Mina lifted a shoulder, sighed and twisted so she was facing Alexis on the bench, commanding her full attention. "We are who we are, Alexis. Change is very difficult for all of us. All I want is for you to understand."
If Lex had been sitting with her mother, she knew Anna would have stroked her hair, explained all of this in gentle if inexorable terms. Nevertheless, Mina was giving her a different form of the same. Support, guidance and the truth, no matter how difficult it might be to hear.
Knowing everything she knew thus far, she couldn't deny Mina's logic for leaving Dante in the Dark One world, but she hated it. It would have been a difficult choice for anyone, but that didn't make the decision correct, right? Under her godmother's piercing stare, Alexis forced herself to consider what would have happened if Mina had released him, and someone like Lex hadn't been bound to him, translating his needs in a way that helped him cope with the transition to a world so different from the Dark Ones' desolate planet.
Had the seawitch's decision to leave him locked in his personal hell for twenty more years, whether intended or no, been an act of mercy?
"WHAT is it you want, now that you are here?"
"Not to be there," Dante said simply.
Lyssa's jade eyes narrowed. "That might be the truth, for now. It's not in our nature to be passive, Dante. You will want something in time. What questions do you want answered? The ones you did not ask in front of the others."
"What questions do you think I have?"
Lyssa leaned back in the chair, templed her fingers. "There's a fine line between intelligent caution and wasting a resource offered to you."
"Hmm." He considered the books on the wall, the stained glass design of the windows, the lights behind them, which made the glass sparkle. Then he was in motion.
He came over to the desk at his full speed, only to find that his target was not there. He hit the chair, but arched lithely over it, spinning it in front of him so it hit the desk and formed a bulwark against rear attack.
Lyssa sat in his chair, as relaxed as she'd been in her own. "Care to try again?" Her gaze sparked fire. "I will not be as tolerant this time."
With a snarl, he sprang. He never reached her. Instead a powerful energy rolled out from her body and slammed into him, meeting him halfway over the desk. He was catapulted backward, hitting the wall such that the wood groaned at the impact. He landed on his feet, but had to shake his head to clear the concussion. When she rose, the wind from the magic she'd used was still rippling her black hair over her shoulders. "Try again," she said, showing a hint of fang. "This time I will let you reach me."
Bloodlust clouding his mind, he leaped. As she'd said, he reached her, but when he expected to tumble her backward, instead she was moving with him, a turn and twist like a dance where she had all the balance. She put him on his knees, his fingers gripping her waist, his other hand caught in hers, unable to shake off the weight of the power she pressed down on him. He cursed and struggled, but it was obvious she outmatched him. She didn't appear to even be making an effort. Tossing her hair to one shoulder in a graceful move, she bent and sank her fangs into his throat.
Being helpless was something he'd sworn he would never again be, and yet, from that first bite, it was obvious there was something very different about this. It wasn't like the Dark Ones who'd overpowered and brutalized him merely for the vindictive pleasure of it. First, like him, she wasn't all vampire. In fact, he wasn't sure if she was vampire at all, though there was a lingering sense of the species about her. She had fangs to use on him, but her scent was different. Though she'd put him down, her free hand slid up to the back of his head, stroked through his hair, a sensuous, almost reassuring caress, as well as a reproof. He thought about using the hand at her waist to try and shove her away, break the hold on his throat, but something about the power of that bite, the way it stilled things inside of him, left him undecided. The rage he carried was there, but somehow she'd thrown a silken tether around it, kept it trembling but still, as if waiting for her command to unleash it.
She took several swallows, then licked his throat delicately, removing the excess blood and staunching the flow. When she lifted her head, she was still stroking his hair, but she tilted up his chin to meet her gaze.
"As you may have sensed, I no longer hold vampire powers, but I do observe the rituals when needed. My mate can connect to you through my blood, like a first mark. I can find you now, and sense something of your state of mind."
"Why would you do that?" he said bitterly. "To prove your power over me?"
"Yes," she responded evenly. "Because you need that. You would respect nothing less. You understand that, whether you admit it or not. Now, if you choose to attack me again, I will prove to you that broken bones are very painful, even if they do heal."
"I already know that."
"Mmm. I suspect you do. To our kind, you are very young, Dante. Keep that in mind."
When she at last let go of him, he put himself across the room, though he knew that was a false reassurance. While he stood straight and tall, his jaw clenched, some small, ridiculous part of him was glad Alexis had not been here to see his humiliation.
Lyssa's gaze flickered, giving him the impression she was communicating elsewhere. She allowed a thin smile. "My mate picks up on my mind far too well at times. He was concerned. I let him know it was nothing I could not handle. Normally, I expect he'd disregard my assurance and come to my side, but he will not leave our son alone with strangers, no matter who they are."
"Alexis would never hurt a child," he said.
"Intentions are not always the same as reality," she responded. "I've lived long enough to leave nothing precious to fate or chance. It often takes choices away. But you know that too, don't you?"
When he chose silence, she took a step toward him. He held his ground. His bloodlust told him to try again, to seek a weakness, some way to undermine her. His mind tried to hold on to control, but deeper, darker things fought it. She wouldn't subjugate him, even if it tore him to shreds to prove it. He curled his hand into fists, his fangs pushing against his lips, trying to elongate further.
"Your mother hoped for children," Lyssa said, as if she was unaware of his dangerous state, though he knew she wasn't. "Though of course she knew they were rare. She had vampires, other than Lord Willingham, that she loved and lay with, for that is our nature. But she never conceived. I lived for over a thousand years before I had my son. Perhaps fate chooses a specific pairing for vampire children, and until that pair is drawn together, a child will not be born."
He struggled to focus. "You're saying my mother was supposed to be seeded by a Dark One male?"
"The pairing was perhaps less important to Fate than the result that came from it." Her gaze wandered over him, and he realized he was limned in the red and gold light from the tall stained glass window behind him. "You are unique, Dante. I sense many latent powers in you, as well as overt ones. If you learn who and what you are and make peace with that, you may become far more than you ever expected. Or"--she curled her lip again--"you are simply an accident and your own savagery will consume you so that Nature can fix its mistake."
Returning to her desk, she perched gracefully on it. "Set aside your anger and ask the questions you have. Don't irritate me with your stoic male silence."
Dante considered. "Was she like you?"
"No. Since she was human, a made vampire, she did not have any exceptional powers, though she came from Native American blood and confided there were some shamans in her ancestry." Her attention roved over his sculpted cheekbones, the set of his mouth and the long dark hair on his shoulders. "Before her turning, she had to hide that fact, since at that time her rights to own property or decide her own destiny would have been severely curtailed."
Lyssa pursed her sensual lips. "She handled herself well. In our world, power and violence are necessary to hold your own, but if you do not have much of those, you cultivate other talents. She understood how n
ot to be a threat, and at the same time not be a doormat. There was a loveliness to her core that attracted male attention, more than most. She seemed . . . decent to me. She wasn't overtly strong willed, but she would not go against her principles, either. Did she . . . how long did she live in the Dark One world?"
She gestured at the chair in front of her. When he didn't move, she raised a brow. "Not afraid I'll bite you again, are you?"
He saw that quirk to her lips he now understood was a near smile. He was also beginning to understand there were many types. While this was not the open freshness of Alexis's smile, it wasn't malicious in nature. He crossed the room and sat. She was only a foot or so in front of him now, and he suppressed the desire to back the chair up several feet.
"I didn't understand about time then," he said. "But I was half as tall as I am now. She transferred her memories to me when she died."