NB: First and foremost, my gratitude to
wildheartedangel
for reading my (godknowshowmany) drafts and being so patient and efficient about it. Next to
Mokkelke
for giving some amazing ideas and also for patiently proofreading my work. Really appreciate it! Thanks also go out to those of you who gave comments and suggestions on my blogs regarding the plot for this chapter. So I hope the next few chapters please you.
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Once the door was closed behind him, Aramis led the beautiful red headed wolf towards the sofas. Of course he wasn't going to take a sip out of her. That would incur the wrath of her Alpha and Aramis didn't think he'd like that. It was serious enough that his son had literally kidnapped this woman under her Alpha's nose. That would have to be dealt with later on.
Aramis let out a long, resigned sigh. Why did Draven choose to mate with one of Keiran's wolves? Or any wolf for that matter? It was for this reason alone that Aramis did not immediately have her locked up. It annoyed him that he had to extend his courtesy to her; treat her like his guest when she was an obvious liability to his plans.
For godsake! That boy had enough women, both mortals and immortals alike thrust under his nose for the past centuries and he chose this one?
Oh, she was beautiful alright; fair skinned, blue eyes and long auburn hair that looked like it was on fire all the time. He had no doubt this little wolf was just as feisty, if not more. However, she is still a wolf... and although she appears more docile than the last time he met her, he wasn't sure if he'd be willing to lose another offspring to Keiran.
It was different for Fiona. She was already adopted into the pack before she came to him and thus her allegiance was never to him or their race. Besides, daughters and granddaughters alike were almost always dispensable, having to follow their husbands when they married.
However, Draven was not. He was aware that he would have to allow his first born to live within the pack, where his loyalties would no longer be to his own father or his race... but to his Alpha. Aramis didn't think he'd like that.
Humans have been intermarrying Vampires and Werewolves for many centuries but the latter two often stayed away from each other as much as possible... as should his son and this wolf.
"You're hungry," he commented with a sigh, settling himself on a sofa opposite her.
She was nodding but she never took her eyes off him. Aramis gave a grunt as a response. Her stomach was literally bubbling in its own acid since the moment he met her. Turning to the phone on his table, he picked it up and called directly for his head of the household. It seems that some shopping is needed.
When he turned his attention back to the woman, he saw that she had begun to relax but her guard was still up. He didn't blame her. She didn't look like she even knew who he was. And he was beginning to think that she followed him only to spite Draven for manhandling her.
That thought put a smile on his face.
"I apologize for the rudeness that you witnessed earlier on. It is sordidly humiliating on my part to have raised a son like that."
He watched confusion flicker across her face before she spoke, "I thought he was just addressing you formally when he called you 'Father'... I thought perhaps you were a member of the clergy. Are you? You look too young to possibly be his father."
Laughter bubbled in Aramis's throat at her reply. "And how old do you think Draven is?"
She was biting her lips, as though thinking. "Probably around my age; thirty five at most."
This time, Aramis didn't bother containing his laughter, "When he was thirty-five, he was already a trained mercenary and bore witness to the MΓΌnster Rebellion," he said in amusement. "That's in the 1530s if I'm not wrong."
Her eyes were wide with surprise. "Impossible!"
Aramis couldn't help but frown at her response. "Surely you know who we are and what we are?" When she didn't reply, he frowned deeper. This was strange. This woman had seen Fiona's awakening and was even one of the few unfortunate recipients of her power. Surely she would know? Or had Draven tampered with her memories?
Aramis decided that it was better if he skipped the Vampire history for now. Her mind might be too fragile to recall too many things if it had been modified not too long ago. He was planning on returning her to her pack and wanted to make sure that she did not sustain any form of damage under his roof.
"Well then, please forgive me for my lack of manners. It seems I have much to apologize for today," he said with a smile. "My name is Aramis Culzean and I am the Lord of this castle... not in the religious sense of course," he smiled again before adding, "The Lord below the Viscount on the peerage system." When she nodded, he continued. "My eldest, whom you've already met, is heir to the title and born from my first wife. His brother and my youngest son, Alaron Culzean is born to my second wife. I don't suppose you remember him either? He has quite a penchant for trouble that one."
Amber was clearly fascinated. Aramis didn't appear to be as cold hearted as Draven painted him to be. Maybe he was joking about Draven being born centuries ago. In fact, he wasn't threatening her in any way and she wondered why Draven had been so upset and paranoid about his father. It made her all the more determined to get into Aramis's good books. If she did it right, then she might not have to stay in the dungeon and even better, she might be allowed to go home!
As such, she almost had a compulsive need to stand up and curtsey before she replied. Was it the rule in the house to do so? She wasn't sure but didn't think it would be appropriate not to since he was clearly nobility and she was... nobody.
Clearing her throat, she got up and did what she thought was a curtsey and was about to introduce herself when she saw him get up on his feet, laughing.
"You're doing it all wrong my dear. You're supposed to place one foot behind the other and bend gently down with your body leaning slightly forward."
Amber grimaced. What a way to make a mess of herself! She did as she was told and watched Aramis's eyes smile as he observed her curtseying a few times.
"Good, you may put your hands at the side of your skirt and bow your head just slightly if you wish," he added, watching her comply. When she was standing upright, he smiled and commented, "Actually... there is no need for you to curtsey when speaking to me."
She was smiling back and shaking her head as she did a proper curtsey this time and introduced herself as Ambrosia Alexakis. He found it interesting that she did not use Keiran's family name as her own... or maybe she didn't want to be associated with them. Is that possible?
"Your father was called Ambrosius?" he speculated, watching her face frown in confusion.
"I... I'm not sure," she stammered slightly. "I don't... remember him. Did you know him?"
Aramis shook his head. The wolf looked young. If she said she couldn't remember him, it could be that she was born during the war and lost him...
"No I do not my dear... but Alexakis is a rather common Greek family name and when I was still friendly with them, I know the daughters always took the feminine form of their father's name."
"Oh, I see..." she replied, rather impressed with what he told her. She really didn't recall anything much and it surprised her to know that her name was Greek at all. She just thought it was a terribly old fashioned name...
Amber started frowning as though she recalled having said that before. Shaking her head slowly, she sat down once more, as though trying to chase after that fleeting thought... but to no avail.
Aramis must have sensed something was wrong for he came closer and peered at her with concern. Strangely, he was beginning to like this young woman. She had been there for his granddaughter and now she's trying to be brave even though she had no idea what she has walked into.
Aramis had to face the truth: She was good for his Draven... if only she was a Pureblood Vampire instead of this confused little wolf inside a human's body.
"Come my child. You need to have something to eat," he said, offering her a hand to get up. He noticed that she was a little weak and the grumbling in her stomach was more pronounced that it was a while ago.
The dining room that he brought her to was reserved for the family use. He was pleased to see that there was human food already set on the table and also a goblet of blood for himself.
"Please eat," he offered, pulling out a chair for her to sit. He watched with interest as she tore a chunk of bread and dipped it in some sort of stew in the bowl in front of her. Her eyes were fluttering, signaling that the food was good and she began to eat some more before realizing that she was the only one eating.