“Talia, damn you.” He grabbed her arm, pulling her close. “I’m not leaving my pack and I’m not letting you go. If the Prophets want me as Alpha, they’re going to have to fix this.”
“Lore, if I’ve learned one thing, we can’t change what we are.”
He kissed her face, starting with her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, wordlessly pleading with her. “I know you’re the one I have to have. I know your scent.”
“Lore,” Talia said, his name more a sob than a word.
He cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you don’t love me. Don’t lie to me.”
“Pick someone else.”
“Don’t I have a say in any of this?”
The pain in his words ripped through her. She pulled away. “Not unless hellhound soul mates are reborn as vampires.”
He fell back a step. The movement was awkward, unsteady. Not like Lore at all. “You can walk away from here, Talia.”
“Don’t,” she said desperately, knowing exactly what was coming.
“You can walk away, but I’m not letting you go. I’m fighting for you.”
Talia pulled herself together, scrabbling for enough strength to go on. “You’re smarter than that.”
“I didn’t get my hounds out of the Castle by giving up.” A stubborn look she’d not seen before settled over his features. “This isn’t over.”
Talia swallowed, shoving her hands into her pockets so she wouldn’t reach out to him. He looked angry, but he also looked hurt. “Think about what you’re doing,” she said.
Then she walked away from him, the most gorgeous, half-naked man she was ever likely to meet, however immortal she was. And his beauty was the least of her loss. There would never be another Lore.
Cold tears streamed down her face.
But she’d done her bit to help the pack.
Chapter 36
Wednesday, January 19, 7:30 p.m., Election Day
101.5 FM
“This is the CSUP special news coverage of the municipal elections. Polls opened at eight o’clock this morning and will remain open until midnight to accommodate all voters. Exit polls favor vampire candidate Michael de Winter. If he wins, he will be the first nonhuman elected to public office—a landmark on the road to securing full civil and legal rights for supernatural citizens.
“Many attribute the rapid progress in this area to the hard work and political acumen of the vampire queen, Omara. If one considers that the existence of nonhumans was a mystery until the year 2000, this is indeed a remarkable achievement that opens a new chapter in the history of relations between human and nonhuman species.”
Wednesday, January 19, 8:00 p.m., full moon
Talia’s condo
Talia walked through Saint Andrew’s cemetery, her steps crunching on the last patches of snow. The cold snap had finally broken, and she could hear water rushing through the nearby storm drains. A heavy mist—something between rain and fog—dripped from the trees. It was night, but the moon gave an eerie glow to the veils of moisture cloaking the graveyard.
She stopped at Michelle’s grave. It was one of the ones nearest the water—small, with a modest granite plaque. Talia laid the bouquet of lilies she held on the grave. She’d been there nearly every night.
Hi, Michelle, I started packing up your things today. It’s not easy, and I don’t want to do it. Your mom’s letting me stay until I can find a place. I know you’re not there anymore, but leaving is going to feel like parting from you all over again.
Talia stopped, swallowing hard. A group was gathered around a spot a few yards away. A small figure broke from them and walked over.
“Talia Rostova?”
“Yes?” Talia took a moment to look up. The speaker was a female vampire, very beautiful and very regal.
“I am Queen Omara.”
Oh!
Talia sank into a curtsy. “Your Majesty.”
“Rise, child,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you for some time now. It will be a while before I need to join my candidate to hear the outcome of the election. Perhaps we can talk?” It wasn’t really a question.
Talia drew in a shaky breath. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Omara began walking along one of the paths that wandered the cemetery. Talia fell into step beside her, nerves on high alert. Wind hushed through the cedar trees.
“There are three subjects I wanted to speak to you about,” said the queen. “First, you killed a vampire monarch. That is punishable by death.”
Stunned, Talia stopped dead in her tracks.
Omara gave a slight smile, as if she rather enjoyed Talia’s moment of fright. “However, it was Belenos, and he was after my life. The vampire council voted to consider the killing justifiable self-defense.”
Talia thought she would faint. The queen started walking again. Talia hurried to catch up.
“You were granted leniency by a margin of one vote,” Omara added. “In other words, count yourself lucky and don’t do it again.”
“He killed me, Your Majesty,” Talia said. They tried me without my knowledge. What would have happened if the vote had gone the other way?
“I know,” Omara replied. “That was taken into account. The council is sorry that you were Turned unwillingly. This is not an easy existence, especially if you did not choose it.”
Talia took a breath. “May I speak, ma’am?”
“Of course.”
“I was raised to hate monsters. Becoming one should have driven me mad, or made me destroy myself, or made me turn evil.”
“But?” the queen prompted.
“Instead, it made me look at things and at myself in a different way. I’m not going to say I’d be a vampire if I had a choice, but I am stronger now, and not just physically. It made me start over and think about what I really believed. It made me break old patterns. I’m more Talia than I was when I was a living woman.”
“I congratulate you. Not everyone could manage to transform themselves that way.”
Talia hesitated. She could hear the ocean rushing against the shore. “Most people would be starting from a better place.”
“Do you still hate monsters?” The queen started walking again.
“Some of my best friends are monsters.”
“What about your father and brother? Where do they fit in this new worldview of yours?”
“There’s a chance my brother may come around someday. He’s written to me. He’s agreed to be a witness for the prosecution. He’ll still do time, but a lot less.”
She slid her hand into her coat pocket. She’d carried Max’s letter with her since she’d received it. It was a connection to her brother that was real and honest—not spying on him from an Internet bulletin board.
It was an awkward note, but it was a start. The best news was that Max was getting some counseling. Ironically, prison might be the salvation he needed.
Omara made a considering noise. “I understand the biggest problem with the trial of the Hunters is the complexity of it. Where does one crime end and the next begin? Perhaps it is good some of us involved are immortal. The case could go on for a while.”
Talia was silent. The mere mention of the trial wrapped her in a blanket of confusion. It was impossible to see how it would end, though no one believed Mikhail Rostov would walk a free man ever again. That made her feel both sad and safer.
Omara was watching her expression. “I know it was not your direct intention, but you have done me and the community as a whole great service in these matters.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She’d just been trying to survive.
“In light of that service, consider yourself my subject. There is no reason to carry on as a rogue.” Omara gave her a smile that said no was not an option.