The Men of Otherworld: Collection One (6 page)

Blood Ties

Roman has managed to live as long as he has due to keeping a tight hold on what humanity he has left. Unfortunately, not all vampires feel that way—and not all of his family agrees with his choices.

Roman stared at the phone as he silently pressed the End Talk button. The news was not good. He really, really didn’t need to start off the day this way. Grumbling, he turned to stare at the woman sitting beside him. She was quiet, polite, and dressed in a dark red skirt and top.
The better not to show stains,
my dear
, he thought. She was new to his stable. Average build, pretty, blue-eyed and a redhead. As he looked her over, it occurred to him that, just once, it would be nice to have a normal breakfast like everybody else, along with a normal cup of coffee.
Just once.
But those simple joys had been off his table for thousands of years and the only way he could handle everything that seemed so alien—all the activities that made up so many peoples’ lives—was to push the desire aside.

“What’s your name?” Roman made it a point to know every bloodwhore in his stable. He learned their backgrounds, their likes and dislikes, the reason they had petitioned to join his household. He refused to be a
use ‘em and lose ‘em
type of vampire. It wouldn’t be seemly, not for the son of Blood Wyne, the Queen of the Crimson Veil.

“Dotti Rollins.” She smiled, but behind the smile, her nerves were showing through. She was dressed like Roman preferred his bloodwhores to dress—skirts, sweaters, normal clothes. He never allowed them to appear at his table in anything but a tidy manner. No negligees, no lingerie, no sweats. Sexy clothes were perfectly fine, but he wasn’t running a brothel or a gym. The fact was, he rarely slept with any of the women who lived under his roof, who provided him with their blood.

Roman considered her for a moment. She seemed pleasant, almost college-prep. Which brought up the question:
What was she doing here?
What had brought her into his house, into his stable? He left the choosing of the bloodwhores up to his personal secretary but this meeting—the first—was the final decision. Here, he either put his stamp of approval on the deal, or he dismissed the candidates and they were never allowed to reapply.

“Tell me about yourself, Dotti.” Roman was gracious. He could afford to be. There were a long line of applicants waiting to offer their veins up to him. It had been thousands of years since he had been human, but he kept a tight rein on himself to keep from becoming a monster. And that included interacting with the living on a gracious, if aloof, level. As far above them as he was on the food chain, Roman never allowed himself forget that he did have vulnerabilities, and death—the final death—was always out there, waiting.

Her eyes went wide and she flushed. “I’m…I’m a grad student.

He nodded. Bingo. She was hiding something there, below the surface. “What’s your major?”

This time the flush ran down her neck, across the top of her chest. “Supe-psychology.”
 

And there it was.
He had sensed something off about her. Usually the ones who really wanted to be here were broken. They might hide it well, but there was always something there, beneath the surface, that drove them to the lifestyle. Dotti didn’t want to be a bloodwhore. She wanted fodder for her thesis. Roman could handle the broken ones. He considered it almost a service, offering them shelter and protection. But he didn’t like being used, nor analyzed.
 

He slowly stood and crossed to her side, reaching down to cup her chin and slowly tilt her head up so she was looking into his eyes. He thought about just sending her away, but then the hunger grew, and he decided what the hell, he could send her away afterward. Leaning down, he brushed her lips with one finger.
 

“Well, Dotti, I hope you find everything you’re looking for.” And then, he lifted her hair away from her neck and with one, smooth motion, slid his fangs into the flesh—deep and painfully. She cried out and stiffened as he coaxed the blood up, and then, he decided to give her a taste of the other side.
 

Within seconds she was murmuring at his touch, moaning gently as he poured on the glamour. A moment later and she squirmed, reaching up to brush her fingers across her breasts. One more lick of the blood running down her neck and she came, harder than she’d ever come before. Roman knew the signs. As he pulled away, he thought with regret that she’d never feel it again—not unless she found herself another vampire. Even if she knelt at his feet and begged, she’d never be allowed in his stable. He didn’t like sycophants and he didn’t like liars or posers.

He slowly withdrew, delicately tapping his face with a napkin. “Dotti?”
 

She blinked, coming out of haze into which he’d thrust her. “Yes, Lord Roman?”

