Last week we announced that Sanctum Illusions: Shadow Havens Book 4 by Edenmary Black is our Romance of the Week and the sponsor of thousands of great bargains in the Romance category: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!
Now we’re back to offer our weekly free Romance excerpt, and if you aren’t among those who have downloaded Sanctum Illusions: Shadow Havens Book 4, you’re in for a real treat:
4.8 stars – 6 Reviews
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here’s the set-up:
The past has a way of haunting those who want to forget it most…
Meniari has fallen in love with Kya, but all bets are off when his ex, a former Sanctum warrior, shows up with ideas of rekindling the fire that once burned between them. Tamuel has come to the Sanctum too, along with his rebellious guiding angel, Kellan. He’s finally received permission to return to the angelic realms – as long as Miriel agrees to crush his heart to end his mortal life. Kellan’s onboard with that, because he can’t have his wings back until Tam dies. The only obstacle is Amaya… and Tam’s mysterious fascination with Circe’s former lover.
While Miri and Andrieu grapple with circumstances at the Sanctum, Fortune and his Demesne warriors are carrying out Ilea’s orders to clean up the haven’s clubs in Saint Rushton. Things are going well, until Circe sends Maksim and his vampires to Saint Rushton. Sabotage and spying are the games, but the players get more than they bargained for, after Circe receives a photo of Amaya on Tamuel’s arm. Overwhelmed with bloodlust and fury, she breaks human and vampiric law, causing dire consequences.
As dangerous conflicts arise in the havens, Saan meets Sebastien’s first Mate, Sabine, in the hereafter. He may think his work in the realm of the living is done, but Sabine brings him a surprising plea for help. Can he reach out to the male who allowed his death?
Bound by threads from the past and the hereafter, shocking events unfold that will bring warriors to their knees and test the courage of angels.
Sanctum Illusions: Shadow Havens Book 4 contains descriptive material and scenes of explicit sexual encounters between consenting male and female adult characters. It is intended for adult readers only.
And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:
Chapter One of Sanctum Illusions: Shadow Havens Book 4
By Edenmary Black
All rights reserved.
Circe leaned forward to tap on the tinted window separating her from the driver. At the sound of her rapping, her driver touched a small button on the limo’s dash and the window fell.
“Where are we?” she asked sharply.
The driver, a vampire named Henri, quelled an inpatient sigh. “Nearing Saint Etienne,” he answered.
“How long until we arrive at the cloister?”
“Twenty minutes…approximately.” He was tired of snow and shitty roads, but Circe had told him to use only the back roads from Paris to the vampiric cloister, a bit south of Saint Etienne. He had a long night ahead even though he’d deposit Circe at the cloister very soon. It was the only such place in France, the first of its kind, but not the only one in Europe. He’d only been there once, to deliver Sebastien Galaurus, or what was left of him, to the cloister mistress, a creature whose nature he could only guess at. The place …and the cloister mistress …unnerved him, even though he might one day enter its dark halls voluntarily. He really couldn’t imagine being under Corinthias’s care for even a short time, although he’d known others who had chosen this very retreat, seeking the darkness of the cloister. Years later, they emerged with new identities, prepared to live among the vampiric race again.
Circe sat back and crossed her legs. She’d see Sebastien soon and was almost looking forward to seeing Corinthias, although she thought the cloister mistress a bitch… whatever else she was. She’d brought no warriors with her, thinking she’d have no need for them. The cloister was a place of peace and Corinthias was so removed from the world, she would have resented their presence as a representation of politics, something she had no use for.
“Do you want me to notify anyone that we’re coming… you’re coming?” Henri asked.
“No, just drive. I’ll do the notifying when I arrive.”
The window slid soundlessly into place, leaving Circe to her thoughts again. She rubbed her hands along her jean-covered thighs and opened her silver mink coat. The temperature would drop below freezing long before sunrise, but the limousine’s heater was going full blast.
