Blood Bond

Think about it, Anna, I could make you a queen.

Then he is gone, leaving me with Frey on the sidewalk.

Frey casts an inquisitive look, not catching Steffan’s last comment. Unfortunately from his place at the table, Chael does.

A queen? Well, you have made an impression, he says when we rejoin him.

Frey is frowning. He may have missed what Steffan said but not Chael’s reaction. “What’s this about a queen?”

I wave a dismissive hand, sink into a chair.

And fix Chael with a warning eye. Nothing. To Frey, “Some bullshit meant to impress. A bad joke.”

Chael doesn’t wait to hear any more but stands as if ready to take his leave.

Which makes me snap at him. You knew it was Steffan in the car. Why didn’t you tell me?

It was Steffan’s wish to keep the first meeting low-key. I trust it went well. He pauses. I know you haven’t resolved the issue tonight, and I will let you know when Steffan wishes another audience.

My temper flares. What issue? All that we determined tonight is that Steffan is an overconfident prick. When I meet with Steffan again, Chael, it will be on my terms. You can pass that on to his majesty and tell him I am the one who will be in touch.

Chael’s eyebrows rise. He gives a little half bow. As you wish.

And then he turns on his heel like a Prussian soldier and marches off.

Frey shakes his head at his departing back. “Quite a character. Now.” He leans toward me, takes my hand. “It was Steffan in the car? What happened?”

I fill him in as we sip wine. “Not much.” I describe the ride and where we ended up. Steffan’s comments to me about having no influence here but agreeing to listen to my arguments anyway. “We danced around like a couple of circus horses,” I finish with a sniff.

“So the grand scheme never came up.”

“Not so you’d notice. The only one who did any talking was me. I think this was a scouting party. Steffan taking my measure.” Immediately, I’m thinking of the ways his eyes traveled the length of my body, appraising, coming to a conclusion about—what? His last remark certainly caught me off guard. Was he baiting me? If he was trying to impress me, he failed.

I don’t say any of this to Frey. I finish my wine. I want to forget Chael and Steffan and everything vampire. I want to go back to the estate, hug my mother and make love to Frey. I take his hand and press it to my cheek. “Let’s go home.”

Whether it’s the heat radiating from my skin beneath his fingertips or the breathlessness of my voice, Frey raises no objection.

CHAPTER 15

NEXT MORNING, FREY AND I ARE THE LAST TO THE breakfast table.

I’m glad no one asks why. It would be embarrassing. Even an adult daughter doesn’t want to acknowledge that she’s late coming down because she and her fiance were having sex. Lots of sex. Great sex. Sex so good I didn’t want to stop. When I feel color start up the back of my neck, I decide what I’d better do is stop thinking about it.

I slink into a chair at the table and reach for the coffeepot. “Where are the kids?” I ask pouring myself a cup.

Dad avoids my eyes. Shit. Were we making too much noise?

Mom picks up the slack. “Gone next door. Trish and John-John arranged an early morning ride before Trish has to go to school.” She casts an apologetic eye to Frey. “I hope that was all right.”

Frey smiles. “Of course. Trish mentioned their plans last night. And John-John has been riding since before he could walk.”

Mom grins then. “They left hours ago.”

I lower my head. Yikes. I glance at Frey but he seems oblivious. He’s buttering toast with the gusto of a man who’s just experienced an earth-shattering orgasm.

I clear my throat. “So what’s on the agenda today?”

Mom slips on her reading glasses and consults her ever-present list pad. “Well. After school you and Trish have to go into town to pick up the dresses. And you should call anyone in San Diego that you want to come for the wedding. And you need to decide who you want to officiate at the service.”

“Which reminds me.” Glad for a chance to banish the pesky image of sex from my head, and maybe Dad’s, I jump up from the table and fetch the brochure we got yesterday from the consulate. “Have you ever heard of this group?”

For the next hour we do our homework, not only going through the brochure but pulling up the website for the organization calling itself Gracefully Personalized Ceremonies. Even Mom, who I know would have preferred a Catholic ceremony, had to admit she found the philosophy of a non-secular yet devout exchange of vows fitting.

“And the sooner those vows get said, the better,” Dad mutters under his breath.

I wasn’t wrong. What did he do, come up to get us for breakfast? Did he hear us on the other side of the door? Shit.

This time, Frey catches the subtext, too. His face reddens.

Mom slaps at Dad’s hand. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud. They’re young. They’re in love. Don’t you remember how that was?”

The doorbell rings and I jump up so fast to answer it, I almost knock my chair over. Frey is right behind me.

“Did they hear us?” he whispers, following me to the door, his brow furrowed in dismay.

“Must have.” I can’t help but laugh at his expression. “We need to be quieter.”

“Understatement. Maybe we should lay off sex until after the wedding.”

A snicker escapes my throat as I open the front door.

Another delivery man. This one is holding a bouquet of sunflowers. A bouquet so big, he’s hidden behind it.

“Mademoiselle Anna Strong?”

I accept the bouquet. It takes two hands to hold it. Frey digs in his pocket and pulls out some euros. The deliveryman accepts the gratuity, tips his hat and heads back to his truck.

“Did you do this?” I ask Frey, burying my face in the bouquet. “They are beautiful.”

He shakes his head and plucks a card from the flowers. “Here.”

I hand him the flowers while I tear open the envelope.

The note is brief. Until next time. Steffan.

I turn it around so Frey can read it. He grunts. “Chael didn’t exaggerate,” he says through a tight jaw. “You made quite an impression.” He takes the note, crumbles it into a ball, stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans. “Next time you meet with Steffan, I’m going.”

I smile. “Let’s just tell my folks these are from you. For my mom, shall we?”

He grins. “Good plan. Maybe it will win me a few points with your father.”

I reach up and kiss his cheek. “And then maybe we won’t have to give up sex until after the wedding?”

He laughs. “To keep from having to give up sex, I’d buy your mother a field of sunflowers.”

I turn his shoulders and push him back toward the kitchen. “I believe you would.”

The rest of the morning runs smoothly. I don’t know whether it’s the flowers or if Mom talked to Dad while we were out of the room about the way he raised an eyebrow in disapproval whenever he looked at Frey, but the storm seems to have blown over.