Last week we announced that Edenmary Black’s Sanctum Renaissance: Shadow Havens Book 6 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 Renaissance: Shadow Havens Book 6, you’re in for a real treat:
Sanctum Renaissance: Shadow Havens Book 6
by Edenmary Black
Fortune sees everything he’s ever wished for in Rachel’s eyes and the time has come for him to tell her who he was so long ago. She sees the strong, beautiful warrior who has taken her heart, but his words may shatter them. If she still loves him after she has his truth, their lives will be perfect… or he’ll annihilate whatever stands in the way of their happiness.
Iridea’s dream is coming to life in Renaissance, a showcase of beauty and the peaceful harmony she hopes supernaturals will find there. As long as she can overcome a big obstacle with her angelic Mate, balance their baby on her hip and manage publicity with a flamboyant out-of-town guest of the Saint Rushton Demesne, she shouldn’t have any problems at all.
As love and searing passions shape the future, a strange, late-night phone call to the Maidenheart Bakery draws Miriel and Andrieu into Saint Rushton to find a desperate woman, looking for help only the fallen death angels can provide. It’s a huge risk, but they can’t chance walking away from her… or what she knows about the Sanctum.
Trouble is blowing in the wind, in the form of the Luce brothers – two vicious werewolves, looking for a home, where an occasional missing human isn’t unusual. They’re about to be swept into the bizarre schemes of a banished archangel, taking them into a violent tempest. This isn’t the kind of war the fallen angels, daemons and vampiric warriors expect, but it’ll be a fight from hell. And, it’s just getting started.
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And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free romance excerpt:
Excerpt from Chapter Two of
Sanctum Renaissance: Shadow Havens Book 6
Edenmary Black
All rights reserved.
Sanctum Renaissance: Shadow Havens Book 6 contains descriptive material and scenes of explicit sexual encounters between consenting male and female adult characters. It is intended for adult readers only.
Chapter Two
Roberian Nize strode through a lavishly painted hallway, deep in the Demesne, just outside of Chicago. His night had been filled with the responsibilities of running the haven and although he usually enjoyed the management of money, assets and security, he’d found himself annoyed with all of the details. He’d also seen Tula, who remained in the haven’s healing center, in the care of the daemon healers. Elegan Luce’s attack had left her with no vocal chords, but the healers told him they would regenerate, because of her daemon nature. Still, the daemon with the bandage over her throat and wide silver eyes, haunted him. He hadn’t taken time to ask for the specifics of the quarrel Luce had with her, because it didn’t matter. He was happy to see the bastard gone, along with his brother, Blacod, yet he worried about Tula. Coming to a narrow door, he tumbled the lock and stepped in quickly.
Morigean Xana stood before a canvas that had been propped against a bright, white wall. She wore only lavender panties and a white, paint- smeared tank top. He admired her mile-long legs for a moment, but he knew she painted half-naked only when she was upset. He walked to her slowly, eyeing the canvas.
Initially, there had been no difference between the surface of the wall and the canvas, but she’d created a telling image of a wolf on a crimson background with a dagger in its throat. She didn’t turn to look at him, but he knew she’d caught his vampiric scent.
Roberian slipped his arms around her from behind and dropped his face into the light hair she’d piled on top of her head. “He’s gone,” he whispered.
Morigean leaned back into the muscular chest and sighed. “You saw Tula this night.”
“As you did last night. She will recover.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You worry for her.”
Morigean shoved the paintbrush she held into her hair. “As you do.”
“Yes, I do, but it will not happen again, M’gean. Tula will be well. We have the finest daemon healers here and Elegan and Blacod are gone.”
Morigean relaxed a little. Elegan had frightened her for such a long time and the fact that he was no longer a part of her haven should have pleased her. The fact that it had taken a brutal attack to put him out the door did. Roberian Nize was formidable and led the Demesne in the style of the vampire who’d mentored him from the beginning… Sebastien Galaurus. It meant that brutality to achieve a result was the rule. “Why did you not send him from us before this attack on Tula?”
