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  The heart within her chest constricted with impending sorrow until Jane was ready to fling herself into the loathsome sun. If she couldn’t have a man like Tor, if he couldn’t learn to love her, then what was the point of living a thousand years? If she didn’t have someone to share it with, would it still be a life worth having?

  She shook her head. No, she would not act like a spoiled child who balked if they didn’t get what they wanted. Surely, though, Tor’s raid on the hunter headquarters meant something more? It must have been a sign that he cared for her as more than a traveling companion. She had to know for certain. She would not believe anything else until she heard it from his own lips that he did not want her.

  Outside Amol, modern day Iran, 1570

  Night had fallen and Tor was more than glad for it. Each moment spent in the daylight set him on edge as he constantly watched over the three vampires to make sure they were well.

  Draped in cloth from head to foot, they should have been safe from the sun. Their eyes were covered in a thin muslin veil so they could still find their way with the rest of the party down the Haraz river banks. They were active enough, but Tor could see them sway in their saddles as the camels rocked them side to side with each step. In the interest of expense, he elected not to have a camel as the rest did. Their purses were too light to waste money on an animal that he did not need.

  On their first night in the pass, Michael told him that the sun took much of their strength, which would prove to be a taxing obligation upon their blood servants. They could only feed so much, and though Tor was disgusted by it, he made sure that they fed at every given opportunity as long as the humans were able. Giovanni even offered his blood when Michael was especially struggling and Marco was still recovering from the last feeding.

  At night, however, they were more alive, more vigorous. Tor didn’t worry about them as much once the sun went down. It was strange to him, that he would come to care so deeply for this band of creatures he had never known existed before a few weeks ago. Apart from Yaverik’s typical bitterness and arrogance, Tor was growing fond of them; Jane in particular.

  Over the few days that it took to trek through the mountain pass, she braved it well. Each time she felt as if she would fall asleep, she hopped off her camel and walked alongside Tor in relative silence. Her quietness bothered him to no end.

  Ever since they left Tehran, he knew something was weighing upon her thoughts. She was far more distant and introspective than usual. Even when he tried to elicit a conversation from her, which was out of the norm as it was, she didn’t seem interested in talking just yet. There was still a lingering urgency that he could sense, though, to say whatever it was that was truly on her mind. She wanted to talk, but simply wouldn’t allow herself.

  It was a few hours into the final night of their journey through the Alborz Mountains when Tor spotted the glowing lights of Amol. He alerted it to the others.

  “Grazie Dio!” some of them shouted. The scenery along the river was spectacular with mountains framing the sky, but they were all more than ready to refresh supplies and perhaps rest a little longer now that the longest part of their expedition was over. The hardest part, however, was just beginning.

  Tor looked behind and saw Jane leaning against the trunk of a tree some distance from the others. With her turban undone and blonde hair plastered against her damp forehead, he knew she was not well. He turned to Michael, who was watching his daughter just as carefully. They both knew she hadn’t fed since that morning, almost a full eighteen hours.

  She tempered her feeding, much to Michael’s frustration. When the others were taking two to three feedings a day, Jane restricted herself to her usual singular feed. Tor could sense her weakness and agitation with every passing hour, but he also knew that her hunger and fatigue did not have a bearing in it completely. Even his wolf could feel that she had come to the end of her limits.

  Tor came to Michael’s camel as the blood servants attempted to race their stubborn camels down the hill towards the city’s edge.

  “Let me speak with her alone,” Tor requested. Michael gave him a wary look. Before he could ask, Tor clarified, “You probably know as well as I do that she has wanted to speak with me for a while. We will catch up with you in Amol.”

  Michael paused in consideration, then nodded. “Very well. I suppose I don’t need to tell you to be careful, do I?”

  “No, signore.”

  The vampire then clucked at his camel and carried on with the others to follow the speeding blood servants.

  Tor heard the faint rustle of the grass from behind him as Jane fell to her knees. He hurried to her side. With her eyes closed and breaths raspy, as if she had been running for miles on end with no water, Tor held her face in his hands.

  “Jane, look at me,” he demanded.

  Using the skills his father taught him, he sent out a slight but firm pulse of dominance to get her attention. His father always said it was another gift from Wepwawet, useful to claim the respect of the commoners, but his father found it particularly handy when dealing with an unruly priest.

  Jane’s eyes snapped open, grey eyes staring at him with a vague flicker of acknowledgement.

  “You need to feed,” he said, his eyes skimming from the dark rings under her eyes to the way sweat dripped from the edge of her jaw.

  She shook her head, her cheeks pressing into his palms. “No,” she whispered. “Francesca…”

  “Is gone to Amol,” he finished for her. He briefly let go to roll up his sleeve and reveal his wrist to her. It was coated in a light layer of dust since he hadn’t bathed that day, but the blood beneath would be enough for her. “You’ve been pushing yourself far too much.”

  He offered himself to her, bringing his skin to her lips the way he had watched them do countless times. Jane fought it, jerking her chin away, only to bring it back with a lustful, crazed look in her eyes that were beginning to glow black and red, just as Michael’s had back at the fortress.

