Free Kiss of Pride by Sandra Hill

forests of Upper Mongolia.
    “We could leave behind a blood ceorl in case you need her services. And mayhap Armod. He still needs constant watching during this transition period, not to mention speech lessons to get rid of that lisp. Plus you better keep a few warriors here in case more Lucies show up.”
    The idea was becoming more and more appealing to Vikar.
    “What about your ‘guest’? Have you started the cleansing yet?”
    “ No . I’m going up now.” He’d placed Alex in a tower room where there was a single bed and not much more. Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to put a tranquilizer in the water she’d been offered when she’d first awakened from her faint. As a result, she’d been sleeping these past four hours.
    “If we all vacate the premises, you would have time to cleanse her thoroughly,” Trond said with a grin that implied the cleansing might involve something other than the ritual de-demonizing. “Speaking of cleansing, while you have the plumbers here, how about a few Jacuzzi tubs, and I’d personally like one of those rainforest showers that hit you from a dozen different directions.”
    “What would Mike say about that?”
    “Does he have to know everything?” Trond stood and stretched, prepared to leave the room. “Is the cable hooked up? There’s a Three Stooges marathon on AMC.”
    Vikar smiled as he straightened out some of their papers and put the empty beer bottles in the recycling bin. Yes, Vikings who recycled! “Keep the volume down. There are probably ceorls sleeping on the couches.”
    After Trond left, a cold six-pack under his arm, Vikar prepared a tray for Alex since she hadn’t been awake for dinner.
    Sliced roast beef, whipped potatoes, a thick-sliced tomato, an ear of buttered corn on the cob, and a piece of garlic bread, along with a bottled water and a can of diet soda.
    With trepidation, he then climbed the four flights of stairs to the tower room, wondering what reception he would get. He was weary, both physically and mentally. So it was with a sigh of relief that he opened the door that had been locked from the outside and found that Alex was still asleep, lying on her side, facing the wall.
    He put the tray on a side table where a fat beeswax candle burned brightly. Armod had gone to the bed-and-breakfast and brought back Alex’s luggage and other belongings, which he’d placed on a window seat, opened but unpacked. A pint of vodka, nestled among her clothing, caught his attention.
    He stood at the end of the bed and watched Alex for several long moments. She looked so peaceful. Mayhap she wasn’t really hungry. Mayhap he could put off the cleansing until morning to avoid her inevitable distress. Mayhap she wouldn’t mind if he lay down with her, just to rest, just to soak in some of her peace. Mayhap he was an idiot.
    So, with a cluelessness ingrained in men through the ages, he kicked off his flip-flops and arranged himself carefully against her back, spoon-style.
    There was still that crackle in the air, as earlier today when he’d fanged her, and his cock appreciated being nestled against the crease of her backside, but it was more than that. In truth, he felt as if a warm cocoon was enveloping them, like the wings of a giant bird. Please, God, let it be a bird, and not an angel.
    This was almost better than sex. Almost.
    Just before he closed his eyes for a short rest, his nose tickled and he barely suppressed a sneeze. Putting a hand to his face, he found— surprise, surprise —a white feather.
    Blood of my blood . . .
    Alex awakened groggily in the middle of the night.
    For a long time, since Brian and Linda’s deaths to be precise, she’d had trouble sleeping. Vodka had become her nighttime friend. She wondered idly how much she’d drunk to reach this state of baby-like slumber.
    She wriggled her butt and burrowed deeper into the soft mattress. Against her back she felt something hard. The wall? But over her was the softest, cuddliest