Vindicta (The Liquidator Wars Book 1) Read online

  Bayn’s eyes widened, and he turned away and said, “I’m going downstairs. You better be there in the next five minutes, or Brynn will come up here and drag you there yourself.”

  Terran flushed and thought about how he wished she would come to his room just once instead of making him feed her in such a platonic area of the mansion. His muscles tensed, and his twin brother walked out of the door, closing it with a slight slam behind him.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and headed to his closet and muttered, “Gods help me.”

  Chapter Five:

  Victorious

  The feast was beginning to wind down as Bayn sat stiffly in his chair at the long table situated within the vast dining area of the mansion, eyes intent on Brynn as she elegantly sipped red wine from perfect stemware. Her slim body was covered in a gloriously dark fabric that clashed against her pale skin perfectly, emboldening each streak of the same shade in her hair and painted on her full lips. As he watched her, her lips curving with each syllable as she spoke to the servant to her right, he could understand why his twin was as infatuated with her as he was. And it had been this way since she came to lead the brigade. Of course, they were twins, so did that make them most likely to fall in love with the same woman? He wasn’t certain. All he knew was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as he felt the heat flare within them.

  Her crimson eyes flashed blue in the candlelight as it flickered over her face, the Sapphire Eye just begging to be used even though she had stored the Quaji of every Liquidator or Turncoat they had slain on the front lawn. And he adored watching her while she did it, taking such care as she ushered them into the tiny glass jars. It was in sharp contrast to the hard coldness of her violent acts in battle.

  Most of the table was deserted by now, and Bayn had chosen his seat wisely, not wanting to sit too close to Brynn as there was no telling what he would say or do. Especially since his twin had taken the quickest opportunity to sit right beside her, his eyes flaring with the same desirous heat as Bayn’s. He felt Calyx’s energy move around him, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even tear his eyes away from the vision at the other end of the table. The fabric of her dress reached up to cover her slender throat that produced such a velvet laugh. She sat beside him and flipped her long dark curls over her shoulder. He could see her frowning out of the corner of his eye, but he did not turn to look at her.

  “You know, Bayn, if you stare too hard at her for too long you’ll burn a hole into her forehead,” she said jokingly, placing a comforting hand on top of his on the table.

  He started a little at her touch, flushing.

  “So, it’s that obvious, is it?” he replied, making it rhetorical. “Calyx, tell me honestly. Do you think Brynn would consider polyandry for the sake of us Craven twins, or will I be forced to kill Tarren to take him out of the running?”

  Calyx used her napkin to squelch a smile.

  “Bayn, I don’t think Brynn is giving marriage any thought at all at the moment. She is more concerned with preserving the Electi and keeping our enemies at bay. And I am pretty sure that she will see Gwenyth married first before she marries anyone.”

  “But, pardon me, I happened to research Electi history. If memory serves me right, Brynn has the same option as all Summus Ducem. Whether male or female, the leader may take more than one marriage partner. And with the emphasis on breeding more of us as quickly as possible, I would like to offer the opinion that she might be in more of a hurry. We couldn’t be more devoted Calyx. As an Empath, you know that. And as far as the lovely Lady Gwenyth is concerned, she needs to come out of her chambers and from behind Brynn’s skirts more often. I don’t see that she lacks for male attention. Just look for yourself.”

  Bayn gestured with his own wine glass toward Gwenyth, sitting on Brynn’s right side as she always was, engaged in a conversation with three eager looking attractive males at once. Bayn bristled when he saw that one of them was Ryder, who was at that moment making Gwenyth laugh and kissing her small white hand. The ‘good’ one that was not withered.

  Gwenyth generally kept the other hand, gloved in velvet embellished with gold embroidery and seed pearls and covering her arm to just past her elbow, in her lap.

  “You know I don’t trust Ryder Perkins though I can’t tell you why ” Bayn muttered loud enough so that Calyx might hear him. “I know he has sworn fealty to the Electi, but I still think that he is a scoundrel. He probably has a wife somewhere, and a passel of brats he owes back child support on. I would never let him have my back during battle. And my brother is of the same opinion.”

