Descended by Blood (26 page)

“Mirko?” I gasped. Tears filled my eyes and a relieved sob escaped my throat. I didn’t pay any attention to the other man who stepped out of the back of the car and onto the concrete, or the men who moments ago, had prepared to attack me.

Mirko sped toward me, jumping up and sliding his hip along the trunk of the car to get to me. He caught me under my arms and lifted me in the air, spinning me in a tight embrace. The ruffles in my gown expanded, encircling us in an amethyst river of silk.

He dropped me enough that my feet touched the ground, but he didn’t release me. He pressed his lips to mine, saying everything that words did not: fear, excitement, passion, and power.

When he withdrew, his eyes blazed with flecks of copper, and his lips curled. “I love you,” he said and linked his lips to mine again.

At that moment, I knew I felt the same way for him.

32

What Is It?

A man’s voice broke through my haze, and it held a force and authority within that caused me to remember my surroundings. “You will not seek retribution,” the man said. He had been the one to step out of the Mercedes along with Mirko and another gentleman.

Mirko grabbed me by my waist and tucked me behind him.

I snorted. I had just killed Jelena, and he still thought I needed to hide behind him.

Commissioner Abdul-Hakeem swore. “She did not have our permission to kill Jelena. It is our right to seek revenge.”

“And it should also be my right to kill each of you for your scheme against me. Jelena belonged to my blood, and I am calling for a cease in your vengeance,” the man said.

I sucked in a deep breath, and my eyes widened. This man before me was Zladislov, the ruler of the vampire world.

My father.

At first, I felt fear and wanted to run, but then it dawned on me that he ordered these men off me. Did he care for me? Did he know his daughter waited anxiously behind him? He must have known something if he’d driven here with Mirko.

My father, the man who I had wondered about for the past sixteen years, stood an arm’s reach in front of me. I wanted him to turn around so I could see if I had his blue eyes.

“You may be correct about that right now, but that is your abomination,” Commissioner Abdul-Hakeem said, pointing to me, “and it will not go unanswered.”

My father growled, a formidable and menacing rumble from deep within his chest. “Get out of here before I change my mind about sparing your lives.”

Pijawikas began to disperse, but the commissioners remained for a few seconds in angry reluctance. When they had finally walked far enough away that they appeared to be leaving, my father turned to Mirko and I.

“Hello, Brooke,” my father said, with a grin on his face brighter than the glare from the sun.

Joy filled my heart. I did have his blue eyes. The outer corners of my eyelids even curved the same when I smiled.

“Hi,” I said sheepishly. What do you say to a man you’ve wanted to talk to your whole life? And I looked like a mess, too. I had blood smeared all over my face and my dress was dirty and torn.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, but I need to go take care of this,” my father said, pointing to the doors that led into the hotel.

I nodded, sad that our first meeting was cut short.

He locked his gaze on Mirko. “Take her home, and keep her safe.” He put his hand out and the gentleman standing beside him placed a set of keys inside my father’s palm. They clanked and jingled as my father passed them to Mirko.

“Let’s go,” Mirko said, and he stood by the driver’s side door, watching me over the rooftop until I had gotten into the passenger side and closed the door behind me.

* * *

“Kaitlynn and Jaren?” I asked Mirko as soon as he pulled the car up the ramp and out into the sunlight on the road.

“Kaitlynn left on the plane with her guards, but Jaren wouldn’t budge. Part of the deal we made was that he couldn’t come on the actual rescue mission when we found you. He’s waiting at Zladislov’s,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s a persistent little punk.”

Mirko gazed at me, fierce emotion in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, Slatki. You actually did it. You took Jelena down all by yourself. Banged up a little bit, but no burn marks. I almost can’t believe it.”

I smiled, big headed. “I told you I was hard core.” I laughed. “But I had to use a new power to do it.”

“Oh, really?” Mirko grinned and raised an eyebrow. “And what was that?”

“I teleported.”

Mirko stared at me, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, I disappeared and ended up somewhere else. Instantaneously.”

