Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Jayla stepped through a portal created by a pretty fairy. Azrael had hired the fey creature since vampires were incapable of magic, and she’d stared at him with blatant adoration. The gaze bothered Jayla. In truth, it’d taken her considerable willpower not to reach out and slap the female.
Jayla wanted to pretend it was simple frustration. She was, after all, supposed to be meeting with Emile to prevent a potential disaster, not traveling to Siberia to confront a mother dragon who could turn her into a crispy critter with one sneeze. But it wasn’t frustration that made her hands curl into tight fists.
It was jealousy.
She didn’t want any female looking at Azrael.
Shoving aside the dangerous realization, Jayla glanced around. She’d expected to be standing on top of a mountain. Instead, they were in a deep, thickly wooded valley frosted with a thin layer of ice.
“What are we doing here?” she asked as Azrael appeared beside her.
Dressed in thick leather pants and a heavy sweater, Azrael pointed toward the towering mountain range visible over the trees.
“The cave is on top of that peak.”
Jayla tilted back her head. She’d changed, as well. Azrael had provided her with a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, a heavy parka, and a pair of leather boots. She hadn’t asked why he had her precise size. She simply pulled on the warm clothes and braided her hair to keep it out of her face.
“So, why aren’t we up there?” she demanded.
“Because the dragon would sense the magic of the portal if it opened in her territory.” He grimaced. “We’re going to have to sneak up on her while she’s sleeping. Slow and careful.”
It was a reasonable decision. Jayla had never encountered a dragon, but she knew they were the one creature capable of destroying a vampire with terrifying ease. Slipping in and out of her lair while she slept was no doubt the best plan.
Still, Jayla wasn’t excited about the prospect of climbing six thousand feet to reach their destination.
“Are you saying we have to climb up there?”
“Yes.”
She considered the distance, then glanced toward the horizon. “Dawn is just a couple of hours away.”
“There’s a village at the base of the mountain. We can stay at the local lodge,” Azrael told her.
They moved through the dense forest, their footsteps crunching on the frosted underbrush. After years of living in a bustling city and surrounded by concrete, Jayla found herself oddly enchanted by the sense of peace that blanketed the remote area. No traffic, no shouts from the street vendors, no blasting sirens. Just the rustle of woodland animals and the silent beauty of the star-speckled sky spread above them.
Or maybe you’re enchanted by the male walking close beside you , a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
For endless centuries, she’d imagined what might have happened if she hadn’t chosen to kill Azrael that fateful night. What if she’d tossed down her dagger? What if she’d stayed in Moscow?
The potential for what-might-have-been was as painful as the regret for having destroyed a vampire because she refused to see the truth.
Now, she had the opportunity to discover exactly what-if could be. If she dared.
Lost in her thoughts, Jayla suddenly caught the scent of wood smoke. With a blink, she realized they’d stepped into a clearing with a village huddled in the small circle. Reaching behind her back, Jayla made sure her dagger was safely sheathed. She could sense several fey creatures and at least one rock troll.
Azrael didn’t hesitate as he walked down a path that led to the center of town. He was obviously comfortable with the area. She wondered how long he’d stayed here, trying to figure out how he could retrieve his sword. The thought of the fear and frustration he must be enduring tugged at Jayla’s heart.
Reaching the far end of the street, Azrael halted in front of a large, wooden structure with a steeply slanted roof and a large terrace that offered a stunning view of the nearby mountain range.
Jayla sent Azrael a startled glance as she caught the strange scent of licorice. “A bauk?” she breathed in surprise.
The elusive creatures were small and soft like slugs. They usually hid in deep holes, preferring to avoid other demons.
“A mongrel,” Azrael clarified, referring to the fact that the bauk had a mix of demon blood. “Be…”
She sent him a confused glance. “Be what?”
He paused as if considering the appropriate word. “Unthreatening,” he said at last. “Siros is a shy creature and is afraid of vampires.”
“Smart demon,” she murmured, inwardly reassessing how to deal with the upcoming situation.
