Blood Royal (Page 2)

"Do you have a name for this vampire?" Winkler asked.

"I’m not allowed to reveal the name of my sire. He has instructed me not to do so and I’ll honor his wishes. If not for him, I’d be in a box headed back to the states."

I was learning something, just by listening to Tony talk with Winkler. No wonder the vampire laws stated that death must be imminent to make a turn—the newly turned vampire was grateful for the intervention. It also brought up the fact that I hadn’t been a good candidate in the vampire community’s eyes; I had been in good health at the time and was particularly ungrateful for my turning.

Leaving Tony to have his conversation with Winkler, I stalked into the bathroom, rounded the turn into my walk-in closet, grabbed some clothes and proceeded to dress quickly. While I combed my hair at the dressing table afterward, I noticed my face held a bit more color and my lips seemed a little rosier since returning from Refizan. I looked like my mother now—she’d been beautiful when she was young, with strawberry blonde hair that curled just a bit, sky-blue eyes with thick lashes and creamy skin that didn’t require make-up. My mother only wore make-up after Howard Graham hit her in the face—to cover bruises. It was probably a good thing he was already dead. He wouldn’t want to meet up with me after I’d become vampire. Sighing over the twists and turns in my life, I set the brush down and returned to my bedroom. Tony was still there, talking to Winkler.

"They put Jennings in charge?" Tony didn’t sound surprised—in fact, he sounded relieved. He was talking about Agent Bill Jennings, who’d been strictly by the book when I first met him. He’d loosened up during our travels across the U.S.

"Yeah, he’s already contacted me about the updates to the software." Uh-oh. I was being forced to hand Tony and Winkler some secret and obscure truths.

"Both of you listen carefully," I came to stand next to Tony. "Winkler, the reason Gavin hung around so long when I was working for you was because he was watching you at the same time. The vampires were terrified of your software, Winkler. They thought it could be used to identify them and destroy the race." That statement brought complete silence from Winkler. I think he may have stopped breathing for a moment. "When you made the announcement that it didn’t work and sold it to Tony," I went on, "that’s when all of them relaxed their sphincters and Gavin hauled me off to the Council. If you want to live, you’ll keep that information to yourselves."

Winkler didn’t speak for several seconds. Tony was shocked, I could tell. He might have been less surprised if I’d suddenly sprouted a second head. "Holy shit," Winkler muttered finally. Tony was wide-eyed and nodding at Winkler’s assessment.

"On another note," I said, changing the subject, "how are those babies doing, Winkler?" I wasn’t going to ask about Kellee; she’d tried to kill me, with a little help from her dear old dad. Well, dear old departed dad, now.

"They’re coming along very well, a girl and a boy!" Winkler was as happy as could be over that. That little girl was already spoiled and she wasn’t out of the womb yet. Kellee was six months along or better, I figured. Female werewolves weren’t as rare as female vampires, but the males outnumbered them six to one, at least. That’s how Gavin found us—Tony and me—talking to Winkler over the phone about his babies. They were due the end of October, according to Kellee’s physician.

Gavin frowned at first, finding Tony in my bedroom. But after listening to the phone conversation and hearing Winkler going on about the preparations he was making for the twins’ arrival, his frown disappeared. In fact, he was smiling. Gavin likes children. Go figure. Who would think an Assassin for the Vampire Council had a weak spot for kids? He came up behind me and draped his arms around my shoulders, listening in as Tony and I talked with Winkler.

"So Kellee isn’t giving you any trouble?" I asked.

"She’s fine. We don’t talk much; she was never a stellar conversationalist to begin with," Winkler snorted. "Did you hear that her mother and Davis have moved in together?"

Holy crap. I’d almost forgotten Davis; I’d handed the Boise Pack off to him after killing Kellee’s dad and inadvertently inheriting his Pack in the process. "She wanted to?" The idea of Karl Johnson’s widow in a relationship with Davis was a bit shocking.

"Hell, yeah," Winkler laughed. "Kellee’s dad didn’t let her make any decisions for herself. Davis likes her a lot and listens to her. Her life has changed dramatically and I think she likes her new freedom."

"What does Kellee think about that?"

"She tried to make her mother feel guilty over it and they ended up yelling over the phone. They’re still grumpy with one another right now." Winkler was grinning—I could hear it in his voice.

"How’s the new Second?" A werewolf named Trajan had taken Davis’s spot when Davis moved to Boise.

"Trajan is doing great," Winkler replied. "He wasn’t sure he wanted the authority, but it suits him, I think."

"Tell him he’ll do fine as long as he doesn’t challenge you," I said. "And that goes for anybody else who might get that idea."

"Gee, Lissa, does this mean you’ll come back and act as Second if somebody gets his underwear twisted?" Winkler teased.

"Oh, look, Mr. Fuzzy can’t take care of himself?" I was teasing him right back and he knew it.

"Lissa, the house next door went up for sale," Winkler was serious, suddenly. "I’m buying it for you."

"Winkler, what the hell do you think you’re doing? What am I going to do with a house between Denton and Dallas?"

"Come and visit, sometime? Play with the kids? I don’t know, Lissa. I just want you to have it."

"Buy it for her," Gavin said. Winkler now knew that Gavin had come into the room; he hadn’t said anything earlier. "I’ll pay someone to keep it up for her in the interim. Just send the information and invoices to the postal address you have."

"Will do," Winkler was smiling again; I just knew it.

We talked a few minutes more with Winkler before hanging up. Gavin’s arms were now wrapped around me. Tony took the hint and left. "René already cares for his newest," Gavin kissed my neck.

"I think it’s mutual," I replied. Gavin was now nibbling on my earlobe and that always makes me melt into a puddle. "I realized after talking with Tony that being grateful for your life is part of the sire-child bond," I mumbled. Why is it so hard to make a coherent point when somebody is playing with your br**sts?