Bronwyn was coming down the stairs from the living quarters up on the second floor when the three Ventru finally made their last trip through the door and closed it behind them.
"Bodies sorted out?" she asked as she came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Having pulled on a teeshirt Truk brought out to him halfway through the cleanup, Lash nodded.
"Mistress Fiadh?"
Bronwyn nodded.
"Mostly minor cuts and bruises," she reported in a no-nonsense tone as she folded her arms beneath her breasts. "I bandaged and closed those that needed immediate care once we got back into the house. Or, at least until she could get a blood meal, which she has now had, her metabolism healing things up nicely. And, while you'd expect it from being in the hands of human soldiers, she wasn't sexually assaulted or manhandled."
"And you can tell that, how?" Narcist wanted to know, having suspected the humans to have done just that by virtue of their bestial natures. Bronwyn favored her with a quick look.
"By smell," was her frank and to the point answer. Knowing just how keen a werewolf's sense of smell was, the Ventru tech expert immediately nodded in understanding. A werewolf could smell if a person had cancer or a nerve disorder. The trauma left behind by an assault would've been relatively easy to detect.
The werewolf elder then looked back at Lash.
"She is now upstairs taking a shower to 'wash the human stink from her flesh', quote, unquote."
"Sounds like a damn good idea, actually," Narcist said with a wry chuckle. "And the smell of acid scorching flesh out of my nostrils."
"Don't take all the hot water," Truk directed. "Pretty sure the big fella wouldn't mind sluicing all of his own blood off before getting into some clean clothes."
Looking down at his blood-soaked pants, Lash then looked up with a wry smile.
"That's pretty much a guarantee!"
"Don't blame you," Bronwyn said before jerking a thumb back towards the kitchen. "Would you mind terribly if I grabbed a bite from your mundane stores? It's been a long day."
"Not at all," Lash indicated with a nod. "You fought beside us and spilled our enemy's blood on the uncaring ground. It is the least we could do." He held up a forestalling hand before she could turn and go.
"Which brings up the question: are you situated in the city?"
"As in, do I have a place to stay?" Bronwyn frowned. "The Black Moon pack is Irish, Lash. We have holdings in the city."
"You didn't answer my question," Lashthe big vampire indicated.
"And didn't you say you were exiled from Black Moon because you're an elder?" Truk added, earning himself a look and a raised brow from the werewolf before she returned her attention to Lash.
"They've allowed me space in a loft in Dun Laoghaire, down by the water."
"You mean, somewhere to throw a sleeping bag and keep your stuff out of a locker," Truk said, earning himself another look from Bronwyn, this one somewhat sheepish.
"Are you spying on me, Truk?" she accused, yet her tone was mild and a little embarrassed.
"A sleeping bag, Bronwyn?" Lash asked, pulling her attention back to him. "Seriously?"
The werewolf shrugged.
"I don't make enough money to afford an actual flat, or even a cheap hotel room in the city," she admitted. "Werewolves aren't bankrolled by centuries old diamond merchants, arms dealers, and old money banks, like you vampires are. So I called in some favors at the local den and they set me up. At least it's not on the street, right?" Bronwyn's expression firmed back into a resolute look of determination.
"But, despite having to sleep on a converted warehouse floor, it'll be worth it if I can build a bridge between our two peoples."
"Fetch your sleeping bag, and gear from that loft, Bronwyn," Narcist directed after the three vampires exchanged a quick look. "You'll be sleeping here, courtesy of the Ventru. In a real bed!"
****
It was nearly an hour later that found Lash cleaned up and with a couple pints of whole 'O' negative in his belly to help finish the healing process. With the knowledge they still had a fairly long road ahead of them just to get back to Europe, he let the others know he was going to catch some rack time to recover and rebuild his strength. While normally active during the night, all of the daytime activity they had engaged in this day, when combined with being shot multiple times over multiple periods, he found himself feeling drained.
So it was to a bed he went. Though he didn't stay alone for long.
He had just started slipping into a more restful sleep after a couple bouts with restlessness when he heard the door to the room open. There were quick footfalls to the bed then, carefully pulling the covers back so she could slip in beside him, Fiadh molded herself to him.
"Mistress?" he sleepily asked, only to get a quick kiss in response.