Sebastien Galaurus, the Father of the Demesnes, had been fatally wounded in a plot of his Mate’s design a month ago. The bait to get him to leave Circe’s Demesne in Paris to return to the Saint Rushton Demesne in southwestern Pennsylvania had been his pregnant daughter, Iridea, or so he’d believed when he’d left Circe’s plane. The redhead on the airstrip had been Ilea, his ex-Mate. While he’d been surrounded by hostile warriors from the Sanctum and the Saint Rushton Demesne, he’d been shot with a crossbow, a weapon none had carried that night. Although Circe believed Sebastien had been killed by one of the haven warriors, no one from either haven knew who had wielded the crossbow with fatal efficiency.
Although Sebastien hadn’t believed such a thing could happen and marched off the plane in a characteristic display of arrogance, Circe had come prepared with one of her most special concoctions, an elixir so expensive to produce and powerful, that she’d only succeeded in creating a single vial. After taking Sebastien’s body, she’d injected it directly into the wall of his dead, ravaged heart within minutes of his death to keep the organ beating. Although she’d never used it before, she’d succeeded in keeping the Father of the Demesnes alive, despite the staggering odds against a vampire with an arrow impaling his heart. Once her plane had landed in France, she’d taken him to the single place she knew of where he could be cared for by the one creature she knew least about… Corinthias. Circe had returned to her haven, the Parisian Demesne, and tried to monitor Sebastien’s care from there… unsuccessfully. Corinthias was simply uncooperative in supplying her with the details of how he fared, but tonight’s visit would give her the knowledge she wished and she’d make certain that Corinthias understood that she would not be trifled with.
She closed her eyes for a minute, blocking the vision of the snow swirling around the limousine and the French countryside, cloaked in night. When Sebastien had come to her haven in Paris after escaping his own, she’d been surprised at how beautiful he was, having not met him face to face before. He’d also been a little less than willing to embrace Parisian vampiric aristocracy, but with her encouragement and that of her ex-lover, Amaya, he’d seemed to blossom… to leave his past and his haven behind. There had been sex… amazing sex… that she’d shared with Sebastien and Amaya before…
“That’s the farmhouse,” Henri said into a tiny microphone that allowed him to communicate with Circe without dropping the window again.
“Park,” Circe answered, as her eyes opened.
Henri maneuvered the limousine down a narrow, rutted road to a small, dilapidated farmhouse that was barely visible from the road. Snow covered its sagging roof and framed the windowsills. A wide wooden porch shielded the stone building’s entrance from the storm. Once the limo was parked, he left the driver’s seat and made his way around the vehicle to open Circe’s door.
Circe put her foot down in several inches of snow, as more blew through the limo’s spacious interior. “Shit!” she hissed. “Damned snow.” She pulled herself upright, observing the innocuous building for just a moment before taking the first of several wide strides to reach the porch.
“Should I accompany you?” Henri asked. His desire was to head for Saint Etienne and spend the night there, as he didn’t want to remain at the cloister. He had friends there, who’d be happy enough to see him. They could still hunt, as the night was young. Shit, he thought, I’d rather spend the night in the limo than spend a minute in…
“Yes, you will remain with me, Henri,” Circe said over her shoulder, as she pulled her silver mink around her.
“If you’d rather be…”
“I’d rather you remain with me. Is there a problem?” Circe asked, turning to the vampire, her boots in snow that reached nearly to her knees.
“No, my lady, there is no problem. I will accompany you.”
“Yes,” she replied, “you will.”
Once they reached the porch, the dark, weathered door opened and two vampires emerged. Both were female, dressed in jeans and heavy sweaters. Finding them unremarkable, Circe addressed them as servants. “Tell Corinthias that I am here. You know who I am.”
The first vampiress, a tall brown-haired female, stepped forward, but neither moved from the doorway. “You are not expected, although we were aware of your approach, of course.”
Circe laughed, a harsh sound, muted only a bit by the falling snow and wind. “I can’t believe she will be surprised that I have come. This is my driver, Henri. We will expect shelter for the night… and the new day.”
