overlooking the courtyard below. She threw her head back, exposing her slender throat as she laughed at something Jedrik said then put her hand affectionately on his forearm. It wasn’t sexual in any way; more sisterly in nature.
She wore her emotions boldly on her face and it was utterly refreshing. Yet, as a Scar, that was dangerous.
I’d never met her before, and therefore she had to be a young Scar and hadn’t lived centuries like me. My concern was that what I found so utterly refreshing would end up killing her the first time she encountered one of our enemies.
Her spine stiffened, chin rose, and she scrunched up her button-like nose as she looked over her shoulder, skimming the crowd with her glittering coffee eyes.
She’d sensed me watching her. Good. That was an ability she’d need in the future.
Her lips parted and I immediately thought of slipping my cock between them. That’s after I fucked her so she’d taste herself on me. Of course, that would never happen. She was a Scar and I was her Taldeburu. I didn’t fuck women in my own backyard.
Her gaze left the crowd and shifted to the house over two hundred feet away. It took three seconds before her eyes found mine and locked.
It was as if she stood right next to me.
Nothing else existed.
No voices.
No movement.
Just us.
I didn’t know why, but as a Scar I’d learned not to question why all the time. It just was.
Small in stature, maybe five foot three, with toned body and burnt-umber hair that was in an unkempt chignon. She wore beige breeches, unheard of for a woman, even a Scar.
My eyes trailed back up to her face, and her lips did the tiniest twitch in the outer corners and then her eyes filled with laughter. My brow rose, but I didn’t smile, I merely waited to see if she’d be brave enough to come to me.
She leaned to her right, a stray strand of hair falling across her shoulder as she whispered something to Jedrik, who raised his head and looked around as if searching for someone. Then she tugged on his sleeve to get his attention back, said something else, and gave a formal nod to Damien, who’d been chatting with them—or rather, with Jedrik.
Damien had a strong dislike for women, which was why his Talde of Scars consisted of all men. A small allowance, considering Damien’s skills at filtering out vampires from their hiding places exceeded those of all other Scars. He was the most relentless and our best vampire hunter.
The woman took a step in my direction, then another, and another. Waiting for her to walk across the courtyard and up the stone stairs to the manor was the longest few minutes in my one-hundred-and-ninety-eight years of life.
The subtle scent of peaches wafted to me as she drew closer. Christ, she was enthralling, and I hadn’t even spoken to her yet.
She stopped a foot away from me, hesitated for a brief second, then smiled. Jesus, that smile was contagious.
My lips curved upward in a rare grin and I bowed my head in greeting. She, in turn, did the same.
We remained staring at one another for several seconds, before she finally broke the silence and laughed with a deep husky sound that made my cock jerk. I shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t particularly like that a woman had such a strong effect on me, because it often led to bad decisions.
I was uncertain as to her age. Perhaps twenty, but for an immortal Scar that was young and innocent. Too innocent for what I was contemplating.
“You were staring at me.”
Bold minx. “Mmm.”
“Do you enjoy staring at all the women from up here on your pedestal?”
She licked her lower lip, not in a sultry, seductive way; no, it was natural, as if she needed to moisten the surface from the summer heat. I would’ve gladly done it for her.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Waleron.” I didn’t offer my hand, certain that if I touched her I’d lose all self-control and have her against the wall within seconds, my mouth devouring hers.
The laughter left her eyes and was replaced with surprise, then unease as she tensed. I was accustomed to the reaction; many were apprehensive around me, but I’d hoped that she’d be unaffected by who I was.
She tried to hide her shock by lowering her gaze; long, black lashes shielding her eyes from view while she shifted her feet. “The Taldeburu,” she whispered.
I didn’t know why I did it. It just happened. One second I was two feet away, the next only inches, my finger under her chin and with the slightest pressure raising her head so I could capture her eyes once more.
My skin burned with need, pulsating with an intensity I’d never known existed.
“And your name?” I barely managed to get the words past my constricted throat.
“Delara. Delara Wyndam.” She was flustered, the skin on her cheeks rising to a soft pink hue and her eyelashes flickering.
“An honor, Miss Wyndam. And I don’t stare at all the women. Just you.”
Her breath hitched.
Christ, I wanted this woman. Not just once, but keep her close and never let her go.
Who was I kidding? I was a Taldeburu; contemplating any sort of relationship was impossible. Vampires used loved ones as lures to defeat others. Recently, a vampire had taken John, one of our Trackers, and tortured him for months attempting to find the location of his maite, Lillian, a remarkable and rare Healer.
