Page 130 of Golden Eagle

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The First Baron Strange of Blackmere seemed bound and determined to wear a hole in their hotel carpet. He paced back and forth across the small living room of their suite, hands clasped tightly behind his back, long legs making short work of the distance so it seemed that he was spinning more than actually striding. His hair was loose, save the tiny braids Anna had worked in above each ear, and his gray long-sleeved shirt hung off of him, proving how little he’d been eating the last week.

Kolya sat cross-legged on one of the room’s two chairs, sharpening a knife with methodical strokes of a whetstone.

“Baby,” Annabel tried again. “He’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about him.” Fulk reached the wall and spun, narrow face drawn tight with unhappiness. He stalked across in front of the TV, where the evening news cycle was enough to make anyone anxious. “It’s just…” He turned again, and made a frustrated motion toward his own head, wincing. “I feelresponsible.”

“I know.” She did, too. Being bound was strange – but, for her at least, not in a bad way. Val was a presence in her mind, yes, but a comforting one, and more or less inert. She felt, strangely enough, almost motherly toward him. Urges to straighten his hair, or offer soft comfort, and make sure he was properly dressed and fed. She ignored it, mostly. Being his Familiar protected her from other vampires, and was the thing that had enabled them to leave Blackmere; an acceptable trade, in her books.

But the binding weighed on her husband. Fulk’s previous master had been awful; she still had nightmares about him, occasionally. And it didn’t matter that Val called Fulksweetheart, and smiled at him, and demanded nothing more than advice and education on modern times, Fulk acted restless. Caged. And when Val was away from them, it was even worse.

Anna pointedly didn’t look toward Kolya when she said, “You know that it’s important he went to meet them alone.”

He snorted, but it wasn’t a disagreeing sound.

“Not to mention: do you think there’s anyone or anything in this city that could actually hurt him?”

Fulk paused, and tipped his head in thoughtful concession.

“He’ll be fine,” Anna said, and dipped the brush in her nail polish again.

The thing worrying her was their revenant. The way his old friends would respond when they realized that Kolya was alive – that he’d beenbrought back to lifewith a mage’s magic. The concept freaked her out, and she wasn’t even emotionally invested.

Fulk came to sit beside her on the sofa, head flopping back against the cushions in a defeated way.

Anna bit back a smile. He was very emo, her baron, but he rarely sulked this petulantly, and she found it helplessly endearing. Not that she would tell him that. His pride was bruised enough right now as it was.

After a moment, he tipped sideways and rested his head on her shoulder, lightly enough that he didn’t bump her arm. “What color is that?” he asked.

“It’s called ‘Champagne First.’”

“Hm. Are those bubbles in it?”

“Glitter.”

“Even better.”

The now-familiar rasp of the whetstone ceased, and Kolya’s rusty voice asked, “When will I get to see – my friends?” He still stumbled over talking about them, on the rare occasions that he spoke at all.

Anna turned her head just far enough to meet Fulk’s gaze, his blue eyes right there on her shoulder. He gave a tiny facial shrug, leaving it up to her.

She turned to Kolya. “I’m not sure. Tomorrow, probably. I mean…we don’t really know what Val’s gonna want to do.”

They’d talked about it in only the loosest terms. Fulk bristled at the idea of bowing his head and asking to join someone else’s pack. Valerian, he’d said, would doubtless be the most dominant of these vampires, and it would be more a case of inviting them to join their pack.

Honestly, immortal social politics were just dumb. She’d always thought so, even as an instinctual part of her preened at the idea of her mate and her master being the alphas of a pack together.

So dumb.

“I don’t know what to say to them,” Kolya said, a notch forming between his brows, his mouth turning down at the corners.

“You don’t have to say anything at first,” Anna said, putting a confidence into her voice that she didn’t feel. “We can do all the explaining. They’ll just be glad to see you, I’m sure.”

Glad and very, very disturbed.

He nodded, but didn’t look reassured.

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