Blood Rights

‘I promise you, no one’s going to care if—’

She spun, her eyes holding more angst than he’d expected. ‘You promise me? You do not understand.’ She glanced back at the rest of the group and the steam seemed to leave her a bit. ‘I didn’t mean to snap, but this is more than just an outfit. It’s a blatant disregard for everything I’ve been raised to hold sacred.’

She was right about him not understanding. How anyone could be so upset about clothes was beyond him. ‘Maybe we can—’

‘No. Forget it.’ She shook her head. ‘I will deal with whatever ramifications come. All that matters is freeing my aunt.’

He wanted to say something to make it better, but his vocabulary hadn’t included those kinds of words since his human life had ended. She reached for the coat lying across the seats, and he went to get it for her at the same time, his hand almost brushing her arm. His fingers prickled with heat.

She jerked her arm out of the way. ‘Don’t touch me.’

He scowled. Didn’t she understand he’d been trying to help? ‘Fine.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Her voice lowered. ‘This … body armor is spun from fine silver and imbued with holy magic. It will burn you.’ She picked up the coat, carefully keeping her distance. ‘I just thought you should know.’

That explained the sensation in his hand. ‘Silver body armor.’ Perfect protection against vampires. No wonder it covered her throat. How many more toys did she have? ‘Another comarré weapon?’

‘Yes. Another guarded secret, actually. When worn, it’s to be kept hidden. One more rule I’m breaking.’ She pulled the coat on and adjusted it over her sword. The red-leather-wrapped handle stuck out next to the base of her braid.

The combination of black leather and visible weaponry did more than change her look. It erased the veil of innocence that had clouded his judgment concerning her. He’d somehow been unwilling to accept that this pale, gilded creature could be anything more than a source of life and power, thinking that she would certainly perish without his help. Now he saw her more clearly than he ever had. She was a killer, not to the extent or purpose that he was, but she and her kind were certainly just as lethal. Or could be, when the need arose.

The thought should have unsettled him. It didn’t. Neither did the lack of understanding as to why such a side of her would even be necessary.

Instead, he felt a kinship with her that he’d never expected. In that moment, he saw her as an equal. A woman who could face the tribulations of the life he lived. Son of a priest. The last woman he’d thought that about, he’d married. If he didn’t watch himself, Chrysabelle was going to be a hell of a lot harder to get rid of when this was over. Assuming she wanted to stay in the first place. Which she wouldn’t.

He almost laughed. The noble vampire Families really had no idea what kind of creatures they paid to nourish them. Wouldn’t they be surprised to learn their docile comarré were such well-trained, well-equipped warriors, ready to slit the throats they fed at a moment’s notice?

She popped her collar, hiding the sword handle a little more. ‘I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to be.’

He rested his forearm on the overhead bins and leaned in, a thousand words dancing on his tongue, but none of them seeming right. ‘We’ll get her out. Even if we have to kill every one of those undead bastards to do it.’

That brought a smile to her face. ‘You know you’re still one of those, right?’

He could look at that smile a lot and not get tired of it, even if it was brought on by the idea of killing vampires. Maybe she’ll kill you. ‘I’m undead bastard anathema. Big difference.’

She laughed softly. ‘Point taken.’

Dominic called to them from his seat. ‘Per favore, you must sit down and buckle up, we’re about to land.’

Mal nodded at him, then sat and buckled his lap belt. Not that a crash would kill him anyway. Too bad.

Chrysabelle took the seat beside him, moving the point of her sword out of his way. She clicked her belt, then glanced at him. ‘Just so I can be prepared, are you going to’ – she waved her hand at him – ‘do that thing where the voices take over?’

Yessss. ‘No. Not ever again.’ Not if he could help it. Give her to us. Not around her. All over her. Invisible teeth gnawed on the interior of his skull. Whines of hunger drilled into his ears from the inside out. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to quench the cravings the voices stirred up. Deep within him, the beast shook off the chains Chrysabelle’s blood had bound it with and reared its head.

Unfortunately, she was the one thing the beast most craved.

Tatiana stroked Nehebkau as she strolled circles around the old comarré. The albino cobra lay draped around Tatiana’s shoulders, his head on her chest and his tail wound down around her arm in a serpentine embrace. It was good to be home. She’d missed her precious boy. ‘Your niece should be here soon, and when she arrives, I’m going to kill her. And you’re going to watch. I want you to think about that.’

‘Get staked, bloodsucker.’ The blood whore lifted her head defiantly. Against the dusky backdrop of bruises covering her face, her signum sparkled in the sanctuary’s artificial light. The makeup she’d used to cover them had worn off long ago.

‘I’m going to kill the vampire that’s helping her too.’ Tatiana continued to walk, her high-heeled boots soundless on the leaves and moss of the simulated jungle floor. ‘And then I’m going to kill you.’ She stopped in front of the chair the comarré was tied to. ‘Unless you want to tell me where the ring is.’ ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">