A Guardian's Passion Page 3

  Not a young man anymore, Michael pulled out a chair and gestured for Joan to take over. Joan studied her folder for a moment before she continued.

  “Tristan stayed in Italy for five years, writing his father regularly and never once mentioned the type of business he and Jonah Mercredi were engaged in. The Marquis became worried when his son stopped asking for money after two years and decided to visit him in Naples. To his shock he found that his longtime friend and his son were heading a vampire slayers faction. Killing vampires was a lucrative business, leaving them to claim the wealth of their victims afterwards. Mercredi got richer with every kill and so did Tristan. The Marquis ordered his son to return with him to England with the threat of disowning him if he refused. Although he had more money than he could spend in one lifetime, Tristan returned with his father. It seemed there was just one more thing he needed, his father's title. Being disowned would mean that the title would revert to the crown.”

  Joan took a long drink from her glass of water, before she studied her file again.

  “Back in England, Tristan tried to restore the rift between his father and himself, but still kept in close contact with Mercredi and his son. When Drake heard about the Servants of Redemption, he approached them with an offer of immortality, in exchange for their servitude and loyalty. Mercredi liked the idea of living forever and requested that he and his son be the first and only ones to be converted. Drake, however, ordered them to recruit two more members and to form a council of some sort. Jonah Mercredi left for England and brought back Tristan. Tristan was converted, but he himself nominated the fourth Council member.” Joan ruffled through her ledger. “Lady Mary Huntington, the Countess of Glensdown and a one-time lover of his. The Countess is renowned for her cruelty over the ages and to this date not many people know her first name. She's simply known as Bloody Mary, Queen of the Damned.”

  Trinity took a deep breath, her hands clenched in fists in her lap. It took all the willpower she possessed not to jump to her feet and leave the boardroom.

  “The hierarchy has changed significantly over the past four decades,” Joan continued as she studied her folder. “With Drake, Mercredi, and Jonah gone, Vermont is next in line to head the Council. Throughout the centuries, he has been relatively quiet, moving behind the scenes. After his induction into the Renegade Council, he returned to England. Soon afterwards the Marquis and his whole family were found dead, slaughtered. The Marquis' throat was slit from ear to ear, but authorities were baffled by the lack of blood considering the severity of the wound. More bodies started piling up. It's believed that the bloodlust and the murder of his own family pushed Tristan over the edge, removing all traces of humanity. His terror spanned more than a century before he settled down. Since then he has crisscrossed the planet, never staying long in one place. Our sources believe that he is searching for something or even someone.” Joan took off her glasses. “If there is another renegade leader in town, Vermont would be the most likely guess. Mary hasn't been heard of in a very long while, nor is there any reference made to her since mid-1800. Rumor has it though that she's holed up somewhere in Germany.”

  There was a long silence after the presentation with everyone absorbing the information. Trinity swallowed hard as she looked down at the grainy picture before her. She was startled out of her morose thoughts when Inger spoke up.

  “This person or thing Tristan is looking for…do we know anything about that? Maybe if we could find whatever it is he’s searching for first, we could lure him to us.” Inger was chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. Despite her thriving law career, Inger every so often sat in on meetings and Trinity knew that on rare occasions Inger still goes out hunting with Paloma.

  Joan shook her head. “Nobody knows what he’s after? If it is a person he’s searching for, our only other hope would be to trace his movements over the past three hundred years. We can feed it into our network and get the names of all the immortals that had moved through the same route to get here. It seems an impossible task, but who knows, we might get lucky.”

  Pierre rubbed his chin slowly. Trinity turned her head slowly to look at him.

  “And if we do not find this person or thing, then what?”

  Joan shrugged. “Then I guess we'll have to go out there and look for him. The three bodies which turned up recently and all the others over the past eighteen years were all in the same age group. We’ll have to monitor all the places kids in this age group like to hangout, day and night. He will surely strike again.”