  “Well, I trust Brynn’s instincts. They can’t fool her,” Calyx replied. “I sense some deep wound in him. I believe he is a widower.

  “What about you, Calyx?” Bayn said, turning to her inquisitively. “Is there no one seeking your favor?”

  She laughed, high and throaty and lovely.

  “No, nothing like that.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  “No aristocrats hoping to get into your bed? That’s a shock.”

  Even though she was a woman of the brigade and always around males speaking in such a derogatory fashion, she blushed.

  “Well, yes, but none that I would ever be interested in. They’re too stuffy for my taste. I have been exposed to warriors for far too long for an aristocrat to be interesting.”

  Bayn nodded, turning back to look at Brynn as she continued to speak with his brother, her luscious lips curled up into a pleased smile. How badly he wanted to be kissing those lips, making her feel every ounce of pleasure his body wanted to grant her, but he couldn’t. And all because of his brother’s affliction with her. He had never been in such a horrid place in his life until he had met Brynn to take place in the brigade that the House had assigned him to. Living with her under the same roof didn’t make things any easier, either. If anything, it made his ache and hunger for her even stronger and more painful. Seeing her speak so candidly with Tarren at that moment didn’t help in the slightest. He began to push himself up from his chair, hands on the arms of it as he scooted backward.

  “I need to go,” he whispered as he turned to glance at Calyx, her green eyes glowing in the soft light in the room.

  The flickers of the candles only made them sparkle, even more, causing them to nearly glow. Suddenly, Brynn had left her chair and made her way to toward them, sauntering in all of her beauty. A beauty he felt he couldn’t have.

  She moved quickly, placing her hand lovingly on one of his. “Please, don’t leave, Bayn. Maybe we can take a stroll. It is night now after all, and you look like you could use the company. Maybe even to talk?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Brynn…”

  She rose her hand, interjecting. “What is there to know about, Bayn? Just one leisurely stroll on the grounds. They have been deemed safe enough, and you need someone to talk to. Well,” she took a step back with her hand on his arm still, her long red gown flowing behind her as she took his hand and began to make her way toward the door, “as safe as they can be for a vampire.”

  She laughed, and it was infectious, Bayn chuckling slightly at the small joke. Tarren was watching them warily, causing Bayn to smirk at his twin brother a little.

  “Alright, let’s go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will clear my mind a little.”

  She smiled as she led him toward the front entrance, holes, and pockmarks on the floor from the weapons that had struck it earlier. It reminded him of the danger they had been in. The attack from the Liquidators and their Turncoat traitors was enough to make him shake his head at the betrayal, but he was confident that Calyx had felt that same betrayal even deeper. Her own Fae blood ran through the veins of the Turncoats, and he could sense the hatred within her when she encountered one. It wasn’t just because she felt it. He felt it too and honestly hated it for her. He hated it when she had to kill her own for justice and the safety of the House of Electi, but what could he do? He could do nothing but fight by her si
de and comfort her when needed, but then he would think of Brynn and her lovely scent and how badly he wanted to kiss her and make love to her in his bed. To be hers and only hers. And he was pathetic.

  He knew his brother Tarren would think him pathetic too. That was the difference between them. Tarren was much more forceful in all things. He never showed his hand, but once he decided what he wanted, he would wait for exactly the right time and then zero in on it like an eagle in flight.

  And Tarren always seemed to get what he wanted without much of a fight.

  Bayn was of a slightly more cautious nature, though equally as single-minded in his pursuits. Even though they were identical twins, Bayn was more hesitant in how he managed his wants. When they wanted the same female, he suspected that Tarren might trump him in the end.

  The air outside was cooling, though thick with humidity. In the soft lamplight above them, her fabulously wild hair glinted red gold and seemed to have a life of its own.

  Even the curve of her back was sheer poetry.

  What would Tarren do if he were in the garden with Brynn? he thought to himself. And then suddenly, as Brynn stopped to look up at the full lantern of a moon, he knew.

