Know Me When the Sun Goes Down Read online

  “Have you ever sparred in a corset before?” I asked with a pointed look. “It’s fine, I think I can manage on my own.” It wasn’t like I couldn’t split the thing in two if it gave me too much trouble. It didn’t fit that great to begin with, whoever it belonged to was longer in the waist than me.

  “I will await you in the hall,” Clay declared in a strained voice, eyes averted as he closed the door behind him. I got the idea that if I’d flashed him a shot of the girls, he might’ve been so shocked, I could’ve escaped. But that would lead me away from Bishop, not closer. And I was about to get as close to him as possible, given the circumstances.

  Quickly, I struggled out of my clothes and donned the new ones, knotting the shirt at my waist to keep it from billowing to my knees. I also carefully tucked my phone into the folded corset, figuring none of them would dare go poking around in my unmentionables, given Clay’s reaction. While I would’ve preferred a good pair of ass-kicking boots, I opted to go barefoot rather than wear the ill-fitting slippers I’d stolen.

  I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Clay led me to an open room, Spartan, save for racks of weapons mounted to the walls. It wasn’t the same as the training facilities I’d seen at the Order HQ in San Francisco. Apparently they didn’t bother with soft mats or fancy exercise equipment in Regency times. After all, if you cracked an opponent’s head in while sparring, a vampire would heal in no time.

  I also expected it to be me and Bishop, with maybe Clay around to make sure I didn’t bolt for the door, but as we waited, other members of the Order came filing in to watch. Not that I minded, better to make an impression all at once. There were open stares over my attire, their snooty disdain rolling over me in a wave of condescension. It was all I could do not to bang on my chest and yell, come at me, bro! at the top of my lungs and challenge them all.

  Bishop appeared, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up with elegant grace. The only other preparation he made was to roll up his cuffs, one by one, to reveal tautly muscled forearms. Boy howdy, was he distracting! Maybe this was going to be harder than I’d thought?

  “Having second thoughts?” he asked with an arrogant smirk.

  “Not a one,” I replied, trying to get my head into the game.

  “If you best me, you may be released,” he called out in a ringing voice for all to hear. “However, if I best you, your life is forfeit.”

  “Sounds fair to me.”

  “Are you ready?” Bishop stalked closer, his hands up and open, instead of clenched into fists. It was a defensive posture, as if he was expecting me to make the first move. Oh, I was going to make the first move alright.

  “I am,” I replied, with a fair approximation of the Regency bob, the movement somewhat ruined by my unorthodox attire. “The question is, are you?”

  I moved in, keeping my weight forward, like he’d taught me. In one deft movement, I executed a perfect judo flip, rolling with him to pin him to the ground in a flash. “Wanna see that again?” I smiled sweetly.

  Bishop scowled in response, and I allowed him to shake me free, bounding lightly to my feet. This time he attacked, but it was easy to dodge or slip my way out of his holds – he couldn’t anticipate my movements.

  Going on the offensive again, I swept his leg, following up with a Black Widow combination that landed his head between my thighs, unable to pry his way out of it. A nervous titter rippled through the room, and I let him go. After all, it wasn’t as if Bishop needed to breathe, so the move didn’t do much to advance the fight other than cause a scandal at the unladylike position.

  “Carys taught you this?” he asked, circling me warily.

  “Did you ever know her to fight her own battles?” I replied with a wry twist of the lips. “All she had to do was crook her finger and defenders came running. I know you always did.”

  His scowl deepened, and I felt bad for him. I was pretty much kicking his tight little behind, and everybody was watching, the room deathly silent as there was nothing for them to cheer for. This time I let him catch hold of me, offering little resistance as he pinned me to the ground. Actually, it was pretty distracting having him above me, pressing intimately between my legs. Not that he seemed turned on, or if he was, he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Instead, his brows twitched together in confusion. “Why do you hold back?” he asked, his voice low enough for my ears only.

