Blood Rules (Blood Immortal Book 2) Page 6

  “Because he turned you?”

  He nodded with a frown.

  “Sorry. I don’t know about any of these things. I hate to ask questions that might hurt.”

  “It doesn’t hurt. It simply… is.”

  “I see.” That was a lie. I didn’t see anything. “It’s cruel.”

  “That’s not for me to say. That was the rule one of your High Sorceresses set down a long time ago. She was cruel, but she was in pain. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it,” he muttered with a wry look.

  “She lost her daughter. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” One eyebrow quirked up. “Mothers can do rather illogical things where their children are concerned.”

  My mouth fell open in surprise—and I laughed. It was such a relief, even if I didn’t feel quite right doing it.

  I realized he was laughing, too, which was an even bigger surprise.

  I didn’t think he knew how.

  When our laughter died down, it was just the two of us again.

  We looked at each other for a long time.

  I could feel his helplessness—he was letting me feel it. His hopelessness. The way he struggled to fight off something inside. He hid what it was, though. Like a brick wall between us.

  “You should get some sleep,” he decided. “There’s a fireplace in both bedrooms, so one’s as good as another.”

  I hesitated.

  We would never get that moment back again. Maybe it was for the best.

  I turned and went upstairs with my suitcase in one hand, and the blanket closed tight around my neck with the other.

  I felt his eyes on me as I climbed the creaky stairs, but he didn’t say a word.

  9

  Konstantin

  That was a long night. All nights were long for me, but that one was the worst. I hadn’t brought anything to keep me occupied. No television, of course. No electricity. Nothing to do but think.

  Which was what I didn’t want to do. Which was why I had started drowning out my thoughts with hours of television in the first place.

  I leaned my head back against the chair—furniture had been so uncomfortable at one time. Form over function. Not that it mattered whether I was comfortable. Such things had stopped mattering long before now.

  The hearth was what did it. An old-fashioned, brick hearth. Deep. The sort my mother used for cooking. The hours we had spent around the hearth together, my family. At the end of a long, cold night, it was the best place to be. We didn’t have to talk or do much of anything. Simply being together, staring into the fire, was enough. Not like modern families with their technology and distractions.

  Maybe that was why we had been so happy. We never had to think about happiness, of course. It wasn’t a conscious pursuit back then. Still, I remembered a deep, sure well of contentment in those quiet, family moments.

  Until he found me.

  Ralf.

  He was my Sire and the reason for my never ending torment. He had created me and created the slavery I labored under. I owed him, and I owed him nothing, at the same time.

  I looked across from me, to the other chair where Monika had sat. I could almost see her there, with the light from the fire turning the auburn in her hair to copper.

  Her image dissolved, replaced by my sister. Margery had the same sort of color, while Beatrice had inherited Father’s dark hair and green eyes. As I had. They used to tease me, as sisters did, and I gave as good as I got.

  Until the night I went hunting alone.

  Until I couldn’t stay away from them anymore.

  The sound of Monika’s footsteps on the stairs startled me—I would’ve noticed sooner if I hadn’t been so deep inside the horror of that last night around the hearth.

  I leapt to my feet, instantly on the alert.

  “What happened?” I asked, going to her, looking upstairs.

  “Nothing.” She rubbed her bleary eyes. “I’m sorry to give you the wrong idea. Everything’s fine. I was having trouble sleeping. I know you don’t sleep, so…”

  “Of course.” I stepped aside.

  She hesitated for a moment before going to the fire, warming her hands in front of it. Then, she sat, still with a blanket around her shoulders.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were doing down here,” she whispered. “And I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier. Maybe that was why I couldn’t sleep, because I felt too much guilt and embarrassment.”

  “You don’t have to. Really.” I sat back down, not far from where she was.

  “We don’t need to talk,” she decided. “I mean, we can just sit here. I know you were thinking or watching or whatever, so… you can just go back to that and pretend I’m not here. It’s enough to sit here and not be alone.”

  She looked at me.

  I looked away.

  “I was thinking. That much is true,” I admitted. I was careful to keep my eyes turned toward the fire. “I’m not sure it’s anything you’d be keen on hearing.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Fine, then it’s nothing I’m keen on sharing,” I said with half-smile to temper my words.

  “That’s a different story.”

  I looked around as all the old memories crashed together in my head, and I didn’t want to hold them inside.

  It had been too long. Speaking of my people would make them real again, and they deserved that. They had lived.

  “This place… it reminds me of the home I grew up in. There was only the one floor. We slept on straw covered in blankets. It was the way life was in those days, the family sharing a floor. We had a hearth, like this one, and the table around which we sat when we took our meals. My parents, my two sisters, and I. Coming here has brought the memories back, strong as ever.”

  “I’m sure you miss them,” she whispered.

  “I do. I miss a great many things. I envy them at times, too. They have their rest. They lived good, honest lives and have gone to their reward. Whatever that is. Even if it’s nothing but darkness and emptiness, it’s better than some of the alternative.”