The vampiress frowned. “It is unusual that we have guests who are not seeking retreat.”
Circe said nothing, as she pulled her gloves off. Her long, dark hair was damp with snow, another annoyance.
“May I…”
“No,” Circe said. “You may not do whatever you were about to ask. You have been given an order. Tell Corinthias that I am here with my driver. Do not make me repeat myself.”
The vampiress disappeared, closing the door, which surprised Henri. He’d never seen Circe treated rudely by anyone who’d lived to discuss it, yet she appeared unconcerned. “They just closed the door in your face,” he observed quietly.
“Shut up!” she snapped. “You know nothing of the workings of the cloister.”
A moment later, the brunette reappeared in the doorway. She said nothing, but stepped aside so they could enter. The only thing that did not surprise Henri about the interior of the farmhouse was its roaring fireplace. On his last visit, with Sebastien’s body, Circe had guided him to an entrance that was several hundred yards behind the farmhouse. Her warriors had carried Sebastien through ground level doors and down a steep stairwell into the center of the cloister, most of which was below ground level.
Tonight, Henri had expected lots of overstuffed furniture and quaint charm beyond the farmhouse’s doors. Instead, he found a sizable array of technical equipment, including video monitors displaying the access roads and farmhouse from all possible angles, computers and more monitors, displaying the ancient halls of the cloister below the farmhouse. Six male and female vampires lounged in front of monitors and two more were sleeping on a wide couch. Their entrance was not acknowledged.
“Corinthias said that you should be escorted to her chambers,” the brunette said. Whatever her opinions were, she kept them from her face, as she led them down a hallway, off the great room and opened a nondescript wooden door. “Follow me,” she said, beginning the descent.
The white stone stairwell was well lighted and seemed to go on forever to Henri, forcing him to stay within a few steps of Circe. Four flights down, the dark-haired vampiress turned sharply to follow another white stone hall to another door, which opened to a small, steel elevator. Once inside, she pressed an unlabeled button, the doors closed and the car dropped suddenly, causing Henri to jostle Circe. It jerked to a stop and slid apart revealing another hall, this one black stone. And Corinthias.
“Well,” she said, “you are late in coming, Circe. I expected you’d grow impatient before now. Should I welcome you to the cloister?”
“That would be appropriate, Corinthias, but when have such things mattered to you?” Circe stepped past the vampiress, extending a hand to her host, who was exactly as Henri had remembered her – as beautiful as she was bizarre.
Corinthias was at least six feet tall, slim and muscular, with ebony skin, hip-length white hair and pale blue eyes that looked like they were made of quartz crystals. Her pupils were shaped like diamonds and the sclera of each eye was a vibrant yellow, giving her a reptilian appearance. Tonight, she wore a simple white robe, gathered at her waist with a belt embroidered in gold thread. She gave the vampiress a curt nod, sending her back into the elevator, which closed, taking her away.
“You might be surprised to know what I care about, Circe. I understand you wish to remain with us this night and the new day.”
Circe nodded. “This is Henri, my driver. He will stay with me.”
Corinthias’s voice was whisper and gravel, as she turned and began walking away from Circe and Henri. “Will he? Have I agreed to offer you my hospitality and forgotten?” she asked, without turning.
“Surely, you are not suggesting…”
“I suggest nothing,” Corinthias interjected. “You’re welcome enough, as your driver is, Circe. It is not something I offer frequently. Don’t forget that, while you are with us.”
Fortune’s lip was bleeding, even as he grinned up at the bastard whose feet dangled over the alley’s floor. Neon reflected off the sooty, wet brick walls and pounding music seemed to echo from inside the club. The stink of garbage rose around the were and the human, but Fortune, whose nose was much more sensitive than a dog’s, pushed it out of his mind, as he studied the human. His knuckles were bleeding too, but he really couldn’t recall when he’d enjoyed himself so thoroughly. “So, you like the women, huh? The boys too, I’d think. Made lots of money from them, haven’t you?”