  “What are you thinking, Brynn?” he asked quietly, daring to slip one arm loosely around her perfect waist. “Sometimes I find myself wondering. All your thoughts can’t be of war and Gwenyth’s welfare. Don’t you have other interests? Hobbies?”

  Brynn turned. In the half-light of the moon, she was more beautiful than ever, her pleasing facial planes accentuated and her ruby-hued eyes glowing under their long gold-tipped lashes that curled so elegantly.

  She smirked.

  “War is my hobby and my vocation,” she said.

  “Well, you need to get a new one,” Bayn answered. “We almost lost you twice recently. It’s getting tiresome, and I wouldn’t say this in front of Calyx or Tarren, but I have to tell you I’ve noticed that you are taking more chances lately than you used to. You’re getting addicted to the adrenaline rush, that’s what I think.”

  “And what if I am?” she replied, standing toe to toe with him. “What if it’s my drug of choice? What if being near death makes me feel more alive and awakens all my sleeping neurons? What if I just plain like it, Bayn? What if all there is for me is bloodshed, death, and that hum of pleasure within my body that it all brings?”

  “Ah, Brynn, there are so many other things even more thrilling,” Bayn told her, looking down and getting lost in her raw beauty. And then he decided to do what Tarren would do. He went for it.

  At first, when his mouth covered hers he felt a slight electrical charge, but soon he couldn’t tell where his own mouth ended, and hers began. For a few seconds, he was swept up in a reverie beyond pleasure. Her lips were sweet and soft, and he wanted the kiss to go on forever.

  But it didn’t and was over far too soon.

  Brynn pulled back, her face flushed. For a single moment, she looked confused and vulnerable, shocking him because he’d never seen her exhibit either quality.

  “Bayn, we can’t. I must have had too much wine. You know I can drink you and Tarren under the table. This is not professional behavior. And…”

  “And just for a moment you were letting yourself be a female,” Bayn interrupted. “Not a bad choice, I think.”

  He grinned at her conspiratorially, his white teeth flashing in the darkness as his fangs throbbed with the need for her that rushed into him.

  “I can’t apologize for kissing you, Brynn. It may not be what you wanted, but I think it’s what you needed. And it means something to me that the Daughter of the Electi who yields to no one on the battlefield yielded her perfect pink lips to mine in the moonlit garden.”

  “Oh, just stop,” Brynn said crossly, stepping on his boot clad foot on purpose and moving past him. “If you speak of it I will have your squawking head on a platter at the next victory feast. Understand? I need to check on Gwenyth. You can either come with me or stand here gazing at the moon by yourself.”

  As Bayn watched, she gathered her skirts in both hands and flounced up the path back toward the sounds of music and raucous laughter. His heart was beating in pure triumph that he had succeeded in something he never thought he would.

  He’d made the boldest move he’d ever made. He had kissed the most beautiful creature on the planet. Before she’d disengaged, her own small tongue had danced for a few glorious, unforgettable moments with his own. It made him yearn even more for her, a hunger for so much more penetrating his very core.

  She was “into” him. He was sure of it.

  ***

  The next morning was a quiet one. Brynn had received word from the Surgeon that the dark haired stranger she’d nearly killed was recovered enough so that he could be interrogated without being affected by his injuries.

  She could hardly wait. Just the fact that he’d bled red was enough to intrigue her. She couldn’t sense what he was, but it was neither Liquidator of Turncoat, and she had to find the answer.

  First, she wanted to have breakfast with Gwenyth and discuss the huge Victory Feast the night before. To that end, she had breakfast brought to her private chambers by the servants: popovers, Gwenyth’s favorite since childhood, with loads of butter and jam, eggs and a rasher of bacon. They also had a pot of chocolate and one of tea brought along with a generous bowl of clotted cream. And, of course, two full crystal tumblers of fresh human blood from the donors. They could be sustained by human blood, some Electi living off of it their entire lives, but when it came to a grave injury or a quick boost of energy only, another member of their race would do.

