His lip lifted to form a sneer just as the cell phone in his pocket started to vibrate. He jerked the stallion to a halt only feet from the cliff’s edge. The sea crashed against the rocks below.
“Trevanion,” he nearly growled into the receiver.
A rumble of deep laughter greeted him. “You sound tense, amico mio?”
Scarus Vipera, Master of the House of Vipera, was a friend, a partner in the unshakable quest to rid their world of Marakel, and a male who had strangely—willingly—given himself over to a female he’d met in the Harem. Cas would never understand the latter move. Unlike himself, Vipera had the choice to remain a solo sex demon and yet… Perhaps something had tainted the water in Italy…
“Shouldn’t you be dreaming of your bella mate-to-be?” Scarus continued, a smile in his tone. “Shouldn’t you sound excited?”
“Why would I be excited?” Cas retorted, wanting to reach through the phone and throttle the male. “Would a hawk be excited to have his wings clipped?”
“I am mated, and I let my Rosamund clip my wings all day and night. It brings a satisfaction I’ve never known before.”
“I cannot imagine this.” Cas’s jaw went tight. “But then again, she is a female of your choosing, is she not?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Scarus amended, “Yes. I apologize, my friend. I forget that your House has this tradition.”
“No apology is necessary,” Cas said on a slight growl. “Now. The sun is descending here. Did you call only to wish me well?”
“I had question. Your mate? She will be Nephilim, si?”
“Yes.” Cas sensed the sudden unspoken tension in Vipera’s voice. “Why?”
Scarus released a weighty breath. “There have been…how you say…rumblings at the temple, about the Nephilim. The Three are unhappy with us, with the Masters, so I wished to see how far their tentacles spread.”
“What does that mean?”
“I—and others—wondered about your ball this evening. If the Nephilim, even those connected to royalty, would still be in attendance.”
Understanding dawned, and a dark frown spread over Cas’s features. Below him the sea grew wilder, hitting the rocks with such force he felt the spray dampen his clothing. “As you have somewhat gathered by now, it is a different world here in Cornwall. The Nephilim in attendance and the one I will be introduced to tonight care naught for the Three. All were raised to respect only the decrees of their mothers, and their Sovereign. And I don’t mean the one we keep asleep and protected.”
“I see,” Scarus said, sounding pensive. “You will inform me if that is not the case?”
“Of course.”
“Then I bid you good luck, amico mio.”
“I appreciate that, my friend.”
Cas ended the call, replaced his phone back in his pocket, and after one brief glance at the wild and unrelenting sea below, kicked the bay into a run toward the castle.
~
The sea’s salty water had, over the many years, found its way to the edges of Trevanion Castle property, creating two large pools. They were deep and lush with greenery and flora. In the summer months, each was frequented by the staff and even some members of the household. But in spring, fall and winter, most stayed away, as the water was far too cold.
Not for Lia, however.
For Lia, it was perfect.
Not just because it offered her privacy, but because it quelled the ache in her damaged leg like nothing else. After her leg was crushed so thoroughly in the fierce attack of the rogue Blade, the cold salt water both soothed and numbed her muscles and skin. Truly, she could stay in for hours. Today, unfortunately, she didn’t have that option. The sun was setting, and she didn’t want to be traveling the road as the guests arrived for the ball.
His ball.
The Master’s ball.
Her mind started to wander as she swam toward the edge of the pool. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Getting ready? Is he in his private bath, naked, the shower spray pummeling his muscular body? Is he excited? Ready to meet his mate? Watch her descend into the ballroom, his eyes taking in every graceful step?
“The way Casworon Trevanion will never see you,” she said to herself as she stepped slowly out of the water, her limp not nearly as pronounced as it had been two hours ago. Nude and drenched, she came to stand at the rock that had her robe draped across it.
“Is that what you want?” came a voice. “For the Master to see you?”
On a gasp, Lia whirled. Despite the pain that would surely follow, she crouched, ready for battle. Looking around, eyes narrowed, she searched the brush and trees. But saw nothing. “Who’s there?” she demanded caustically. “Who are you? Show yourself.”
“Please,” came the voice again. Then a man stepped out of the shadow of a large Eldertree. He wasn’t wearing the traditional garb of a Trevanion House laborer, but she knew he worked for the Master. She’d seen him before. He was a Watchman called Pennice.