“I had no reason,” Roberian replied easily. He hadn’t liked Elegan much, on his best day, but the were had adhered to the laws… until Tula. In attacking her, he’d actually done Roberian a favor by giving him a clear reason to boot his ass out the door.
“Why did he attack her? Has she said?” Morigean asked.
“She spoke this night for the first time… to ask for water. It was nothing but a whisper and I did not think she was up for a discussion,” Roberian replied, pulling Morigean closer. “I saw her to wish her well and let her know that Luce is gone.”
“I am pleased she spoke at all. Certainly, it means the regeneration process has begun, but are you not curious, Robbie? She could, perhaps, use a pen and paper to tell us what happened between them.”
“I don’t care what happened between them, M’gean,” he answered firmly. “Why do you?”
“It’s related to his blood addiction.”
“Probably,” Roberian conceded. “This matters to you? The fact that he attacked her at all, for any reason, warrants expulsion from the haven. Only her life, has actually saved his. I would have put him down myself if she’d died.”
Morigean nodded. “I feel we should contact the other American Demesnes.”
“For what?” he asked, raising a brow. The Demesne havens were singular entities and did not generally share news or communicate regularly. To air one’s dirty laundry was considered unthinkable and to seek assistance from another Demesne was out of the question.
“Luce is a scourge. A blight on the supernatural world,” Morigean said, turning in his arms. She pulled Roberian closer to look directly into the depths of his midnight blue eyes. “Others should, perhaps, be warned. He will live somewhere, Robbie. We have friends in other havens. They should know what has happened here.”
Roberian gripped Morigean’s slender waist to make a point. “No,” he said sternly. “He will not seek a home in another Demesne. He’s done with haven living, because he hates the rules. I’m not sure why he remained here as long as he did. Elegan Luce’s addictions make him a threat, but he is no longer our problem.”
“I do not want him to be a problem for any of the Demesnes, Robbie. His addictions are hideous. We are fortunate that he satisfied his blood needs among the human dregs of Chicago and brought no undue attentions to the haven.”
“M’gean,” Roberian sighed. “Elegan Luce is not our problem now. You will not tell anyone in your world of art, at any other Demesne, what happened with the Luce brothers. That it happened at all, would make me appear weak, which is anything but truth. I simply had no proof of Elegan Luce’s addictions before this and technically I still don’t. Elegan did not tell us why he attacked Tula and Tula cannot tell us. Do you want to destroy my reputation… the reputation of this haven?”
Morigean shook her head, dropping her eyes. Her lover, the leader of the Chicago Demesne, was not being completely honest with himself or her, but he’d leveled her with a direct order. The standing of the haven would suffer if she shared what she knew of Elegan Luce, the attack or his addictions. Robbie’s status would change and not for the better, if anyone in the supernatural world thought supernaturals were attacking each other inside the haven… under Roberian Nize’s vampiric nose. The Luces were gone, Tula would recover and that would be the end of it. When she looked up, Robbie was smiling at her again. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I would never do anything to harm the haven or you. You know this, Robbie.”
He ran his hands up and down her spine, delighted with the way her nipples hardened under the flimsy tank she was wearing. He looked over her shoulder at the canvas that was such a brutal departure from her usual style. “What will you do with that?” he asked, to move the discussion from the Luce brothers to more pleasant topics.
“I’m going to burn it,” Morigean replied, as Roberian dropped his fangs to her throat. “To cinders.”