She might currently be a businesswoman, but she would always be an assassin at heart. That didn’t mean using brute strength to achieve her goals. She depended on cunning, finesse, and understanding that each situation was different.
Climbing onto the terrace, they entered the lodge through the front door, crossing the large lobby toward the counter at the back. Jayla swept her gaze over the polished wood floor and paneled walls before tilting back her head to take in the vaulted, open-beamed ceiling. She wasn’t interested in architecture. She was just making sure that nothing lurked in the nooks and crannies.
They halted in front of the counter, watching a short, hunchbacked creature with oversized ears and a thatch of brown hair appear from behind a hidden door. He shuffled forward, his shoulders hunched, and his dark eyes darting from side to side as if terrified he was about to be ambushed.
“Hello, Siros.”
The male reluctantly glanced toward Azrael, his round face wary. “You.”
Azrael shrugged. “Yes, it’s me.”
“You’re back.” The creature didn’t sound pleased. “Again.”
“Obviously. I need a room,” Azrael announced.
Siros did more eye darting. “There are other hotels in the area. They are more suited for vampires. Especially if you intend to get into another battle. I demand that this be a place of peace for both me and my customers.”
What battle? Jayla arched her brows, but now wasn’t the time to ask for details.
“There will be no fighting, I promise you,” Azrael assured the male.
“Well…well…”
Jayla pasted an apologetic smile on her lips and stepped toward the counter. “It’s short notice,” she murmured.
“Yes,” the male instantly latched on to the ready excuse. “Yes, it is short notice. And I’m very busy.”
“I understand,” she sympathized, ignoring Azrael’s narrowing gaze. She was an expert on the headaches endured by a hotel owner. And how to earn their cooperation. “This is a beautiful lodge. Did you build it yourself?”
Siros’s expression remained wary, but he eagerly answered. “My mother did. She’s a brownie.”
Jayla ran her hand over the smooth counter. She didn’t have to pretend her admiration for the wood that had been cut and polished to reveal the lovely grain. This wasn’t the prefab stuff used by human builders.
“That explains the beautiful craftsmanship.”
The male preened, a faint flush of pleasure staining his cheeks. “Yes. She traveled throughout the world to find the perfect lumber and hand-cut each plank herself.” He glanced down as if seeing through the floor. “The foundation was carved from ironstone my mother mined and brought here, piece by piece. We survived three earthquakes that destroyed the other buildings in the village.”
“Impressive.” Jayla leaned forward, her tone soft. “As a fellow hotelier, I realize this is a terrible imposition, but if you could find space for just one day, I would be forever grateful.”
The male grimaced. “One day?”
“One day, I promise.” She didn’t bat her lashes, but she did give him an inviting smile. “Preferably a sunproof room.”
He hesitated. “Perhaps I have something suitable,” he grudgingly conceded, refusing to glance in Azrael’s direction as he rounded the counter and headed toward a door across the lobby. “Follow me.”
Jayla kept a short distance from Siros, just in case there were any unpleasant surprises. She felt the cool rush of Azrael’s power as he closed in from behind, protecting her back. She clenched her hands, startled by the intensity of her reaction to his proximity. It was as if having him near made her suddenly realize that her hard-earned independence was no longer enough. An aching awareness that she hungered for a connection that dangled just out of reach.
Jayla followed Siros through the door and down the stone steps to the small cellars, trying to ignore the sensations battering her. The air was cold enough to frost the stone walls and make the floor slick. On the plus side, when the male shoved open a wooden door to reveal their room, it was scrubbed clean with a wide bed and no windows.
“Perfect,” Jayla murmured, walking into the shadowed space.
“Is there anything else I can offer?” the demon asked.
“Perhaps blood,” Jayla requested. It had been several hours since she’d fed. “Do you have any bottled?”
“I can have it delivered,” he assured her.
She reached out to lightly touch his shoulder. “Your generosity won’t be forgotten.”
The male blushed before turning to scurry back down the hall. Azrael closed the door with a lift of his brows.
“Impressive, but not what I expected from an assassin.”
