Blood Rights (15 page)

He relaxed. ‘Yes, we have faith you will. Or we will find another.’ He continued circling. The scrape of his hooves abraded her nerves.

‘We don’t want to find another, child. You understand that. But we want the covenant abolished as soon as possible.’

‘As do I, my liege.’ Neither did she want to give up the power that would be hers. She’d been through too much already. She braced herself for whatever he might deal her. For such power, she could withstand anything. She repeated the word like a mantra. Anything, anything …

‘Good. Do you have a sacrifice in place? You know what we require—’

‘The light and the dark shall collide, and the covenant shall be broken.’
She quoted the old text, knowing it would please him and hoping it would hide the fact that she had no sacrifice and no idea where to get it.

‘Yes, that is the way of it. You are the darkest of all our children, the one in whom we are most pleased.’ The shadows disappeared from his lower half. An unstoppable shudder ran
through her at the sight of him. Her words had pleased him more than she’d expected. She swallowed a mouthful of bile. He kneeled on the bed and ran a claw up her thigh. She shivered and his mouth pulled back in a frightening smile.

‘Your pound of flesh is due.’

M
al’s scent tugged Chrysabelle from her dreams, waking her with the cool promise of more. She opened her eyes to slits. Definitely not the cot she’d slept in the other night. Too comfortable. She was on her side in this strange bed, staring at a wall of old books. A soft circle of light washed over her from a squat candle under a hurricane lantern on the night table.

And everything – the bed linens, the air, her skin – smelled like the vampire’s dark, spicy scent. Wait. That must mean this was his bed. Oh no. No, no, no. She held her breath for a moment as the possibilities made her blush with horror. The blood sickness. Sweet holy mother, what had she done?

She forced that horrible prospect out of her head and took stock of herself. Her head was clear. The fever gone. Her body held no unfamiliar soreness, except … a faint pang in her arm and a dull throb in her foot.

Using her elbows, she pushed to a sitting position and extended her bare arm. The covers fell down around her waist. Air cooled her skin and her signum winked back in the candlelight. Why was she only in her bra and – she lifted the sheet –
underwear? First things first. On her arm, medical tape held a puff of cotton to the inside of her elbow. She hooked her nail underneath and peeled it off. A tiny pinpoint of red marked her skin.

Not only had someone stripped her down to her underwear, they’d drained her. At once she felt relieved and violated and scared. Who had undressed her? How had they … disposed of the excess blood? That blood was hers to give or not. Those rights reverted back to her with Algernon’s death. Had the vampire … She closed her eyes against the thought and inhaled in hopes of finding some calm before investigating her foot. The thickness of his scent spoiled the air for a proper breath.
Please, don’t let my freedom be so short-lived.

The tiniest sound, like skin brushing leather, brought her head up. Beyond the circle of light, all was black, but in the far corner, the shadows were darker than the rest.

No wonder his scent choked her. He was in the room, watching.

She tugged the sheet to her throat, covering all but the signum on her hands. She glared in his direction. ‘Show yourself.’

Light flared as he struck a match and lit a squat candle on the small table beside him. ‘Didn’t want to disturb your sleep.’ He shook the match out. The extra glow illuminated more of the room. Additional shelves, all packed with books. Any bare space on the walls held a collection of long swords. Other than that, there was nothing personal, nothing to indicate the room’s occupant held anything or anyone dear.

‘So you left a candle burning on the table next to me?’ She tucked her knees to her chest. ‘Your concern is touching.’ And his need to watch her unnerving. He’d left that candle lit to see her better. And her signum too, no doubt.

Silver shifted through his eyes. ‘You’re feeling better.’ He stood, and without invitation moved his leather chair next to the bed. A bruise grayed his left cheek and surrounded his eye. And he’d shaved, revealing a hard jaw.

‘Who undressed me?’

‘You did.’

She didn’t remember doing that, but better than at someone else’s hands. She peered over the edge of the bed. Nothing. ‘Where are my clothes? I’d like to put them back on.’

‘They’re in the gym.’ Mal’s eyes stayed on her face, but he’d probably seen his fill of the rest of her last night.

‘Why are they—’

‘You didn’t want them, and when you passed out, it became a nonissue.’

‘I took my clothes off in the gym.’ And he’d obviously been there to witness it, which meant he’d seen her signum. All of them. Mortification heated her cheeks.

‘No, you took your clothes off in the holding cell. Not sure if that happened before or after you kicked the door down.’

She pressed her forehead to her knees and fought the shame burning her eyes. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘No.’

‘Get out.’ She yelled the words into the sheet.

‘Not until we talk.’

‘I’m done talking.’ She sniffed, hating her own weakness.

‘You haven’t begun to talk, Chrysabelle.’

She looked up. ‘How do you know that name?’

‘You corrected me when I called you Anna yesterday.’

Self-pity turned to anger. ‘Did everyone get a good look at my signum yesterday too? I’m sure that gave you a nice thrill, hmm? Watching the blood-drunk comarré stumble around half-naked?’
She clenched her jaw against the rage. She wanted to hit something. Anything. Him. ‘You’re a monster.’

‘Yes, I am.’ He leaned back. ‘And yet you’re in my bed, broken foot tended, fever free, and clearheaded enough to vent all over me.’ He kicked his feet up on the edge of the mattress. ‘Go ahead, I think I can manage not to walk into the sun from the guilt.’