  She was at a loss.

  I felt the confusion clouding her judgment, the way I could feel her cloudy judgment regarding me.

  Us.

  Only there was no us. I had to make that crystal clear. There was no such thing as us.

  “Is your life really that bad?” she asked.

  “It’s better if we don’t talk much about my life, or what I’m thinking.” I got up and did a scan of the stony stretch outside the window.

  The sky was turning gray, meaning morning wasn’t far off. Darkness concealed too many threats.

  “Why not?”

  She couldn’t see me close my eyes, or the way I bit my lip to keep from snapping at her.

  She insisted on asking stupid questions, prying into things she had no business knowing about, forcing me to admit things I had no intention of ever telling a living soul.

  “Do you know the worst part?” I asked, barely whispering, still gazing out at a sky lightening more with every passing minute.

  “What?”

  “The way I can’t fight you. Not for long, at any rate. Because you’re in my head—only it’s more than that. I didn’t know it was happening until it had already happened. When a vampire imprints on a witch, he knows what he’s in for. He can steel himself against her from the first moment and every moment thereafter. Over time, it’s easier.”

  I turned my head to look down at her, still wrapped in her blanket by the fire.

  “I wasn’t able to do that with you, Monika, because I didn’t know of the switch. The damage has been done. We’re too deeply connected now.”

  And if that weren’t bad enough, the way her face lit up like the sky after a storm would’ve been. Everything she thought or felt was written there for me to see.

  “So it isn’t just me,” she breathed, beaming.

  “You have to see why this is dangerous. It’s no good fo
r you to know too much about me, or to ask questions. Especially when I want to tell you everything.” I turned away again, smashing my fist against the window frame.

  The wood splintered.

  “You can. I want you to.” Her voice was a seductive whisper. Calling to me, begging me, pleading to be heard.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I snarled softly, watching as the first beams of true sunlight appeared on the horizon.

  I couldn’t look at her. It was too dangerous.

  “I’m not trying to do anything to you. I’m not, I swear.”

  “But you are. Damn you. Damn Marissa.” I hung my head. “Damn me.”

  It was too late for that. I was already damned.

  I smelled my skin sizzling an instant before I felt it and jumped back from the window, throwing myself into the darkest corner as I howled in agony.

  “The sun!” I yelled, pulling my v-neck shirt off so it wouldn’t run against the exposed skin of my throat and upper chest.

  I was blistering already as pain seared through my soul.

  “What? Why?” Monika jumped up and rushed to me, kneeling in front of my crouching body. “Here. Let me see.”

  “No! Don’t touch.” I squeezed my eyes shut and gasped for air. I had never known physical pain like it.

  “The spell! The Ra-Protection!” Monika covered her face with her hands. “You’ve imprinted on me, but I never performed the spell!”

  Of course.

  Another thoughtless act on Marissa’s part. Maybe not so thoughtless, though, when I thought about it. “She hasn’t asked me to leave my room or the house in daylight since before you left for your trip,” I realized, hissing through gritted teeth. “She knew this would happen.”

  “She must have forgotten to warn us,” she said, disgusted. “I know the spell. I can perform it now.”

  “What about this?” I grunted, struggling to control myself so I could control the pain and failing miserably.

  Every move was agony, and the sun had only touched part of my throat and a few inches of my chest. What if I hadn’t been wearing a shirt?

  “We’ll see what happens. Here. Lie down.” She backed up to give me room, and I stretched out on my back. Her hands hovered inches over my abdomen as she closed her eyes and lifted her head.

  I didn’t understand the words. They were in a language foreign to my ears, something which had already been ancient even when I was born.

  Her voice was lyrical, almost gliding from one word to the next, weaving a tapestry around the two of us as she asked for Ra’s sacred help and protection against the sun’s deadly rays.

  I let her lull me into an almost painless state as I looked up into her beautiful face.

  She was so good, so innocent.

  I had blamed our situation on her, the fact that she bought the sword at all, but she did it for me. She wouldn’t have if her mother hadn’t deceived us.

  Her full lips parted slightly as she murmured on and on, and she seemed to glow from the inside.

  My hands ached to touch her.

  Silence spread over the room as the spell ended, and I gasped when I realized the pain was gone. The surprise was the only thing that could’ve kept me from taking her in my arms just then. I touched ginger fingertips to my throat, and felt nothing but light scarring.

  She opened her eyes and let out a cross between a laugh and a sob. “I really hoped that would work,” she gasped, chuckling without a sound. Her hands shook slightly as she lowered them to my chest.

  “Why are you shaking?” I asked, covering her hands with mine.

  “Because… you’re mine, now. At least for a while. I was supposed to protect you, the way you protect me. And I failed.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “If you had been hurt worse… if you had died…” She turned her head to the side, eyes closed. “I’m sorry. You’re right, of course. Just ignore me. I’ll learn how to deal with all this emotional stuff. I won’t make it any harder on you.”