Iridea Grey lifted her son, Keisaan, to her shoulder gently, loving the soft, small coos coming from his round pink mouth. He dropped his head to her shoulder and slipped a pudgy arm around her throat before closing his silver eyes. Iridea leaned back in the reclining chair and tugged the cotton blanket over Keisaan’s shoulder, before letting her own eyes fall closed. Only a bit beyond his first month of life, her son was twenty-five inches long, weighed about twelve pounds and had the beauty of daemon, angelic and vampiric genes. As a result, the baby had soft blond curls, daemon gray eyes that were often silver and tiny fangs. It was a wonderful mix, she thought, rubbing the baby’s back as his breathing became deep and sleep took him. His warm weight could take her right along with him, but she forced her eyes open, just as Keirc opened the door. She was in the first room of Renaissance to be finished and it served as an office as well as a nursery.
He grinned, leaning around the doorframe. “He ate?”
Iridea smiled at her Mate. Even in torn jeans, with dust through his blond hair, he was gorgeous. “Yep, he had blood from my wrist and when he wakes up, he’ll breastfeed,” Iridea replied softly, although Keisaan’s sleep was so bottomless, she suspected he might not wake even if she had a bullhorn in her hands.
“How much blood?”
“Two or three teaspoons,” Iridea answered. Keirc also fed the baby his blood to avoid exhausting Iridea, but he was taking little at this point in his life. Angelic, daemon, were and human blood carried proteins that would force the baby’s vampiric bone marrow to produce his own blood cells, which was why all vampires needed blood regularly. As he grew, he would be weaned from his parental blood and feed from the Demesne’s Basium Cruenta, all of whom were human, living at the Demesne as an elite, protected group. His need for breast milk would continue for several months.
“You should have called me for his blood feeding,” Keirc said.
“I didn’t mind,” she answered, recalling the feel of Keisaan’s tiny fangs in her wrist. In time, they’d grow, but as it was, they were no harder than a dull fingernail. “He’s taking so little. I think your skin’s tougher for him.”
Keirc closed the door and walked to them. “Okay… you think this space is clean enough and all of that?”
Iridea smiled at her Mate’s protective nature. The room was spotless and dust free, having been outfitted with lamps, two desks, laptops, a changing table, a toy basket, a crib and a small bureau filled with baby clothes and linens. A large, marble bathroom was right next door. “Yeah, we had the whole place scrubbed and vacuumed and we have everything we need here,” she said. “I don’t think we could make it cleaner.”
The first part of Renaissance would grow around the room, as it was on the first floor. Outside the door, a reception area, a small shop, a wine bar and a bank of elevators would eventually be situated, while bedrooms and suites would fill three upper floors. Eventually, an art gallery and an art school would be added. Iridea’s attorney, a were named Anton Grear, had hired human work crews to gut the building that had once been home to one of her father’s clubs… a place developed to be an urban hunting ground for the vampires of the Saint Rushton Demesne. Iridea looked forward to the day when the clubs’ reputations were forgotten and the buildings had been transformed into showcases for art and relaxation.
The summer had been spent rebuilding the Demesne and the Sanctum, following the attacks that had nearly ended them. It was a laborious task, but the four clubs had been invaluable as temporary refuges where homeless supernaturals had found shelter, where once depravity had reigned. As the last families had been moved home to the havens, the time had come to turn their eyes to the future.
Keirc dropped to a knee to peer at Keisaan’s face. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “Like mommy. Ilea and Xavier are coming to take you home tonight.”
“Is it evening already?” Iridea whispered.
Keirc smiled at her, loving the peace in her eyes, as she cuddled their tiny son. “The sun set about an hour ago. The days are getting shorter, now that summer’s over.”
“Why aren’t you taking us home?” she whispered.
“I want to stay here to meet with Anton Grear,” Keirc said. In the human world, Grear’s law firm owned the clubs. One document, held by Grear and Iridea, established her as the true owner, but that document was not available to any human or in any database. “I want to double check the accounting for the crews of humans who’ve been working here to gut the building and clean.”
“Right,” Iridea said, sitting up carefully. “The human crews did a great job, taking us to the bare walls. Grear’s been really helpful.”
Keirc nodded, stroking the baby’s tiny bunched fist, as he turned in Iridea’s arms. “Yeah, he has. I like the idea of having more security here too… supernatural security.”