  “Everybody’s watching,” I whispered back, only to get his puzzled shake of the head. His grip loosened, and I slipped my hand free. “You’re the bossman, right? I wanted you to save some face.”

  And what a face it was. To be so close to him after losing him, it was more than I could bear. I reached up to touch him, savoring the velvety smoothness of his closely shaven cheek. The scent of him – so familiar but so strange. This wasn’t my Bishop, and yet it was at the same time. Those green eyes did something to me, even if he looked at me like a complete stranger. My fingers slipped along the curve of his jaw, and it clenched tightly as if I’d caused him pain.

  “You will fight me, madam,” he demanded, pushing away from me.

  “Alright, have it your way,” I sighed, climbing slowly to my feet, giving him plenty of opportunities to attack me, only because I wanted him close again. As much fun as tussling with Bishop was, it wasn’t getting me any closer to him accepting me. In the next instant I took him down, my boot pressed to his throat, arm twisted up at a painful angle I knew he wouldn’t be able to escape without breaking his arm.

  “Do you yield?” I asked, loud enough for the room to hear.

  Bishop struggled, sweat standing on his forehead as he tried to break free. Apparently nobody had ever given him the advise to push through the pain, or maybe he’d been sufficiently wowed by my strength and skill to accept me. Whatever the reason, his response came in a clipped tone. “I do.”

  Letting go of the hold, I offered him my hand. “I thank you for the exercise, it was most stimulating,” I smiled good naturedly. For a long seconds, I wasn’t sure he’d take my hand, but then his hand clasped mine.

  “Well met,” he said simply, but I didn’t let him off the hook yet.

  “And you accept that I am who I say I am?” I pressed, keeping his hand in mine.

  “You are not newly made, and that is what the Order polices. I have no quarrel with you.”

  Cool beans. Not exactly the same thing, but I was willing to take it. “Is there somewhere I can freshen up?”

  “Of course,” he said with a short bow, retrieving his coat. “I shall escort you myself. Clay...” he called out, giving instructions in a soft enough voice that I couldn’t hear what he said. I took the opportunity to look at the other Order members, some of them filing out, others watching me with open curiosity. I gave them a benevolent smile, showing there were no hard feelings, and quite a few of them returned it.

  “This way, madam,” Bishop said, offering me his arm.

  “I think you can call me Anja now,” I chuckled, laying my hand lightly on his arm instead of holding him close the way I wanted to. Baby steps.

  “It would not be appropriate.”

  “Then you don’t really believe Carys is my Sire?” My shoulders slumped in disappointment.

  “Whether I do or not, you have proven yourself a worthy opponent,” he answered equably, leading me down to the level with the dungeons again. Part of me worried this was all a trick, except that I really could break free of him at any time.

  “What makes you doubt she turned me?”

  He hesitated before replying, selecting his words with care. “Carys would not have allowed me to save face in front of my men. I find it hard to believe she would have fostered such tenderheartedness in her progeny.”

  “And are you exactly like your Sire?” I raised a brow at him.

  “Touché, madam,” he allowed with an incline of the head.

  “Whether you believe I’m your sister or not, we have breached that level of informality, haven’t we?” I don’t know w
hy I pushed the issue so hard; maybe I just wanted to hear him say my name again.

  “It is my duty to embrace formality, Miss Gudrun.”

  “Surely not always. Not with friends.”

  “Are we friends?”

  “I hope to be.”

  He stopped outside the cell. “You may change inside, I shall wait to escort you to more suitable quarters.”

  My stolen clothes waited in a neat pile, right where I’d left them. I thought about asking him to help me with the corset and then decided he’d think I was playing some kind of game with him the way Carys would. Would I ever escape being compared to her?

  In the end, I couldn’t get the stupid thing laced up, so I left it off. That meant the dress didn’t fit as nicely as it should, but I tied the drawstrings tighter to try and keep everything in place and hoped nobody would notice.

  I got the sense that Bishop noticed right away though from the way his gaze lingered when I appeared in the hall again, and I crossed my arms self consciously over my chest.

  “Something wrong?” I scowled.