  Trinity cleared her throat softly, drawing all attention to her. She pushed out a shaky breath. “There is no need for that.”

  “Why do you say that?” Paloma asked as her eyes narrowed.

  Trinity shivered as the cold eyes of the Assassin pierced hers. “I am the one he is looking for.”

  The silence in the boardroom was thunderous. Everyone was staring at her, some with suspicion and others with shrewd curiosity.

  “You will have to explain.” Tahlia said after a while as she leaned back in her chair.

  ~~~~

  Chapter Three

  England 1606, Cleaver Keep

  The winters were getting colder every year and where she was huddling near the hearth, the girl shifted closer to warm her hands. Her mother was still busy attending to Her Ladyship's needs and it would be a few hours before she would return home. There would be enough time for her to change from her breeches into a frock. Mable O’Riordan was steadfast in her belief that God intended breeches for men and dresses for women. They always had the same argument when Mable found a smaller pair of breeches in the washing, knowing it couldn’t belong to her near 7ft tall husband or Jeremy, who at 16 summers was already too tall to fit into them.

  Why then, did men not take to wearing to wearing frocks when the fancy hit them, Mable would chastise her daughter for her unbecoming behavior. But Trinity needed the breeches as a disguise when she crept home after dark. In total contrast to her soft angelic looks, Trinity harbored a ferocious sexual appetite. Slinking home during the early morning hours dressed in a frock, was asking for trouble. Her tall, full breasted frame, gleaming shoulder-length copper tresses, and deep green eyes would surely draw too much unwanted attention. Whereas wearing her breeches, a woolen cap to conceal her copper hair, and a cape, she passed easily for a young soldier returning to the barracks after a night spent in the arms of a comely serving wench.

  Trinity stiffened when she heard footsteps on the stairs and remained huddled at the hearth, pretending to stoke the fire. Two small feet encased in expensive silver slippers appeared next to her, but still she didn't look up.

  “The fire needs more wood, servant,” a sharp female voice sounded and Trinity quickly came to her feet, still not making eye contact as she hurried off to do the young mistress’ bidding. The woodshed was located next to the large kitchen and she braved the cold weather outside as she made her way to the lean-to. Once inside the shed, Trinity rubbed her freezing hands together before she unclasped her mantle and waited. A few moments later another door, leading directly from the kitchen to the shed opened and closed softly.

  This time Trinity looked up and met the soft mocha eyes of Lady Clarissa Vermont. Her green eyes appreciatively traveled over the girl’s lanky figure. Clarissa was the most beautiful girl she’d ever laid eyes on. Shining golden curls framed a heart-shaped face, which Trinity swore was made after the image of an angel.

  They were both twenty summers and as children had played together. Back then, the fact that Clarissa was of her higher rank than herself didn’t matter at all. But as was the way, the older they became the more noticeable the difference in class manifested. Trinity grew up to become a maidservant to the young noble girl, but fortunately they had managed to nurture and retain their childhood bond. Whereas girls and friends their age were already married and bearing their husbands’ sturdy sons, the two friends managed to avoid the same fate befalling them. Since the old Marquis of Cleaver had his heir i
n Clarissa’s eldest brother, Tristan, the old Lord, a great admirer and friend of the unwedded Queen Elizabeth I, gave Clarissa his word that he would only accept a marriage proposal if Clarissa adored the suitor. Instead of waiting for that man to darken her father’s door, Clarissa dedicated all her attention to gaining an education. It served the old Lord well, since Clarissa’s book-keeping skills and her taking over the running of the Keep from her elderly mother, soon made her indispensable. The Keep flourished under Clarissa’s tutelage and so the years passed.

  It was during their teenage years that they both realized that there was something more, something stronger, which bound them together. There was awkwardness at first, followed by a deep mutual attraction, and then following, the scorching lust would later mature into a profound love.

