Chapter 1
I stood in the sitting room of the ancient Amadis mansion, stared at the giant tapestry spanning the entire stone wall, and wondered how I could change the future it told for my son. A long vine, embroidered with gold and green thread and with leaves on each side, wound and climbed its way across and up the wall-hanging, a golden name on each leaf. These were the names of my ancestors. The Amadis Family Vine only showed the mothers and their children, the fathers deemed irrelevant in our matriarchal society—most had died young, long before their widows knew their real heritage.
Silvery-green thread outlined most of the leaves—the ones with female names, the daughters—but some were brown and separated from the vine. The names on the brown leaves were all male, a twin to a green-leafed sister, and each had an asterisk next to it. A seemingly insignificant little symbol ominously marking the fate of each boy. Though in a tiny, embroidered font in the corner, the meaning seemed disproportionately large, commanding all of my attention:
*Converted to the Daemoni.
A much smaller rendition of the image spread across the inside cover of the leather-bound book I hugged to my chest: The History and Life of Alexis Katerina Ames Knight. My history. The book explained that not only Angel blood coursed through my veins, but so did the blood of vampires, were-animals, and mages. I was the ultimate hybrid. The book, which I’d already devoured beginning to end, was full of fascinating details.
I stared at the enormous vine in the wall-hanging, however, because it better reflected the magnitude of my feelings than the tiny one in the book. At the top of the Family Vine, right above my leaf, scripted in gold like all the others, was the name Dorian Stefan, my son. His leaf, unaccompanied by a female twin, an anomaly in itself, was brown, though not separated from the vine. Yet, anyway.
I had no idea what I would do to keep it that way. I was too new to this Amadis life. But I vowed to do something. I could not let my son become part of the Daemoni, our innate enemies, servants to Demons and even Satan himself.
“Ma lykita,” murmured a smooth, sexy voice from the doorway, “staring at it doesn’t change anything.”
Tristan stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, sending electric currents under my skin.
“I know,” I said with a sigh. “I’m just thinking about what we can do that will change it.”
He kissed the top of my head. “We’ll figure something out. Fortunately, we have a few years.”
“According to the book and history, yes. But if he’s anything like me or you, unique in so many ways, he could go early.”
“But not tonight or tomorrow or anytime soon. Right now, we have more pressing matters to worry about.”
“More pressing than our son’s life?”
Tristan sighed. “Nothing is more important than Dorian’s life. But there’s a difference between important and urgent, and for now, the issue isn’t urgent. We have time. But tomorrow morning—in a few hours—we have a council meeting, and I expect it’ll be intense. It’s late and you have to be tired.”
My body did feel heavy with exhaustion, not surprising with the combination of jet lag and a lack of sleep. Excitement to learn about my heritage combined with being overwhelmed by my new mind-reading ability prevented me from sleeping on the flights from Miami to Athens. I’d been awake for nearly forty-eight hours, which included fighting a psycho vampire intent on killing me. I didn’t think I could shut my mind down, though. Between all the information I just learned about my history and my genetic make-up and figuring out what to do about Dorian, there was too much to think about.
“How am I supposed to sleep?”
“I put Dorian to bed. Let me take you. You might be surprised once you let yourself relax. And, if you can’t relax,” he kissed my ear, giving me goose bumps, “I can help with that, too.”
“That’s stimulating, not relaxing,” I said, my body already trembling for his touch.
“Hmm . . . good. After all, we do have that other matter, and the council will want to know we’re working on it.” He nuzzled his face into my hair, pressing his lips against my neck. As usual, my body immediately responded. I couldn’t help it—he’d always been irresistible to me.
“We do need to keep trying,” I conceded with a smile. “And it has been a while.”
“It’s been way too long.” He took my hand and led me up the stone stairs, lit by torches affixed to the stone walls.
Two days certainly felt like a long time, for us, anyway. We’d never before gone more than twenty-four hours without making love—if you didn’t count the seven-and-a-half years while he was held captive by the Daemoni. Our eight-year anniversary was less than four months away, but we were still newlyweds in a very real sense, having had a total of three weeks together as husband and wife.
We also had a mission to accomplish: we needed a daughter for the survival of the Amadis—my family, our society. And if the Amadis didn’t survive, neither would humanity. It would be lost to the Daemoni.
“Can’t we flash to our suite?” I asked as we continued up the stairs to the third floor.
“If you flash everywhere, you’ll get lazy, and I won’t have a lazy wife,” Tristan teased. “More importantly, you don’t want to create bad habits. We’ll have to mainstream soon, and you can’t be flashing all the time around the norms.”
“I know. But I’m not being lazy.” I slid my hand down his back and over the perfect roundness of his ass and gave it a squeeze. I finished the thought telepathically. I’m just horny.
“Ah. Why didn’t you say so?” He picked up the pace, and we practically flew through the long hall.
As we entered our wing, I slowed. A door on the left led to Mom’s suite, and I sensed she was still awake, probably reading. I stopped at the door on the right—Dorian’s room.
“I stayed until he was sound asleep,” Tristan whispered, but I cracked open the door anyway, needing to see him. A little-boy snore rattled in the darkness, and his dream appeared in my head—he was swimming with his dad and happily fighting sharks. I could only imagine the embellishments Tristan had added to Dorian’s favorite bedtime story. With a smile, I closed the door.
We entered the front room of our suite at the end of the hall, and once we were alone, I was instantly in his powerful arms, locked into a kiss.
“Not in here,” I reminded him, remembering Mom’s warning of the antique furniture in the front sitting room.
We made our way to the bedroom, which was specifically designed for our kind, completely bare except for a large, stone platform with a two-foot thick pad and lots of pillows—the bed. A stone pillar stood at each corner and blue gossamer hung in curtains between the posts. The bedding was either easily reparable or replaceable—a necessity considering our kind tended to destroy things during sex.
Tristan lifted me with one arm and carried me to the bed, his satiny lips never leaving my tingling skin. Making love with him had always been intense, but since the Ang’dora, my heightened senses made it so much more sensual and our powers made it so much more fun. With expert skills, Tristan quickly took me over the edge. The loss of control crumbled the mental wall I so carefully held up to block out others’ thoughts . . . and to protect my own.