“We don’t have enough?” Iridea whispered, knowing that several Demesne warriors were just outside the door of the nursery office.
Keirc sighed. Iridea never seemed to understand the need for as much security as possible, in spite of all they’d been through. “I’m bringing more warriors in on this, Iridea. Pria never saw the dangers with the Maidenheart either… and we’ve been to hell and back. This place could attract attention… supernatural and human, sooooo…”
“Okay, I understand, Keirc,” she said quickly, keeping her voice soft. She still felt guilty for not having included him in her initial plan. He had every right to be pissed at her about that, but she’d noted that since Keisaan’s birth, her beautiful angelic Mate had mellowed in some ways, even as he’d become more ferociously protective in others. “Do what you think is best, but we’re going to have warriors and work people tripping over each other.”
“I don’t give a shit if they’re running into each other,” he said meeting her gray eyes.
“Are you worried about something specific?”
“No. I just don’t want any problems. The best way to avoid them is planning for all possible scenarios.”
“I love you. You’re the best at that kind of thing. Do what you need to.”
As Keirc’s cell chimed, he grabbed it from his pocket. When he ended the call, he smiled again. “Xavier and your mother are about two blocks away.”
“Excellent,” Iridea said. “She hasn’t seen this place since it was a supernatural refugee camp.”
“There’s nothing to really see yet, except bare walls.”
“Yeah, but they’re our bare walls… our future.”
Keirc kissed her quickly. “Yep,” he said, with an odd edge in his voice. “Ours.”
Kell shoved his hands into his pockets, closing the leather jacket across his wide chest. His back was to the brick wall of Saint Rushton Providence Hospital and the view he had of the city street was pure drab. In a few minutes, Christine Adeon would walk out of the building into the dusk, after her ten-hour shift. She’d link her arm in his and his heart would brighten.
Christine been a nurse at the Saint Rushton Shelter and Health Center for years, but after initiating divorce proceedings that would legally separate her from an abusive husband, she’d needed a job that paid better, in spite of Kell’s offers to help her financially in any way possible. In Kell’s opinion, Saint Rushton Providence Hospital was lucky to have her, but the nursing recruitment office had been as generous as he could have wished. The hospital was not as sprawling as the other hospital in town, Saint Rushton University General, but it was known for never refusing care, a fact that appealed to Christine.
As the wind went from cool to cold, Christine appeared in front of him, smiling at the way he turned his face to the breeze. “You should have worn something heavier, Kell. It’ll be cold tonight.”
Kell stepped forward and took her into his arms, without a word. He’d come to love her concerns for him, although she knew he was an outcast from the angelic realm and would never feel physical discomforts as she would. The tiny nurse was swimming in scrubs and the pea coat she wore and he was filled with an inexplicable urge to stuff her into the SUV and take her somewhere warm… some place where they could fall asleep on a beach, where no one knew them. He shook himself mentally as her strawberry blond hair blew against his throat.
He’d been her guiding angel before being taken away from her, after he’d interfered with her free will to protect her. His shunning from the angelic realm had happened because he’d killed. Again, it had been to protect someone and the truth was he’d do it all again. Circe, the insane vampiress who’d attacked the Sanctum, the Demesne and the Maidenheart Bakery had died when he crushed her heart, but he’d also killed Sebastien Galaurus, although he hadn’t meant to. He’d made matters worse by killing a French warrior, who would have driven a knife into Joe Cafaris’s back, when the Maidenheart Bakery had been attacked. The kills would have been viewed as justifiable or even accidental if he’d been a human, but the powers of the angelic saw no comparison. The memory was raw even though months had passed, but having Christine in his life eased his pain at being shunned from the realms where he’d been created thousands of years ago. His home was the Sanctum now and he divided his time between Christine, the haven and Monroe’s kitchen at the Maidenheart, which was turning out to be… not so terrible at all. Inhaling, he sighed, rubbed Christine’s shoulders and looked down, just as she turned her face to his.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Let’s get you home and I’ll fix something to eat. Did you have a good shift?”
