Embrace the Mystery (The Blood Rose 3)

He sustained the drive, savoring every ounce of pleasure until his woman, his blood rose, lay beneath him, breathing hard and finally coming down from the heights.

His vibration eased up and his c**k relaxed, but his body still experienced waves of ecstasy as though his blood kept releasing pleasure on pleasure.

Batya twitched and laughed. “It’s the most incredible aftershock.”

“Like smaller versions of the big show.”

“Uh-huh.” She worked hard to catch her breath.

He followed suit, then settled his forearms beside her. Once more, his chest filled with that strange, inexplicable sensation and words rushed into his mouth, words he didn’t recognize, so he swallowed them.

She pushed at damp tendrils beside his cheeks. “That was beyond extraordinary. You were right; we are good together.”

“I know I said it at the time, but I never dreamed it would be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like if we kept going we could solve all the problems of the Nine Realms, just the two of us.”

She smiled, her two faint dimples making an appearance. She had a beautiful smile so he kissed her again. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Ditto.”

After cleaning up, Quinlan cradled Batya in his arms until she fell asleep. He remained awake even after dawn crested the land. His thoughts had turned to his journey with Batya, trying to understand what was really happening between them.

Just as his eyelids grew heavy, the strange, impossible thought pierced his mind: Could he have a life with her?

* * * * * * * * *

Late that afternoon, Batya dressed for her audience with the queen in her throne room. Quinlan had already left, needing to confer with Seth who had arrived with a contingent of the Walvashorr Guard.

Having showered, Batya donned the woven gown that Gizelda had provided for her. Ferrenden Peace held to ancient protocols and though Quinlan could be presented in his Guard uniform, she had to wear a long gown made of traditional realm fabrics, the same material that made up the Guard uniform shirts.

Many aspects of the Nine Realms had remained in previous centuries, one more reason why she liked the modern world of Tennessee.

Once dressed, she regarded her reflection in the mirror. She’d braided a portion of her hair and wrapped it in a circle on top of her head, also an ancient tradition for unmarried women. She’d already noticed that many of the women in the main street wore some kind of head-dress, whether a scarf or a hat, indicating they were married.

She added the silver linked belt that gave shape to the gown and hung at a pretty angle over her hips, the attached, decorative chain dangling, no doubt on purpose, to the juncture of her thighs.

She shook her head and laughed. She thought she looked ready for a costume party more than anything else, but these were the rules of the castle. The queen had given her shelter, and dressing in old-realm costume offered in return a small measure of gratitude.

Gizelda had given her instructions as to the location of the main receiving hall, so Batya made her way there with some confidence. Two troll guards stood to either side of an arched stone doorway. The guard on the right informed her that Mastyr Seth was within but that Mastyr Quinlan had gone down to Main Street to see his brigade commander.

She’d met Seth decades earlier when he had visited her father. She had thought him an overly serious type, not given to having fun, or enjoying life.

But when she entered the room, something shifted for her so suddenly that she gasped, even though she didn’t exactly know why.

He stood on the other side of the massive, vaulted chamber, a thumb hooked over the cross-belt of his Guard uniform, his free hand holding a map. His brows were drawn together as he studied what looked like an ancient realm-document.

But he’d never looked so attractive. He was tall. All the mastyrs were.

He turned to meet her gaze, but didn’t smile. If anything, his brows formed an even harder ridge as he stared at her. His nostrils flared and he groaned.

The map fluttered to the floor.

But she was feeling it as well, a need to go to him, to feed him as she’d fed Quinlan last night and for the past several days.

He wore his brown wavy hair held back by the woven clasp. His cheekbones stood out like the sharp edges of a statue, leading to a strong angled chin. His green eyes had the look of a hawk as he stared at her, a predator ready to pounce.

The trouble was, she wanted him to pounce.

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest once more, as it had from the time that Quinlan had started coming around and bugging her.

“Come to me.” His deep voice pulled her toward him.

Batya knew this was wrong, on some level she knew she betrayed Quinlan, even though neither had spoken words of commitment. Still, she shouldn’t be longing for mastyr Seth like this.

She rubbed her throat. Her vein pounded for the vampire.

Just a few feet more.

He pulled her into his arms and she bent her neck. “Take what you need.” The same words she’d spoken to Quinlan.

She felt saliva drip on her neck. He’d strike soon and it would feel wonderful. She needed him to feed, as though somehow her own life depended on feeding this mastyr vampire.

In that moment, she finally understood all that had happened over the past several weeks and more importantly, exactly what she was.

A blood rose.

Oh, Sweet Goddess, no.

“What the f**k is going on here!” Quinlan’s voice rumbled through the lofty chamber.

Mastyr Seth released her, setting her off to the side and behind her as though protecting her.

Uh-oh.

Quinlan launched, but Seth did too. The next thing she knew, the vampires grappled midair, two of the toughest mastyrs in the Nine Realms. A fist caught Quinlan on his chin, jerking his head and his body backward toward the floor, but he’d been a warrior a long time and righted himself.

Flying at top-speed, he plowed into Seth with a hard shoulder to his abdomen. His momentum sent both of them hurtling toward the tall arched cathedral window that overlooked the town’s southern aspect.

“Oh, Sweet Goddess, no!” she screamed, stretching out a hand, but to do what?

At exactly the same moment, she felt a rush of energy sweep past her and both men ended up hanging in the air, frozen in place. Seth’s head was flung back, his body almost parallel to the floor, Quinlan above him, twisted, his face red with rage, but still as death.

“I must say, this wasn’t the welcome I’d expected.”

Batya turned slowly and met the gaze of one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in her life. “You’re Queen Rosamunde.”