Chapter 6: Nicolae/Syeira
1484 Words
Chapter 6: Nicolae/Syeira“Where have you been, my son?”
Nicolae started and almost tripped over his feet. “Syeira?”
“Who else?”
Dammit. He’d hoped to slip into his caravan before the old woman realised he’d even been gone. “I was just out for a stroll.”
She c****d her head at him. “Is that truly so?”
“It is.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And yet you reek of sex.”
“What if I dallied for a bit?” In spite of his challenge, he made a sign behind his back. The old woman was not one to trifle with. “There’s no harm in that, is there?”
“No,” she agreed, and he released the breath he’d been holding and relaxed his fingers.
He should have known better. She continued, “But that depends on who you dallied with.”
He scowled at her. “So what if it was the gadje? He’s mine—he has the mark of the pentagram in his palm. You know as well as I that means he’ll become a werewolf.” And he’d seen to it that would happen. Not now, perhaps, but in the future. “You should have told him. You should have let me tell him. You shouldn’t have let him leave.”
“The time is not ripe for him to know.” She sounded tired. Well, that was just too bad.
“Anyway, why shouldn’t I have had some fun with him?”
She had the nerve to give him a sorrowful look. “He’s not to have fun with.”
He growled at her, and he wasn’t surprised when she sighed, twisted her hands together, and then rose.
“Oh, my son.” She was nothing but an old, ineffectual woman, after all.
He was surprised when she drew back her arm and smacked him full in the face, so hard that he shied back and cupped his cheek.
“You forget who I am,” she snarled. “Your foolish actions may well have cost us everything.”
“Grandmother—”
“Get out of my sight and pray I can repair the damage you may have done.”
He slunk away from the old woman’s caravan. His cheek throbbed, and he knew there would be a bruise in the morning. The men of the vista would tease him over it, thinking some feisty female had let him feel the back of her hand. And they’d be right, not that he would ever admit it.
When he was a safe distance from the old woman, he paused, glared over his shoulder, and bit his thumb. What did he care about her plans? The gadje was his, and Nicolae would bugger him whenever he bloody well felt like it.
“Nicolae.”
He jumped and then swore. The almost ghost-like figure of his brother appeared from the shadows behind the caravan Nicolae shared with him.
“What are you doing still awake at this time of night?” he snapped. Trust Milosh to be nosing around.
“What have you done?”
“Jesus God, not you, too. I didn’t do anything.”
Milosh shook his head. “I care about you, brother. You’re going to wind up destroying yourself.”
“All I did was have a little fun.”
“Did you bite him while you were having this fun?”
Nicolae felt his jaw drop. Even Syeira hadn’t accused him of that.
“You did.” Milosh sighed and braced his hands on his hips. “Does Syeira know?”
“No. Are you going to tell her?” It would be just like the little s**t.
“What’s the point just now? The brother is leaving the country tomorrow, sailing west. We’ll be traveling in the opposite direction.”
“But he’ll be back—Syeira saw it in his palm—and I’ll be waiting for him.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Nicolae scowled at him. “You should have more respect for your headman.”
Milosh rolled his eyes. “You’re not headman yet.” He turned away from Nicolae.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed, and I’d advise you to do the same. Dawn will be here soon enough.”
“The gadje is mine,” Nicolae insisted sulkily.
The boy made a scoffing sound, climbed the steps to the caravan, and disappeared into its darkness.
Nicolae stared after him and chewed his thumbnail. He would have drowned the whelp at birth, but the headman had been overjoyed to have another son. At any rate, he’d guarded the boy, and Nicolae could do nothing about him.
Nicolae tore the cuticle of his thumbnail, and he swore as it began to bleed. He scowled at the caravan. As the oldest son of the vista’s headman, no one had ever denied him anything—not the best horses or the prettiest girls or even the most toothsome of the young men.
Why should he think he’d be denied the gadje m’lor’?
He entered the caravan, stripped off his clothes, and climbed onto his bunk. It took him a while to fall asleep, but when he finally did, he dreamt of the young man whose virginity he’d taken that night.
He didn’t remember much about the dreams, other than that they were filled with violence and s*x, and the s*x was almost as arousing as the violence; when he woke, his groin sticky with semen, but that wasn’t important. As far as he was concerned, that just went to prove the gadje was his.
* * * *
Syeira stared after Nicolae and shook her head. He’d been spoiled to the point of ruination, and now his belief that the world and everything in it belonged to him could well have foiled plans decades in the making.
Still, there might be one thing she could do to remedy this.
She swung up onto one of the horses—she was spryer than one might have thought given her age—and tapped the mare’s sides with her heels.
It didn’t take long for her to arrive at the big house on the next estate. She located the correct window and left the horse beneath the tree outside it.
The window was latched, but that didn’t concern her. She managed to get into the room anyway and stood over the young sir, who was whimpering and tossing restlessly in his sleep.
“Oh, my son. If you had but kept that charm.” She knew the Synclaire who had come from the West had been wise in the ways of the creatures of the night. He’d had the necklace and its charm crafted and given to the third son to wear. Over the centuries, the lore had been forgotten, and now this was the result.
Whatever had possessed the young man to give such a valuable charm to a woman who did nothing more than warm his bed on occasion?
That’s men for you. She rested her fingertips against the young sir’s temples. From Nicolae’s smug attitude and the scent that clung to him, she was certain he’d used the gifts his mother had unwittingly passed on to him to enthrall the young sir. She waited for the vision to come that would reveal the events of this night.
Syeira was startled to realise there were two visions, and the first was not of the young sir with Nicolae, but of the two young sirs. When she realised it was the one whose fortune she’d read, whose future was linked to he who was beloved of a very ancient god, she gave a silent gasp. Somehow, that young sir had managed to break Nicolae’s thrall over his friend with his salty tears.
What a pity it was not he who had been chosen. Still, Syeira knew the ancient one would never have permitted it.
The vision faded as the young men parted.
The next vision revealed what Nicolae had done, and Syeira felt cold. She removed her fingers from the young sir’s temples. As much as the young sir had burned for Nicolae, there was no need to witness his humiliation.
She laid a hand on his hair. “Your sleep will be peaceful, my son, and you will have no memory of what passed this night beyond thinking it was naught but a dream.”
He uttered a soft sigh, and his movements stilled.
This should have been so simple. How had it got so twisted?
Well, she had done her best. It remained to be seen if it would be good enough.
She left the room, mounted the mare, and returned to the vista, wondering if she should have honoured Nicolae’s mother’s request and drowned him at birth.
- Writer