Christine nodded, as she stepped out of his arms and slipped her hand into his. “Do you mind if we made a quick stop first? I need to pick up a few things for Skip.”
Skip was Christine’s golden retriever and a light in her heart. The dog had defended her, loved her and demanded her attention shamelessly. Kell had come to enjoy the lovable blond beast as much and spoke with him telepathically often.
“Sure,” he said. “Where are we going?”
“Azalea’s Emporium,” Christine replied. “Ever heard of it?”
“Can’t say I have, darlin’. What do they sell?”
Christine tugged his arm as they started walking to his SUV. “Not they. She sells great stuff for dogs,” she explained. “Well, she sells great stuff for all kinds of pets… not just dogs. It’s owned by a woman named Azalea Kindeath.”
“Friend of yours?”
“Friend of Skip’s,” Christine confirmed. “I take him there sometimes, which is kind of hilarious, but Azalea is a big fan of his, so she lets him mooch treats and pretty much anything else he wants.”
Kell nodded, enjoying the happiness in her eyes. “Okay, let’s go get stuff for Skip,” he said as they approached the SUV.
Christine gave him directions that led to a side street a few blocks away. Fifteen minutes later, he parked the SUV under the bluish haze of a streetlight, in front of a red and purple awning hung over a bright yellow door. A small bronze-plated plaque on the door read, ‘Azalea’s Emporium.’ The store might have appeared garish to some, but Kell immediately liked the way the colors pulled the eye, against a drab urban background.
Christine grabbed for the door’s handle inside the SUV, but Kell reached for her arm. “Stay here,” he said firmly.
The street was deserted and dark, except for the eerie glow from the streetlight. The buildings were three stories, built with joined walls and looked like they might be elderly homes built at the turn of the century or tiny businesses that had been shuttered for the day. Azalea’s Emporium featured two paned windows, glowing brightly on either side of the door, an island of bright color in a sea of dusk. The sound of soft music and rushing water filled his ear from inside the shop, as he scanned the doorways, up and down the deserted street. Sensing nothing amiss, Kell ushered Christine to the door.
Inside, the store was bright and welcoming. The soft music entwined with the sound of a waterfall was a bit louder, but soothing. The store was narrow and long, with dark wooden floors. With no other customers or their pets, Kell was able to take in the wide array of merchandise. One wall was devoted to every kind of pet toy imaginable, from stuffed frogs to hard rubber bones. The shelving units were carved wood, painted in bright turquoise, magenta or gold and displayed gourmet treats for dogs, birds, fish and cats. In a corner, several bean- bag chairs in a variety of sizes and colors had been arranged over shaggy purple rug. A pretty, dark-haired woman in jeans and a bright yellow sweatshirt stood behind a long antique counter, smiling as Christine walked to her. The women hugged over the counter.
“Kell, this is Azalea,” Christine said shyly. “Azalea… this is Kellan.”
Kell stepped behind Christine and extended a hand to the brunette, noting the dark circles under her eyes and her pale complexion. “Hey,” he said, inhaling quietly. She was coming down with a cold or something, which dampened her scent. He also guessed that she hadn’t been sleeping much or eating too well, but her smile was genuine and he could see that her affection for Christine was authentic.
Azalea held her smile, staring up at the guy, who was drop- dead gorgeous. His shoulders were as wide as a football field and his rugged features, long dark hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes were hot with a capital ‘H’. “Hey,” she said, before looking back to Christine. “I have everything for Skip… oatmeal shampoo bars… chicken toothpaste…a new toothbrush… liver bacon treats and two bags of the organic kibble he likes. Did I miss anything?”
Christine shook her head. “Skip thanks you,” she said chuckling. “I do too.”
