Wings of Fire

He glanced at Parisa. Her color hadn’t diminished very much. Her cheeks were still bright pink and she was staring at the dark plank flooring.

“Maybe I should go back to the guest room,” she said.

He drew in a breath that sounded like someone was strangling an animal. “No” came out half growl, half hiss.

She looked up at him and took a step back. She put a hand to her chest. “Antony.”

He squeezed his eyes shut then turned away from her. “Sorry. Just the breh-hedden rearing its ugly head. I … I have these instincts that just keep getting stronger. You know, like I want to lock you in my bedroom and never let you out of there—for more than one reason.” He stiffened at what he’d just said.

He whirled back to her. “Parisa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean … and I would never do that to you.” He stopped.

A ghostly white shade had completely replaced the previous flush of her complexion. Her gaze fell back to the floor, this time skating from side to side. “I know you wouldn’t. This is an adjustment for both of us. I’ve come back here and I want to ascend but”—she lifted her eyes to him—“I don’t know where I belong, even where I should live. You and I are dating, I guess. I told Havily that I’d be sharing your room but we really shouldn’t be doing that, should we? I mean, I can’t just move in with you. I don’t know anything about you. I know I trust you. Of course I trust you.”

She frowned then pressed on. “I have to get through the ceremony first, and then I want training. I know Kerrick trained Alison. I guess I should do something like that. I don’t know.” She put her hand to her forehead and turned away from him.

Medichi stood very still, afraid that if he took a single step right or left, she’d leave him, she’d choose to live someplace other than beneath his roof, and he couldn’t have that. She’d suffered terribly, but so had he. How could he explain to her that the breh-hedden had been its own prison, that he hadn’t been his own man for the past three months, that worrying about her had consumed his mind, his heart, his every waking action? He’d had only one thought in all that time, to get her back whatever it took. Now she was back and he felt her slipping away from him.

He was trying to be reasonable, to find his rational thoughts, but fear rode his skin like a current of electricity. Even his jaw felt tight and hinged shut. He knew she needed space. She should have space. But if she didn’t share his bedroom, sleep in his bed, let him feel the weight of her next to him, her hands reaching for him at night, her body pressed against him … yeah, he thought he would go mad.

“I have no right to ask,” he said, his voice somehow managing to push past the tightness of his jaw. “But would you please stay, at least for the next few days. Please.” He swallowed. A rock had lodged itself in his throat. “Don’t go.”

She looked up at him and blinked. Her turn to stiffen. Her lovely eyes widened. She didn’t seem to be capable of breath. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered. “But…”

“Please.” It was a war of whispers.

She moved toward him slowly. She searched his eyes once more, then put her hand on his cheek. He loved that she was tall. In heels she didn’t have far to go to reach him. Her palm was cool against his skin. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “I … I forgot for a moment what this has been like for you but I’ve remembered. I wouldn’t be so cruel as to walk out now.

“I saw you every night, remember? I mean every morning. I mean it was night for me and morning for you. You would tell me every night what you’d done to look for me, where you’d gone. You gave me hope and that hope kept me sane. I saw how you suffered. I saw you lose weight. I watched the circles under your eyes darken and deepen. I didn’t even think that was possible for an ascended vampire, but a lack of sleep will do it, won’t it?”

He nodded. He lifted a hand and slid it over hers. He pressed gently.

“We’ll give this some time,” she said. “I won’t leave your home, not now, not yet. We’ll take this one step at a time. I can feel your distress and I can see your need. I won’t go.”

“You’ll share my bed?”

“I’ll share your bed.” She paused. “For a few days, maybe a week. Okay? Until we get everything figured out.”

He moaned and dragged her into his arms. He held her close. She wiggled against him, straining. At first he thought she wanted him to release her, but when he gave her a little room she threw her arms around his neck and held on.

Christ. This was too much emotion for people who knew so little about each other. He closed his eyes. He could feel her heart beating in her throat, dull heavy thuds. His neck was getting wet. What a mess. Goddamn the breh-hedden.

The one taken suffers the most,

But do not forget the warrior left in the breach.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth

Chapter 9

That evening, Parisa stood in the center of the rotunda floor, Havily behind her and to her left, Antony back and to her right. The rest of the Warriors of the Blood were ranged another ten feet behind her, standing tall and straight, sentinels of Second Earth. Each, like Antony, wore a black leather tunic and a brass breastplate with a silver sword emblazoned down the front, point down, with a green laurel wreath around the hilt.

