Page 13 of Bound
“I would like an escort in the morning,” Bran says clearly. “We are not familiar with the area, and the less time Amoret must spend inside one of the human vehicles, the better.”
Gage glances down at me and my body warms. “Of course. That is easy enough to arrange.”
Bran smiles and rises. “Excellent. Then, gentlemen, I believe we will see you bright and early on the morn.” The dismissal is clear.
Jaw tight, Gage pushes to his feet, his partner following suit. I climb to mine as well, smoothing my skirts down my legs. But before I can take a step, Bran’s hand alights on my shoulder, keeping me in place. “Allow Jarrah to escort you out,” Bran says.
Gage shakes his head. “Thanks, but I think we can manage.” He jerks his jaw and his partner starts off. His gaze refocuses on us. “Master Knyt.” He looks at me. “Lady Amoret.”
My name is a glorious rumble through my body, tightening things in places I never knew possible. “Good eve, Captain,” I breathe.
His emerald eyes flash, but he turns on his heel and slips out of the room. Moments later, the main door closes with a final click. The silence stretches for several long beats.
Cusnu grunts. “A Fae serving a vampire?” he demands. “How … odd.”
Bran stares after Gage, his expression thoughtful. “Whitehorn,” he mutters. “I wonder if he is one of Aedan’s boys.”
Cusnu’s head whips over. “No. Surely not.”
“His eyes are the same, Cus,” Renvi says, his tone bored. “And how many Whitehorn clans are there?”
Both males glance at Bran, who peers at me. “Did he seem familiar to you, Amoret?”
My nails dig into my thighs. The pain helps to keep the heat from my skin. “He was … familiar, yes, brother mine. But many of the Fae have his coloring.”
Bran nods. “True, sister.” He goes back to staring at the empty doorway. “I suppose it would be impossible for him to be one of Aedan’s boys. Nothing could have survived that fire.”
The lords fall silent, their brows knit as the horror of that day roars back through us all. The burning home, the smoke. The death ...
Renvi shakes his head. “The trial begins tomorrow. Let us not waste the eve on such nightmarish portents.”
Cusnu grins. “Indeed. There is a city waiting.”
Branwen glances at Jarrah and nods. The captain pushes from the wall and walks to the door, Renvi and Cusnu close on his heels. No doubt to get ready to join the councilman later.
Bran extends a hand to me. “Come, Amoret. It grows later. I am sure Wena and Sila have their own plans for you tonight.”
I try to smile in return, but unease coats my insides. Forcing it away as residual nerves over seeing Gage again, I clasp his fingers. His hand is cooler than Gage’s and much smoother. “You still intend to venture into the city, then?”
He dips his head as we make our way to the door. “I would like to see more of Lock Lake. Perhaps it will give me a deeper insight into the case. Into the vampire on trial. By seeing where he lives and works, I can gain understanding. Knowledge.”
A flush of tenderness rises inside me. It is so like Bran to search every angle, to learn as much as he can. “You are truly the fairest of us all, brother mine,” I tell him.
His smile is brief, kind. “Amoret, I assure you, you hold that title afore any others.” My head drops to hide my joy. “And I believe the captain felt the same.”
My eyes dart to his. “Brother?”
Bran’s focus is piercing. “He is … uncouth for a Fae. Brusque. But any male that can serve so diligently for so many years is noble indeed. Whether he is truly of the Whitehorn clan or not.”
I can only stare at him.
He grips my face in one long fingered hand. “However, he is not of the Sith, sister. Regardless of his blood line, he has denounced any place among the Folk by taking a knee before a vampire lord. As noble as he seems, he is nearly human.”
The warning is like a vise around my heart, squeezing until my breathing grows shallow.
Bran and the other lords are quick to dismiss Gage. His rank among our kind despite his distance.
I cannot.
Forcing myself to nod, I gaze into Bran’s eyes and feel the shift begin inside me. The fracture.
As much as I love and respect my brother, the warmth Gage sparks, the fire I crave, it cannot be denied. Not again.
The others may not believe it is him. But I would know him anywhere.
Somehow, someway, Gage Whitehorn is alive.
And I still love him as much as I did twenty years ago.
