Chapter Thirty-Two

Just-Friends in High Places

“Okay,” I said very slowly. “Run that by me one more time.”

“The whole thing, or—”

“Why don’t you just start at the top.”

Ira sighed. “All right. Certain humans in the House are given more protections than others. They’re called the Beloved, and each is under the care of a certain vampire. If I go before the Primus and tell him that Zo has attacked you, and that you’re my Beloved, that would be grounds for a suit against her. By attacking someone under my protection she violates the honor of the House, so you could challenge her to a formal contest. Then, if you beat her, no one in the House could touch you because you were carrying out a claim in rightful combat.

I rubbed my temple with two fingers. “And how does me being a vampire hunter fit into the plan?”

He shrugged. “It shouldn’t matter, except as a plausible reason why you’re fighting her and not me. Beloveds are Beloveds, no matter what walk of life they’re from.”

“I’ve never heard of any of this,” I said.

‘Well, duh’ his expression seemed to say. “You wouldn’t have. They’re called ‘Beloved’ for a reason. We don’t put them out there where hunters can get to them.”

“That’s a fair point, I guess,” I muttered.

Diplomatically, he chose not to reply.

“Theoretically,” I said, “let’s say I agree to this plan. How do we even know that the Primus will believe you? We don’t have any real proof.”

“I don’t think it will be that hard,” Ira said, a wry smile on his face. “Rurik is my blood-father.”

I shot him a look. “And you’re just now mentioning this?”

“The only conversation where my vampirism was ever brought up didn’t exactly flow that direction,” he pointed out.

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Typical. It’s not just any vampire I’ve been banging, it’s a vampire bigwig.”

“Not really,” Ira replied. “No real benefits come from it, vampire leadership isn’t hereditary. I just enjoy a certain amount of favoritism.”

I laughed a little.

“What?”

“I was just thinking,” I said. “It’s kinda funny that both our dads are pretty high up in our respective communities.”

“Rurik isn’t my biological father,” Ira said. “And what do you mean?”

Then it occurred to me. “I never told you my last name, did I?”

“It’s St. James.” Ira’s eyes were on my collarbone. “I looked it up.”

“Then you know my father is Richard St. James?”

Ira whistled. “The book was just a list of the various families and their icons, it didn’t have any names, but even I have heard of Richard St. James. You might wanna keep that to yourself.”

I could feel my brow arching. “It’s that big a deal?”

“I don’t know exactly what went on, but I do know your dad has been in this area before,” he said. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Huh,” I said. “I’ll have to ask him about it.”

“This has got me thinking,” Ira said. “There’s one thing about being a Beloved I didn’t tell you.”

“Hmm?”

He hesitated, then said, “I would have to bite you.”

I think the look I gave him said everything.

Ira hurriedly went on, “In order for our bond to be considered valid by the House, you would have to wear my mark. Since we haven’t known each other that long it wouldn’t be on your neck, though. The wrist should do.”

“And it would heal, right?” I asked, trying to keep any anxiety out of my voice.

“Yes,” he said. “So long as I didn’t bind the wound, it wouldn’t scar. Vampire saliva has many wondrous properties.”

“We have to do it? It’s completely necessary?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “Otherwise the House might not take you seriously. It’s like wearing the other person’s class ring when you go steady.”

Incredulously, I said, “Go steady, are you kidding me? How old are you?”

He gave me a weird look. “I’m twenty-two.”

I flicked appraising eyes over him. “Seriously? Just twenty-two?”

“Just twenty-two,” he said, impatient. “Why?”

“Because talking like that I thought you were from the fifties or something.” I shook my head. “Go steady. Honestly.”

“It’s a perfectly valid phrase,” he grumbled.

“Sure, Beaver.”

“Bite me.”

“I thought that was your job?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Anyway,” I said, getting back on track. “So that’s the plan? You mark me, we go talk to the Primus, I off Zo with no repercussions?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s the plan.”

“Let’s get started,” I said, but Ira shook his head.

“Can’t yet.”

“Why?”

“Rurik is out of town,” he told me. “Won’t be back until Tuesday.”

I sighed. “Peachy.”

“That’s okay, though,” Ira said. “We need a few days to make it convincing anyway.”

“How so?”

“Well, the bite, obviously, but there’s more than that.”

“Such as?”

He licked his lips. “We’d have to sleep together. Just sleep, I mean.”

I studied him, but he seemed serious. “Why?”

“Our smells. If your scent isn’t mingled with mine they’ll never believe you’re my Beloved. Sleeping together is the easiest way because we’d both just be laying there, mingling.”

“I see,” I said.

“There’s other stuff,” he went on. “Like proper responses and etiquette and things like that. How to turn your head so other vampires know you’re unavailable that kind of thing.”

Staring at him, I said, “You’re telling me if I nod my head wrong they’ll take it as an open buffet.”

“Possibly,” Ira said. “Not a lot of people mess with me, but it’s always possible. Especially once they find out who you are. They’ll all wanna get a piece of you just to see if the stories hold up to the reality.”

“Come on,” I quipped, “I’m not that slutty.”

He glared. “You know what I mean.”

“So the biting, and the sleeping, plus the manners,” I said. “Anything else?”

“No,” he said. “Not for the plan, anyway.”

We looked at each other. The tension in the room was suddenly thick.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I said softly. “I was just having fun, and going with it.”

“I thought I was too,” he sighed. “And, I have to admit, I did keep things from you, too. You were the one that manned up, not me. I think that’s one of the reasons I took it so badly. I was all ready to brace myself for your reaction, and I was the one that got a bomb dropped on them.”

“You seem pretty cool about it now,” I said. “I mean, it was only this morning.”

“Maybe I’m a sucker,” he said, “but you’ve been through a lot, and it seems petty to hold onto it when you’re feeling all that.”

“You’re not a sucker,” I said. “Just a nice guy.”

“Thanks.” He smiled.

“Sure.” I hesitated, and then said, “I don’t want to push my luck or anything, but thank you for helping me with this. I feel…I could really use what friends I have right now.”

It burned me to say it, but I was determined to continue on my responsible-me kick. Part of acting more mature was thanking people when they helped you.

Maybe Ira saw my turmoil because his smile turned softer. “Hey, what are friends for?”

I looked at my hands, not sure what to do now. I wasn’t the only one.

Ira said, “So what now?”

“Well,” I said. “I guess I go get my stuff out of my car.”

“And then?”

“And then you should probably bite me.”