“Brute force has its place, but I prefer diplomacy whenever possible. Not only does it avoid any risk to myself, but when I walk away, I’m not leaving enemies who plot to stab me in the back.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’m not an assassin. Not anymore.”
The large male leaned against the door, his gaze sliding down her slender body. “Why not?”
Jayla glanced away. It wasn’t a question she wanted to answer. “It was time for a career change.”
“A career change?”
“Yes.”
“It was more than that, wasn’t it?” he gently prodded.
Jayla forced herself to meet his searching gaze. “Why do you say that?”
“I know you left the Anasso centuries ago.”
Jayla stiffened in surprise. “How?”
“I wasn’t spying on you,” he assured her as if worried she would be bothered by the idea that she was being secretly stalked. The truth was, the wound deep inside her might have been eased if she could have sensed he was near. “But I did keep track from a distance,” he admitted.
“Why?”
The ice-blue eyes darkened, but he didn’t explain. Instead, he pressed her for an answer. “Why did you leave the Anasso?”
“I didn’t leave,” she confessed with a shrug. “I was thrown out.”
“Thrown out?” His fangs flashed in outrage. “Are you serious?”
Her lips twitched at his sharp tone. As if he couldn’t believe any vampire would be stupid enough to banish her.
“I killed one of his favorite lapdogs.”
“That was it?” Azrael’s outrage melted to confusion. “Vampires squabble and kill each other on a regular basis. Why did he force you to leave?”
Jayla stared at his sculpted, painfully beautiful face. He wasn’t going to let this go. And worse, she sensed that he was as stubborn as she was. Which wasn’t easy.
“Fine.” She conceded defeat with a scowl. “I refused to use my superpower. Eventually, the king decided that I was no longer worthy of being his personal assassin.”
“Ah.” Azrael pushed away from the door, gazing down at her with a strange expression. Anticipation? Hunger? Need? Perhaps a combination of all three. “Was there a reason you stopped using your gift?”
She shivered. Not just at the reminder of the damage she’d done in the past, but in reaction to his intoxicating musk.
“It’s not a gift. It’s a curse,” she protested.
He reached out to skim his fingers down her cheek. “As a vampire who’s actually been cursed, I can assure you that yours is a gift.”
Instinctively, she leaned toward him, craving his touch like a flower sought the sun. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“What happened, kiska ?”
“You.” The word was torn from her lips.
Moving slowly as if afraid he might break the spell being woven between them, Azrael grabbed her hand and pressed it to the center of his chest.
“Because of this?”
Jayla splayed her hand, replacing the horrifying memory of slamming the dagger into his heart with the feel of his solid muscles beneath her palm.
“Because I believed you,” she admitted, her voice harsh with regret. “I sensed long before I traveled to Moscow that my master was hiding secrets.” She grimaced. “And that his lust for personal power had corrupted his desire to unite the vampires.”
He lowered his head, wrapping her in his icy power. “And yet you hunted me down?”
She nodded, slowly accepting that she owed him the truth. She had, after all, killed him. He deserved an explanation.
“Before the Anasso discovered me, I was with another clan.”
His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “Your voice tells me you weren’t happy with them.”
Jayla begrudgingly allowed the painful memories to return. The dark, brutal nights, the bloody fights, and the utter emptiness of being treated as an object, never a creature worthy of love.
“I was kept as a prisoner by my master,” she told him.
Azrael hissed, his fangs in full view as he pulled back his lips in fury. “You were locked away?”
“Worse,” she muttered. “I was leashed like a dog.”
“Why?”
It was a question she’d asked night after night as the silver manacle was locked around her neck, and she was dragged behind the other clansmen. It became a running joke to bet on the time it would take for the silver to deplete her strength to the point she fell flat on her face.
“My master made his fortune by taking me from clan to clan to challenge their best fighter for obscene amounts of money.”
Ice crawled over the walls as Azrael’s anger pulsed through the room. “I assume they looked at your…” His gaze traveled down her slender body. “Delectably compact size and thought you would be easy to overpower.”
“Yes.”
“How did you escape?”