“Gather your things and leave my house. I don’t ever want to see you again.” And with that, he turned, and strode out of the room, leaving her behind. The day had started rotten and was just getting worse.

As Roman leaned toward his computer, glancing over the monthly summaries his secretary had provided, he paused, his thoughts drifting. Every tap at the door put him on alert. Damn it, why didn’t Caleb give him time to bug out of the country? He thought about doing just that, leaving now and pretending he’d missed the phone call this morning, but Blood Wyne would know, and when his mother got a bug up her butt, there was no stopping her.
 

Finally, he sat back, buzzed his secretary and pushed aside all the business matters that were on his calendar. He had already made one call he hadn’t wanted to and promptly at seven-thirty, the door opened and Menolly and Nerissa walked in. Neither one looked thrilled to be there, and he couldn’t blame them.

“I’m sorry I ruined your evening. I know you had plans.” Roman stood, bowing gracefully. A little courtesy went a long way. “I wouldn’t have called you if I had any choice in the matter but family…”

Menolly snorted. “Dude,
my
family’s dysfunctional.
Yours?
Downright scary. They call, you jump.” She turned to Nerissa. “You understand, right? Be polite, regardless of the circumstances.”

Nerissa nodded, staring at Roman. Her eyes were fixated on his, and he felt himself pull back. He would never tell anyone, but the person in this world that frightened him most, among the living, was this woman—Menolly’s wife. She, alone, saw him as a rival. And in his experience, rivals often ended up dead. But he’d made a promise to Menolly that he’d never hurt the werepuma, and he would keep that promise. Above all, Roman was a man of his word. Honor meant everything to him.

Those lovely pink lips had been around his cock once, in an ill-fated threesome that he tried hard to forget. As smitten as he was with Menolly, he knew it was hopeless to try to win her away. Her heart belonged to Nerissa and he had finally accepted that. But one day the werepuma would age and die, and he and Menolly would still be alive. Then…then he would make his move. Until that day, they would play the game by the rules that the girls had set forth.

“My brother will be here shortly. Caleb is the regent over in western Europe—France, Spain, Italy, and a few smaller countries. He insisted on meeting you. He said my mother told him about you.” Even the words ‘my brother’ left a bad taste in Roman’s mouth. He didn’t like any of his siblings—they were whiny and annoying, they pranced around like royalty instead of assuming an air of dignity. But Blood Wyne kept reminding him they were always that way, even before she’d turned them. But that wasn’t a good enough excuse.

“As long as he doesn’t touch Nerissa.” Menolly brushed back Nerissa’s hair. She’d affixed a pink bow around the werepuma’s neck, tied in the front, which meant “
hands off, I own her
.”

“Even those of the nobility, with the exception of my mother, are sworn to follow the rules.” Roman smoothly slid from behind his desk. He lifted Nerissa’s hand to his lips and gently kissed it. She smiled softly and inclined her head. And
that
made him more nervous than he had thought possible.

A knock sounded on the door, eclipsing any other thoughts for Roman. His stomach tightened. Just because he was dead, didn’t mean he couldn’t feel queasy, and right now, he might as well be on a boat swaying on the high seas. He motioned for the women to sit near the desk, then took his place behind the behemoth of an oak antique. After straightening his smoking jacket and smoothing back his pony tail, he pressed the button announcing the servants were free to enter the room.

The maid entered, her eyes wide. The scent of fear was clinging to her. Roman tended to hire mortal servants for maids, cooks, and other household staff. Behind her walked a hooded figure, at least six feet tall, wearing a blood red cloak, with gold trim. The cloak was rich velvet, fastened by a brooch that Roman recognized. He had one like it, as well as a cloak that was similar in fashion. The cloaks were handmade, only for their family. The tailor had been with the family since Roman could first remember. Blood Wyne had turned him, along with a handful of servants, when she had turned her children.

Roman inclined his head, but he retained his stiff, formal pose. He refused to concede anything further to his brother. “Caleb, you grace my home with your presence.” What he wanted to say was
get the fuck out
, but that wasn’t the most diplomatic move. Caleb would run to his mother, and then Blood Wyne would yell at Roman, and it would be one big mess.

