“RISE AND SHINE, PRINCESS.”
I breathe the words right into Ian’s ear. When he lashes out with a fist, I hold up the frying pan, blocking his blow. But he springs off the couch faster than I expect, diving for my legs. I go down on top of him with a yelp. Determined not to be bested, I twist, wrapping my legs around his neck and attempting to squeeze.
But Ian is a rolling, writhing snake and he springs to his feet. I dangle with my legs still wrapped around his neck, the two of us back to back, me hanging upside down.
For half a second, a smile crosses my lips.
But with a great yell, Ian flips me over his shoulder. I manage to twist slightly as he does and land on my back. Hard.
Ian pins me to the ground, forearm across my throat, clutching a stake in his hand. He pants, eyes wild and wide. They go even wider when he realizes it’s me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks as confusion takes over his expression. But his voice is loaded with annoyance.
“Trying to prove I’m not a useless little flower,” I say with a snide smile. Ian is shirtless, his bare skin pressed up against my stomach since my shirt has ridden up during our wrestling match. “I may not know how to defend myself yet, but I’m not all that delicate, either.”
Ian stares at me, his eyes going back and forth between mine. And slowly, a smile chips its way onto his lips. He lets out a little chuckle. “Yeah, you’re Henry’s daughter, all right. He was a defiant little prick, too.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say as Ian stands and pulls me to my feet.
“What time is it?” Ian asks.
“Clock in your room says nine-thirty,” I say as I move to the kitchen. I’m starving, and that was one of the main reasons I woke Ian. “I figured twelve and a half hours of sleep should be enough.”
“Damn,” Ian says as he shuffles off to the bathroom. “Can’t remember the last time I slept that long.” He only half shuts the door before he starts taking a leak.
It’s disgusting, that’s for sure. But I also find myself shaking my head and laughing. Ian is a man who’s used to living alone and doing his own thing.
“I was thinking of making pancakes,” I call as I hear him washing his hands.
“I don’t think I have any of the stuff,” he says as he walks out. “I don’t keep too much around here. Might find everything at Lula’s though.”
“To be honest, your grandmother kind of terrifies me,” I admit as I start pulling out the flour and sugar and all the ingredients he does in fact have. “And the only thing I see you don’t have is maple extract. Think she’d have that?”
“Not a chance in hell she doesn’t,” he chuckles. I don’t think he’s realized he’s only wearing boxers. Even when he slips his shoes on and opens the door. It’s really difficult not to enjoy the shirtless view. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
I smile to myself and blush as I turn back to the kitchen.
He doesn’t have a mixing bowl, but I find an empty, big sour cream container that works. No measuring cups, either, so I have to eyeball everything. But when you’ve worked at a bakery for four years, it’s not too much of a challenge. By the time Ian returns with the maple, I’ve already got them cooking in the same skillet I used as a shield to Ian’s blow this morning.
“Thank you,” I say as I take the bottle from him and start on the syrup.
“You like cooking?” he asks as he leans against the fridge and watches me.
He really should put a shirt on. Because it’s really hard not to stare at those perfectly defined abs and chest muscles.
I shrug, pretending I wasn’t looking. “Before I moved here, I supported myself by working in a bakery. Cooking paid the bills.”
“Well, I’d offer you free rent in exchange for your skills, but you’ve got a much nicer place to stay when all this settles down.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder and laugh. “I’d offer you free rent for your vampire deflecting skills, but I don’t think you’d take me up on it. You’ve got others who need you.”
He gives a little one-sided smile and a tiny nod.
Once breakfast is ready, we sink onto the couch. Me cross-legged, facing him, Ian with his legs stretched out and his feet on the wobbly coffee table.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I ask around a mouthful of sweet goodness.
“These are so much better than Lula’s grits,” Ian actually moans in pleasure. I just smile in pride. He swallows his bite and licks at a bit of syrup on his lip. “So, I thought we could start with some basic defensive skills. We can talk more as we do that. But I do have to take Elle into town sometime today, and I have work tonight. I’ve got the graveyard shift that starts at ten.”