A grim smile curved her lips. “I didn’t,” she admitted. She would always regret that she hadn’t found the courage to destroy her sire. “One night, the Anasso was passing and watched the battle.”
“Did he witness you using your power?”
Jayla nodded. She’d just destroyed a mongrel troll who’d nearly taken off her head with his heavy club, and her sire was collecting his winnings when she caught sight of a huge vampire surrounded by his guards. There’d been no mistaking the shattering power that had surrounded him or the hunger in his eyes.
“I’m not sure how he realized what’d happened since he should have been unaware of time stopping,” she told Azrael. “But as we were leaving with our winnings, he appeared in our path. Before I knew what was happening, my master was dead.” Jayla had been weary from the battle and in pain from the silver manacle that had been cinched around her neck, so she hadn’t noticed the small earthquakes that’d signaled the approach of the unknown vampire. It wasn’t until she watched her sire being jerked backwards and then crumbling to the ground that she realized her nightmare was over. “A few minutes later, I was leaving with the Anasso.” She met Azrael’s gaze, willing him to understand why she’d been so loyal to a male who’d manipulated and lied to her. “For the first time in my existence, I felt safe.”
He frowned. “He turned you into an assassin.”
“I was in control of my own destiny,” she insisted. Nothing had ever felt so glorious as to know she could freely move around the lair and be a welcomed member of the clan. Plus, there’d been something intoxicating about the knowledge that she was a favorite of the Anasso. She grimaced. Eventually, things had changed. An unseen rot had slowly moved through the clan, infecting all of them. “At least, in the beginning.”
“And now?”
A genuine smile curved her lips. The best decision she’d ever made was leaving with Chiron and the other Rebels. Or at least, it’d been the best decision until a few hours ago.
It was yet to be seen how her decision to help Azrael would turn out.
“I have an independence I never dreamed possible.”
“Ah.” His features tightened as he dropped his hand and stepped back.
Jayla frowned, not sure why she could sense that her words wounded Azrael. Or why she was so troubled by the thought that she might have hurt him.
“How did you become a mercenary?” she asked, eager to change the conversation.
He hesitated as if lost in his thoughts. Then, with a shake of his head, he returned his attention to her.
“Unlike you, I was blessed with a sire who considered me her son,” he said.
“Did she know that you were cursed?”
“Yes, but she didn’t know how it’d happened or why,” he shrugged. “I stayed with Bea and our small clan for centuries.”
Jayla frowned. She’d sensed a darkness when she first saw him in Moscow. As if he’d suffered a tragedy. That was one of the reasons she’d felt drawn to him. It was odd to think she’d been so wrong.
“Why did you leave her?” she asked.
“I didn’t.” He turned to the side, revealing the feathered tattoo that crawled down the length of his neck. Jayla had a fierce urge to reach up and trace the delicate lines. “One night, we were attacked by a rival clan.” Ice crawled over the walls, revealing that Azrael was battling a powerful emotion. “Within hours, we were all slaughtered.”
She studied his tightly clenched profile. “But you lived.”
“Yes. When I woke, I found my clan dead and our homes destroyed.”
Jayla resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him. She had been right. He had suffered a tragedy. It must have been horrifying to wake and realize that your family was dead. He’d not only had to deal with his grief but also the guilt of having survived.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“I made a decision at that moment that I would travel the world alone.”
It explained how he’d become a mercenary. A lone vampire would have to possess the skills to protect themselves as well as earn a living. Few actually enjoyed hiding in caves and scrounging dinner from passing hikers. They desired a safe lair and at least a few comforts. Now, however, Jayla had a new question.
“You said when you kidnapped me?—”
“ Rescued ,” he corrected.
She didn’t argue. “You said that you sent your clansmen to capture the vampires following me,” she reminded him. “So, you’re no longer alone.”
“True.” He slowly turned, his expression brooding as he gazed down at her. “Seven hundred years ago, I realized that I craved a family.” He placed a hand over his unbeating heart. “In fact, it was driven home with painful clarity.”
Her lips parted, but before she could speak, a loud knock sounded on the door.
“Dinner!” Siros called out.