Chapter Four
Meg
As we enter the arena I feel like every eye is on me.
Of course I’m staring right back because…it’s a lot. During my “viewing” I’d
only seen Fae like Beck and vampires like Dante and the gnomes, but now all
manner of creatures watch me as I force myself to climb the stone steps to the
chaise Reeve and Cara are motioning me toward. I try my hardest not to stare,
but I’m pretty sure the dude to the left of me is an enormous troll. It’s at
least six feet tall, and that’s its sitting height. I don’t want to think about
it standing up. It’s also extremely hairy. Behind the troll looks to be a group
of what I can only term goblins. They’re small and muscular, with leathery skin
and wild tufts of hair sticking out in odd places.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I can hear the cantina
music from Star Wars playing.
“Never been off the Earth plane, huh?” Dante has a dumbass
smile on his face.
“Do those fangs ever go away?”
The vampire seems to take it all in stride. “Certainly not
when I am in the company of a half-naked female with a heart-shaped ass. Sorry,
they pop out when I’m hungry or horny. Can’t help it. And as I recently dined
on a first-grade meal pill, courtesy of Dellacorp, I think we have to assume
it’s your fault. What do you say we ditch His Highness, go somewhere private,
and make some baby fangs?”
“Pay him no heed, miss.” Cara looks at the vampire, shaking
her head as we enter what looks to be a private booth. It’s like a living room
from medieval times. The chaise I’m offered is plush and covered with a tent of
ornate fabric that keeps the fierce late-afternoon sun off our skin. “Vampires
are not known for their manners.”
“Is that blood?” I hope it isn’t. There are pockets of red
dotting the arena floor. Groups of gnomes work hurriedly to shovel out the
offending sand.
“Damn.” Dante sinks down beside me. “They already got rid of
the chopped-off limbs. That’s my favorite part.”
“They’re really going to fight?” It’s ridiculous, but I feel
such a strong connection to Beck. I can’t stand the thought of him getting
hurt, much less dying. Stockholm syndrome. Or maybe it is because he gave me
the first honest-to-goodness, real live, no-double-A-batteries-involved orgasm
I’ve ever had.
“Yes, miss,” Reeve answers, taking a seat next to his wife.
“Your tournament is the last of the day. It is also the largest. The rest of
these females are simple mates. You are very rare.”
And I’m super confused again. I rein in a sigh of
frustration. At least now I have someone to ask who I don’t think will gloss
things over. The vampire seems to be an upfront guy. He wouldn’t have a problem
telling me the painful truth. “Why? Why do all these men want me?”
His sunglasses recede, sliding away now that he’s out of the
direct sunlight. His green eyes sparkle in the shade. “The vamps or the Fae?”
“Both.”
His manner takes on a distinctly academic tone. “The Fae are
interested in you as a bondmate. Certain Fae have psychic abilities that are
greatly enhanced in the presence of a female whose brain is tuned to theirs. In
Beck’s case, it’s more urgent. Beck was born with a symbiotic twin, Cian. Think
of them as halves of a whole. Beck is the practical half. He’s the warrior.
Cian is the intellectual half. When symbiotic twins turn twenty-five years old,
a bondmate is found for them, if they aren’t already contracted. The female
forms a triad with the males. She bridges their minds through hers, and they’re
able to function together. It makes all three stronger. When Beck’s uncle took
over Tír na nòg, he closed the plane. He did this for several reasons, but no
doubt one was to keep his nephews from finding a bondmate. They’ve been forced
to look elsewhere.”
“So Beck is twenty-five.” He seems older, but perhaps it’s
his regal authority that makes him seem that way.
“My cousin turned thirty nearly three months ago,” Dante
replies, all teasing gone from his attitude. “Cian is fading. The intellectual
half is in desperate need of the bond. It is killing him to go without. If Cian
fades, all that will be left is the warrior with nothing to balance him. Beck
will likely go mad. If that happens, he’ll have to be put down.”
I don’t understand completely, but I hate the idea of
someone putting Beck down like he was a rabid animal. “That’s horrible. But how
can he be sure I’m this bond thingy?”
A slow smile curls the vampire’s lips. “There’s only one way
to know for sure. Tell me, sister, was it good for you?”
Embarrassment flashes through me as I realize what he means.
The scene in the tent was Beck’s way of telling if we’re compatible. He even
told me what he was doing, but the thought of everyone knowing what he’d done
makes my skin turn hot pink. The vampire throws back his head and laughs.
“You are so rude.” How long will this take? When will they
start?