The guy was only in his mid-thirties, but the were was right. He had made a goddamned mint off his ‘little family of whores,’ as he thought of them. Young, older, boys, girls. Some he’d trained himself, some had come with the skills already, but what counted was the money… and why it wasn’t flowing in his direction any more. “Who the fuck are you?” he rasped, as the tips of his Italian leather shoes scrapped at the concrete and his shoulder blades became a part of the filthy wall behind him. Initially, he’d thought to put a blade into the big bastard who seemed to run the crew keeping him, his whores and his business friends out of the four hottest clubs in Saint Rushton. He’d bragged about it to a friend, looking forward to the encounter, but things hadn’t gone his way at all. For one thing, the guy his crew had pointed out was fucking huge and surrounded by others who equaled his size… and strength. So, he’d begun with a quiet invitation to discuss things in the alley behind the club. The fucker had actually grinned when he’d accepted the invitation, but the guy thought a knife would do the trick. Knives were great convincers.
“Not who, asshole,” Fortune corrected. “What…what am I? Now, say it, for me.”
The guy looked down into Fortune’s face, taking in his long chestnut hair, the amber eyes that seemed to fucking glow, all the leather. Something acidic and primal flowed into his heart then… and he knew that his life could be close to ending. In a fraction of a second, he remembered how twenty-five men and women had died on the streets of Saint Rush in a single, horrible night weeks ago. This guy could have done it… all of it. The Internet was still in flames with speculation about those gruesome deaths… and it was probably this guy who’d killed them. He couldn’t force himself to do as he’d been told, but he managed to unearth something else. “You want money? Just let me…”
Fortune lowered the greasy bastard a little. “That’s what you think? I want money?”
“No! I mean… I’m a businessman. I’ve done this before! I have a lot of money and cutting you in wouldn’t be….”
Fortune dropped the guy a bit lower and snarled, a deep rumble coming from the center of his expansive chest. He let his lips pull back over his teeth and tipped his head back. “Money from men and women and children on their backs or their knees?”
“I don’t know what they…”
Fortune shoved the guy backward into the wall a little harder, even as he vowed he would not kill this disgusting bastard. He would, however, make him hurt. He punched his body up against the bricks three or four more times, until there were tears on the guy’s cheeks. “You were warned to stay out of this club and keep your whores away from it. The next time I see you here… and I will, because you are a stupid fuck, I will break your bones. I will begin with your legs… so you understand what to expect. Now, shall we make an appointment, because I know you will not heed this warning?”
The guy shook his head and closed his eyes, just as his bladder let go. No, he’d never come back. There were lots of other clubs. “No…no…”
“Say it!” Fortune snarled.
“I will stay out of these clubs and I’ll keep the family out…”
“Forever,” Fortune whispered, cutting the guy’s words, shaking him like a doll. “You will stay out forever…”
Rachel Andree rolled her sleeve down over her wrist, where the vampire had used his fangs to open her vein. The Demesne’s feeding center had become like a second home to her, a comfortable place where she offered her blood to the haven’s vampires. In return, she was well compensated and received enormous respect in the haven, a refuge for the daemons, weres and vampires who lived there. She gave the vampire a smile, which he returned. His name was Diamond and he was a warrior of the haven, big with lots of muscle and a surprisingly easy charm. “You haven’t come to me before,” she observed, smoothing the sleeve of her yellow cotton blouse.
“You’re with Fortune,” he said, ignoring her observation, as he rose from the pale leather couch.
Was she with Fortune, as so many had come to think? “We’re friends,” she said slowly. “Good friends.”
Diamond looked down at the small woman with short dark hair, framing her face. Rachel was as exotic to him as a rare flower, a human living within a supernatural haven. She’d only been at the Demesne a few weeks, yet she’d been quickly accepted into the fabric of the haven’s culture because of her gentle, friendly nature … and her patrons. “And more?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I care about him, but we are not…”
“Lovers,” he finished for her. “You know, he has let it be known that he would take it personally if any of us offended you. Of course, Xavier feels the same.”