  They moved at the same time and their lips met with equal hunger. The kiss was long and passionate before Clarissa broke it when she stood back, her blond curls beautifully ruffled and her lips swollen by the ardent kiss. She looked so beautiful and wanton that Trinity felt her heartbeat quicken even more.

  “I cannot stay long tonight. My mother wants me to read to her tonight and your mother will be done with her anytime soon,” Clarissa said breathlessly.

  Over the past five years since they'd fallen madly in love, they've had numerous close calls. It made them realize not to tempt fate when the chances of getting caught were too high. But tonight Trinity had a deep ache for this woman that couldn't wait.

  “I do not need much time, dearling,” she murmured softly. “I need to taste you or else my hunger for you will viciously haunt me through the dark, lonely hours.” She cocked her head to one side, her eyes silently pleading with her lover.

  Clarissa smiled sweetly at her and Trinity didn’t waste any time as she backed Clarissa against a pile of smoothly chopped wood. “Put your leg on the piece of wood over there.” She moved in and kissed Clarissa tenderly. “I love you, my heart.” Her hands moved to the full breasts and she gently kneaded them.

  Trinity chuckled huskily when she heard Clarissa suck in her breath as her nipples hardened almost immediately. Clarissa was always so responsive and it almost drove Trinity mad with love every time. She pulled the neckline of the sleeping gown down until Clarissa’s breasts were exposed and kissed them greedily. She suckled the pink tipped nipples hard until soft mewling sounds burst forth from Clarissa’s sweet mouth. Clarissa reached up and ripped the woolen cap off Trinity’s head. Rich copper locks cascaded down to rest on Trinity’s shoulders.

  “I want to remember you like this when I go to bed tonight,” Clarissa rasped softly and pressed her swollen lips against Trinity’s.

  “Lift your skirt and lean back, my love.” Trinity whispered urgently and helped Clarissa to bundle her nightdress up to her hips, exposing her lover’s soft, satiny thighs. She reached down and smiled into Clarissa's eyes when she encountered bare flesh. There were no barriers. Clarissa had come prepared. Trinity touched the damp vulva gently, stroking each of the fleshy lips, gently tugging on them. Pushing Clarissa harder against the pile of woodpile, she slipped two fingers into the slick warm channel.

  Clarissa moaned and looking down into the smoldering dark gaze, Trinity reveled at the hunger reflected in them. She began to thrust her fingers into Clarissa, deeply and slowly at first and then shallow, quick jabs, which she knew, chafed the nerve-endings around the wet entrance. Trinity pressed closer to her lover as she plunged deep and hard, whispering explicit descriptions in Clarissa's ear. Clarissa liked it when Trinity talked like a common sailor while she ravished her.

  Trinity continued her loving assault on Clarissa until the girl was slumped against the wooden pile, gasping loudly and with her legs spread wantonly. Having touched it, Trinity now craved the taste of it and she quickly dropped to her knees, latching onto the pulsing sex. The taste was wild and intoxicating. With her smooth, wet tongue, she traced the slick inner lining of the Clarissa's sex and she smiled to herself when she felt Clarissa's knees buckle slightly. Holding her up with a large hand, she sustained her assault. By the time she latched onto the engorged clitoris and sucked hard, Clarissa was whimpering softly.

  Fuelled by the sounds coming from her lover, Trinity wedged her hand into her breeches and touched her own pulsing sex. She loved taking Clarissa like this. They were a perfect match and completely in tuned with each other’s needs. The whimpering became louder as Clarissa neared her peak. Not wanting to be left behind, Trinity rubbed herself vigorously, timing herself so she could come with Clarissa. Stiffening the tip of her tongue, she flicked Clarissa's swollen clitoris and felt the blonde's hands grabbing the back of her head as she pushed Trinity’s face harder into her damp nest. Clarissa came in a slow shudder, pumping her hips wildly against Trinity's plundering tongue. Trinity’s own orgasm was upon her, but she managed to keep her tongue moving until Clarissa's undulating hips came to a sluggish stop a while later. In the aftermath of their magnificent climax, they held each other tightly, kissing deeply.

