Warrior (Relentless #4)(46)

The fire was still smoking when we got there, and several of the younger warriors had retched at the sight of the body the vampires had torn apart and tossed into the fire like garbage. Her body was charred, but I recognized pieces of Elena’s favorite blue riding habit and her mare tied to a nearby tree.

I couldn’t let Tristan see her like that, so I’d put out the fire and wrapped her body for transport back to the stronghold. To this day, I could still smell the burnt flesh and see the bloody bits of clothing scattered over the ground. I could still see the grief etched on Tristan’s face when I’d brought his beloved sister’s body home to him.

A look of horror replaced Sara’s chagrin. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“It was a long time ago.” I regretted bringing it up. The last thing I wanted was to upset Sara, who had lost her father to a vampire.

“So does Madeline have any family left?” she asked, surprising me.

“She still has some living relatives; her sire, for one.”

Sara made a face. “Sire? That sounds so…impersonal.”

I sat back in my chair and smiled at her. She’d grown up as a human, so it would take some time for her to get accustomed to our ways.

“It’s just a title. Mohiri families are as close as human families, maybe more so since we do not grow old and die naturally.”

“So you and your parents all look the same age? Don’t you find that weird?”

“We don’t think of age the same way mortals do. Humans see it as a way to mark one’s passage through life. Physically, we don’t age once we reach maturity.”

Her brow furrowed, and I wished I knew what she was thinking. “So, my grand…Madeline’s father is still alive,” she said slowly. “Does he know about me?”

I thought about Tristan, who called every other day to ask about his granddaughter. “Yes, and he is looking forward to meeting you.”

I could sense her withdrawing. “He will wait until you’re ready to meet him,” I told her.

“A patient Mohiri, who would have thought it?” she replied dryly.

“A Mohiri has all the patience in the world when something is worth waiting for,” I said as she picked up our plates and carried them to the sink.

She started washing a plate. “I guess it helps that you guys are immortal, huh?”

I moved to stand beside her, and I couldn’t resist leaning in close. “So are you.”

She jumped. “Don’t do that!” she sputtered, and I chuckled at the blush that rose in her cheeks.

I took the plate she was washing and dried it, deliberately standing so close to her that our arms touched. Since the night I’d met Sara, my Mori and I had been in turmoil. Being near her helped, but it was never enough. Touching her, breathing in her scent, soothed my restless demon and me as nothing else could.

I was drying the last dish when I felt a shiver go through her, making me notice how chilly it was in the apartment. My Mori regulated my body temperature, but Sara’s demon was too young to do that yet. Without power, it was going to get cold in here. Somehow, I didn’t think she would be open to letting me warm her with my body heat, as pleasurable as that sounded.

“The temperature is going to drop a lot tonight,” I said as she reached for her flashlight. “Does that fireplace in the living room work?”

“Yes, it’s gas.”

Perfect. I headed for the living room. “Go put on something warm, and I’ll start the fire.”

“So what, we’re going to sit by the fire and roast marshmallows now?”

I smiled at the picture that presented. “You have anything better to do?” I called over my shoulder.

In no time, I had a good blaze going in the fireplace. Her retort about roasting marshmallows prompted me to check the kitchen cupboards, and I smirked when I found an unopened bag in the pantry. I grabbed the bag and two long metal skewers from a drawer, and went back to the living room. Tossing the bag on the coffee table, I sat on the floor near the fireplace and stared at the flames as I waited for her to return.

“Where did you find marshmallows?”

The delight in her voice warmed me as no fire could. “Top shelf in the pantry. Want one?” I asked, already preparing one for her.

“Yes!”

I held the marshmallow over the flames until it turned brown, and then I passed the skewer to her. “Here.”

She smiled her thanks and blew on the glob of melted confection while I roasted one for myself. We sat in companionable silence for several minutes, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so relaxed and content.

When she finally spoke, her question wasn’t one I’d expected. “Have you always done this – hunting vampires? Do all Mohiri become warriors?”

“Most do, though we have some scholars and artisans,” I told her, pleased by her sudden interest. “Being a warrior is in our blood, what we are born to do. I have never wanted to do anything else.”

“What’s it like growing up there? Do you live in houses or on some kind of military base? Do you go to school or start training when you’re little?”

“We live in fortified compounds all over the world. The larger compounds look like private campuses, and the smaller ones are basically well-fortified estates. It is not safe for a Mohiri family to live outside a compound because they would be vulnerable to vampire attacks,” I said meaningfully. “Families live together, and the living quarters are large and comfortable. Children attend school until they are sixteen, and physical training begins when they reach puberty.”