Rachel almost laughed. “Fortune and Xavier are like brothers… big, protective brothers. That should not stop you from coming to me to feed, Diamond.”
“It does not, little woman, but I would never offend you. Fortune and Xavier know me well.”
“I see,” she said, surprised by his words. She ignored the ‘little woman,’ label. To him, that’s exactly what she was, a small, human female, and he attached no detrimental coloring to the words.
“He is in Saint Rushton tonight,” Diamond said, as Rachel stood.
“I know.”
“And, you worry for him?” Rachel’s relationship with the were fascinated Diamond, who’d never been entranced by a human female, even though he thought of this one as something special.
“Not exactly.”
“A little,” he insisted quietly, as he moved his hands through his long, dark hair. He found her reticence adorable.
Rachel wondered suddenly why all of the supernaturals were so beautiful. Why did they all have such fabulous hair? “Well, it is kind of dangerous… what you’re doing,” she said, knowing Fortune’s mission had been to clean up the four clubs in Saint Rush that were owned by the haven. The orders had come directly from Lady Ilea Qilbane, the haven’s law since her Mate, Sebastien Galaurus, had escaped and later died.
“Worry not, Rachel,” Diamond advised. “He is strong. I have had him at my back a number of times. In fact, I will be joining him and the others in Saint Rushton this night. I will tell your were you send regards,” he said chuckling.
“Sure,” Rachel replied, as she tuned to walk with him to the door of the feeding suite that doubled as a treatment room. “Tell him I said hello, but he isn’t really my were.”
At the door, Diamond leaned down and kissed the top of her head lightly. “I think that would be news to him,” he said. “He’s in courtship mode.”
Rachel laughed. “Hey, tell me something. Is Diamond your real name?”
Diamond grinned, shaking his head. “It is not uncommon for supernaturals to change names from time to time. I shine as one, do I not?” he asked, chuckling as he disappeared down the hallway.
“And, you’re so humble too!” she called after him, laughing as he disappeared.
The guy saw her boots first. Black shitkickers, meant for rugged duty, even though they were far smaller than a man’s. From where he sat, leaning against the dirty, black wall, she looked surreal in the colored light reflecting from the alley’s walls and garbage cans. He let his gaze move upward over the leather pants, the leather jacket until he came to her face… a beautiful face, surrounded by pale caramel waves, now colored emerald in the neon reflection.
She knelt to take a closer look at the human, who was clearly a wreck. Grabbing his jaw to aim his eyes to hers, she assessed the damage, noting that it was superficial… but painful. The alley had served as a shortcut back to her room above the dry cleaner’s when the pair had shown up. Although it wasn’t in her nature to conceal herself, something had told her to do just that. She’d seen their whole encounter, but the stink of garbage in the alley had worked to conceal her scent or the were would have been aware of her, sitting in the shadow of a garbage bin. He’d been as brutal as she’d have been, but what was his motivation? “Hey… hey… wake up, sunshine. What’s your name?” she asked.
The guy was having a little trouble focusing, but he zeroed in on her face. “Cruz,” he whispered.
The blond arched an eyebrow. “Cruz? Really?”
“Christopher,” he confessed.
“You know the were,” she said in an accusing voice. “What was his name?”
Cruz, as he was known to his whores and peers, winced and tried to move his face away from her touch. Something warm was running down the back of his neck. Consciousness was coming and going and he felt like his head was in a vise. “Don’t know… let me go, bitch…,” he murmured. “Who you?”
“Doesn’t matter who I am. Who was the were?” she demanded. “The male that beat the shit out of you… what was his name?”
“Don’t know his name.”
