Lucan took his time silently assessing the group before he finally inclined his head, and Vander began the formal introductions.
Burke left Lucan to join Sam. “My lady, Lord Durand awaits in the next room, if you have a moment to greet him.”
“Yeah, I do.” Sam’s mobile beeped, and she unclipped it from her belt and checked the screen, which displayed a homicide call from dispatch. “No, I don’t.”
She debated whether to tell Lucan, but her lover was in the process of admiring a neck chain with a glittering gold medallion hanging from it. Visiting Kyn always brought expensive gifts as tribute, which Sam considered unnecessary and even a little silly. Lucan, on the other hand, had been universally despised by his kind before he’d become a suzerain. While he always pretended not to care about the show of respect, Sam knew it gave him a lot of satisfaction.
As her phone beeped again, Sam made a face at Burke. “I’ll say hi before I go, but would you mind asking Chris to keep Jamie company until I get back? Last time he was here, they became pretty good friends.”
Burke nodded. “I’m sure Miss Christian will be happy to look after Lord Durand.”
The tresora escorted Sam to one of the smaller meeting rooms, where the scent of warm sandalwood colored the air. It came from Jamys Durand, who was standing at the window and looking down at the sea.
“It’s still not too cold if you want to go for a swim,” Sam said.
“No bathing costume.” Jamys smiled as he came to bow before her.
“Oh, cut that out.” Sam pulled him up into a hug before she drew back and took his hands in hers. “You’ve been working out, kiddo.” She patted some of the new muscle bulging under his sleeve. “And I’d love to catch up, but some idiot killed someone downtown and I got stuck with the call. I’m sorry, but would you mind hanging out with my girl Chris until Lucan frees up? You remember Chris, right?”
“Yes.” Jamys’s dark brown eyes gleamed. “I remember.”
“Excellent. Thanks. I’ll see you later.” She kissed his cheek. To Burke, she said, “Call if you need me.” She hurried out to the elevator.
* * *
Chris made herself walk, not run, through the club to Burke’s office. For three years she’d immersed herself in learning how to be the perfect tresora. Burke had taught her everything about protocol, from how to properly greet a visiting lord (with extreme politeness and deference) to getting rid of unwanted human groupies (with a little eucalyptus-based ointment under the nostrils and a quick trip into the outside air). Lucan’s men had helped teach her the defense tactics every tresora was expected to know, and she had practiced with every weapon she could handle in the armory until she could use it with complete ease and deadly accuracy. She’d even learned how to tolerate blood loss on a regular basis, just in case one of the Kyn needed to use her in an emergency.
From the beginning Burke had warned her that hard work might not be enough. “Being a tresora is more than a position of trust and employment. It is a bloodline obligation, handed down to each generation of a tresoran family. I am the thirty-eighth Burke to serve the Darkyn.”
“Back in the Dark Ages, they had to go out on a limb and trust the first Burke, right?” When he’d nodded, Chris said, “Then I’m going to be the first Lang.”
For Chris, being a tresora wasn’t only about being with Jamys. For all their superpowers and immortality, most Darkyn held on to their medieval mind-set, and as a result often had trouble coping with the modern world’s demands. Chris intended to change that. All of the immortals had to stop living like Lord of the Rings extras and learn how to drive, operate computers, and use smart phones. The tresori—most of whom were trained in Europe—also had to stop worrying so much about protocols and instead pay more attention to practical matters like securing reliable alternative sources of blood, consolidating and improving the business fronts that concealed the jardins’ existence, and developing more allies among the local businesses, government, and authorities.
Once she was a tresora Chris would never again have an ordinary life, but she was willing to trade that to be with Jamys and help protect him and the rest of the Kyn. Someday in the future she might even earn her own spot on the tresoran council, where she would make decisions that would enhance and safeguard the Darkyn’s future.
For now she’d be happy with simply being named a tresora, which had turned out to be much more complicated than she’d expected. Burke had helped her prepare her original petition for recognition, and sent it off to the tresoran council, which had sent back a long list of requirements Chris had to accomplish under Burke’s supervision before her petition would be considered. So for three years she’d studied and practiced and acquired the skills necessary to satisfy the padrones who ruled over all tresori. She hadn’t stopped until Burke had crossed off the last item on the list, and transmitted his final progress report on her to the council.