  I stood at the edge of a cliff with a choice to make. Step back, away from the danger. Step forward and fall headlong into something I knew would only make things infinitely worse.

  I knew what was ahead of me as I sat partway up and took her face in my hand, turning it toward me.

  I kissed away the salty tears before finding her waiting mouth.

  Blood lust was never anything like this.

  The same all-consuming need swept over me as always, but it wasn’t blood I needed.

  It was her.

  I slid my hand around to the back of her head and held her closer, opening her mouth with my tongue and plunging inside.

  Her groan vibrated against my lips and sent my passion soaring.

  Suddenly, nothing else mattered but everything about her.

  10

  Monika

  I sighed, stretching. Happy.

  His body wasn’t exactly warm, but with the fire at my back, it didn’t matter. His muscular shoulder made a good pillow.

  “If anybody had told me a couple of months ago that we would end up this way, I would never have believed it. I probably would’ve recommended psychiatric help,” I murmured with a smile.

  “That’s not a glowing recommendation,” he chuckled.

  “You know what I mean. Would you believe anybody if they told you about this? That you would be sleeping with a witch one day?”

  “No.” Just like that. Flat. No tone. Just no.

  “See? But here we are. Life can surprise.”

  “Just when I thought there were no surprises left,” he whispered.

  I craned my neck so I could see his face. “A happy surprise, I hope.”

  “What do you think?” He looked down at me with a tender smile before kissing my forehead. “I hope I was all right for you. It’s been a long time.”

  “Better than all right.” I was still quivering inside and wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk if I tried. His smile widened a little, and I felt his pride.

  “I can say, with all honesty, that I can’t remember the last time I had such great sex.”

  I laughed—a sense of humor wasn’t what I expected from him, not after so many years of him being serious as a heart attack. Gloomy, glowering.

  The light coming through the window had turned warm and soft.

  I realized with a start that we had been together all day, right here, like this, doing things that made me marvel.

  My stomach rumbled accordingly. “I haven’t eaten all day,” I announced. “I only brought a few protein bars with me to keep me going until things got settled.”

  “Protein bars? I don’t even like the sound of that.” He sat up and watched me pad across the room to the little counter by the sink, where I’d left my purse.

  I pulled two foil-wrapped bars from it before returning, and could feel his eyes following my every move. I was completely naked, of course, and my face tingled with a blush.

  “Why are you so shy?” he asked as I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and sat on the second blanket we’d spread on the floor.

  “Can’t I keep my most shameful feelings to myself?” I asked with a humorless chuckle before biting into my breakfast. Or was it a late lunch?

  “You’re right. It’s poor form for a Nightwarden to remind a witch that he can read her feelings. Forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” I smiled, placing my hand over the one he used to stroke my knee. “But as long as you asked, it’s because… I don’t know… you’ve never seen me like this before and it’s one thing to see me naked when we’re in the middle of something, but another to see me walk across the room with nothing on. Have you ever heard humans talk about beer goggles?”

  He frowned. “I think so. When a person is so drunk, everything looks good to them.”

  “Something like that,” I giggled. “There are lust goggles, too. That’s what I mean.”

  “Ah. I see. You don’t have to worry about that—you look j
ust as good to me as ever.”

  My cheeks burned furiously,.

  He smiled. “It’s true. If I looked half as good as you, I don’t know that I would ever put clothes on.”

  That got me to laugh, and I threw my head back as I did. “Please! You look like an underwear model!”

  “I don’t know what that is, but I take it you’re giving me a compliment.”

  “A very strong compliment,” I agreed as I polished off the first bar.

  Not as satisfying as actual food, but it would do.

  His hands slid up my thighs. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” The tone of his voice had changed, becoming deeper and more intimate.

  The energy between us changed, too, and I welcomed it. He leaned in to kiss me—gently, but his lips lingered a little longer than they needed to and sent shivers down my spine.

  “Mmm. Chocolate?” He licked the corner of his mouth.

  “Or what passes for chocolate when it’s supposed to be healthy,” I grinned. “Do you like chocolate?”

  “It’s all right. I wouldn’t seek it out. But I used to have a terrible sweet tooth—my mother used to scold me for stealing treats. Said she couldn’t make them fast enough.” His smile was tender, sweet, full of regret.

  I reached out to cup his cheek in my palm.

  “I can tell you loved them very much.”

  “I did. I suppose I still do. That sort of connection never goes away. It’s not like imprinting, when the connection fades as blood leaves the system.”

  That struck me—I could tell he didn’t know what he was saying or how it would sound to my ears, because he didn’t so much as flinch.

  Deep down, I knew our connection wouldn’t last forever. He didn’t need to bring it up, though.

  “Which reminds me: do you need to feed?” I couldn’t look into his eyes when I asked.

  I’d never forget the sight of him feeding from my mother, sucking greedily from the wrist he held in his clawed hands while she closed her eyes and submitted to him. It was horrifying and intimate and too much for me to process all at once.