The blond stood with her hands on her hips. Humans were so inconsequential, but this one had somehow managed to piss off a pureblood were and the amazing thing was that he was still breathing. Stranger still, the were was not one she knew, which meant he was probably of the Demesne. Now, that was just odd as hell. As far as she’d known, the Demesne’s vampires stalked humans in the clubs, but they didn’t generally beat them up and dump them like this. Most weres didn’t drink blood or go looking for humans to beat the hell out of, but the shit heap at her feet was testimony to the fact that things had changed in her absence. Perhaps Saint Rushton had become more interesting… or the were thought the human had it coming for some reason.
She stepped back to shed her clothing, which she tossed on the human on the ground. It didn’t look like anyone was going to come looking for him, or they’d have shown up already. That told her the alley was probably a safe place to shift. Maybe she needed to do a little exploring instead of going back to her room. Dropping to all fours, she shifted quickly to her wolf form and loped into the night, a huge, pale predator outlined in moonlight.
Ilea Qilbane turned over in Xavier’s arms, inhaling his scent. She stared into his sleeping face, kissed his chin and moved carefully out of the warmth of his embrace. It was almost midnight and she should have risen hours ago, but their lovemaking had been so slow and sweet, their snuggling so incredibly precious to her, that she hadn’t been able to force herself away. She stood carefully, so as not to rouse her lover and moved through her dark bedroom, in the heart of the Demesne, to her bathroom. She snapped the light switch, illuminating the palatial bathroom, with its gigantic white marble soaking tub and marble counters, to stare into the mirror over the sinks. The mirror was hundreds of years old, just as she was, yet her reflection was clear and sharp. She slipped a long, floral dressing gown on and turned back to the mirror, thinking of what the future would hold.
She was the law of the Demesne and had been for weeks, but her visions involved so much more. The creation of a Basium Cruenta at the Demesne, which would be based on what the Sanctum had already created for their vampires, was at the top of her list. Rachel Andree had been the first human to come to the haven to be a part of the new Basium Cruenta, which eliminated the need for Demesne vampires to hunt for blood among the humans of Saint Rushton. Others had come and now they numbered a dozen, each human a blessing in Ilea’s eyes. The clubs the haven owned in Saint Rushton were being cleansed of drugs, prostitutes and gambling. This had also come at her order, although she worried for the warriors she sent into the city each night, as she knew they’d face opposition in ending what Sebastien had built, solely for the purpose of weakening humans so they could be hunted. She wanted to establish a system for dealing with those who broke haven laws, although there were few. In the past, Sebastien had simply killed transgressors, but she hoped to establish penalties that were suited to offenses… and avoid death. The daemon healers needed her attention and ways to upgrade their healing center. She had grown close to Miriel and Andrieu Grey, the fallen death angels who had founded and ran the Sanctum, and she wondered if they might put their heads together on matters of security. Sebastien’s recent plan to kidnap their pregnant daughter, Iridea, had exposed certain vulnerabilities, even though his plan had been thwarted through the efforts of both havens.
Thinking of Iridea, now Mated to Keircnan Grey and expecting their child, brought an immediate smile to her face. Silently she prayed for a simple daemon birth for her daughter and a healthy child, but Iridea also carried Sebastien’s vampiric blood and vampiric birth was often a rough, dangerous matter. A vampiress could will a labor to begin through a kind of deep self – glamouring, which allowed them to focus all of their mental energies on the bodily processes that would bring an unborn into the world, but they required a great deal of blood to do it as they fed almost continuously during labor. An infant vampire had to feed immediately after birth or it could die, minutes after taking breath. Ilea knew it was a real possibility for Iridea and her unborn.
She rubbed her eyes and wondered if she had the strength to do all she needed to, but the thought was interrupted by the sound of Xavier rising. She listened to the sound of his footfalls approaching the bathroom and turned just as he stopped in the doorway. His hair was pale and closely cropped, his eyes a bright blue and his body a sculpted masterpiece.
He smiled as Ilea slipped into his arms again. “I hope I did not wake you,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.
“You did not. I should have risen long ago.”
“Why? You are entitled to rest.”
“The haven…”
Xavier tipped her chin up, looking into her gray eyes. “The haven is fine, Ilea. If a problem existed, someone would have been thundering at your door.”