  “I don’t know…”

  Tor had enough of the waiting and grabbed the nap of her neck to pull her down. He didn’t care if there would be consequences. He didn’t think about how his blood might affect her. She was ill and he had the cure, that was all he cared about.

  Jane gave in and sank her fangs into his wrist. He looked away and waited for her to finish, even though is wolf raged against what Tor was subjecting them to. He felt neither pain nor dizziness that usually came with loosing so much blood. All he could feel were her lips gliding and sucking along his skin, her tongue lapping up the blood that seeped steadily from the two puncture wounds she had created with her teeth.

  She not only took from him, but gave something in return that he couldn’t describe. A lightness washed over him, almost euphoric, that turned into a tingling that creeped down his spine, through his core and limbs.

  All at once and in a shocking revelation, Tor needed her in a way he never had before.

  He gripped his free hand into a tight fist until his nails made his palms bleed. Her fingers found this new stream and brought his other hand to her mouth to taste. The tip of her tongue swirled across the half-moon indentions and Tor gritted his teeth, resisting the way she seduced him so easily. He hated the way his member ached between his legs and began to throb, wanting something he couldn’t have.

  Was she doing it consciously, or was this what every blood servant felt when their master or mistress fed upon them? He had never witnessed this kind of change in them as they let the vampires feed. Surely, she knew what she was doing. She had to.

  When she finally released him, Tor watched the wounds slowly heal, leaving only her cool saliva upon his skin. He refused to look up, knowing that his own eyes would be a lustful red. It was the color that was forbidden to all priests who took the celibate vow. Tor had not taken such a vow, because he never had the chance, but there was something tainted and illicit about feeling so strong of an emotion so suddenly.

  “Than
k you,” she said, her voice wrapping around his mind like a whore’s caressing embrace. Tor gripped his knees, but couldn’t bring himself to stand and distance himself from her.

  He sat there, floating on the border between taking her and running into the mountains to disappear forever. Damn the expedition.

  She was a child, not in heart but in body. It was her mind and soul of which he had grown fond. The vessel that contained it shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did, but Tor couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be wrong to take her, mated or not.

  “Tor?”

  “Please, get away from me,” he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut to force the longing away.

  She moved closer and he could take it no longer. Tor pushed her down and positioned himself over her, breathless and impetuously close. He could feel her chest push against his and her legs part to receive him. Yes, she knew exactly what she was doing.

  Tor hesitated from taking the opportunity she offered so willingly, though the carnal lust drove him to near madness.

  He finally looked at her, showing exactly what she was doing to him. A droplet of blood remained on her lips, coloring them red, just like their eyes. Jane neither shied away, nor resisted him, but weaved her fingers in his slick hair. The heady scent of arousal drifted up to him, adding kindling to the steadily growing fire in his chest.

  Over and over in his mind he said he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take her. Then why did it feel so right to be so close?

  He wanted to feel her skin, explore, and discover if every part of her was as cold as her hands or face were. He wanted to lick off the bit of blood that lingered on her lips and taste for himself why it was so appealing. He wanted to give her exactly what she had silently begged for since the moment they met in the vestibule of her father’s villa.

  Jane’s fingers loosened from his hair and fell upon his chest, her fingertips pressing through the fabric to feel the tense muscles beneath. “I want this,” she assured him as her hand came to rest over his heart. It beat strong and fast, the only heart beating between them.

  “It doesn’t matter if you want it,” he said, his voice tinged with a growl. “I can’t do this.”

  Just as he had to coax her to drink his blood, she coaxed him to take everything from her.

  She gripped his tunic and pulled him down until their lips met. As soon as he tasted the blood from her mouth, the wolf within Tor broke free of his bonds to release them both from this oppression.

  Tor growled and the red of his eyes plumed into a blazing gold. Jane shrunk back as the dominance radiated from him, hotter and more powerful than any force of nature until the air around them hummed.

  He scrambled off her, dropping to all fours, his back hunched and teeth bared in aggression toward her seductive intentions. She stared at him, eyes wide in fear. For the first time, she was truly afraid of him and the wolf was well aware. He fed on it, breathed it in, doused his mind in it until the lust and need for carnal satisfaction was completely gone.

  “You did that on purpose,” Tor roared.

  Jane blinked and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, almost in a whisper that trembled like leaves rattled by the wind.

  Tor snapped and growled like an animal, and watched her flinch and shuffle backwards in the grass. “Don’t lie to me!” he bellowed. “You made me want it, didn’t you!”

  Her lips quivered as she blubbered out, “Tor, please, I didn’t mean to. I swear it!”

  The humanity within Tor reached out to restrain the beast. Though he was just as angry with the girl as the wolf was, he could not bear to see her suffer in fear. His lips closed over his teeth and he sank down until his knees and elbows hit the ground, but he would not let her come close if she tried.

