Flesh and Blood

He stared in disbelief. This was not the Katsumi he knew. Or had ever known. She seemed truly broken. ‘You cannot expect me to believe this change of heart simply because you speak the words.’

She dropped her hand and shook her head. ‘No, I cannot. But I will show you. You’ll see. I am different. I … I had too much time in that storage room to consider my life and what kind of person I was. What I saw horrified me. There was no wheat to sift from the chaff. Nothing of value. I do not wish to die and leave such a legacy behind. It’s not too late for me to change. Please, believe me.’

‘I will, once you’ve shown me. So change. Become this new creature. When I believe you are sincere in both heart and actions, I will offer you navitas.’ He paused. Her countenance brightened. ‘You may find you no longer need it.’

She moved from her seat to kneel before him, taking his hand and kissing his fingers before pressing it to her cheek. ‘Thank you, Dominic. You’ll see. You’ll see just how different I can be.’

He tried to pull his hand away, but she clung to him. ‘Until that time, consider yourself under house arrest. You will not leave Seven without my permission, and when you do, you will be accompanied by someone I assign to you. Your life is no longer your own until I decide how best to deal with your transgressions.’

‘Whatever you say, my lord. Thank you.’ Still cupping his other hand to her cheek, she slid her free hand up his leg. ‘Perhaps there is something I could do to earn your forgiveness now?’

He pointed toward his private bathroom. ‘Clean yourself up and we shall see. You may not thank me when I am through with you.’

Chrysabelle’s body ached. No, her bones ached. Her body throbbed. Especially across her stomach. She remembered fighting the Nothos and passing out, then time warped into memories both lucid and blurred. She knew Creek had stitched her wounds – holy mother, that pain had been unlike any she’d felt since her last visit to the signumist – but she didn’t remember how she’d gotten to his home. Or into his bed.

A few other images flitted in and out of her consciousness. One was crystal clear. The broad expanse of Creek’s naked back. Then the awfulness of realizing the words upon his skin had been branded there. If she closed her eyes, she could still read them.

Omnes honorate. Fraternitatem diligite. Deum timete. Regem honorificate. Honor all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the king.

It was the code of the Kubai Mata. Just having those sacred words upon his body made his blood poison to the creatures he’d been trained to slay.

Those words also meant there was no denying Creek was who he said he was. She exhaled her last ounce of hope that perhaps he’d just been a misguided soul with a desire to bring a fairy tale to life. More than ever, she believed he must be responsible for the deaths of those fringe Doc had stumbled upon. She would ask Creek point-blank. As a KM, chances were good he wouldn’t lie to her.

Hot and sweaty, she flipped the sheet off and groaned softly. For the second time in the last few weeks, she’d woken up in a strange man’s bed wearing nothing but her intimates. A swath of gauze covered the right side of her stomach. Dried blood stained the corresponding side of her underwear, but thankfully, Creek had left them on, because she had no doubt he was the one who’d undressed her.

Pushing to her elbows caused a rush of fire to ignite the skin beneath the gauze. She collapsed back to the mattress with a gasp. Okay, she hadn’t expected it to hurt quite that much.

‘It’s the poison.’

She jumped, lighting a new round of searing heat across her belly. Creek stood at the top of the stairs. She whipped the sheet back over herself. ‘That’s why it hurts so badly, isn’t it? And why I’m burning up? Fever from the Nothos poison.’

He nodded and brought a plate of food and a glass of water to the bedside table. He set them down, then pressed his calloused palm to her forehead. ‘Most of it’s gone now. Fever was a lot worse this morning. Few more hours and the pain should be manageable.’

‘It’s manageable now.’ She needed to get home. To her own bed.

‘Want to get up and walk around, then?’

She ground her teeth together.

‘That’s what I thought.’ His hand reached for the plate again. ‘You need to eat. Keep your strength up.’

‘It’s a little hard to eat lying down.’

He held a fork loaded with scrambled eggs. ‘All you have to do is chew.’

Her stomach growled. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth. Being fed by someone seemed a very intimate act. At least he could look a little less pleased with himself.

But his enjoyment in the act didn’t stop her from cleaning the plate. Or devouring the second course of wheat toast with peanut butter and honey, which she managed to eat by herself without too much honey ending up on her or the bed. Sated, she allowed him to help her sip some water, then felt sleep invade her muscles with its sweet, dreamy pull.

And dream she did. Of a Mohawked warrior and a vampire challenger. Of hellhounds and claws like fiery scythes. Of bodies turned to ash and a mother she’d never see again.

She woke in a panic, but it faded quickly as her surroundings registered. The gold light of afternoon sun gilded the building’s interior where it leaked through the dirty skylights. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air.

‘Creek?’ Perhaps he’d left. She eased up onto her elbows, the pain bearable now, just as he’d said it would be. 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">