She nodded against his chest. “Bathe with me and we shall begin the night, if only a little past the time we should have.”
Xavier slipped the dressing gown from her shoulders and took her hand to pull her toward the tub. “In good time,” he said smiling. “In good time.”
Saan looked the Colonial house over. It sat at the foot of a small hill and was surrounded by fields of wild flowers. The colorful blooms filled the air with sweet scents, blown by warm winds. He turned his face to the sun he’d never seen during his mortal life and sighed in mild frustration. Although he carried the daemon genes of his mother, Ilea, and the vampiric genes of his father, Sebastien, he’d lived as a vampire, drinking blood and shunning the sun. His sister, Iridea, had inherited both as well, but she lived as a daemon, unaffected by sunlight. Blood had never crossed her lips.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the house was a reproduction of the Maidenheart Bakery, a place owned by Priana Grey in the mortal realm of the living. He knew his father, Sebastien, had lived there once with the Greys, his brother Julian and his Mate, a fallen angel named Regine, as well as his own Mate, Sabine. Why his death angels had dumped him here was unfathomable, but he knew they had purpose in all they did.
The red-haired female who’d come to the foot of the wide porch, broke his ruminations. “Aren’t you going to come in?” she asked.
Her dress was simple as most garments had been during the course of her life in Colonial America. She’d been daemon then and still had the wild beauty of that, despite the simplicity of her blue dress and braid.
He realized there was laughter threatening to spill past her smile. “Who are you?”
“My name is Sabine. I lived once, as you did, and I asked our death angels to bring you here,” she answered, as her hands came to rest on her hips.
“You speak to them? Your death angels?” he asked curiously.
She chuckled, a warm sound from deep in her belly. “Sometimes they answer. Perhaps you should refrain from giving yours the finger. They might speak with you too.”
“What is this place?” he asked, walking to her.
“This place was once the very first haven for supernaturals in America. A building like it stands still among the living. It is called Maidenheart.”
“You’re my father’s first Mate.”
She nodded. “I am that, but you’ll want to know why you’re here.”
Saan took another step toward her, flinging his blond braid over his shoulder. “Were you planning to tell me?”
“I am, but not until you come inside. My daughter…the daughter I conceived with your father is inside too. Her name is Claire.” Sabine dropped her hands, turned and disappeared inside the building.
Saan followed.
Kya ended her call and dropped the cell to her desk in the Sanctum’s feeding center. Several members of the haven’s Basium Cruenta were in house and more were expected. Vampires had been coming in pairs or alone to feed and as usual, her phone was wide awake and doing what it always did… beep, blip or chime every time she looked at it. She was the coordinator of the feeding center, diplomat and friend to every human and vampire who came through the feeding center’s doors, three hundred, sixty-five days a year. Running the feeding center made her a vital part of the Sanctum’s functioning structure and known to everyone. She also knew what they needed or cared about or hoped. Another might have found her job draining, but Kya loved it, especially since she’d finally found what she needed. His name was Lien Meniari, a vampiric warrior of the Sanctum, and he made her heart sing.
When he came through the door, Kya’s face lit like a sparkler, making him grin. He kissed her across the desk, still grinning, with a hand behind his back.
“You’re going out tonight?” she asked, although she knew the answer. He would patrol Sanctum land until close to the time the sun rose, then return to his home once he was relieved by were warriors, who would not be affected by sunlight as he would.
“In a little while,” he answered, looking down at her behind the desk. The smile on her heart-shaped face had become so important to him. “I have time to feed and kiss you for about fifteen minutes. Sneak away with me.”
Kya looked at her phone, hoping it wouldn’t ring. She found Meniari’s beautiful face and dark eyes and snatched the phone from the desk to turn it off.
He took her hand, pulling her around the desk to his chest. “I brought you something,” he said, producing a bouquet of crimson roses and white baby’s breath wrapped in delicate lavender paper.
“They’re gorgeous,” Kya gushed. “Where did you find wild roses in January, Lien?”
