Blood Rules (Blood Immortal Book 2) Page 5

  Having my life turned upside down without my knowing it, thanks to Marissa’s little trick. Knowing what the penalty might be.

  I towered over them and relished their fear as I snarled, and when I raised my hands, my claws cut the still air. “Did that sorcerer ask about the circumstances behind you getting hold of his toy? No. Did he stop to find out whether it was all a misunderstanding? No. He promised to make you pay for what you did without knowing why or how you did it. That’s reality, no matter how you want to twist it or wish it away. Your little spells and enchantments won’t work, either. You are powerless. You have no defense in this. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t tear you limb from limb just for inconveniencing him.”

  “Stop this!” Marissa pleaded, wrapping her arms around the trembling figure of her daughter.

  “And you!” I spat, leaning closer until I could smell the blood racing just under her skin.

  I curled my hands into fists, cutting into my palms instead of cutting her, fighting the urge to sink my fangs into her throat and drain her dry.

  “If you think I won’t throw you in front of your Council and blame you for what you’ve done to me, you’re insane. I’m going to make sure they know what their precious High Sorceress did and how selfish and stupid and evil it was.”

  I glared down at them.

  The only sound in the room was the sharp in-and-out of breath through my nose. My gaze traveled back and forth, watching, waiting for one of them to open their mouth and try to defend themselves.

  They didn’t, because they couldn’t. They only looked up at me with wide, terror-filled eyes. And that felt good. Better than it should have.

  The flash of rage cooled along with the desire to tear Marissa’s throat out.

  When I could speak more calmly, I said, “All right, then. Now that we’re on the same page, let’s talk about how to move forward—and stay alive.”

  7

  Monika

  I couldn’t get over feeling like I had to tiptoe around Konstantin after that.

  I was careful not to make too much noise when I set down my teacup, afraid he would snap at me. If what he did in front of us was what my mother had witnessed at her house—the certainty that he was about to kill us—I could see why she was so frightened.

  The hair on the back of my neck nearly stood straight up, the energy in the room was so intense. I had spent almost my entire life with Konstantin in the background—now, he was front and center and running the show.

  “We have to get you someplace safe,” he muttered, more to himself than to us. His hands, clasped behind his back, clenched and unclenched rhythmically.

  I wondered if he knew he was doing it and wished he wouldn’t. I could just imagine what one of those fists could do and didn’t want the reminder of his power.

  But we were more powerful. And one of us could’ve thrown a spell at him in self-defense, I guess. I couldn’t speak for my mother, but I knew I was too busy being scared half to death to even think about it.

  His eyes, like fire, bored into me…

  I shivered, rubbing my hands over my arms, rocking slightly. “I don’t know where that would be,” I admitted, glancing my mother’s way. “What about you? You’re the one with all the surprises tonight. Do you know someplace I could go?”

  “I might. I don’t know the condition of the house, but it’s extremely remote. Out on Long Island, on the beach. I haven’t been there since you were very young.”

  “How old is it?” I asked.

  “Oh, at least a century.”

  “What are the odds it’s still standing after Hurricane Sandy?” Konstantin asked.

  Mother made a face, like she couldn’t believe he was so dense. “It’s protected,” she explained. “And I’ve sent people out to check, besides. But they didn’t go inside.”

  “How did I not know about it?” I asked.

  “Oh, if we went over everything you don’t know, we’d be here all year,” my mother sighed, waving a hand like it didn’t matter.

  But it did.

  I had found out that I didn’t know her at all, not really. The mother I thought I knew was demanding, yes. Sometimes controlling. But if anybody had told me she would steal my blood in some crazy effort to keep me safe, I would’ve said they didn’t know who they were talking about. Not my mother. She wasn’t insane. She wouldn’t take part of me without my knowing it, even if she had the best intentions.

  Silly me, giving her that much credit.

  “How long will it take to get there from here?” Konstantin asked. He stood at attention, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, every muscle poised like he was ready to spring.

  I had never seen him so animated.

  “An hour at the most.”

  “I wish there were someplace further away,” he mused.

  “Yes, well, we have to make do with what we have—besides, I don’t want her too far away right now.” She took my hand and squeezed until the bones smashed together. Her way or no way.

  I should’ve known by then that it would be her way.

  From the look of resignation on Konstantin’s face, I could tell he knew it, too.

  8

  Monika

  It wasn’t much more than a shack, or a cabin, built on a rocky bluff which extended into the sea almost like a pier. An old, extremely dangerous pier which nobody in their right mind would walk.

  Waves routinely crashed over it, waves big enough to knock down a full-grown man. But they never reached the little house, with its clapboard walls and stone chimney. It was like something out of a children’s book. Or a horror movie, depending on the way a person looked at it.

  I leaned more toward horror movie as I exited the car. The air had gone from just frigid to frigid and wet, and I immediately pulled my chunky scarf up, covering my mouth and nose. Sea spray hit my hair and froze solid.