He shook his head. “I got that part. I’m stunned only because there hasn’t been anyone who could do that in generations.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve heard of people having that power in the past, but they’re all long gone now.”

“Hmm. That must be why Lijepa couldn’t figure out why my power tasted so funny.” I smiled, knowing Lijepa would be proud of me.

“I always knew you were a special one, Slatki,” Mirko said, grabbing my hand.

He held it until just before we arrived, and I was too anxious to sit still. I’d had my chance to hold Mirko and see his face again, and I was excited to do the same with Jaren.

When Mirko parked the car, I shot out of my seat and darted toward the door. I slowed down and turned back, hesitation on my face, my shoulders sagging. I loved Mirko, but I also loved Jaren, and I couldn’t wait to see him.

Mirko shook his head. “Go ahead. He’s been as worried for you as I have.”

My heart swelled for Mirko at that moment. He wasn’t handing me over to Jaren, but he could accept the fact that I loved each of them and needed them both, but in different ways. I’m not sure he’d always be this understanding, but right now, I was grateful for it.

“Thank you,” I said and turned around, dashing toward the door.

I flung the bulky oak door aside and ran down a large hall. The house wasn’t as massive or affluent as Jelena’s had been, but my father’s decor screamed esoteric.

“Jaren?” My excitement echoed along the walls.

“Brooke?” Jaren asked, ratcheting up my excitement further.

I ran faster toward the sound, passing paintings and adornments hanging from the walls.

I recognized one, so I halted.

A gold, circular emblem suspended from the ceiling and draped along the center of the rich maroon wall. It looked like a sun with rays jutting out from the center, but the beams were beveled like the spokes from a ship’s wheel. And resting in the heart of the crest sparkled the largest ruby I’d ever seen.

“Brooke,” Jaren said, reaching me and pulling me into a hug. It took me a moment to break my gaze from the emblem, but when I did, I was thrilled to see him.

I stood on the tips of my toes and pressed my lips to his. It was my rain after a drought, but I couldn’t enjoy it with what hung before me. I pushed him back a step.

“What is it?” He asked, then lowered his brows in concern. “Are you okay?” He gently touched the side of my beaten face.

“Look,” I said, mouth parched. I grabbed his arm and turned him to face the wall.

“Yeah. It’s Zladislov’s znak.”

My knees trembled in fear. I gaped at him and my pulse pounded in my ears. “It’s also the same znak the woman who tried to kill me at the airport wore around her neck.”

The worry on his face mirrored mine, and my heart pounded so hard and fast that I thought I might hear it echoing in the hallway.

I grabbed his hand and ran alongside him toward the door that I had burst through moments ago.

###

Turn the page for a sneak peek of Dirty Blood by Heather Hildenbrand.

Dirty Blood

 
1

“
C’mon
Tara, you didn’t even give tonight a fair chance,” George said. His blue eyes were a mixture of pleading and irritation.

I returned the pool stick to the rack on the wall and tried to think of a fair answer before I turned to face him again. I was careful to keep my voice down; the tiny pool hall was pretty crowded for a Tuesday night. The smoky haze that hung permanently in the dimly lit air gave the illusion of privacy around our corner table, but I noticed the couple next to us was already glancing over, trying to look like they weren’t listening.

“George, you were an hour late picking me up because you were working on a press release with your agent.” I stepped closer. “Your agent,” I repeated, shaking my head. “Seriously. You haven’t even graduated yet, much less secured a scholarship. Why do you even need an agent?”

He ran a hand through his hair, evidence of his impatience, though he was careful to keep his tone light, in an attempt to win me to his way of thinking. “I told you already, my dad set it up. And a lot of the pros got one early, especially the big timers. And I’m sorry I was late, but I’m here now and I’m focused on us.” His expression became accusing and he added, “More than I can say for you.”

I rubbed at my temples, trying in vain to massage away the stress headache that had become a trademark of our relationship. “I’m sorry, George, but I’m not the one who messed things up. And I don’t fault you for a change in priorities. Football is important to you. That’s fine, but it’s pushing out everything else, including me. It would make it easier for you to just admit it.”