“You’re welcome, honey,” Azalea said, glancing back and forth the between Christine and Kell. “Skip’s a great boy. Call me when you’re low on anything.”
“Will do,” Christine replied, reaching into her bag for her wallet. “What do I owe you?”
“One sixteen, forty two,” Azalea answered, as she rang the purchases through on her cash register. “I tucked samples of oatmeal conditioner in the bag and a few extra treats for his royal blondness.”
“That’s kind of you,” Kell said, as the brunette lifted three large bags from the floor behind the counter. He reached for a bar of canine shampoo, wrapped in neon blue paper and held it to his nose to take a whiff. The aroma was oddly familiar … something he felt he should recognize.
“It’s organic,” Azalea said quickly. “I make the soaps myself, so I really know what’s in them.”
Kell dropped the bar back into the bag. “It smells good. Where did you learn to make soap?”
“Long story, but I inherited a journal after a relative died and there were recipes in it for soaps and a lot of other things. Her recipes were for people, but I modified them so they could be used for animals.”
“Humans…” Kell murmured, as something weird skittered along his spine and the scars he wore from having his wings amputated. He’d smelled something very similar in the boxes of soaps and lotions Miri sent to sell at the Maidenheart.
“I adapted the recipes so they’d be good for pets. You’d be amazed at the common things that can make a pet sick or even kill them. I’m very careful.”
“I’m sure you are,” Kell said. “I’m sure Skip likes it.” Turning to Christine, he said, “I’ll take this stuff to the car. Wait for me here.”
As Christine counted bills and handed them to Azalea, Kell took all three bags from the counter and disappeared through the door.
The moment he was gone, Azalea leaned toward Christine. “Good God, is he hot! When did you meet him?”
Christine felt her face warm, as Azalea raised a brow and grinned. “We’ve known each other for… well, we met a few months ago,” she lied, ruffled at not being able to really describe their relationship at all. He’d been her guardian angel for most of her life, had saved her, become a friend… and then become something more in a part of her heart that she’d thought dead. “Yeah, a few months,” she said, still flustered.
“Impressive… and he’s even protective,” Azalea said conspiratorially, just as Kell came back through the door. She counted change for Christine, without looking up, but she was pleased the nurse had found someone. She’d seemed so lonely in the past… so haunted… although Azalea knew very little about her, beside the fact that she adored her golden retriever.
“You’re here alone?” Kell asked, looking around the colorful shop.
Azalea nodded. “I’m closing now. I only stay open this late once a week. After you go, I’ll close and head for my dinner.”
“Where do you live?”
Azalea pointed to the ceiling. “Third floor. I own the building. My apartment’s upstairs.”
Kell nodded, still looking around. “Got a security system?”
“No,” Azalea replied, as a frown formed on her face. “I’ve been meaning to look into one, but I’m not sure I can afford it.”
“This is a nice area… during the day. Night’s a different story, sweetheart,” Kell said firmly.
“I know,” Azalea admitted. “I inherited the building with my sister and business is growing, but not everyone is willing or able to pay for the stuff for their pets. If we hadn’t inherited the building, we wouldn’t have had the money to open. I love finding amazing things for our customers. And, our customers are really the pets. Their humans pay the bills, but the cats and dogs and birds… well, that’s who we’re trying to please.”
Kell slipped an arm around Christine. “No insult intended. I see what you’re going for here. Security’s sort of a special interest of mine. So, your sister’s upstairs?”
Azalea shook her head, as a private pain took hold of her heart. “She’s out.”
“I see,” he said frowning. The woman’s sister was a problem… or had a problem. The pain was evident, yet he hated having struck a nerve. “Sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean… I tend to speak before thinking. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay here.”
Azalea put her hands on the counter and forced a smile. “No harm done.” She leaned forward and kissed Christine’s cheek. “Kiss the gorgeous blond for me,” she whispered, meaning Skip. “Bring him in next time and he can curl up on one of the bean bags for a quick massage.”