  “Hurry. Get inside.” Konstantin wrapped a steel arm around me before hurrying into the house. “I wouldn’t normally bring you right in with me, but I don’t love the idea of leaving you alone in the car, either.”

  “I’d p—p—probably freeze to death,” I managed to reply before stepping through the door and into the small, single first-floor room.

  There was no fire in the hearth, of course, so it was almost as cold inside as out.

  I pulled my hand from where I’d jammed it into my pocket, and with a flick of my wrist, a warm glow lit the room and made the air feel less icy.

  “I’ll never get used to that,” he muttered, checking the corners and the few pieces of furniture—a small, round table by an old-fashioned iron stove, a cupboard which looked to hold plates but not much else, a chest that filled the air with the scent of cedar when Konstantin opened it to check inside.

  “Blankets and pillows,” he announced as he pulled them out. “Take off your coat and sit by the fire to warm up. Here.”

  He handed me a blanket, and I guessed he meant for me to cover my shoulders with it.

  He was already halfway up the stairs by the time my coat was off. The boards squeaked and groaned under his feet—I could follow him based on the sounds. Minutes later, he was on his way down.

  “Two bedrooms. Bathroom. Outdated but serviceable. The water still runs.” He stood still for the first time since we’d arrived and looked around, hands on his hips. “We could’ve done worse.”

  I held my tongue. Sure, we could have—and for somebody like him, who lived in a room with a twin bed, dresser, and tiny TV, it probably looked luxurious.

  I realized for the first time that I was pretty spoiled.

  “I’ve always held myself above some of the other, how do I say it? More important coven members,” I mused. “Thinking it made me different or better than them because I lived in a regular little house. But this?” I grimaced.

  “I don’t think anyone would expect you to be thrilled with the arrangements,” he admitted as he folded his tall body to sit in an old-fashioned upholstered chair by th
e fire, the kind with velvet cushions and brass rivets around the edges.

  There was a matching chair across from it, and I pulled up a small footstool before sitting in it. I drew the blanket around me, appreciating its warmth and softness.

  We fell silent. What was there to say?

  The longer we spent without speaking, the easier it was for me to see that we didn’t need to. I couldn’t exactly read his thoughts, but I could sense impressions. He was strained to the point of being ready to snap. That was my fault—mine and my mother’s. I was so bitterly disappointed in her, no matter the reason why she did what she did.

  And he could sense that, too, I realized. He could sense everything going on inside me. How did my mother live knowing that for so long? It was like being naked all the time. I couldn’t hide from him.

  I didn’t want to. Even after he scared me half to death back at the house, and even though I knew he was only with me because of the connection my mother had forced us into, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. It had been brewing in me for months, and I finally understood why—the way he had taken up a spot in the corner of my brain and hadn’t left yet.

  It was like the difference between when we first stepped inside the little house, when it was dark and cold, and the moment after the fire had sprung to life. A fire which had revealed everything around it as it warmed the room. There was a fire in my brain.

  “Do you feel it?” I asked, my voice soft. I was afraid to speak much louder, like anything above a whisper would break the quiet perfection of the moment.

  “What?” he murmured, staring into the fire.

  Look at me. Look at me, please. Tell me you know I’m here.

  I couldn’t magic him into it. I wanted him to turn to me because he wanted to do it.

  “The connection. The imprint.”

  The way I’ve never felt this close to anybody before and I’m afraid I might be tricking myself into thinking it’s bigger than it is.

  “Oh. Yes. I do, of course.” His shoulders moved maybe an inch, up and down.

  Barely a shrug.

  My heart ached.

  “I mean, it’s been happening for—what—two months? Maybe more? We never did get an exact starting date.” I chewed my lip, watching him. Wishing.

  He nodded. “When did you start feeling ill?”

  “I don’t have the date written down,” I chuckled. “But yes, the general timeline works out. It was roughly a month of feeling bad before I left for my trip.”

  “I can’t understand how she watched you fade away for weeks and didn’t tell you why,” he mused.

  “She has a way of convincing herself she’s right. The High Sorceress of rationalizing,” I explained, shaking my head.

  He surprised me with a snort of laughter. “That’s true. I’ve never thought much about her, I suppose.”

  “After so many years?” I asked, surprised.

  “Oh, I have eyes and ears. I’ve seen the sort of leader she is. I’ve seen the respect she commands. When compared to others I’ve guarded, she’s easily the best suited for the job. I give her a great deal of credit for that. But when it comes to motivation and such? It’s never interested me.”

  “What does interest you?” I asked before thinking twice, and wished I hadn’t. I wouldn’t know I had pushed too far until it was already too late.

  He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, blushing. “I don’t mean to pry into your life.”

  “It isn’t that. Well. Maybe it is, a little. Mostly? Nobody’s asked me that for as long as I can remember. That’s not hyperbole. That’s solid fact.”

  The flickering fire sent light dancing over his chiseled features and made it impossible for me to read his expression. I thought the muscles in his jaw jumped a little, but it could’ve been my imagination.

