He opened the outer door and called over his shoulder to Alex, “Stay out of my room unless you are offering to be my meal, Alex.” The Kid, who had been about to enter again, turned and walked away. “You will also not play silly human games like short-sheeting my bed without facing the consequences. And take a shower. Please. You reek.”
Eli chuckled. “You’re a lot like Jane, you know that?”
“Mmmm,” Ed said, stepping outside, off the porch, and around the log cabin to the back.
From there, he could hear voices and the stamping of horses’ hooves. A light brightened a small barn and four horses standing inside a covered fenced corral. Three of the horses stood patiently; one danced, edgy, tense. His night vision was far better than a human’s, and the prancing mare drew him. She was young, buff with pale brownish dapples and a darker buff-colored mane and tail. Unlike his usual preferences, she wasn’t a big horse, standing barely fifteen hands, one inch, but she was regal and fiery and her spirit called to him.
He crossed the space between them slowly, at an angle, his head turnedslightly to the side, not staring at her with a predator’s gaze. But she caught his scent and snorted, stamping, prancing, smelling hunter, a scent that meant, to her mind, meat-eater. And likely smelling the cat creature on the air as well. He was glad he had rinsed off in the shower, to remove the cat-predator stink. The cat scent on him might have sent her over the edge. He moved slowly, stopping often, and realized that Eli was watching him from the cabin, and so was Bronco Sam, standing at the barn door, a saddle in his arms. Their host, a small man with a large belly, stood with Bronco. There was a sense of ownership and entitlement, a razor-sharp attentiveness about him.
None of their weapons smelled of silver load, so Edmund ignored them all, his entire concentration on stalking and winning the skittish mare. He would ride this mare.
It took a good fifteen minutes, but he got close enough to breathe at her, and he was glad he had fed well before leaving New Orleans. His breath was warm, not the cold of the grave. And he smelled of red wine, not blood. She stamped and snorted, tossing her mane. She set one eye on him, the white showing all around as was common with the Appaloosa breed. When their eyes met, he sent out a tendril of compulsion and murmured, “Hello there, lovely. You are beautiful, yes you are.”
She pricked her ears and tilted her head, just a little. Attracted, though not yet captivated.
He moved toward her without raising his hands. His upper arm finally touched her. She stilled, breathing in his scent, and his compulsion wrapped around her. Slowly, she settled. He offered her a sugar cube that he had taken from the kitchen coffee set. He held out his other hand to Bronco, smelling what he needed next. “Carrot.”
A carrot was placed into his hand and he offered the treat. She chomped through it, her teeth white and strong. Less than ten years of age, more than five. A good age for a riding horse. She took the other half of the carrot and tossed her head, getting it into her teeth. When she had chomped it down, she leaned her head in and breathed on him again. He leaned back and breathed on her. They stood together for perhaps half a minute before she tossed her head, nudging him back.
“What does she like best?” he asked, still without taking his eyes from the mare.
“Hard peppermint candy,” Bronco replied. The grizzled man held out a candy, already free of the crinkly noisy wrapper. Ed took it and offered it to her. She lipped it off his palm and crunched it, blowing and snorting and making soft sounds of pleasure. He held out his hand to Bronco and the old man gave him a handful.
“I reckon this means you wanna ride her,” the un-introduced man said. “I usually ride Ginny. She’s a mite much for most riders.”
“Not for me,” Ed said softly. “Saddle her. With aprissysaddle.” He smiled. “An Australian cattle saddle would be my preference, if you have one.” Ginny bumped him again and he gave her another peppermint, which she cracked between her strong teeth. He stroked her broad face and grinned widely, turning to the unidentified man, their host and the owner of the ranch, according to the website photographs. Ed sent a small hint of compulsion into the man as their eyes met. The man stopped. Still as a statue, caught in Ed’s mesmeric gifts.
“You mean the funny saddle with the thigh supports that stick up in front?” Bronco asked from behind him, though it was clear the cattle hand knew fully well what kind of saddle Ed had requested.
“If possible.” Speaking softly, Ed told them his seat size.
“Not sure we have that exact size but we’ll have something.” Bronco limped into the back of the tack room.
“Charles Ivers the Fifth,” the small, potbellied man said proudly, and stuck out his hand, all Texan graciousness.
Ed took the hard, work-calloused palm and said, “Edmund Hartley. Ginny and I are going to be the best of friends.” Ed released Ivers’s hand and petted her neck. The mare bumped him affectionately.
The man to his side didn’t like that the mare was being affectionate to Ed. The scent of jealousy, sharp and bitter, cut the air.
Ed didn’t care what the man liked or didn’t.
He was the Emperor of the Europeans. He would ride this mare. And before this night was done, if he wanted her, this mare would be his own. And her name was no longer Ginny. It wasGenevieve.
Beast
Beast watched Ed and restless mare from low hillock. Her own cat scent was swept away by wind. The mare, young and eager enough to prance, could not smell her. Ed was happy, the odd scent of joy bright as moonlight on the wind. Beast watched and was happy that Ed was happy. Happy was good word. He rode prey animal and mare danced beneath him. Beast followed, pawpawpaw, watching Ed and mare. They were like one mind and one body, prancing down dirt road into far reaches of the ranch.
Beast followed, racing from hillock to hillock, as if chasing prey but... Edmund was not prey. Edmund was Edmund. Better than prey. Better than many others. Beast loved Edmund.
Edmund
Genevieve was his. He had just purchased her for a fortune from the potbellied Ivers, a handshake deal that Ed would hold the man to, though the rancher was not happy at the sale. He liked the little mare, but he liked money more, a fact that confounded the human and left him angry at the loss of his prize, despite the pretty penny that she brought.
Joy like a river at flood-tide filled Edmund. He rode, exuberant. The mare beneath gamboled. Ivers grumbled and sweated and hated the vampire onhismare. Ed didn’t care. There was no scent of silver on the night wind. No scent of enemies. He was in no danger. They rode on into the dark of night, the remembered stars sparkling from horizon to horizon.
The moon set and, for the humans, the night grew darker than the armpit of hell, a fact that Bronco repeated again and again, but they were on a dirt road, easy for Ed to see. Eli dropped low-light-vision headgear over his eyes, gear Ed was fairly certain had not been on his person when they left the cabin. And despite the complaints at the now-moonless ride, the rancher and Bronco were comfortable anywhere on the property, which was good since the ranch comprised forty thousand acres. It was not the largest ranch in Texas (which came in at more than nine hundredthousand acres) but big enough for the average human to get lost in should someone determine to leave them in the wilderness.
Ed and Eli, were, of course, far too adept and experienced for such a possibility, but their host and their guide did not know that, and both of the unknown humans knew that he was a vampire. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that the two were vamp-haters and wanted him captured for his blood or dead—not that his blood would do them any good beyond capturing their minds for his use. But they did not know his power or their danger. And Edmund was not one to be taken, should that be their intent.