Dante shrugs, but the grin doesn’t leave his face. “I don’t
see what’s rude about it. It’s a simple fact of life. We all like to get
fucked, sweetheart, and from what I’ve heard, old Beck there knows how to do it
right. Of course, it would be slightly different with a bondmate. Even without
the full bond, during sex, you would have a connection with him.”
“I would feel what he felt.” I can’t help but think about
that odd, erotic moment when I’d been able to feel his hard-on, feel my pussy
gripping his fingers as I came.
“Congratulations,” Dante says almost sweetly. “You’re a
bondmate. I’ve heard it’s the most intimate connection a being can have.”
I’m not here to fall in love. I shouldn’t be here at all.
When I have the chance, I’m going to get away, and no intimate bond is going to
stop me. “Okay, that explains the Fae. How about the vampires?”
Dante leans in, fangs showing beneath his wide smirk.
“Darling, the vampires are here because you taste really fucking good.”
Cara leans over my lap and slaps the vampire. Dante takes it
with good grace, merely leaning back as though he’s slapped by females on a
regular basis. “Stop teasing the girl. Miss, the vampires are looking for what
they call a consort. You have to understand there are two types of vampires,
the peasant and those of royal blood.”
“Don’t call them peasants.” Dante whistles under his breath.
“Them’s fighting words. One day you call them peasants, and the next day they
unionize.”
Cara ignores him. “The royals are the vampires with ancient
blood. They are pure vampire. If they can find a proper consort, their lives
are greatly elongated by taking his or her blood. The consort also receives a
much longer life by taking the vampire’s blood into his or her body. The
consort’s blood makes the vampire stronger than he or she would normally be. I
heard your sister recently married her consort, Mr. Dellacourt.”
Dante’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “Yes. Now our house is
filled with love and roses every day. I’m not having any of it. What’s the
point in an extra couple of hundred years if you can’t party? Susie and Colin.
They walk around like lovestruck teens. It’s disgusting. See, the bad part
about finding a superhot piece of tail like you is the inevitable, long decline
into idiocy.”
“He’s trying to say that vampires fall deeply in love with
their consorts,” Cara says primly.
“You say potato, I say potahto,” Dante sings.
“You, miss, could serve as either a bondmate or a consort,”
Reeve interjects over the increasingly impatient crowd. “The psychic connection
goes hand in hand with the differences in the blood. Normally, there would be
plenty of suitable men and women. It is a common thing in Fae creatures. It’s
why our poor king is related to that one. Mr. Dellacourt’s father took the
king’s aunt as his consort. The Fae and Vampire planes are closely linked.”
“Well, they were until that bastard Torin took over,” Dante
says.
“Why does everyone speak English?” I’m still trying to
understand this strange place I find myself in. “I don’t get it. Dante sounds
like every half-assed player prowling the bars on a Saturday night.”
Dante touches his chest and looks horribly offended. “Now
who’s rude? For your information, I speak English because my people created it
a long time ago. You can’t possibly think your ancestors were intelligent
enough to come up with such a convoluted and ridiculous language. At some point
in time, my people found the door to your plane and taught you a thing or two.
It probably happened around the time your people started standing upright. By
the way, fire? Also a vampire discovery. You have us to thank for that, I’m
sure. As to my speech patterns reminding you of your home plane, I can only
say, ick. I don’t mean to sound like some human. It’s an unfortunate truth that
our planes are closely connected. If our research on the subject is correct,
there are a lot of similarities between the two. Think of it like this—our
planes started out on the same track, but humans took over your plane, and
vampires were the evolutionary winners on mine. There are bound to be many,
many similarities.”
“Like the potato song,” I muse.
“You have that, too? Funny how that happens sometimes. I’ve
heard you can run into yourself on planes like that. The Vampire plane and the
human plane are parallel. I wonder if there’s another me on the human plane. I
bet I’m getting an enormous amount of tail there.”
“Hush,” Reeve says. “It’s starting.”
My heart threatens to stop as a line of men walk out from
the far side of the arena. A masculine voice booms throughout the space,
announcing each as they walk through. It’s easy to tell the Fae males from the
vampires. The Fae wear only pants and boots. Their chests are bare, and their
long hair is pulled back and knotted behind their heads. The vampires have on
long sleeves and gloves on their hands. They wear sunglasses like Dante’s, and
their shirts come with a hood covering their heads.
“We burn easily,” Dante explains when he notices me staring.
“Our skin is delicate. The sun on our plane isn’t as strong as the others. We