  “I’m sorry for that. Somebody should’ve asked you a long time ago. And ever since.”

  “Why? I don’t have much of a life. None of us do. We’re not allowed to.”

  “Vampires?”

  He shook his head. “Nightwardens. I don’t know about other vampires—I know they’re out there, and they do what they do. But they have no ties to us. They don’t know we exist.”

  When I thought about it, I realized he never went anywhere on his own. He stayed in his windowless room until my mother needed him to escort her somewhere.

  “You can’t ever make friends,” I whispered.

  “When did you finally figure that out?” he asked in a flat, low voice.

  He was right to be annoyed with me—or worse. He might not have been a major part of my life, but he was there, and I had taken him for granted. Not just his presence but everything about him. He was just… Konstantin. That was all.

  Until the imprinting started and he became so much more. “I should’ve seen it,” I whispered, shaking my head.

  “What?”

  “The connection. I started caring about you all of a sudden—not caring for you,” I added in a rush, wishing I could crawl into a hole and never come out. “But just the fact that I thought about you when I saw that sword. That I even went to Serbia in the first place. I felt this… I don’t know. A need to see where you came from.” I looked at the floor, breathless. I couldn’t stop my mouth from opening and spilling more than I wanted to share.

  He let out a throaty chuckle. “I have to admit, it was a surprise. Getting a gift from you, I mean.”

  “And I feel terrible that it should’ve been such a surprise,” I admitted.

  “You only feel that way because of the imprint. Without it, you’d go back to the way you were before. And you will, if your High Council ever gives me the chance to continue as a Nightwarden.”

  “But I don’t want that!” I blurted, before covering my mouth with both hands.

  The problem was, I didn’t need to speak. He could feel the turmoil deep in my heart. He was better at hiding himself than I was—centuries of practice. I didn’t have that practice under my belt. Everything going through my heart was on the surface, ready for him to see.

  If he saw everything, he was kind enough to pretend otherwise. “You don’t want to end the imprint? You realize how long it takes for your blood to leave my system?”

  “That’s not what I mean. Why are you making this so difficult?” I huffed.

  His fingers tapped on the arm of the chair, one after the other, on and on. That was the only part of his body moving. The rest of him was almost frighteningly still. “Say something. Please. I’m pouring my heart out and feeling like the world’s biggest chump. The least you can do is say something back.”

  “Like what?” His hard, unreadable eyes slid in my direction.

  Goosebumps covered my arms.

  “Like, you could tell me I’m not the world’s biggest chump. That would be a decent start.”

  “All right.”

  “…all right, what?”

  “All right, you’re not. What else?”

  It was like pulling teeth. “I guess I don’t know what else. This is all a waste of time, and I wish I had never opened my mouth.” I sprang up from the chair and went to the window.

  “Get away from there,” he muttered.

  “Oh. That’s all I had to do to get a reaction from you?” I walked to the other side of the room, as far away from him as I could get.

  I wanted to die. I wished the damn sorcerer, whoever he was, would show up and get the job over with. It would be easier than the crushing humiliation that stretched out minute after painful minute.

  “Well, that’s the reason we’re here. To protect you. That’s part of protecting you.”

  I threw my arms into the air, wishing I could use my magic on him after all. Not to make him feel something for me, but to hurt him for being such a moron.

  “For your information, if a powerful sorcerer wanted to find me, he wouldn’t walk around looking through windows. He can see without use of his eyes. That was
how he found the coven in the first place. Somehow, he tracked me down. So it doesn’t matter if he’s standing out there right this very minute—though I doubt he would be, because it would mean tipping his hand.”

  “Anything else you’d like to add?” he raised a brow.

  Rage boiled over to match the tears spilling onto my cheeks. “Yes. I think you’re a nasty, cruel bastard. There. That enough for you?”

  I turned toward the wall, arms wrapped around me with my dangerous, magic hands tucked close to my ribs, trying hard to hide my tears and the way my body shook from them.

  I could still hear his heavy groan over my sniffles. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

  “Smarter?” I choked out. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because, I have to tell you, it’s not working.”

  “I’m only saying that I gave you a little more credit than this. I thought you could be mature. Or at least do a little thinking before you reacted.”

  “What does that mean? Thinking about what?”

  “About what this means for me. And the way things are supposed to be.”

  “How are they supposed to be?” I looked over my shoulder.

  “You should know by now. You probably don’t remember a time when Marissa wasn’t High Sorceress. But after all this time, you ought to know what a Nightwarden’s relationship should be to the witch they guard. We’re never to become involved in each other’s personal life, no matter what.”

  “And?” I sneered.

  “And just because rules don’t matter to you doesn’t mean they don’t exist. They matter to me. My life hangs in the balance.”

  I turned and leaned against the wall, running my hands over my eyes to pick up any stray tears. “I’ll make sure nobody tries to punish you for this.”

  “I’m sure that will make a tremendous difference,” he growled. “I’ll consider myself lucky if my Sire isn’t killed for this. And when he’s gone, we’re gone. All the Nightwardens.”