The Warrior Vampire(60)
“Why don’t you like to be restrained?”
The question came out of nowhere and Ronan brought his head up to look at her.
“That first night, when you offered to let me handcuff you, I could tell that it made you uncomfortable. Your body went rigid when I secured the cuffs. Was it the silver?”
She studied him as though she wished she could climb into his head for the answer. For a moment Ronan took in the sight of her: her soft bronze skin, lush, full lips, and eyes that were as deep and fathomless as the night. Dark, wild curls framed her face and Ronan reached out, unable to stop himself as he took the strands between his thumb and forefinger, stroking the silky length.
“I was a warrior,” he said, low. “I fought for a vampire lord against the Sortiari when they waged war on the vampire race over three hundred years ago.” Naya’s expression softened and Ronan gave her a rueful smile. “I had yet to be turned and the slayers were killing off vampires at an alarming rate. We were losing. And there were those vampires in the aristocracy who chose to hide rather than fight. To send detachments of dhampirs into battle while they fled for safety. I’d sworn a blood oath to a lord who promised to turn me and many others. Instead, he took us as slaves.” Ronan took a deep breath, raked his fingers through his hair. “I was trained to fight. To show no mercy.”
“He sent you out to die?” Naya’s wide eyes shone with emotion.
“I don’t think that was his intention. I think he hoped we’d beat down the berserker warlords that the Sortiari sent. Not all vampires were honorable,” he said. “Nor are all dhampirs. But they were afraid. And they were dying at the Sortiari’s hand. I suppose my lord did what he thought he had to do. When we weren’t fighting, we were kept like dogs in the bottom of the keep. My sister refused to leave me there. She attended to our lord’s mate. A gentle female who spent most of her nights sobbing in fear of her impending death.”
“Gods,” Naya breathed. “That’s awful.”
Ronan supposed there were worse fates. “I was good at war,” he said with a shrug. “But I was equally willful and worried for Chelle. My temper got the best of me more times than not, and when I wasn’t fighting I was chained.”
Naya reached out and smoothed her fingers over his wrists. “I never should have cuffed you. Ronan, I’m so sorry.”
“You couldn’t have known.” All of his previous anger and agitation melted under her gentle touch. “It was a price I would have paid a thousand times over. Worth my soul. Worth you.”
Naya’s lips parted and she looked away, but Ronan heard the way her heart raced at his words.
“They were turbulent times, and in the chaos Chelle and I managed to escape. We sought out a coven that had hidden itself deep in the forests and far from battle. The Sortiari continued to wage their war against the vampires and it wasn’t long before they were gone. Wiped from the earth. I could never be turned. I resigned myself to my fate. But there were rumors. And so I left Chelle in the care of our coven and set off to find any vampire that might have survived.”
“I wondered,” Naya said. “I’d never seen a vampire until the night you tackled me. I thought you were all dead.”
“I searched for Mikhail for almost a century. I found him in Russia. Starved. Weak. Feral.” Ronan gave a rueful laugh. “It’s a wonder he didn’t kill me.”
“Paul steers clear of the Sortiari,” Naya remarked. “He calls them reyes de las tineblas.”
Ronan quirked a brow.
“The kings of darkness.”
Ronan snorted. “Fitting.” He wondered what sort of history the chieftain had with the guardians of Fate. “What do you know about them?”
“Not much,” she replied. “Just that they’re bad news. We follow El Sendero and don’t bother with what the rest of the world is doing.”
“The Path?”
Naya pursed her lips and cut him a look. “Very good, vampire. Caminos de la magia are roads of ethereal energy that stretch across the earth.” Ronan lost himself in the smooth timbre of her voice. When Naya spoke, he swore he could feel the power that thrummed around her. “We police it. Magic. My grandma used to say that it was a gift given to us by the gods. But more and more, I only see it as a curse.”
* * *
Naya had never spoken so openly with anyone. Ever. Not Santi or even Luz knew how Naya felt about her lot in life. But being with Ronan filled her with a sense of peace and comfort. Trust. Even though they’d fought, she didn’t worry about laying herself bare to him. Deep down, she sensed that he could see everything she sought to hide anyway.