Outside, Kell opened Christine’s door and waited as she got into the SUV, before jogging around to the driver’s side. As he got in, a brunette, a dead ringer for Azalea, rounded the corner, walking briskly toward the pet shop. She has the same long dark hair, the same height and curvy build, but the resemblance ended there, as she was dressed in black leather jeans and a matching jacket with long fringe hanging from her sleeves. Her heels were high enough to be a health hazard and her face was heavily made up. She hit the door to the shop and bounced in, closing it behind her.
“Guess that’s her sister, huh?” Kell observed.
“I’ve never met her,” Christine said. “They look alike, but she seemed angry.”
As Kell let his hearing expand, he picked up the discussion inside the shop. “Yep,” he said, listening a moment longer, as he started the SUV. “You’d be right about that, honey.”
The shadow formed at the corner, just ahead of the SUV. It wasn’t something Christine would notice at all, but the form was bright as a beacon to Kell and not unexpected. He straightened behind the wheel, as his eyes hardened. “Let’s go home,” he said tightly, as Christine sensed his immediate tension.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, beautiful,” he replied, pulling his gaze away from the one he knew so fucking well. “It’s late. You must be tired.” Kell hit the gas, as he pulled away from the curb and passed the corner, not giving the shadows another glance.
“A wine bar?” Ilea asked, as Iridea walked to a bleak corner of the first floor of Renaissance. “I recall you mentioning this.”
Keirc stood, with Keisaan in his arms, at the top of a short staircase that led to a hallway, which in turn, led to the nursery and office, where he and Iridea conducted most of the transactions of their new business. Anton Grear, the imposing were attorney, stood next to him, along with Xavier, Diamond, Fortune and the other Demesne warriors. The large barren room that had once been one of the hottest bars in Saint Rushton was lit with hanging halogen lanterns draped over exposed beams that ran along the ceiling. Everything that had once made the club Sebastien Galaurus’s pride and joy and then a makeshift home for supernaturals was gone. Laid bare, the former club was even more expansive.
“This will be the wine bar,” Iridea explained. “And, that area where you’re all standing will be the registration desk. We’ll have rooms on the floors above us for a total of twenty-five suites, but they’ll be large.” Crossing the floor to her mother, she spread her arms to encompass bare walls. “This area is where I want to have a display of the soaps and lotions that Miri makes and over there,” she said, pointing to an empty, far corner, “is where I want to have a pastry bar… with stuff from the Maidenheart.”
“It will be quite unique,” Ilea said.
“Yeah, there’s nothing like it for supernaturals,” Iridea said, walking back to her mother. “I’m really jazzed. It’s all in my head, but it’s going to come together and we’re going to have a really grand opening… and…”
“And, we’re going to need a lot of warriors,” Keirc interjected. “Don’t forget that.”
Iridea grinned as she wrapped her arms around her Mate and her son at the same time. “Of course. I know that.”
Anton Grear cleared his throat. “I believe you wanted to go over the accounting, Keirc. I have everything in my briefcase. Are you happy with the work that’s been done by the humans?”
Keirc nodded, as he settled Keisaan into Iridea’s arms. “Yeah, we have no complaints, but we’re ready to start the reconstruction, so I have questions.”
Grear nodded. “The crews that gutted the place do the kinds of work you’ll be needing… electricians… plumbers… carpenters…etcetera. The rates differ because of their unions and the companies they work for, but I’ve used them before. I can handle all of that for you or I can provide whatever information you need to hire directly. They’re very discreet.”
Keirc kissed Iridea’s forehead. “Why don’t you go home with your mother and Xavier and I’ll go over everything with Grear? I’ll tell you everything later tonight.”
“I’ll see you later tonight, baby,” Iridea said, before turning to Ilea. “I’ll just get our things.” She turned to head back to their office with Ilea.