“I have my ways. Leave them here,” he said chuckling, as he took the flowers to drop them on the marble- topped desk. Tugging her along behind him, Meniari found an empty feeding suite, pulled Kya through the door and locked it telekinetically. In a second, he had her against his chest and his mouth closed against hers.
Joe Cafaris eyed the array of equipment in front of him. It was an impressive operation, designed to monitor every square mile of the Sanctum, night and day and rivaled anything he’d ever seen in military service or as a cop. Part of the point of a haven was keeping the supernaturals that lived there safe. Another part was keeping the place private, but recent events had served to highlight the need for keeping the uninvited off the property. Only weeks in the past, warriors from the French Demesne had been permitted to trespass, so they could be eliminated, preventing them from blowing the haven to the skies. An unintended result had been the discovery of weak points in the haven’s boundaries, points chosen by the highly trained warrior force sent from Paris by Sebastien and Circe.
Prior to looking over the haven for weak points, he and Keirc had taken a hard look at security at the Maidenheart Bakery. As it was owned and operated by Joe’s Mate, Pria, and had proven to be vulnerable in more ways than one in the past, he and Keirc had put their heads together to model several critical security scenarios, without discussing them with Pria. Knowing she would object strenuously to the full time presence of warriors being stationed there strictly for security reasons, they’d simply worked without her knowledge. The result was a plan, which every Sanctum warrior had been briefed on. Should a call for help come from anyone at the bakery, a small warrior force would be moved there in seven minutes. Twelve minutes later, a second warrior force would hit the bakery. At that point, Pria and her vampiric employee, Amaya, would be removed. Joe would remain at the bakery with the other warriors to neutralize any attacker left living. The only thing the plan required to work was Joe’s presence at the bakery, but he was already there every day or night as part of Pria’s staff.
Now, Joe had been given the security tour of the Sanctum itself, by Keircnan Grey, his brother in law. His days as a cop seemed far in the past, but he enjoyed looking for these kinds of weaknesses… holes that could result in a lot of deaths, including his own, since he lived here with Pria, as well as his new family and friends.
“These are the monitors and I have them set up so they sound an alarm if the detectors turn on for any reason. They’re running twenty-four, seven.” Keirc gestured at the bank of monitors in his newly created security center at the Sanctum. The equipment had once been housed in his rooms at the Sanctum. With Iridea’s pregnancy had come a hell-bent desire to make both havens as secure as possible and a need to move the equipment, so she could sleep without the monitors beeping or his cell phone going off in the middle of the day. “The thing is that sometimes they go into alarm mode if anything gets near them… even something as small as a bird can set them off. We need to make some adjustments, but I don’t want to do anything that would make them worthless. I mean a hand grenade doesn’t weigh much but if it landed in the right place it could take out half the haven.”
Joe looked at the monitors. At one time, he might have questioned Keirc’s concerns about something like grenades, but such things were a possibility. He was still breathing a sigh of relief that Sebastien Galaurus was dead, yet he wondered if more shit might not be coming from who knew where. “I see the point, but with the vampires patrolling at night and the weres patrolling during the day…”
At that moment, a high-pitched screech filled the room, sending Keirc scrambling to a monitor. “Goddamn,” he whispered, through clenched teeth. The screen was filled with an image of two of his weres, Ares and Cronus, dragging a dark-haired male between them toward an SUV parked near an access road leading onto Sanctum land. Ares had a dagger in his hand, but it hadn’t been used, although the male’s head was hanging between the weres and his feet dragged the ground. As Keirc watched, Cronus dug for a cell, as Ares balanced the half-conscious male. The next beep came from his own cell, which he pulled from his pocket. A quick, terse conversation followed.
“That was Cronus,” Keirc said, pocketing the cell. “You may as well come along, Joe. He said the male is angelic. This should be interesting.”
Joe stood. “Where are we going?”
“Our procedure is to take any trespassers or any lost humans, to my mother or my father. Tonight, it’s Miri.”