"I told you to call me by my name, Lash," she gently scolded him before kissing him again, this time much more soundly. "Now go back to sleep, my wolf. You need your rest!" She then snuggled into his neck, arms around his body and a leg thrown possessively over his.
Too exhausted to protest, he gently kissed the top of her head, earning himself a satisfied sigh and a squeeze from Fiadh. Then Lash faded back into unconsciousness with an armful of Irish lilith giving him comfort.
The big vampire spent the next ten hours so deep in sleep, he didn't stir. The following four hours after that, he skipped in and out of deep sleep, not quite coming to full consciousness. Only after he had been bed for nearly seventeen hours did he find his awareness returning in a rush, forcing his eyes to flutter open.
With a simple infrared lamp in the room's corner, there was more than enough light for his night-sensitive vision to see as if it were noon day. And with that vision, he found himself on his side and looking down at the top of Fiadh's head, her hair pulled to the side so his chin was touching the back of her bare neck.
As expected, what little clothing either of them were wearing when they first climbed into bed, was gone and a delightfully naked Fiadh was currently the little spoon to his big spoon, her arm holding his in place over her generous breasts with his hand cupping one of them. Her other hand was outstretched to put it into contact with his as his arm cradled both of their heads, her fingers intertwined with his, just as they were with the hand holding his arm over her chest in place. And her upper leg was lifted and curled back over his, her foot hooking itself behind his calf to bring her intimately close to him.
It was a lovers' embrace, the like of which the big vampire had never before experienced. He had been too busy being a good soldier for the Ventru, and for the Qos Viran to build a truly emotional relationship with a vampiress of his choosing. Sex, that he had had, with no shortage of partners willing to keep him company in his bed. But nothing that reached through the hard shell that protected him from emotional damage as a soldier.
He relaxed slightly, enjoying the sensation of having Fiadh so close to him. And, in doing so, became aware of a mild tingling in several spots across his body. At the same time, he tasted sweet, vampiric blood with just a hint of perfume over it, on his lips.
The combination told him quickly what the tingling was coming from. Bites, the true mark of vampire lovemaking. She had bitten him several times, three or four times on the neck, a number of times on his arms and upper body, a handful more on his inner thighs, and even two on his manhood. To be fair, and judging by the scent in his nostrils, he had bitten her in equally numerous and intimate places.
Thinking about it was enough to stir his ardor, much to Fiadh's delight.
"I can still taste you on my lips," she whispered hoarsely as, arching her back slightly, she was able to slide herself onto his growing excitement. Which, in turn, elicited a low moan of pleasure from her. A moan that only grew louder as he pulled her close and bit her on the neck, her hot, hormone-laced blood spurting into his mouth.
A couple hours and a shower together later finally found the two vampires descending the staircase down into the main part of the safehouse, dressed in loose, comfortable clothes and holding hands.
"Dark Father be praised!" Truk crowed with delight as they joined him in the kitchen. "He lives!" He looked at a smiling Fiadh and respectfully bowed his head. "Night Mistress."
"Nestari," she replied without taking her eyes off Lash, who held her chair out for her. She gracefully sat, keeping her hand first on Lash's hip, then down his leg before letting go so he could push her chair in. Only to reach out to again curl her hand possessively over his leg as he made to sit in his own chair.
It didn't take a love expert to see the beautiful Irish lilith was completely taken with the big Ventru, the majority of her energy and attention focused squarely on him. Lash, on the other hand, was his grim self.
"Any action by the White Flames in the city?" he asked. Truk shook his head as he passed over cups of fresh human blood to them.
"Surveillance is dead," the van Tallert nestari replied, "and Bronwyn says she's not picking up any scent that resembles the armored troopers we cut our way through yesterday to retrieve Her Grace. But I think it's a fool's errand to assume the White Flames are done with us. They're biding their time until we're vulnerable again to launch another attack."
"I would agree with that." A quick glance at Fiadh, who had put a more business-like expression on her exquisite face at Lash's grim tone, though her hand on his thigh didn't move. "And now that they don't have any leverage on us, they'll be hard pressed to pull us into a vulnerable state." His expression tightened slightly.
"Until we're ready to try and reach mainland Europe, that is," he pointed out.
"You still thinking a commercial flight?" Truk asked and Lash nodded.
