“Now.” Dom doesn’t raise his voice. He also doesn’t put any extra bass in the command. But it is unmistakably a command.
Instead of bristling at the order, a slight shiver shimmies across Kate’s shoulders. It’s the universal language of a submissive lowering her head to her Dominant’s will.
“Come on, Luci. Daddy’s got company to deal with.”
Kate and Luci walk off the stage and head to the back. My gaze trails them. My heart pounds hard in my chest as I watch them go. That could be Zahara in a few years. I just need to find out how Dom did it.
“I need a child,” I say.
Dom growls, sounding more like a lion than a man who is no longer a vampire.
“Not your child. I need a spawn of my own loins.”
I point to my crotch area. Dom does not look down. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. His body remains between me and Gaius, and the path his family took.
The protective instinct fascinates me. I never knew my father. Every man I came in contact with wanted to either use his fists or his cock to hurt me—every man other than Gaius and Hadrian.
Dom looks like he’d use his fist to rip my cock off and shove it down my throat if I dared take a step towards his mate or his child. A fire starts in my gut that tells me that I would do the same if anyone dared harm Zahara and her child.
No, our child.
I have never truly given any thought to having a child. Not even when I was human. I would never want to produce a living being who was born into bondage like I was.
Zahara thinks our child will be born with a job to do: to break a curse. But that would only be a belief. I’ve already given my land, my money, and my heart to Zahara. Our child would be born free to do whatever they wanted.
Born free. Made with love. That is something I’d like to create.
“How?” I ask Dom.
His gaze rakes over me. His stance doesn’t relax, but his lips start moving. “It’s a bloody business.”
I shrug. My life has been nothing but blood and pain.
“I was drained by a vampire called Roxanna,” Dom goes on. “She wanted to make me her minion, to do her bidding without a thought. She almost did.”
“She must have known our sire, Domitia,” says Gaius. “We were nothing but her pets when she wanted to play. Her executioners when she was hungry and bored. We broke free of her, but not without loss.”
“Same here,” says Dom.
“But you are no longer a vampire,” I say. “You smell mortal.”
“I am,” says Dom. “Mostly.”
“How?” I ask.
“Kate,” he says simply. “I was near death after Roxanna drained me. Kate told me to connect with the spiritual sun. She insisted that my true essence would remain, that it was stronger than Roxanna’s will. Kate was right. When I came out of it, my mortality was restored. So, I age.”
Dom lifts his hand to indicate the gray streaks in his hair.
“What mortality I gained gave me just enough to create a new life and live out my days alongside my love.”
“Is that all?” I ask.
I had expected a gauntlet filled with quests and challenges, and lots of blood and pain. But it appears that the way to regain my mortality is the same way I lost it: be drained of blood. But instead of being fed the blood of a vampire, I need to cling to a soul I’m not sure I have. That will be the tricky part.
“Is that all!” Gaius turns to me, his face contorted in anger and disbelief. “That’s enough. It sounds like you could die.”
If that’s the cost to give Zahara what she wants, I will pay it. If I can make a new life that is born free, that is the legacy I want to leave to this world. It would make all the misery and pain of my long life worth it.
Chapter 23
Zahara
“Now that you’re rich, what’s the first thing you’re going to buy?” asks Carignan Durand.
Cari, Marechal, and I sit in the formal dining room. A spread of gourmet food is displayed across the table. Cari sips blood from a glass chalice. Marechal slices into frog legs in a buttery sauce then washes the reptilian fare down with a glass of wine whose cost would feed a small village.
I hold a silver spoon in my hand as I chew on Boeuf Bourguignon, which is rich people speak for beef stew. It has all the hallmarks of hilachas, a Guatemalan beef stew with tomatillo sauce. Except the tomatoes taste like spring in the fall time. The onions kick back. The spices hit my nose as if I’m pulling them straight from the ground.
Yeah, there really is a difference between how the wealthy and the rest of us live. And it’s being proven here at the dinner table. But I still don’t feel like I’m rich. I’m still wearing a borrowed dress, no shoes, and no underwear.
“It’s not like she needs anything,” says Marechal, sliding a small bit of meat into her mouth and then setting her fork and knife down as though she’s done.
I’m not judging, because I’ve eaten frogs before. But it was while I was in panther form. The creatures couldn’t even be called an appetizer, they were so small. I have no idea how she’s had enough. I’m on my second bowl of bourguignon, and eyeing the pot for a third helping.
“True,” says Cari, licking the blood from her upper lip. “She now owns this house, the land. I think Viri has a couple of cars in the garage. He’ll likely have a personal shopper deliver a full wardrobe in the morning. Hadrian did that the first night
