Chapter Nine

The next evening after sunset, Zoltan quickly showered and dressed. He was eager to see Neona but nervous about asking her about her age. Normally that would be considered rude, but in this case, it might be cause for murder.

She’d tried to kill him the first time they’d met, and she’d mentioned several times that men were not allowed there. So he assumed the women were guarding a secret they couldn’t trust with anyone else. Eternal life would fit the bill.

Was that what Master Han and Lord Liao were looking for? As vampires they already enjoyed the possibility of eternal life, but maybe they thought the women’s secret would enable them to live during the day. That would give them a huge advantage over the Vamps who were dead and vulnerable during the day. If Master Han possessed the secret, he could rule the vampire world.

It would also give him a tremendous amount of power over mortals, since he could decide who received the gift of eternal life and who didn’t. He would be a god among mortal men.

Zoltan walked into the kitchen for a quick meal and found Howard seated at the kitchen table, polishing off his box of donuts.

“You’re going back to see your girl, right?” Howard pushed a sat phone and a knife across the table. “Neona was her name?”

“Yes.” Zoltan dropped the sat phone into his pocket but ignored the knife. How could he win her trust if he arrived with a weapon?

“I e-mailed a report to Angus. He agrees with us.”

Zoltan finished his glass of blood. “Where is Angus now?”

“Still in London with Emma.”

Zoltan walked over to the fridge while he considered. “Can you ask Angus to check on something for me?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I want to know what happened to a guy named Frederic Chesterton. He may be dead by now, but his son might be alive and remember something.”

“Remember what?” Howard asked.

“Something from the first six years of his life.”

Howard frowned. “Does this Frederic own the cabin Russell mentioned?”

“He lived there for eleven years.” Zoltan slipped a plastic bag of blood into one of his jacket pockets and zipped it shut. “I should be going now.”

Before Howard could object, Zoltan teleported back to the clearing where he’d first met Neona. She was almost four hours ahead of him, so midnight would come soon. He levitated up to the tree branch to retrieve the arrow Russell wanted back, then hurried down the mountainside to Frederic’s cabin in the valley.

It was an idyllic place. Green meadows, forested hillsides, a gurgling mountain stream, and the waterfall shooting out of Beyul-La. He could see why Frederic Chesterton had stayed for eleven years. Especially if he’d been in love with one of the women.

As Zoltan approached the cabin, his heart beat faster. No woman had ever intrigued him as much as Neona did. She was such a fascinating mixture—tough but innocent, fierce yet tender. Beautiful, but totally unaware of it. He’d never met someone who needed love as much as she did. She was a lonely soul like him and, he suspected, an old soul as well.

Somehow their paths were connected. He’d felt that from the beginning. She held the answers to the mysteries from his past. And he was becoming more and more certain that she was his future. He just needed to convince her.

He would hold her in his arms and woo her with kisses. He would gain her trust. And her love. The prospect made his heart pound with anticipation.

He strode into the cabin. “Neona?”

His heart sank. The cabin was empty.

Was he waiting for her? Neona glanced up at the moon, which was three-quarters full in the clear starry sky. Zoltan had said he’d meet her at midnight, but she didn’t have a way to know the exact time. Her contact with the outside world was so limited that she’d never needed to keep track of time.

She’d seen a clock before. Frederic had owned a pocket watch that he’d given to Calliope before leaving. Freddie was the proud owner now, even though the watch had broken years ago.

Neona wandered over to the grassy mound where Calliope was buried. Moonlight glistened on the long grass, lending it a silvery hue. A breeze blew down the mountainside, rustling the trees that flourished higher up the hill.

“I miss you,” Neona whispered to the other healer.

Calliope had died six years ago when the new cycle had started. Her death had devastated her three daughters. The oldest daughter, Farah, fathered by a Persian long before Frederic’s arrival, now lay buried next to Calliope. Farah had died two weeks ago in the battle that had claimed five of the women of Beyul-La. Only Winifred and Freya remained from Calliope’s line.

Neona paused in front of Farah’s grave, bowing to pay her respects before moving on to the mound where her sister was buried.

“Minerva.” She sat next to the mound. “I had the dream again last night.” It seemed like the memory should have faded with time, but she could still see the injured boy so clearly in her mind. He’d remained unconscious the entire time she’d treated him. He’d taken some harsh blows to the head, some gashes to his shoulders, and a nasty burn down his back. “Why do I keep dreaming about him? And that terrible day?”

No answer.

Neona sighed. “It must be a reminder of what happens when one of us shirks our sacred duty to follow a man.”

She gazed up at the stars. As much as she wanted Zoltan to be different, she couldn’t allow herself to trust him. If she continued to see him, she would be putting the secrets of Beyul-La at risk. She could end up destroying everything if she wasn’t careful.

“I know I mustn’t go to him.” But what if Zoltan was waiting for her?

She imagined him pacing in front of Frederic’s cabin. Would he become angry, like he had last night? Would he feel betrayed when she didn’t come?

The thought made her heart ache. She didn’t want to cause him pain. By nature, she was a healer. She took pain away; she didn’t cause it. But because she was one of the guardians of this valley and its secrets, she’d also been trained to be fierce in battle. She knew how to be ruthless when her own life was hanging in the balance.

Now it was her heart that was at stake, so she had to be ruthless where Zoltan was concerned. And she had to be honest with herself. She was hopelessly attracted to the man. It would be far too easy to fall in love with him.

“Why am I so drawn to him? I hardly know anything about him. Where does he come from? Why is he so curious about me?” She mentally ticked off what she did know about him. Handsome, brave, quick, strong, intelligent, honorable, charming, sweet.

She winced. How could she not fall for such a man? He’d tried to save her life when he’d thought she was in danger from Zhan. Noble and protective, she added those to her list. Then she smiled, remembering how offended he’d been when she’d told him men were unnecessary. There was a vulnerability to him in spite of his strength. He seemed to need love as much as she did.

“Did I tell you that he kissed me again?” Neona whispered, then closed her eyes, letting the memory of last night’s kiss flood over her. He’d been so sweet, so tender, and incredibly exciting because beneath it all she had sensed a fiery passion ready to burst into flames and consume her. He’d pulled her tight against him, and she’d felt his swollen manhood, large and straining against the confines of his pants.

If she went to him tonight, she might end up in bed with him. Skin touching. Arms embracing. Legs entwined. The images racing through her mind made her heart pound, made her yearn to give in to desire.

But it was too dangerous. She knew deep inside that bedding Zoltan would change her irreparably. He would take her heart along with her body.

She couldn’t let that happen. For both their sakes. How could she live with herself if she encouraged his affections and he was killed because of it? Each time he invaded their territory, his life was in danger.

“I mustn’t go to him.” She pulled her knees up and hugged them. It was the right decision. The wise decision. So why did she feel like screaming in frustration?

A twig snapped behind her, and she instantly pulled the knife from the sheath strapped to her calf, then turned to look.

It was Zhan, emerging from the forest.

“Oh, it’s you.” She slipped the knife back into its sheath. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”




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