"Narcist has uncovered an ant's nest of traitors infesting Lady van Tallert's forces in Belgium. We call in an exfil request and the extraction team will be more likely to shoot us than pull us out. No, we use the common humans' transportation system and avoid tipping off our enemies. I'll need to fire up the mini-forge and make everybody a new set of neuron armor, and some more ammunition for the Shiva."
With Lash's eyes on him, Truk let his gaze switch to Fiadh for a brief second after the big vampire stopped talking before coming back to him. Catching the gesture, Lash nodded in understanding as he reached back and pulled out his cell phone, retrieved from the woman on the train seemingly forever ago.
A quick tap into the safehouse's wifi to access the local contacts database, then he was tapping out the number that came up on the screen and activating the speaker phone function.
"Cullen's Fishmonger," a hoarse voice answered in English. Hearing it, Fiadh's hand tightened on Lash's thigh even though her expression didn't change.
"What was last night's catch?" Lash asked, also in English and using the Ventru-specific trigger phrase, his expression hard.
"Monk and eel, by the full moon," the counter came.
"Only the best, by the best," Lash replied.
"Line is secure, Ventru," the voice quickly indicated in vampiric, then asked before the big vampire could speak further. "Do you have her? Is Lady Fiadh in your custody?"
"I'm here, Cullen," Fiadh said out loud. "Safe in Ventru's hands."
"Thank the Dark Father!" the voice declared with no little amount of relief. "And your M'tada?"
Fiadh's expression hardened.
"Dead, to the man," she tautly reported. "They fought well. Honor their names."
"It will be done, Night Mistress, you've my blood vow on it!" Cullen declared. "But you are now exposed, Mistress. May I send O'Broin nestari to escort you ...?"
"No." Her reply was flat and invited no discussion. And, if Cullen had been standing in front of her, he would've dropped to a knee in obedience at hearing it.
As it was, however, he was on the other side of a cell phone and in full knowledge that the Ventru were currently being purged by a powerful, as-yet unknown faction inside the Council of the Night. So, it wasn't much of a surprise that he tried to insist she allow him to send soldiers to escort her back to relatively safety in an O'Broin holding.
"Mistress, please," he said, the concern naked in his voice. "The Ventru are being threatened on all sides! To be in their company ..."
"I said no!" Fiadh snapped and it was all Lash and Truk could do to stay in their chairs and not kneel in subservience at the note of command in her voice. Beautiful she was, with few peers, but if any thought the Irish lilith was soft in any way was reminded in that moment just how hard she could be.
"Lord Magnar has fallen, his clan is in disarray and unable to extend to send new m'tada to guard my person. And the O'Broin holdings in Dublin have been compromised by a powerful new human faction called the White Flames."
The lilith paused there to look at a thoughtful Lash.
"There is no safety with the O'Broin clan. I will accompany the Ventru out of Ireland and to Europe, where I will take refuge with my sister liliths. The Ventru will protect me where the O'Broin and Magnar could not."
Lash bowed his head respectfully.
"You honor Ventru, Night Mistress," he said in a firm, formal tone. "We will see your person to safety in the holdings of your sisters. You have my vow on it."
"I accept your vow, Commander Lash," Fiadh replied just as formally. "You will be my sword and shield." 'And my will made manifest,' would have been the next part of what was almost the lilith's reply to the vow a vampire made to their Lilith to become M'tada, the Blood Guard.
If he noticed how similar her wording was to the M'tada vow of allegiance, Lash didn't react to it. Instead, he bowed his head in respectful silence. The last thing the powerful vampire needed was to be bound as m'tada, even though it might mean his survival in the face of Ventru's destruction. Although, with the Hand targeting Liliths without regard to the ancient laws, even that wasn't a guarantee.
"Very well, Night Mistress," Cullen reluctantly said. "I will pass on your wishes to his Lordship. Strength to Ventru."
"Strength to O'Broin," Lash replied and reached out to disconnect the call.
"Well," Truk said thoughtfully. "Looks like our course for the next leg of this journey is set."
"Indeed. Let us see if we have a target to aim at, when that journey is done, shall we?" Lash looked over his shoulder towards the security closet.
"Narcist! Are you available for a brief on the status of your decrypt?"