“I have a question,” Diamond said firmly, stepping to Keirc and Grear. “You said you need warriors and I agree… you do. What kinds of security are you planning for this place? It’s a great concept, but it’s bound to attract attention… perhaps, not the best kind.”
Fortune stepped to Diamond and clapped his shoulder, as he turned to Grear and Keirc. “Forgive him. His manners are appalling.” He leaned to Diamond. “They’ll have the kind of security we have at the Demesne. I volunteered you.”
Diamond grinned. “You should have said something! This place will need warriors like us. I feel much better.” The vampiric warrior walked to the area where Iridea had said she wanted a wine bar. “I think this space would be better suited for the pastries. The wine bar should be larger and go over by the entrance,” he said grinning at the others. “I will let you know if I have other suggestions.”
Pria’s hand was warm in Miri’s, as she led her stepdaughter through her newly rebuilt home in the Sanctum to a small bedroom. The attacks that had almost leveled the Sanctum had completely destroyed her home, as she and Andrieu had been specifically targeted. The rebuilt space was beautiful and welcoming, but she feared her discussion with Pria would not be relaxing. Stopping at the bedroom’s door, she gave Pria a smile. “Just take off your jeans and top, my dear.”
Pria’s eyes were wide and her features were tight. “Okay,” she mumbled, stepping into the room with Miri. After toeing her running shoes off, she discarded her jeans and the light, blue top she’d worn to the Maidenheart that morning and stretched out on the bed.
“Would you like a coverlet?” Miri asked.
“No… just tell me what you think.” Pria sighed, as she stared at the pale green ceiling. The room was lit with small, ginger jar lamps and the rose and pale green comforter was soft under her, but all she could focus on was what Miri was doing… or would tell her.
Miri, who’d touched so many supernatural females, hesitated for just a moment, before pulling Pria into a seated position to run her hands through the length of her dark, wavy hair. She pressed Pria backward on the bed and ran her hands over her shoulders. “Relax, love,” she said, noting the tension she found in her stepdaughter’s limbs.
Pria sighed. “I’m trying.”
Miri dropped her palms to Pria’s abdomen, just above the band of her white, silk bikini panties. She closed her eyes and dropped her head, willing herself to forget who she was touching and how much fertility meant to her.
It was a rare state for supernatural females. Unlike women, supernatural females only became fertile a few times during the course of their lives which could extend hundreds of years. Miri herself had only been fertile once since her fall from the angelic realm in 1416. Keircnan had been born in 1714, when she was two hundred, ninety- eight years old, but she’d never become fertile again. Although the Sanctum was home to roughly two thousand vampires, weres and daemons, only one hundred and two were children and Miri had attended all of their mothers during the births. Pria, who wanted a child so much with her Mate, Joe, was two hundred and twenty, young by supernatural standards, but she’d never been fertile.
When Iridea was at the beginning of the physical storm that brought Keisaan into the world, Miri had advised Pria to sit with her for a time to encourage her own fertility. As Iridea’s body began the process that would birth her son, her supernatural pheromones caused their own storm, as hormones raged in her bloodstream. The hope was that Iridea’s pheromones would interact with Pria’s hormones to bring about fertility, that unpredictable, brief state which could allow Pria to become pregnant. Iridea had given birth weeks ago, but Pria hadn’t bled, as supernaturals would before becoming fertile. When she’d called Miri, asking to be examined, Miri had begun nursing a guarded hope for the daughter she’d adopted hundreds of years ago.
Pria’s midsection was warm and smooth under Miri’s hands. She pressed her fingertips down against the wall of Pria’s belly, feeling the flow of blood, the muscle and sinew under her touch… and a faint firmness that gave her pause. Pressing a little deeper, she felt more of what she sought. Added with the heavier texture of Pria’s hair and the minute change in her scent, it could only mean one thing. After a moment, she raised her head, lifted her hands and said, “You can dress now.”
“What do you think?” Pria asked, without moving.