  “Yum,” Gwenyth remarked, biting into a heavily laden popover. “It’s been forever since we had a leisurely breakfast together. This is fun, Brynn.”

  Brynn stopped crunching on a strip of bacon and leaned over to pat Gwenyth’s knee.

  “I am sorry. I’ve neglected you. I had been planning a picnic before the manse was attacked. It seems as though the attacks are escalating. I do wish we could spend more time together. Ride horses or picnic or even go shopping or something.”

  “Shopping,” Gwenyth replied, though her mouth was so full that it came out “thopping.” “We need new clothing. Brynn, you haven’t bought anything in ages, and I know we aren’t poor. We had all those artifacts that were our parents when we left Uncle Vincent. They couldn’t possibly be all gone now, and we need to blend in with the humans. We can’t stay locked up forever.”

  “Far from all gone,” Brynn answered. “But selling the artifacts is a tricky business. It is a very exclusive market. One for billionaires with the taste for the precious and unusual and the means to satisfy that taste. It’s not like going to the bank. It can take months to find the right buyer for a piece. Plus, it costs me an incredible amount of money to provide for our Guard and soldiers. But no worries. We have plenty of items to sell and quite of bit of money in the bank just now. Of course, we can go shopping.”

  Gwenyth leaned forward as if she’d just thought of something.

  “Do we still have the Red Star?” she asked. “You haven’t had to sell it, Brynn, have you?”

  “No, my darling,” Brynn assured her. “That is yours. I would never sell it. Mother always meant for you to have it, just like she always meant for me to have the necklace with the Blue Star. We were to wear them on our wedding days but Gwen, if you would like to wear it today, you can. I don’t see the use of such a beautiful piece sitting in my vault for years. You should wear it today. It matches your eyes beautifully.”

  “And, sister, while I am excited to be able to wear it, what do you mean by ‘sitting in my vault for years?’” Gwen stated, doing her best finger quotes around the words her older sister had said exactly. “Are you trying to say I will never find a male that I will marry? One that will love me as I deserve? Am I not worthy of that?”

  She stood and took a few steps away from her sister, practically fuming and clenching her fists in anger.

  �
��No, Gwenyth, that’s not what I am saying. I would never. You deserve all the happiness in the world. You know I believe that so where is this coming from?”

  Brynn set the crispy strip of bacon down on the plate in front of her, watching Gwenyth’s back as she attempted to compose herself. Brynn had always protected her as best she could, and she couldn’t understand the drastic change in her sister’s mood as they spoke.

  “Just forget it, Brynn. You cannot protect me forever, even from your own thoughts. Let’s just forget about the conversation, go shopping for something that you can go out into the city in, and try to enjoy ourselves, huh? Let’s just be us for a little while.” With those words she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Brynn wasn’t sure what to think at her sister’s outburst. She wasn’t known to be extremely emotional for any reason, even if it was well founded. She sighed and picked up the piece of bacon again, crunching on it as she stared at the door and wondered why she couldn’t just keep her mouth shut sometimes.

  Chapter Six:

  The Price of Mischief

  Trace and Jupiter, known as ‘Jupe,’ had been best friends and had gone through the rigors of Warrior Training together since early childhood. They both felt important and a bit superior to the other twenty or so students in the Stealth Class, because they had turned twelve only fourteen days apart, a critical age for those serving under the Daughter of the Electi.

  They knew that their Initiation would be soon, and then they would be seen as fit to join in the frequent battles. It was the greatest rite of passage for a young warrior, and each young soldier coming of age was assigned a member of the Royal Guard to be their Guardian. They would continue to learn and grow under their guidance.

  Trace and Jupe, having shown early promise, had been chosen by the Craven twins who would serve as their mentors. The boys felt superior to their classmates because both Tarren and Bayn were idolized like rock stars for their prowess in battle and their embodiment of the finest male attributes of their race. Both the youths aspired to become skilled warriors and protectors just like the two males.