  “Why are you dressed thus if you are a lady of quality?”

  Think, Anja, think fast! “Because it amuses me to do so,” I said in a lofty tone, trying to sound like a woman of the world. In a way I was, I’d traveled over most of the globe with him, albeit not in these times. “Have you never dressed so as to move more freely among the people? It’s highly useful, I can assure you.”

  “There has never been a need. As a member of the Order, I am revered.”

  “You mean feared.”

  “Is that not the same thing?”

  “It’s sad if you think so.”

  A furrow appeared on his brow, and he drew himself up taller. “I will present you to Sylvius in the Great Hall and then I must see to my duties.”

  Cripes, now I’d insulted him. Ugh, how was I supposed to get closer to him if he kept acting like a gorram purplebelly all the time? “But I thought we could spend some time together. I want to get to know you better.”

  “I am as you see me,” he shrugged. “There is nothing more to know.”

  “I know there’s more to you, Bishop, so much more.”

  His lips pressed into a tight smile. “If you think to know me simply because you had Carys’ ear, trust me when I say she would not know me as I am today.”

  “I know that. You’re not Ulrik anymore. But one day you’ll be able to embrace the music again without any pain.”

  “Stuff and nonsense,” he snorted.

  “I’m only saying that Ulrik is still a part of you. You don’t have to choose one or the other.”

  “As I said, I am as you see me. Duty and service to the Order are my only concerns now.”

  “You never know. Forever is a long time.”

  Bishop was silent for the rest of the walk, stopping at the doors to the great hall, where he let go of my arm and gave a short bow. “Enjoy your stay at Vetis, madam.”

  “Wait, I thought you were going to introduce me to Sylvius.” Was I allowed to simply walk in there on my own?

  “Now that you have established your age, there should be little doubt as to your identity. And little reason for our paths to cross,” he added, as if relieved by the notion.

  “That would be a shame. Whether you like it or not, we are family, Bishop.”

  “The Order is all the family I have need of.”

  “I’m betting our paths will cross again,” I said with my best winsome smile, ready to surrender that battle for now, because I was absolutely going to win the war. I would gain Bishop’s trust and get him to believe me about what our future held in store for us.

  I had to.

  Chapter Eleven

  The great hall of Vetis looked pretty much as I remembered it. Elegant and full of fancy pants vampires lounging about, sharing drinks and conversation. One welcome change was seeing Sylvius sitting on the throne-like chair in the corner instead of Simon Corley. Physically he looked the same, dressed in a long green tunic trimmed with gold that hung down to his knees over dark pants, his long hair loose around his shoulders – but there was a vitality to his eyes that’d been lacking in the future.

  Nobody stopped me as I entered, only a few heads turned in my direction at all, until I approached the throne, waiting until Sylvius noticed me standing there. For the first time I wished I was dressed to fit the room instead of the pub, but there was no helping that now.

  “Greetings Elder of the Vetis lands,” I said in a loud, ringing voice. “May your House prosper under the Sister Moon.”

  His gray eyes crinkled with delight. “Greetings, my child. And to whose House do you belong, so that I may return the blessing?”

  Was the West even a thing in this time? I couldn’t remember. “Ah, I suppose you could say I’m currently without a House, but my line is an ancient one.”

  “What is your name?”

  “I am Anja Gudrun, daughter of Carys, daughter of Jakob. And I seek Sanctuary.”

  A low murmur spread through the room like wildfire; I definitely had their attention now. “Daughter of Carys indeed?” he said, lips curving into a private smile.

  Uh oh. Was this the part where he saw through my cover story like he did last time and outed me as a fraud?

  But he responded with the usual litany. “I invite you to hunt in my domain and I offer you sanctuary come the dawn.”

  I started breathing again. “Thank you, Your Grace,” I replied with a graceful curtsey. I could do manners when the occasion called for it.

  “We do not recall seeing you in our lands before.”