Damien and his Talde rescued him, but at a high cost. John, a now ravaged man, was brought back to his wife, Lillian, and she healed him. However, when a Healer uses her ability she endures the pain of what the person suffered, as well as envisions the images of what happened. Seeing what was done to the man she loved haunted Lillian.
Delara stepped away from my light touch and I allowed it—for now. “The honor is mine. I had not expected to personally meet our Taldeburu or I would have dressed more appropriately.”
If she had done that, I’d not have seen the luscious outline of her thighs. “Now that would’ve been a shame.” I reached forward and picked a piece of grass from her hair, wishing I could take the pins out of her untidy chignon one by one while she lie nestled in my arms.
She raised her tapered brows and a smile lit her eyes. “You’re not as I expected.”
“And what did you expect, Miss Wyndam?”
She pursed her lips. “I was told you were forbidding.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. But I don’t think that’s true.”
I half grinned, loving her candor. “And why is that?”
She smiled and cocked her hip while placing one hand on it. “Because you’re trying to hide the fact that you want to kiss me.”
It took me a second, shocked by her bold words, then a rumbling emerged from deep in my chest as I laughed.
Maitagarri.
She was a beloved angel and utterly refreshing.
“I want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you, Miss Wyndam.”
She smiled. “I will assume you’re referring to a quick tryst in perhaps the hallway closet? Or do you prefer the pantry?” She bit her lower lip as if in contemplation; such an enthralling gesture that my cock twitched again.
“Who said anything about quick?” I replied. No, it would be days or perhaps weeks. Her beneath me, arms above her head locked in my grip, head thrashing from side to side with unbridled fervor.
She laughed, the captivating sound causing my chest to tighten. “Before I bed a man, I prefer to know a man longer than two minutes.”
“Perhaps, in this instance, you will make an exception?”
She shook her head, a few tendrils falling loose from her chignon to caress the sides of her face. “A shame. I was just beginning to like you. However, it seems gossip is accurate after all.”
“And what gossip is that?” I drawled.
Mischief danced in her eyes. “That you remain solitary. If you take a woman to your bed it is for one night—and they’re never Scars sharing your affection. I’ve been told you rarely laugh and detest social gatherings.” She nodded toward the courtyard. “Hence, here you stand while everyone else is down there. You’re an ancient and live by an oath to your mother and the Goddess. You’re one of the most powerful Scars, fearless and have never had a maite.” She hesitated, raising her brow as I clenched my jaw, not liking how she described me even if it was all true. “Shall I continue?”
“Accurate, and yet there is always the chance that one can change their ways.” Not that I would, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Hmm, I did hear you laugh.” Her nose twitched like that of a rabbit sensing danger, and she glanced to the right. “Someone wants your attention.”
The Scar Keir walked toward us, taking the stairs two at a time. I silently cursed the rapidly approaching interruption.
Crude language rarely passed my lips. My mother had seen to that. I only had to say the word bastard in front of her once to know never to do it again. I received fifty lashes across the back then was locked in a cupboard without healing. I still carried the scars. I’d been nine years old the first time.
I could’ve warned Keir to stay away by speaking telepathically; however, shirking responsibilities of any kind was against my oath to the Goddess, and more importantly to myself.
“It was nice to meet you, Waleron,” Delara said.
I grabbed her hand before she had the chance to walk away, and the instant her flesh touched mine, my need for her increased tenfold.
Her eyes widened and her body quivered and I knew she felt it too.
“A pleasure, maitagarri.” I pressed my lips to the back of her hand just as Keir stopped in front of me.
She slid her hand from mine, nodded to Keir and quickly walked away.
“Do you think the gossip is true about Waleron?” I asked while perched on a low branch of an oak tree, swinging my legs. “It can’t all be true.”
It had been an hour since I’d seen the Taldeburu and I was finding it difficult to forget his magnetic ice-blue eyes and lean, lithe form hugged by the black tailored coat and breeches, muscles flexing beneath—
“Jesus, Delara,” Jedrik said. “I may be your best mate, but I’m still a man for Christ’s sake.” He grunted and tossed his head like a displeased stallion, unleashing a few blond locks from his leather tie that kept his hair pulled back.
Being Scars, we were telepathic and able to read one another’s minds if we didn’t shield our thoughts. Some Scars were powerful enough to get past shields, but it was considered disrespectful to try and read another Scar’s thoughts.
“Then stay out of my head.”
“Your thoughts are like arrows piercing my brain.” His teasing grin faded and he stopped carving the piece of wood he held in his hands. “The Taldeburu is off-limits, sass. Stay away from him.”
