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I take her mouth in mine and slip my tongue against hers. I hold her there for a moment longer, not letting up, dragging it out. Finally, I remove the pressure from her, and my fingers stop their movement. I feel her hips twitch against me, and I release her lips, hearing her pant as I smile.
“You did so good, Wren,” I whisper into her temple before I kiss it. A satisfied laugh escapes her, and I hug her tightly as she recovers. I remove my hand from her clothes and lick her essence from my fingers. Glancing around for a sign that anyone noticed what we were up to, I find none. It seems we’ve gotten away with our private little session. Not that anyone here would probably care if we decided to fuck out in the open. The shadows of the club are one thing. Wren’s personal feelings aside, I don’t think my jealousy would be up for quite such a public display, either. But this? This I can do.
We clean up, then I am content to just hold her. She’s curled in my lap, and we’re oblivious to time. The sun will be up soon, and I contemplate all of the ways I can take her in the light. I am already planning the things I want to do to her. Watching the sun kiss her skin while I do them is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Rolando comes bursting into the house, more boisterous than usual, and I turn to see what the commotion is. “He’s back!” Excitement fills the entire house as the rest of my family pours into the room from wherever they’d been before.
Leland.
Grinning, I kiss Wren’s forehead. “Ready to meet my maker, little bird?”
Leland. Still reeling from Oz’s attention, I don’t know how to react. I am nervous, and this is basically Oz’s father. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t want me in the coven?
In walks a man who appears to be in his mid to late forties. His face seems jovial but has the weathered look of a man who’s seen his fair share of trouble. He is from Oz’s time, or before. I haven’t quite gotten to that part of coven history in the archive. No, I am particularly drawn to a specific coven member and focusing my research there.
I watch as Leland hugs each of his children. His ashy blond hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. A few wisps have escaped, and he tucks them carefully behind his ears. One falls forward as he hugs Rolando. He looks up and locks eyes with me.
The sensation of being this nervous without a racing heart is strange. Instead, I feel a strange pit in my stomach. His brown eyes stare for half a second before he smiles wide and strides over to Oz and me. I watch as he takes Oz’s head in his hands, and they both lean forward, foreheads touching.
“Gone and got yourself a bride, dear boy,” he claps Oz on the shoulders in a fatherly gesture. Leland’s voice is warm, with a crackle of gravel behind it. Wafting off of him are scents like smoke and something metallic I can’t place. His presence is dominating, and I can see why it is easy for him to command a coven. He exudes confidence and oozes charisma, so as he turns and regards me, my breath hitches.
“My dear,” he beams, reaching out and taking my hands. “What a pleasure it is to meet you finally. Come with me. We have much to discuss, you and I.” He gives a gentle tug and leads me away, Oz following closely behind. We reach Leland’s study, which is currently in chaos from Rolando’s work. He is almost done digitizing the archive, but boxes of journals that still need transcribing litter the floor. Hundreds more line the shelves, their information meticulously recorded and saved forever.
“Oz,” Leland says paternally, turning and blocking the entrance to the study. I peek over his shoulder and see that Oz seems surprised. “I must ask that you remain out here. Leave me to tend to your lovely mate for a spell. You and I will catch up shortly.” Why can’t Oz come in with us? What is happening? It doesn’t make sense, and my nerves aren’t settling.
“Of course, Leland,” Oz accepts. I can see he is as confused as I am, but he does as he is bid by his coven leader, creator, and mentor… His father. Leland pushes the French doors shut, the blinds are already drawn over the glass.
“Please, my dear, have a seat,” Leland gestures to a chair by the fireplace. Nodding, I do as he requests and sit down, still nervous and tugging at my fingers. I watch as Leland points a remote at the fireplace, causing a fire to roar to life before my eyes and immediately casting me in warmth. “Oh, come now,” he says, looking like he’s laughing at me. Sitting in the chair beside me, he adds, “I’m not that frightening, Wren.”
I gulp, wishing I could be a little bit invisible. I force a smile. “Just nerves, I guess.”
He looks at me with a hint of understanding but a teasing smile just the same. “I, for one, drink when my nerves begin to act up. Would you care for a glass?” He indicates a well-stocked bar cart beside his chair.
“Please,” I nod. “I’d like gin, neat.”
Pouring the clear liquid into a crystal glass, Leland hands it to me before fixing himself a bourbon. Turning back to me, he raises his glass in a toast, I do the same, and they clink together. “To new friends and family,” he declares before tossing back a third of his drink.
Deciding I need to get my shit together, I down the whole damn thing. His brows raise, but he extends the bottle, pouring me another without asking. I’m grateful and sip on this one. “Wren, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. My Oz has never looked happier, and from what Rolando tells me, you helped pull the stick out of his ass.” I almost spit out my drink, sputtering just a bit as Leland laughs. It reminds me of the laugh a Santa Claus actor would give. Full of belly.
“He was wound a little tight?” I muse, picturing the man who jumped into a lake to save me. I can see it. He is always so careful, and so attentive. What did he do before he met me?
Eyes wide and mouth in a straight line, he tells me, “Tighter than a fresh pressed spring. When I left, he would brood everywhere. I think the last couple of centuries have been hard on him.” Leland stares into the fire, the flames dancing around the gas log. “I thought he would go off alone for a while, but then I realized he didn’t know where to go or what to do. It was like he had no purpose, like he was waiting for one,” Leland looks directly at me.
“You’re his mate, I understand, as in he heard you in his mind while you were human and continues to hear you still.” nodding, I continue sipping my drink. “You hear him as well?”
“Yes, but I didn’t hear him until after the turning.”
A grimace flies across his face. “Ah, yes, your turning. A gruesome thing to have to be pulled back from the brink of death and wake completely different. I am truly sorry you had to experience your new life that way. There’s usually a bit more... ceremony.” I know most vampires are turned, knowing what they will become—knowing that they will wake with thirst, with strength, with all their memories intact.
“I turned Oz very similarly. I found him on the side of the road, and he lay dying in his own blood. But he still knew what was coming.” He finishes the rest of his drink and pours himself another. “Oz called me while you were changing and told me everything. The crash, drowning, resuscitation, and then turning you ultimately to save your life. The mind bonding while you were human. So curious,” he looks at me with eyes that are searching.
“We sort of assume it happened because I was in danger,” I explain. “I was heading to a nearby cabin, and we think if we hadn’t met in the store, Oz would’ve likely sensed me there that weekend.”
Leland nods. “Oh, very likely. He loves brooding about by the cabins.”
