Raging Passions by Amanda Sidhe Page B

Rage hadn’t dressed in fighting clothes for nothing. The clothes not only didn’t make a sound, but they allowed her full range of unrestricted movement. And while she wasn’t as impressive as Shade in the arena, she knew how to hold her own.
    Morgana’s suite filled the small wing that jutted out the back of the mansion. To reach her chamber Rage poised at the entrance to the greenhouse. Dappled sunlight peeked through the curtain of ivy that overgrew the glass walls and ceiling. Shade-loving plants grew in a thick jungle on every table and from dozens of hanging planters dangling from the exposed rafters. Even though the greenhouse was just twelve feet across, Rage cringed back from the flecks of sunshine glittering on the flowers and leaves filling the space.
    Rage balanced on the balls of her feet, contemplating rushing across the dangerous lances of acidic sunlight. Her gaze flickered around, searching for something to spare her the flash burns. Metal plates hung in rows along the rafters, forming shutters. Following the exposed mechanism, Rage tracked the control to chains dangling by the doors on either end. She pulled on the chain experimentally and the shutters closed smoothly.
    Not trusting the shutters or the shade they provided, Rage jogged to the far side. She huddled close to the opposite door. The handle would not turn. Frantically she rapped on the door. The warm summer smell of the garden, once so familiar and friendly, held more dread for her than the dungeon. At least there was no sun in the dungeon.
    Morgana opened the door. With just one look at Rage, she ushered the younger vampire inside. “Your vexation must be acute for you to venture to my abode at this unearthly hour.” She smiled, knowingly. “You’ve come to a decision about your human?”
    Rage slipped deeper into the shadows of the parlor. “Sort of, but that is not exactly why I am here.” Her fingers rubbed over the sweat in her palms. Had it been the heat of the sunlight so nearby that made her sweat? Or just nerves? She scrubbed her palms against her pants to dry them.
    Morgana closed the door. In a flutter of silky robe and nightgown, she swept like a ghost to the settee. Her pale hands folded ladylike into her lap. Her nails were unpainted but finely manicured to feminine but dangerous tips. Rage sat down briskly across from Morgana, her nerves uncamouflaged. Her words rushed out much more haphazardly and indelicately than she’d rehearsed. “I know I can’t be the first who has ever asked you this, but…how can an Offspring escape her master’s will?”
    Morgana shifted from sitting forward to lounging back in the settee. Her eyes glittered as the conversation veered from the direction that she’d expected. “I am assuming you mean in a way other than death.”
    Blinking at the shocking reply, Rage nodded. “I prefer not to die, yes.”
    “I mean Ripper’s death, love.”
    “Oh.” Rage hadn’t even considered that recourse. “Yes. Other than death.”
    Morgana relaxed. Rage hadn’t even noticed how stiff the other woman had become. Rage thought of Morgana as a friend to the Offspring. She’d not even considered that Ripper and Morgana were also clan mates, with an obligation to defend each other, mainly for mutual survival. Lone vampires were far more vulnerable to the dangers of the various dark creatures that shared the night. Apparently Morgana took that clan bond seriously. For Rage’s sake, she’d answered the question satisfactorily. If she hadn’t Morgana could have disemboweled her right there for her defiance. Morgana continued as if Rage hadn’t just nearly stumbled into her doom. “And you don’t wish to be rebirthed as another Kinsman’s Offspring, I gather.”
    “Preferably not.”
    Morgana opened her hands as though presenting the perfect answer. “Embrace your vampire power. Become a Kinsman.”
    “Easier said than done.” Rage thought back to how easily Ripper had subdued her