He’d been calling me sass since we were kids, a shortened form of sassy. “I think you’ve the wrong impression of him.” I plucked a leaf from its tentative hold on the branch above my head and absently ripped it up, letting the pieces flitter to the grass below. “He’s intelligent. Powerful. Perhaps a bit intimidating, but he needs to be, and he does protect us. He must care, and I think with the right woman…. Why do you care anyway?” I smirked. “Jealous?”
Jedrik hmphed.
I laughed and wobbled unsteadily on the tree branch.
“Frig, sass. Get down before you fall or, worse, someone sees you. You can at least try to act like a lady.” He held up his hand to assist me, but I ignored him, precariously getting to my feet and climbing higher.
Jedrik cursed beneath his breath and straightened his six-foot stature. “Sass. You need to get down right now.”
“Why?” I peered through the abundance of leaves to try and see what Jedrik was concerned about, but saw nothing. It didn’t surprise me though, as he was a Visionary and could not only see farther, but through objects.
“Sass,” he called.
It was the musky scent of cedar plowing into me that had me scrambling down the tree as fast as my legs could carry me. “Bloody hell,” I swore as my breeches snagged a severed branch. “Jedrik!” I hissed. “Jedrik, help me.”
I yanked on the snag and the material ripped as it suddenly came free, knocking me off-balance. I grabbed for a thick lower limb and missed.
Then I tumbled through the thicket of leaves to land with a hard thump on my butt in the grass. “Jesus Christ.”
I expected to hear Jedrik laughing at me; instead, I heard the familiar husky voice of the man I’d been just thinking about.
“Are you hurt, Miss Wyndam?”
I scrambled to my feet, brushing off my butt that now had a very noticeable grass stain. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and my stomach plummeted. Sitting up in a tree was unladylike, falling out of it was… well, it was mortifying. “I… I was just….” Oh God, I couldn’t think of a single excuse. I was supposed to be a Tracker, soon a Scar warrior, and here I was falling out of a tree in front of our Taldeburu. He’d never allow me to be a part of any Talde.
“Practicing your climbing skills?” he finished.
“Well, uh… no.” God, I normally had a quick, sassy remark. Here I was fumbling over my words. “Jedrik saw a… a cat,” I blurted, while looking around and noticing that Jedrik had vanished. “There was a cat in the tree. I was rescuing him.”
“A cat?” he asked.
“Yes. Did you see where he went?” I pretended to peer around for my imaginary cat.
“Jedrik or the cat?” he asked, looking thoroughly amused, a smirk playing at his mouth.
“Umm, well, both.”
“I told Jedrik to make himself useful elsewhere. The cat, it seems… vanished.”
“Oh.” Well, what did I say to that?
It wasn’t often I was self-conscious, but under Waleron’s intensity, I was out of my element. I’d never been attracted to a man before and the emotions sifting uncontrollably through my body threw me off balance. I was thinking about his hands on me, his body against mine, his lips tasting—
“Miss Wyndam. Stop.” Crap, he’d read my thoughts. I obviously had to work on my shields. “Come here.”
I froze, my pulse racing and belly flipping. Waleron was right. I was young, innocent, and had no experience with men, let alone a man like Waleron.
He stepped toward me. “Maitagarri,” he murmured. “Dangerous.”
I had no idea what he meant by that, but I craved his touch, yearned to feel his fingers in my hair, on my skin.
His eyes smoldered then he reached around and cupped the back of my neck. With one tug, he drew me into him and my palms landed on his chest.
“Going to kiss you now, Miss Wyndam,” he said, and before I could respond or object his mouth claimed mine.
My gasp was swallowed by our mouths melting together, devouring my will as if it were water slipping through my fingers.
He urged my lips apart and slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss.
Oh God. I moaned beneath his skillful mouth as a foreign ache erupted between my legs. I’d never been kissed before. Never felt desire and the powerful need for something more. A something I didn’t understand.
“Waleron.” Zurina’s abrupt voice came from behind us and I stiffened.
Waleron slowly drew back, but placed two tender, light kisses on the corners of my mouth.
Coldness enveloped my body as his arm dropped from my waist and his hand from my neck. I staggered back to lean against the tree, placing my finger to my tingling lips.
My eyes lifted to Zurina and she frowned at me; my cheeks heating in response. She was obviously unhappy about me kissing the Taldeburu. Or rather him kissing me.
Zurina was a powerful Healer who sat on the Deaconry, the council, in the realm with Waleron. She’d also been a friend of Waleron’s mother who was one of the first Scars.