Caleb pushed back his hood. He was striking, with long golden hair the color of summer sun, and sparkling eyes the color of frost. But though their coloring was different, the long, regal nose, and angular cheekbones belied their common parentage.
 

Caleb glanced over at Menolly and Nerissa, his eyes flashing briefly. “Brother, it’s been a long time.” He wandered over to the girls, circling them. “It’s easy enough to tell who your consort is.”
 

Menolly stood and curtseyed. Yes, it was expected of her and Roman knew that it grated against her nature, but she was brought up in courtly life and understood protocol. That was main reason he had decided to appoint her as his official consort—that along with his mother’s decree. Blood Wyne had insisted, and while he still didn’t know why, things had snowballed after that. Now, he was in love with Menolly and more than grateful for the way things had turned out.

“Lord Caleb.” Menolly’s voice was smooth, but beneath the surface, Roman could hear a rumbling of discontent.
 

Caleb gave her a long once-over, then turned to Nerissa. He held her gaze, but said nothing. Then, turning back to Roman, he said, “You are remiss. You offer me no one to drink?”

Roman narrowed his eyes. Caleb was up to something. He could feel it. “I am a poor host, yes. I will have a bottle of blood warmed and brought to you.”

“I prefer my blood straight from the throat. You wouldn’t refuse
me
, would you?” Caleb cleared his throat. “In fact, I’d rather you choose the woman
personally
. Someone you think would suit all my tastes.”
 

Roman paused. Caleb’s meaning was clear. For some reason, he wanted to be alone with Menolly and Nerissa. That didn’t sit well. He doubted that his brother—as rough as he was—would go so far as to attack either woman, but the son of a bitch was up to something. If he capitulated, he’d leave them at risk. If he refused, he’d be branded in the court as churlish and his mother would intervene, and that could get dicey. Relative or not, she was the vampire queen, and she made her wishes known in her own time. But the one thing she was clear on: Her children would follow decorum with one another, and they would break that decorum at risk to themselves and their standing in her court.

He vacillated for another moment, glancing at Menolly who shot him a confused look. Finally, Roman strode toward the door. “I’ll be back with your…beverage. I’m leaving the door open. It’s to
stay
open during my absence. This is my house, and you will honor my wishes.”

Caleb shrugged. “As you will.

Roman motioned to the one bloodwhore he knew had proclivities for masochism—actually she was a switch. In all the time he’d known his brother, which was far too long, he had also known that Caleb preferred his prey able to handle a little rough treatment.
 

“Listen,” he told Renee, “I will not require you to service him if you don’t want to. But you are the one among the stable who can handle his proclivities. If Caleb gets out of hand, Wendy has permission to step in and remove you. If he gets too rough, give her the signal and she’ll put a stop to it.” Wendy was a vampire, tough as they come, and she guarded his stable for him.

Renee gave him a steely eyed nod. “Yes, Lord Roman. And…thank you, for watching out for me.”

“I’ll do the best I can but remember, this is my brother. He’s one of the court. I cannot guarantee your safety but I’ll do my best.” Roman frowned. While he had lost a great deal of his humanity over the thousands of years, he cultivated what remained, and tried to keep enough humility to avoid sliding fully into predator-mode. Once a vampire began to view humans—mortals—as expendable, they lost their ability to think clearly and usually found themselves very dead, very quickly. Power without restraint led to carelessness, and power without reason triggered panic. And a group of panicked mortals were far more dangerous than the worst predator on the planet.

“I understand.” Renee went to freshen up. Roman instructed Wendy to bring her to the office when she was ready and hurried back. He thought about calling his mother first, to find out if she knew what Caleb was up to, but if she didn’t, she’d just get irritated at him and tell him to deal with matters on his own.
 

As he approached the door to his office—which was still open as per his instructions—Roman slowed. Vampires had excellent hearing. And sure enough, he heard Caleb talking.

“My brother is softer-hearted than I am. I prefer the Old World, where they still fear vampires enough to give us the respect we deserve. This harebrained idea he and my mother have is a fool’s errand. And now you tell me you would prefer to remain here, at his side, as a consort than come with me and become a queen in your own right?”