“To be honest, it kind of surprises me that you leave your family at all,” I say. “No offense, but you seem a little over protective. How do you ever leave?”
He gives me a little annoyed look, but it doesn’t linger. “I may always live on the edge, always ready for something, but I can’t live in fear all the time. It took me a while to realize that. We have to live our lives. And besides, Elle’s pretty damn dangerous, even if she doesn’t look it.”
“Your fluttery, soft-spoken little sister?” I challenge. “Sorry, but that’s kind of hard to believe.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” he says with a lopsided smile. Another drip of syrup clings to his lips. “You see that garden out there?”
I glance out the window. To the side of the house, on the opposite side of the driveway, is a huge garden.
“Everything in that garden is deadly poisonous. That’s my sister’s baby. She started it three years ago. Kind of a morbid fascination, but hell, I thought it was pretty cool. Elle is, as far as I know, the only person who’s made a toxin that can paralyze and all but kill a vampire.” Ian smiles, pride flowing out of him. “She’s deadly with a blow dart.”
“No way,” I say with an awed shake of my head. “That’s amazing.”
Ian raises an eyebrow and nods. “So no, I don’t feel too terrible about leaving the property. Now, if you’re finished, lets head outside and get started.”
I finish my last bite and rinse my plate off in the sink.
I slip my tennis shoes back on as Ian puts together a bag of weapons. He gets dressed, which is both a disappointment and a relief. Two minutes later, we walk outside and around back behind the cabin. I guess I should have expected all the targets that are set up on the trees, but I didn’t.
“Here,” Ian says after he sets the bag down and unzips it. He tosses me a wooden stake. “That yellow one there? That’s a softer target, the same consistency as a body. I want you to throw it from here and see if you can stick it.”
I want to say you’re kidding? but there’s no way I’m going to look weak.
The stake is heavy and about ten inches long. I hold it on one end, let out a deep breath, and let the stake fly.
It smacks the target on the right side, but bounces off and lands in the dirt.
“Here, watch me,” Ian says. He shows me his throw, which of course hits right in the middle of the target and sways back and forth. “Your feet should be like this,” he explains as he demonstrates. “Keep your hand like this. And throw it a hell of a lot harder.”
I do as he says. This time, it sticks, just barely on the bottom edge of the target.
“There you go,” he says with a small, pleased smile. “Just keep throwing those for a while until you can hit the center. I’ll do the talking.”
I reach into the bag for another stake.
“King Cyrus had a son and that son had seven sons of his own,” Ian begins recapping. “The King killed his son when he realized how evil and power obsessed he was becoming. But five of the son’s sons rebelled against the King. They thought the way their father had. They tried to start a war against him. They didn’t stand a chance against the King. As punishment, Cyrus cut them off. Disowned them in the gravest sense of the word. They could no longer claim themselves as his decedents, and they were no longer royalty. See, the King at this point had had a few centuries to gain power and money. Cyrus may not have been born a king, but he’d made himself one.”
I throw my fifth stake and it comes within three inches of the center.
“Nice,” Ian says before continuing his story. “Two of his grandsons did not rebel, though, and King Cyrus rewarded them greatly. Power, esteem, everything a vampire cares about. He charged them and their heirs with the keeping of the world. They were the true Royal Born. All those exiled were simply Born, they meant nothing.”
I release another stake, but I’m so engrossed in the story that I miss the target completely. Ian adjusts my arm.
“The King closely tracks those Born through the Royal line. He knows every single one of them. And nearly each of them is in charge of a House somewhere in the world that consists of other Born with no claim to Royalty.”
I adjust my feet just a bit, let out a deep breath, and put everything I’ve got into this next stake. It embeds itself deeply into the center of the target.