Her eyes shifted to Waleron and her chin tilted up. “Keir has assembled everyone in the ballroom. They await your address.”
Waleron nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Zurina opened her mouth as if she were going to argue, but swiftly clamped it shut when Waleron glanced at her. She abruptly spun on her heel and walked away.
Waleron waited until Zurina was out of earshot before he spoke. “Are you staying here at Keir’s?”
“Two weeks,” I replied. God, he wasn’t even touching me and I was alive with sparks.
He nodded. “Good. I’ll meet you in the courtyard tomorrow morning.”
Being alone with Waleron again was not a good idea.
I had an unusual draw toward him and didn’t know if I could resist his advances. I’d never been with a man, and Waleron was experienced. “I don’t know if—”
“I wasn’t giving you a choice.” He didn’t wait for a response as he walked away.
Holy crap. What had I gotten myself into?
The next morning, I paced the length of the courtyard pinching the sides of my breeches while I waited for Waleron. My heart skipped a beat at the slightest sound and my nerves were on edge. I hadn’t slept all night thinking about him and when I finally rose I’d come to the conclusion that fighting what was between us was like fighting fate.
Impossible.
It was like he breathed a warm heat inside me that spread through every limb then burst into wildfire.
Scars formed attachments much deeper than humans, but the instant I felt his eyes on me it was like pieces of me joining. I hadn’t known they were apart. I hadn’t known I wasn’t whole. Now I did. And that was terrifying and incredible at the same time.
“Miss Wyndam.”
I spun around so fast I tripped over the edging in the cobblestone and would’ve fallen flat on my face if Waleron hadn’t reached out and grabbed me.
“Waleron.” His name barely passed my lips. I was trapped within his ice blue eyes that melted to warm blue as they drifted from my slightly parted lips to my nose, then up to my eyes.
“You’re trembling.” His hands slowly ran down my arms and goose bumps rose. “Do I scare you?”
I half laughed. “You’re the most powerful Scar in the world. So, yeah, a little.”
“True. But I never want you to be scared of me, maitagarri.” He ran his thumb lightly over my lower lip.
My belly flipped. God, he had me wrapped up so tight in a ball and ready to explode into… well, I didn’t know—yet.
“I’m not scared of you in that way. It’s what you can do to me.”
He scowled, and the warmth in his eyes shifted to ice chips. “I’d never hurt you.”
I slipped from his hold. “No. It’s not that.” I bit my lip as I contemplated my words then turned and walked along the path. He followed. “It’s what this is between us.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “The connection I feel toward you.”
“And what is that?”
“Like I can suddenly breathe. But I didn’t know I was suffocating before.” He was quiet and I stopped, turning to face him. “Is that normal?”
“No,” he admitted. “But, Delara, whatever this is, my oath will always be to the Goddess first. It’s who I am. What I am.”
“I know.” Yes. It was well known that Waleron’s oath was his life. “But I’m a Scar, too, Waleron, and I was thinking…”
His brows lifted.
“I want to be in a Talde and fight as you do. Maybe you can teach me how to fight?”
“Is that why you met me this morning, maitagarri? You plan on using me for my abilities?”
I laughed. “I don’t believe anyone is capable of using you, Waleron.”
There was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth before he snagged my waist and jerked me into him.
I froze. Chest tight. Belly whirling.
“You could,” he whispered.
Then his mouth crashed onto mine.
I sagged in to him, hands on his chest feeling his heart pound beneath my palms. It skipped a beat then picked up the same rhythm as mine. His other hand inched up my side then back down again to settle on my hip, fingers digging into my skin. Bruising. Painful.
And yet his mouth was gentle and teaching as his tongue slipped inside and sparred with mine. A slow, seductive tease that had my body spinning out of control.
It didn’t matter that I hardly knew this man or that he was my Taldeburu. What mattered was that he made me his.
He groaned then broke away, leaving my lips tingling.
He cupped my chin, thumb stroking back and forth over the dip. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know, Delara.”
My breath hitched because there was no question what he meant by everything.
“But in time.” He released my chin and stepped back. “First you will train with Keir. No distractions. Including me. One year, Delara.”
A year? God, I barely knew the man, but the thought of not seeing him for a year was debilitating. I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could he Traced into a mist and left me standing alone in the courtyard.
Etched.
Like our tattoos. Our Inks.
Waleron lived inside me.
I closed my eyes and placed my finger on my lips where his kiss still lingered. My breath. My life. His life.
Our fates were entwined and whether that was good or bad, it was undeniable.