Blood Match

Chapter 20: Coming Home

The chopper landed on the roof, and Leo waited until the rotors stopped before opening the cabin doors. Joseph hopped out first, followed by Liam and Leo. Tristan stepped out, and another pilot climbed in. Once everyone was clear, the pilot lifted off again and veered east.

Tristan noticed Liam’s puzzled expression.

“The choppers have a hangar on the east side of the estate where they refuel and are kept. It allows us to have easy transport at a moment’s notice for anything more than an hour’s drive away,” Tristan explained as he opened the door to the roof observation area, which led to the house’s elevator. He pressed the button and waited for Joseph, Leo, and Liam to enter before stepping inside himself.

“How does it feel to be home?” Joseph asked, glancing at Leo.

“It’s strange. The last time I was here was when I brought Genevieve home for the last time. It was a sad occasion, and I didn’t stay long,” Leo said, taking Liam’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Leo,” Liam said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s ok. I know she would be happy I’m home. I’ll take you to see her and Don Fernando tomorrow night.”

The elevator doors opened onto a scene of controlled chaos. In the grand foyer, maids, workmen, and attendants moved briskly—placing bouquets, adjusting pine garlands, and hanging portraits.

Liam took his first look at the main foyer. It was a masterful blend of 14th-century architectural prowess and contemporary comfort. The original oak double doors, reinforced with hand-forged iron strapping, created a statement of strength and dignity. The soaring vaulted ceiling rose twenty feet overhead, limestone ribs meeting at intricately carved boss stones. Medieval wall sconces, converted to modern lighting, cast a warm glow over restored timber-framed walls and wattle-and-daub panels.

Seating areas were arranged throughout, upholstered in deep red fabrics that complemented the rich wooden benches and chairs. Colorful floral arrangements adorned each space, their perfume mingling with the scent of moonflower, queen of the night, and angel’s trumpet.

Several paintings graced the walls. Liam recognized Don Fernando and Genevieve but not the other four portraits. He was about to ask when he saw a final portrait being hung and gasped.

“Leo, why is Alexander’s portrait here?”

“Liam, it’s our tradition to honor those in our family who have passed into eternal night. We remember them on the Solstice—the longest night. I had an artist reproduce your photograph so that he could be displayed here. Alexander is important to you, and he is family. He will be honored on the Solstice. How could I not include him?”

Liam pulled Leo into a hug, holding him for a long moment before stepping back. There were tears in his eyes.

“Thank you, Leo. Thank you for giving Xandi this recognition and honoring what he meant to me.”

“How could I not? He was the one who brought us together, and for that I’ll always be grateful,” Leo said, taking Liam’s hand. “Come—let me introduce you to my family.”

Leo guided him to the right side of the foyer, gesturing toward the paintings.

“You already know Don Fernando and Genevieve—my sire and his blood match.”

He moved to the next. “This is Helena and Maximo. Helena was Don Fernando’s sire, and Maximo was her blood match. They built the manor and ruled here as Divina and Consort.”

“This is Diego and Reynaldo. Reynaldo was Helena’s sire, and Diego his blood match.”

“He looks so young,” Liam said, studying the portrait of the youth beside an older, dark-haired man.

“They had a father-and-son relationship. Reynaldo loved Diego, and even though he was a century older, he still acknowledged him as his father before the world.”

Leo continued to the other side. “This is Tuedis and Ervigio. Tuedis was a Moor and the sire of Reynaldo.”

“This must have presented many problems in their time,” Liam said. “Even today, prejudice and racism still cling to our society. How did Tuedis handle things?”

“The Moors were ascendant in Spain then. Tuedis was an aristocrat and feared little in Catalan society. He found Ervigio, recognized him as his blood match, and kept their love known only within family circles. To the outside world, Ervigio was his servant. We still have some of their letters in the archives.”

They moved to the final portrait before Alexander’s. “This is Inigo and Lope. Inigo was Tuedis’ sire, and Lope his blood match.”

“They look like they could be brothers,” Liam said, noticing their similar features, save for Inigo’s golden eyes and Lope’s startling violet.

“Not biologically, but they called each other brothers. Inigo loved Lope deeply, even though Lope also had a wife. Lope’s descendants still thrive here in Spain and are part of LDC Industries.” Leo looked at Liam. “For Solstice, this is the hall of remembrance. The Divinas and their blood matches for the past millennium will be honored—and for the first time, Alexander will be part of our shared history.”

Kara entered.

“Kara, I hear you’ve been losing your mind over my collection,” Leo said.

“Leo, you’re doing the world a disservice! The sheer volume could fill several museums. Are you sure you won’t let me curate an exhibition?”

“At least she didn’t say Holy Fuck!” Tristan laughed.

“It was on the tip of my tongue, but I tried the polite approach,” Kara replied with a smirk.

“Kara, have you decided what art we’ll display for the Solstice?”

“Yes,” she said, handing him her tablet. “I’m thinking a night-and-day theme—dark for the reception and ball, light for the family dinner. The gardens will speak for themselves.”

Leo scanned her choices and nodded. “Good. Remove Saturn Eating His Son by Goya—replace it with The Face of War by Salvador Dalí.”

“Done,” Kara said. “Have you seen Joseph?”

“He’s in the kitchen with Claude,” Tristan said.

Kara headed off.

Tristan watched her go. “I think those two are hiding something.”

“Tristan, let them be. Liam, would you like to see your rooms?”

“Uh—yes, absolutely.”

Leo led Liam through a decorative wrought iron gate into the east wing.

“This is the Master’s Wing.” He pulled aside velvet draperies to reveal a Gothic archway into the master suite.

The room was breathtaking—twenty-foot walnut-beamed ceilings lit with concealed warm light, moonlight spilling through lancet windows across Spanish oak floors, Moroccan rugs rich with color. A massive bed dominated the center, its headboard inset with antique carved panels.

Through a Moorish arch lay the ensuite: a copper soaking tub beneath a skylight, Andalusian tiles climbing the steam shower walls, a 17th-century console repurposed as a vanity.

“Leo, it’s beautiful,” Liam said, sitting on the bed. “Are we to share this room?”

A low growl started in Leo’s chest as he stepped close. Liam took his hand and drew him down beside him. Their lips met—warm, insistent. Liam pressed closer, the air between them charged, his laughter fading into breathless need.

Hands roamed, the world narrowing to the heat of skin and the unspoken promise in every touch. Leo’s eyes darkened, his breath catching—

—and then there was only the quiet closing of the door, some sighs and giggles, and the occasional Holy Fuck!