  “No, Your Grace, I have been abroad. In the American colonies, of late.” Oh, the whispers... What did these guys think happened in the States? My hands smoothed over the wrinkles in my skirt. “I apologize for my mode of dress, I’ve been traipsing through the countryside, enjoying your local wares.” In vampire company that meant the people, not the stuff, but it seemed like the proper response.

  “We shall see to that, have no fear, my child,” he said with a kindly smile. “Corley?” Simon appeared an instant later, like he’d stepped out of thin air. How had I missed his approach?

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “Please see to it that Miss Gudrun is housed and clothed as befits her rank as a daughter of Carys.”

  “Indeed?” he replied with a single raised brow, studying me closer so that my boobs started to sweat. “At once, Your Grace.” Corley snapped his fingers, and a human page came forward. A few murmured words and the boy took off at a run.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” I said with an incline of the head. “I am most grateful for your hospitality.”

  “Think nothing of it, my child. We look forward to a long visit with you,” he smiled, and I saw the gleam of interest in those sharp gray eyes. He had questions alright. I only hoped I could trust him to keep my secrets now as he had in the past. Or the future. You know what I mean.

  The page came back a few minutes later and I was escorted from the room, Corley’s dark gaze boring a hole between my shoulder blades. Bishop was nowhere in sight out in the hallway, nor were there any Order members lurking about. After getting used to seeing them at Vetis before, it was strange to find them out actually doing their jobs on the streets of London.

  It was with an odd sense of déjà vu that I was led to the swan room, my old stomping grounds. The walls were plastered over and painted a soft cream, accented by touches of gold wherever there was crown molding or ornate trim. A fire crackled in the fireplace, the heavy marble depicting two angels standing over it, their wings folded toward the center of the mantle. The furniture was in the same French style, with touches of rose and yellow, though I couldn’t say if it was the exact same furniture, or merely a similar style. It flanked the fireplace and a plush carpet covered the polished marble floor.

  Off to the left, through a set of double doors stood the massive bed. A drape of gauzy fabric suspended from a ring above the bed, cloaking it
in soft waves of lacy romance. The only difference were the bed coverings themselves, which were in a pale gold. Unbidden, a wave of memories of washed over me of Bishop and me in that very same bed. I stood there, practically seeing his muscular form, barely covered by the sheet and nothing else waiting for me in bed. The way his eyes softened with love as his head lay on the pillow beside me.

  Not all of it was good. There was the spot he’d punched a hole in the wall when he found out I’d let Rob drink from me. And that was the door he’d slammed trying to get away from me when he was so mad he couldn’t stand to look at me anymore.

  But there… there was the place he’d given me a necklace because it reminded him of one his mother used to wear when she sang. And right there was where he’d left me that pretty blue beaded dress.

  I was still staring at that spot when the door flew open and Bridget blew in like a force of nature. “So what happened?” she demanded. “It’s all a buzz down in the slave quarters.”

  “Slave quarters?”

  “It’s not that bad, but you should see what passes for feeders around here,” she said, flopping down on the sofa, her dark curls tumbling out of the sophisticated updo I’d set for her. “They’re all scared of their own shadows.”

  “Well, be careful. They might not like it if their dinner has an attitude.”

  “I wasn’t planning on feeding them.”

  “No, I know... You know what I mean. Manners make the man as someone said.”

  “I get it, I’ll be on my best behavior. Except for maybe the guard dog downstairs, did you see that guy? Rawr.”

  I had noticed one of the weres on post near the bottom of the stairs. “Yep, he is pretty hot, if you like the type,” I allowed.

  “What’s not to like? I’ll bet his muscles have muscles. And I could do with a hot blooded guy for a change. I’d done with vamps. Except for you, of course.”

  “Of course,” I smiled.

  “But seriously, what happened? I’m about to bust a nut with curiosity. Alls I heard was you fought some Order-douche and handed him his ass. Man, I would’ve liked to have seen that. You’d just be all – taste my pain, bitch! And he’d be all – gor blimey, I soiled m’self!” she added in her cockney accent, and I couldn’t help but giggle.