“Has your father given any of his courtesans his blood?”
“No,” he said vehemently, the disgust thick in his voice. “He would not.”
“What about the firstborn from his first courtesan? Did he give that child his blood?”
“Alrek?” His gaze darkened as he scowled at me. “How do you know about him?”
“You told me,” I answered, squeezing the hand I was still holding. “I mean, in a roundabout way. You said your father had lots of children, but there had to be a first.”
He grunted.
“So you have a lot of siblings.”
“I had one brother, and he’s dead,” he said levelly, leaving no room for argument.
It was like walking through a minefield. “But your father’s first child from a courtesan was a boy. Or is a boy.”
“Is. Yes. He was born shortly after I was.”
“Which probably didn’t go over well with your mother,” I suggested to him.
“No,” he agreed. “It did not.”
“And his name’s Alrek?”
“Yes. Alrek Maddox.”
“Maddox?”
“It means son of Maedoc.”
“He can’t use the same name?”
“Only the royal line.”
“But you guys share the same blood,” I found myself saying, wading into the conversation that I knew he didn’t want to have.
“On my father’s side, but not my mother’s.”
“Right, but Varic, he’s still got royal blood. He could give his mother some of his blood to give her longer life.”
“Yes.”
“Which is kind of like your father giving her his blood.”
“But my mother’s blood is also sanctified, as is yours, by a royal. So my father changed my mother’s already powerful blood to something that could sustain him.”
“Right, so then technically, you’re stronger than Alrek.”
“Not technically. I am stronger. Much stronger.”
Since I could see his irritation growing over the topic, I changed the subject. “Are they courtesans or concubines or courtiers? It’s confusing.”
“Courtiers are at court, and they’re not bonded. They do as they please. Concubines are kept in a group solely for the king.”
“Concubines are in a harem.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, thinking I had a whole new set of questions to ask.
“And a courtesan belongs specifically to the king or prince once there’s a contract in place.”
“Okay. And a consort?”
“A consort is the mate of the king or prince. So my mother is queen, but also Her Majesty, Queen Consort Isabella Maedoc.”
“Got it.”
“The word consort, as I said to my mother’s courtier last evening, has fallen into common usage. Lots of the nobility use it to designate the life-mate they’ve taken.”
“But?”
“But that’s one of the things I’m going to change when we get to court. We’ll return to clan titles or other designations. I don’t care what they choose to use, but I’m reclaiming the word consort to use as it was originally intended, only for the royal line.”
“So only for your mother and me.”
“Yes.”
I leaned in and kissed him. It was quick, but I had to, and when I put my hand on his cheek, I saw how pleased he was.
“Here, look at this,” he prompted me, pulling out his cell phone to spell two words for me. “This one,” he said, pointing to the top one, fyrir, “that means first. Above all, superior.”
I nodded.
“This second one,” he said, typing again, and I saw einn, “means of the house. So for instance, Tiago is Tiago Martin, rajan-einn of Varic Maedoc.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“You will be His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Jason Thorpe, fyrir-einn of Maedoc.”
“All that is my title?” I asked him, grinning as I read it on his phone.
“Yes,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “You are my consort and first of my house.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No, Jason,” he husked, “thank you for changing your whole life for me. And I promise, there will be balance.”
I took a deep breath. “And now the big question, how long will I live?”
His gaze held mine. “You realize I could not have changed you without the secret in your blood, without you being a matan.”
“You’re stalling,” I pressed him. “Spit it out.”
“Centuries.”
“I’ll live for centuries?”
“If not longer.”
I nodded. “And you did that without asking?”
“Yes,” he conceded, holding my gaze, daring me to argue with him. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“You can’t make decisions that affect me without asking me.”
“And you would do what, leave me?”
“Did you know you could do it the whole time, when you were talking about my tiny human lifespan?”
“I wasn’t sure if it worked on a matan or not. I thought perhaps the human part of you would resist the change.”
“So you don’t know for certain that it worked.”
He inhaled deeply. “I believe it has, because you smell different today. Your blood doesn’t smell sweet like freshly baked cinnamon bread anymore.”
“No?”
He put his phone back in his breast pocket and then stepped in close, inhaling me. “No, it’s changed, gotten deeper. There’s the copper, of course, but layered over that is blackberries and leather, brine and muscatel and cloves.”
His voice was hypnotizing, and I felt drugged listening to him. The sound of the man heated me inside and out. Like good brandy that went down smooth and left behind notes of chocolate and oranges, with the sweetness of pipe tobacco and cardamom, all dark and sensuous. Like his own scent, his musky, smoky aroma, both spicy and earthy, resinous and male. It was a wonder I ever let him out of bed.
“Jason,” he murmured, and I closed my eyes because listening to his voice, letting the sound roll through me, was like lying in the sun on a lazy summer day, the breeze so slow it barely cooled your skin. “You smell like some enchanted, primordial forest that I want to be lost in forever.”
I couldn’t wrap my brain around outliving everyone I knew. It would be sad, but leaving Varic… that was worse. How could I ever be parted from him?
“I’ve been alive for centuries,” he reminded me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist, behind me now, his chin on my shoulder, his mouth still close to my ear, whispering heated secrets against my skin. “And in all that time, no one captured my heart. But after only days with you, seeing you, talking to you, being in bed with you… I am enraptured. I cannot be parted from you. Ever.”
Opening my eyes, I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “That’s very romantic.”
“It’s the truth,” he said, hugging me for a moment and then letting me go, taking my hand and walking toward the curb where I saw a huge black SUV. “When I woke up last night and you weren’t in bed, I had that horrible feeling that I told you about. That maybe I was dreaming and that I didn’t save you. I didn’t make it in time.”