‘You think this is funny?’ She tugged the sheet free, knocking his legs off the bed, and wrapped it around herself. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘Suit yourself.’ He grabbed the corner of the sheet and yanked it off her, spinning her on her good foot. ‘But the sheet is mine. It stays.’

His eyes didn’t keep to her face this time. ‘Not sure which one of us has more marks. I like yours a hell of a lot more than mine.’ Tossing the sheet to the foot of the bed, he got up, walked back to the small table, and picked up a book. He kept his back to her while he paged through it. ‘You can get back in bed and rest, or I’ll carry you to another room and you can rest there, but you’re not leaving and we both know it.’

Carry her? ‘I am leaving.’ Although her foot had begun to throb harder.

‘To go where?’

‘Back to my au—my friend’s house.’

‘If someone’s after you, would you take that danger back to your friend?’ He waited and when she didn’t answer, continued. ‘You obviously came here for a reason. What is it?’

She tried to see into his thick head. ‘Why do you want to help me all of a sudden?’

He flipped a page. ‘Didn’t say I would help. But I will listen. After what you did for Fi, I’ll do that much.’

‘I want my clothes.’ She paused. ‘After I did what for Fi?’

‘You tore your shirt down the middle, but your pants are still—’

‘After I did
what
for Fi?’

‘Your blood. She’s been solid ever since. Without working at it either.’

‘You … you put my blood into her?’ She collapsed onto the bed, no longer caring if she was half-naked. He’d taken her blood, then given it away like it was his to give. That was not supposed to happen. Did that even count? ‘My blood. You put my blood into a ghost?’

‘She was corporeal at the time.’ He turned around. ‘It seemed like the best solution for both of you.’ He scowled. ‘Plus I owed Fi.’

She shook her head, disbelief clogging her throat. ‘That was my blood. Mine to give or not. You had no right to do what you did.’

He took a step toward her. ‘So we should have let you die? Because that’s the direction you were headed in.’ Then another step. ‘Or are you just disappointed because I didn’t personally suck it out of you? Maybe I should have given in to you in the gym and done what you were begging me to do.’

‘Stop.’ She bent her head and wished she could hide. Wished she’d never come to this horrid city. Wished Algernon was still alive. ‘No.’

‘We did what we thought best. None of us are comarré experts, and you haven’t exactly given us much to go on.’

She studied the leafy tendrils of signum curling up her thighs. Loathing the way they tied her to so much power and responsibility. She didn’t want it. Not anymore. Not ever again. ‘I want my clothes.’

‘Here.’ A flutter of movement, and a black T-shirt landed in
her lap. It was oddly cool and redolent with his scent. She glanced up. He was bare-chested. The names written on him seemed as much a part of the shadows as he was, moving and flickering with the candlelight. Pulling her gaze from him was difficult, but she knew what it meant to be stared at. Neither did she want to give him the satisfaction of thinking she found anything about him interesting. Because she didn’t, despite the fact that she’d never seen a naked male torso before his.

‘I don’t wear black.’ She bent down to hide herself and pulled the shirt on anyway.

‘Some of us have no choice.’ Book under his arm, he returned to the chair and settled in. He put the book on his lap and held out his hand. ‘Give me one of those pillows.’

She tossed one to him, then pointed at the bruise on his cheek. ‘Did I do that?’

‘No, but it amuses me that you think you could have. You have a rather lofty opinion of yourself, don’t you, comarré?’ He arranged the pillow at the bottom of the bed, then patted it. ‘Foot.’

She kept her mouth shut and frowned. He read her curious look correctly. ‘It’s supposed to be elevated.’

Reluctantly, she stretched her leg across the sateen sheets. Not silk, but not a bad substitute. At least he found money for the important things. He caught her ankle and held it in his hand as he stuffed the pillow beneath. The touch was less unpleasant than she’d hoped it would be. ‘There. Now, who’s after you?’

Her fingers worried the shirt’s hem. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

He sat still, staring at her like he was thinking. Too long, she thought. ‘Why don’t you want me to know your name?’

‘I’m … anathema.’

‘Quelle surprise.’
She stared back, incredulous. ‘You think I haven’t figured that out?’

‘I could be fringe.’

‘Nice try, but your eyes go silver and you can shift your face.’

‘Then how do you know I’m not nobility?’

‘Living here?’ She laughed at the absurdity of him thinking she might mistake him for anything else but anathema. At this point, finding anything funny was a gift. ‘Look around you. This isn’t the Grand Palace. You have no staff—’

‘I have Doc and Fi.’

‘Like I said, no staff. No blood source. You’re about as anathema as a vampire can get, I imagine.’

He shrugged. ‘So the freighter’s a tip-off. Big deal.’

‘Please. I’ve basically known since that night at the club.’

‘How?’

She lifted one shoulder. ‘A vamp who drinks animal blood smells different. Nobility never drink animal blood. Plus, you were very hungry that night, and nobility never get to that point. Also, you were alone. I figured you were either Nothos or anathema.’

‘How could you think I was Nothos?’

‘I’ve never seen one. Of course, when I dropped you in that alley like a used tissue—’

‘Lucky shot.’ A vein popped out on his forehead. ‘Plus I was weak.’

‘You still are.’

He growled softly. She put her hands up. ‘I just mean you don’t drink enough human blood and you don’t drink it from the vein. You’re not half the strength you could be.’

‘I do what I have to.’

‘Why?’ What was he hiding? No vampire abjured human
blood without an exceptionally good reason. And there really were no good reasons when it came to vampires.