“Again,” Ian encourages. “There are, as far as we know, twenty-seven Houses and heirs throughout the world. You’d think the number would fluctuate and grow every year, but vamps have a tendency of killing each other off for one reason or another. Politics aren’t much different in the supernatural world, but tempers tend to flare hotter and more deadly.”
“Not that you’re complaining,” I say as I launch another stake.
“Not that I’m complaining when they’re killing each other off,” Ian chuckles. “As you can probably guess now, Silent Bend has its very own—very broken—House of Royals.”
“What do you mean broken?” I ask, looking back at him.
“A House doesn’t get any respect, funding, or connections if it doesn’t have an actual Royal to govern it,” Ian says. He twirls a stake between his fingers, much like a drummer might with their sticks. His fingers never falter the entire time. “The House here hasn’t had a leader in years because the rightful heir refused to have anything to do with it.”
“Henry,” I breathe. Because in my gut, I just know.
“Bingo,” Ian says. He launches his stake at the target and it disappears halfway into it.
“A long time ago, Henry came to Silent Bend with his brother Elijah,” Ian starts back into the story that was cut off with teeth in my neck. I lost my copy of that article in the attack. “Henry had never had any interest in politics, but his brother did. Elijah brought with him a clan of his Born vampire buddies when they came to town. Both Conrath brothers established plantations, but Elijah also established a House.
“I don’t know all the details,” Ian says as the tosses a stake in the air and catches it again. “Really, no one does. Most are just legends and speculation and bedtime stories told to scare kids into never sneaking out of the house. But somehow Elijah was killed. After that, the House should have been Henry Conrath’s, but he refused to have anything to do with it. Something you should know about daddy dearest, is that no one knew a damn thing about him. He never left his Estate, as far as I know. And the House, at least most of them, they hated Henry for abandoning them. A Royal-less House is a shamed House.”
My head is already spinning. I remember the picture from the article, the one of the four bodies hanging from the tree in town. Elijah’s headstone.
And I finally realize why Ian and Rath were so anxious to get me away from Henry’s house. “So that’s why they’re going to come after me,” I say as my hands settle on my hips. My palms tingle as they break out into a sweat. “I’m part of this Royal line.”
“And that House is yours.” Ian launches another stake before walking over to retrieve the ones stuck in the target.
“I don’t want to be some queen of a tiny domain,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, everyone in the House is a Born vampire, right?”
Ian nods. “They also control a few Bitten, as well.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t rule or control, or whatever, a bunch of vampires who will probably just try to kill me.”
“It’s more political and complicated than that,” Ian says as he hands me a crossbow. He loads an arrow into it, puts my finger on the trigger, and points to a target fifty yards away. “The House may be broken without a true Royal, but they’re still limping along. Jasmine Veltora has been in charge of it for the past fifteen years. They might need you, but there’s no way she’s going to give control of the House to you.”
“Because why the hell wouldn’t it be that complicated,” I breathe, just as I pull the trigger. And the arrow lands dead center in the target.
“Holy shit,” Ian chuckles, his hands on his hips. “I think we found your weapon, Liv.”
I laugh, looking back at him and reaching for another arrow. I figure out how to notch it. Taking aim, letting my breath out slow, I squeeze the trigger. The arrow lands right next to the first.
“It sounds like I’m going to be a pawn in a very complicated world,” I say as I lower the crossbow.
“In not a great crowd,” Ian says. He reaches for the crossbow and loads another arrow. He takes aim and hits the furthest target dead center. “The House manipulates the entire town. There’s a reason no one goes out after dark, why the police never do anything about the attacks that happen all the time—Jasmine controls the mayor. They’ve got a group of willing Feeders who they’ve promised to turn someday. The House is running this town to hell and it won’t come back any time soon.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” I ask. “Just run away and never look back?”
“To hell with running,” Ian says as his brows furrow and his eyes grow dark. “You go into that House with all the educated cards in your deck and you burn it clean from the inside out.”