“You’re wrong, I can do both,” he insisted, shaking his head vigorously. His loose blond hair shook with it.

“You’ve cancelled on me three times in the last week,” I argued. “Not to mention standing me up two nights ago.”

“Tay-” he began, using his nickname for me.

I put my hand up to silence him. I couldn’t do this anymore. “Just stop, George. Stop with all the excuses. It’s just not going to work. You should go. I’ll find my own ride home.”

George stared back at me and I waited for him to argue some more. The tone of regret in my voice had been obvious, but so had the finality of my words. Finally he sighed.

“I’m going to find a way to fix this,” he said quietly.

I didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. Reluctantly, he grabbed his jacket and left. I watched him until the door swung shut behind him and then turned back to our half finished game. I went to the wall and retrieved my stick, as if the breakup I’d just initiated didn’t bother me one bit, and lined up my next shot.

I ignored the curious looks from the nosy couple beside me and focused on sinking the three ball. Only a small twinge of regret ate at me while I finished the game. I hadn’t wanted things to end with George. We’d known each other since sixth grade, and in a lot of ways, he was my best friend. I cared about him a lot. But he’d changed in the past few months. At first, it was so slow I’d barely noticed. We’d go two days without talking – a record for us at the time – which slowly turned into a missed date or a last minute changing in plans. Then, he got an agent, and it was only downhill from there. And while I hated thinking I was throwing away everything we’d ever been to each other, I wasn’t going to be a ‘back-burner’ girlfriend, either. A girl had to have some self respect.

With the game finished, and my pride somewhat still intact over letting a pool hall full of strangers witness my breakup, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my friend Angela for a ride home.

“Hello?”

“Ang, you busy?” I asked, doubting she was.

There was a second of hesitation and then, “Um, Dave and I are having dinner.”

“Dave? That guy from your pre-Calculus class?” I knew my surprise came through, maybe a little too loud and clear, and I felt bad for the way it had come out. “That’s great,” I hastily added. And it was great. Angela had been harboring a crush for this guy for like four months now. And it wasn’t that she couldn’t get a date; she was really pretty with her long dark hair and sexy-librarian-style glasses, but she was mortifyingly shy.

“Thanks. We just ordered so…. Is everything okay? Are you already home from your date?”Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Never mind.” I decided against interrupting her. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow and I want details.”

Angela giggled and I pulled the phone away from my head to stare at it like maybe it had just morphed into another life form. Angela never
giggled.
“Okay, see you tomorrow,” she said.

We disconnected and I dialed my friend Sam. Even if she was out, I wouldn’t feel nearly as bad interrupting her; Sam was always ‘out’. Unfortunately, all I got was voice mail. Darn. I disconnected without leaving a message. No point. She rarely checked it anyway.

The only option left was to call my mom but I quickly dismissed that. No doubt she’d have questions as to why I’d gotten myself stranded in the first place. Which would lead to what happened with George, which was something that, even though I loved her, I didn’t really feel like discussing with my mother. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t listen. The problem was, she’d listen too eagerly. My mother was a classic worrier, and because of that, she hovered. She always wanted to know every single detail of my day, down to what I’d had for lunch and who did I stand next to in gym. And it seemed like the older I got, the worse her worrying became. No way was I calling her.

With all my transportation options exhausted, I sort of regretted letting George leave. Only sort of, though. If he’d driven me, it would have extended the argument or his pleading attempts to change my mind, which in the end would’ve pissed me off. And I was still hoping to maybe salvage our friendship.

I turned my rack of balls in to the bar attendant and walked to the door. I stood there, staring out the foggy glass of the front window, and considered my last resort. There was a bus stop a few blocks away. Not ideal in the middle of February in northern Virginia but it was all I had. I yanked my arms into my coat sleeves and headed for the back hall, past the restrooms, to the back door which would give me a minimal shortcut through the alley that ran between the building and the public parking lot on the other side. The cut-through would shave at least five minutes off my travel time, which was five minutes less I would have to stand in the cold -and I despised the cold.