  Slowly, Jane rose to grip her knees and gather her skirt in her hands to press the material tighter around her shins. “Father told me once to never take blood from a man, unless he was my husband... I didn’t think that this would happen.”

  Tor pondered it a moment, and then understood. This wasn’t her fault. It was his. Once more, his fault. “That’s why you have Francesca as your blood servant instead of Marco or Angelo.”

  Jane nodded as the tear dried on the edge of her jaw.

  If Tor hadn’t made her drink his blood, he wouldn’t have almost lost his self-control. Yet how could he have known? There was still much more to learn.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he took a few deep breaths to clear his mind once more of the primal urges to take or to kill. Tor didn’t know which was worse, the sensation of being out of control because he wanted to lay with a woman or to rip her to shreds for her misdeed as the wolf wanted.

  Jane looked away, but would not accept his apology. Nor would she extend her own. They simply sat there, surrounded by the sounds of the night and only the moon and stars to witness what almost took place between them.

  “Tor, I… Surely you know that I…”

  He didn’t need to hear more. He knew exactly what she wanted to say now. “Yes, I know.”

  Tor watched her face, but there was no surprise, no shock, or even dismay. Her eyes lowered and he watched her throat work out the next carefully chosen words. “I’ve never met a lupo mannero before. I’ve never met a man like you, but I know I never will again. It’s plain that you don’t care for me in the same way, but can you at least explain why? Is it because of what I am?” she pleaded.

  “No, it’s not that.” Tor was mindful to keep his tone soft and inoffensive.

  Jane looked to him, imploring an answer. “Then what is it? Am I ugly? Is it because of my father? Tell me!”

  He sighed and shook his head. “It’s none of those things, Jane. You are beautiful, I assure you. But… it’s not easy for me to look at you and see you as a potential mate.”

  To say it aloud didn’t seem quite right. It wouldn’t roll off the tongue as easily as another explanation might. Jane was too young. Just a child. Tor couldn’t see him with her, not this way, not right now. She might have been nearly half a century old, but she still appeared as an adolescent, just beginning to blossom into a young woman.

  After a moment, a spark of understanding came to Jane’s face. “Damn this body,” she snapped. “This isn’t who I am. Can’t you love me for who I am as a woman and not as I look?”

  She was the one who wondered if her looks had anything to do with it, and now she wanted him to disregard them anyway?

  “I cannot,” he affirmed. “It would feel wrong. It’s not that simple.”

  “Human women younger than me marry every day to men who are twice their age and society doesn’t so much as bat an eye at it.”

  “That was not how I was taught,” Tor argued. “Our ancestors married their own siblings, but that didn’t make it right. We know better now that such unions don’t always turn out for the best.”

  Jane sniffled. “So, if I looked older, if I looked like a woman, would you want me?”

  Tor pushed himself up to sit back on his heels. “That depends on the kind of woman you turn into. People change over time. Boys turn into men, girls turn into women, and they don’t always stay the same. Surely you’ve seen this happen in your own life?”

  She looked away and he knew she thought he was right. If Jane retained her bold spirit and perhaps matured a little, Tor might have deemed her the perfect mate. There were still many obstacles and many years to go until they could arrive at such a perfect place and time that would make it feasible.

  “For now,” Tor continued, “I will gladly be your friend and your guide, but I can be nothing more.”

  He expected Jane to sob, to cry out that life was unfair and that he should love her anyway. Yet she remained silent and resigned to their fate. Tor somehow wished that things could have been different. He wished that he could have just given her what she wanted so that she would smile again, but he could not abandon his integrity so easily. No one would have known if they made
love. No one would even know what truly happened, unless they chose to tell the others.

  The thought occurred to him that perhaps Michael would find out. He could read his memories, after all. He would know everything, and perhaps applaud Tor’s strength of will? Would he be so lenient and forgiving with Jane?

  Tor rose to his feet and when Jane didn’t join him, he offered out his hand, the one she had licked and caressed so tenderly to slurp up the blood that he had drawn with his nails. At first, she didn’t even acknowledge him. When he showed her that he was going nowhere without her, she finally took his hand and they made their way down the hill together toward Amol.

  7

  Desert East of Caspian Sea, 1570

  Michael didn’t want to invade his daughter’s mind. He saw the way she slumped over her camel as they continued east from Amol and the way Tor seemed to look to her with immense pity in his eyes, but Michael refused to pry. If she had wanted to tell him what happened on the hill, she would tell him in her own time.

  When they turned north, leaving the lush land behind them to trek across a vast desert, Jane still hadn’t spoken. Only then did he peer into her memories. What he found, what had been consuming her for days and nights, sparked a fury in him that he thought he had left behind long ago before his daughter was born.

  Michael was a peaceful man, a vampire who refused to take a life, even if it meant starving to death. When it came to family, however, he might have been willing to rationalize murder. He offered respect and goodwill to all who came into his acquaintance. But when he saw Jane’s memory of Tor straddling over his daughter like a man without restraint, without shame and control, it was enough to make Michael want to kill the werewolf.