  “I need to go now,” Clarissa said breathlessly as she broke the kiss. “I promise to take care of you tomorrow.” The blonde pushed away from the woodpile and swayed a little.

  Trinity beamed with sexual pride. She had done that to Clarissa. At the door Clarissa turned back to look at Trinity, but the alarm in Clarissa eyes, made Trinity swing around to see what had scared Clarissa. She gasped and scrambled to her feet.

  Standing a few feet from them was Tristan, his white shirt splattered with blood that was seeping from his mouth onto his shirt. His dark eyes were glowing an unnatural blood red color. There was a disturbing aura to him and Trinity moved closer to Clarissa. Tristan would have to come through her to get to Clarissa, she thought, still rattled by his unnatural appearance.

  “Believe me, Trinity, you are no match for me now.” Tristan growled as bloodstained spittle shot forth from his mouth.

  From the moment that she'd turned fifteen, Tristan had been accosting her, but Trinity had repeatedly turned him down. One day he tried to force himself on her, but she was strong for a girl and she managed to push him away before kicking him hard between the legs. Soon after his attempt to violate her, Tristan had left for Italy.

  “So this is what the two of you have been up to. Licking each other’s privates like dogs and using your fingers to rouse your passions. I wonder what our parents would have said had they known this. Poor mother, finding out that her prim and proper little Rissa is in fact a deviant with unnatural lusts, would surely succumb to the shock.”

  Clarissa took a step forward, but Trinity pushed her back behind her. Covered in blood, there was something ominous about Tristan and she didn't want Clarissa to get too close to him

  “You will not tell them, will you, brother?” Clarissa pleaded anxiously.

  Tristan chuckled. “I would have, but unfortunately I cannot, because they are dead, sister dear.” He spread his arms, so she could see the full extent of the evidence on his shirt. “I killed them.”

  Trinity felt as if all the oxygen in the room had evaporated. Her mother had been with Lady Vermont. She felt Clarissa's body beginning to shake violently next to her and she pulled her closer. Now was not the time to worry about her own loss, Clarissa had been very close to her parents.

  “How could you, Tristan?” Clarissa screamed shrilly and Trinity wound her arms tighter around the crying girl. “You said yourself that you did not need father's money. Why did you kill them then?”

  Looking at them, Tristan’s eyes started to burn an even brighter red. He spread his arms wide and before their very own eyes, he began to lift from the floor, higher and higher, until he was looking down at them. Trinity and Clarissa just gaped at him, horrified. Trinity was fully convinced now that there was something drastically wrong with Tristan.

  “What sorcery is this, Tristan?” Trinity gasped. “Cease now, for you are scaring your sister.”

  “As she should be,” Tristan taunted, “because death is her fate b
efore the sun rises this morn.” He pulled back and suddenly dived at them. He roughly pushed Trinity aside as he grabbed Clarissa by the neck. Trinity quickly came to her feet intending to come to Clarissa’s aid, blinked when Tristan, looking into Clarissa’s eyes, opened his mouth wide, exposing strange elongated teeth. “I am immortal, sister, and will still be alive long after your remains have turned to dust.” With a deep throaty growl he sank his fangs into Clarissa’s neck, not caring that the blonde was screaming and crying and raking her nails over his face.

  Trinity flung herself at Tristan and used all her strength to pound on his back to distract him. He shoved Clarissa away from him and Trinity watched with horror as her lover crumble in a heap at his feet. Tristan turned to her and the look he gave her made Trinity shiver.

  “Now she can die a virgin, but not you, my dear. You are simply too delectable to perish without having felt the touch of a real man.” He reached out and threw her to the ground before he turned to look at his sister. “Let me show you what the both of you have been missing.” Trinity tried to get to her feet, but Tristan was on her in an instant, ripping away her shirt and breeches with abnormal strength while with his other hand reaching for the buttons on his tight black breeches.