Endelle’s palace was a collection of white marble rotundas, hanging off the west face of the McDowell Mountains as though suspended in the air. Most of the rotundas had open walls and large terraces with a stone balustrade serving as the only separation from hundreds of feet of airspace.

She had spent the day sleeping, something she’d desperately needed. Antony had kept his distance, giving her some space by stretching out on the couch in the den of his bedroom suite. She had told him it was okay if he shared the bed with her, but he’d only lifted a brow, pulled a pillow off the bed, and headed for the couch. He’d been right, of course. If they’d shared a bed, how much sleeping would they have actually done?

So here she was, somewhat rested and ready to ascend, at last, to Second Earth.

She stood in front of Endelle listening to the careful words she read from a large ceremonial book that she held open in both hands. It detailed the terms of ascension: the necessity of service, the nature of which would be dictated by the Supreme High Administrator; the careful standards of Second Society; and the vows to abstain from committing the most heinous act of partaking of dying blood.

Was she really going to do this? Was she really leaving her old world on Mortal Earth behind?

She watched Endelle’s lips move but she really couldn’t hear her. Her fingers shook so badly, she had to ball her hands into fists. She hadn’t thought she would be nervous, but somewhere between committing her life in service to Madame Endelle and the promise not to drink someone to death, the reality that she was ascending suddenly got to her.

“Ascendiate,” Endelle cried, her voice a hard bite.

Parisa’s hearing cleared. “Yes, Madame Endelle?” Just above the neckline of Endelle’s black ceremonial robes, Parisa could see a line of leopard fur. The Supreme High Administrator had a predilection for animal skins and hides, for bird feathers, and even on occasion for the skins of reptiles. Havily called her fashion-challenged … to say the least.

Endelle rolled her eyes. “Do you agree to serve Second Earth with a mind and heart dedicated to service?”

Parisa nodded. “I do.”

“Do you agree to abide by the laws of Second Earth, especially as they apply to the limitations of involvement with Mortal Earth?”

“I do.”

“And do you solemnly pledge your loyalty to me, as Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth?”

“I do.”

“Then I proclaim to this gathered assembly, who stand as witnesses to your ascension, that you are hereby granted ascender status. Come forth and allow me to imbue you with all the blessings of the vampire nature.” She folded the ceremonial book away.

Parisa couldn’t make her feet move. She felt dizzy and strange as she stared at Madame Endelle’s outstretched hands. Was she really going to do this? She had forgotten that part of the ceremony would involve the acceptance of near-immortality and vampire fangs for the taking of human blood and the releasing of potent chemicals.

Oh. God.

“Parisa, don’t flake out on me now,” Endelle cried. “Get your ass over here.”

Endelle’s sharp tone and irreverent words knocked some of the fear out of Parisa. She moved forward, although unsteadily in her four-inch heels. When she stood in front of Endelle, the disparity in height set Parisa at eye level with the leopard fur.

With warm hands Endelle touched Parisa’s cheeks oh-so-lightly. A tingling began to build between her hands and Parisa’s jaw. She looked up into Endelle’s eyes, but they were closed.

Dizziness once more assailed her.

Endelle’s eyes popped open. “What the hell is with you women? You’re as bad as Alison was during her ascension. Goddammit, release your fucking shields!”

Parisa gasped. She closed her eyes this time, dove inside her mind, and let loose what she perceived to be those shields. Even Greaves had marveled at her shields, calling them magnificent.

“Finally,” Endelle snapped.

Power flowed, a torrent through Parisa’s body, of warmth and light, of a tremendous sensation of well-being. Her upper gums began to tingle at the base of each incisor. At the same time, she felt tendrils touching her mind, trying to reach within. She knew that sensation, and it had nothing to do with the ruler of Second Earth.

“Something’s happening,” she whispered.

“You’re getting your fangs, just relax, vampire.”

“No, it’s not that.”

Rith. She knew it was Rith. She recognized his touch, although this one was a gentler version of all that she’d experienced while under his control.

An image of him, his Asian features, his broad forehead and wide nose, his black hair, flowed through her mind.