Last Blood (2 page)

Dropping her hand, Chrysabelle laughed. “Hardcore it is then.” She raised her brows. “There’s a catch.”

“Does this have to do with—”

Before Fi could say “Mal” Chrysabelle spoke. “Remember how you offered to help me with changing my look? I’m ready.”

Fi’s eyes widened. “You are? Sweet! This is going to be so much fun.” She reached into the expensive-looking handbag hanging off her shoulder and pulled out a small bejeweled rectangle. She tapped the face, causing it to light up, then tapped another button and held it up to her mouth. “Pull samples for Chrysabelle.” Then she dropped
the device back into her purse. “I love that phone. So much better than the comcell I used to have. I’ll be over in the morning and we’ll get started.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Bring a change of clothes and we can have your first lesson afterward.”

“I will.” Fi started toward the door, then stopped and twisted back. “It’s probably none of my business, but have you talked to Mal? I’ve been by the freighter but either he hasn’t been home or he’s avoiding me. I know things went south for you guys. I’m sorry about that. I really am.”

South? If hell was in that direction, then yes, things had gone south. Chrysabelle took a deep breath, willing it to calm her. “Thank you. No, I haven’t talked to him.” She turned a little, hiding her face. “He doesn’t love me anymore, Fi. I don’t have the slightest idea what to do about that. He was pretty adamant when he left here that I stay out of his life.”

Fi walked back. “I know Mal and if he loved you once, he’ll love you again. You still love him, right?”

There was no holding back the hitch in her breath that time. A shuddered exhale and when she found her voice, it wavered with the emotions she was trying to put behind her. “Of course, I love him. That’s why this hurts so much.” She closed her eyes, partially to hold back tears and partially to shut out the pain, but the ever-present ache she’d felt since losing Mal only blossomed in the dark.

“Then we’ll find a way to remind him of that.”

Opening her eyes, Chrysabelle shook her head. “I don’t think—”

“He feels things more deeply than you can imagine. Trust me. I used to live in that tortured head of his,
remember? His curse would have never worked if he’d been completely without remorse. Somewhere deep inside, his love for you still exists just like yours does. Love doesn’t just go away.”

She stared at Fi. “Yes, it does. That’s exactly what happened.”

The ghost girl shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“Fi, you didn’t see the way he looked at me.” She swallowed, the memories she’d been working so hard to shut out now engulfing her. “He called me…
food
.”

With a soft whimper, Fi put her arms around Chrysabelle and hugged her. “That’s awful. Awful. But it sounds like the voices talking, not Mal. Don’t write him off completely, okay?”

Chrysabelle nodded, but it wasn’t a promise of anything. If Mal had truly reverted to the monster he’d once been, then he really was lost to her. There was no way she was letting that version of him near her. Or their child.

She’d kill him first.

Corvinestri, Romania

Tatiana clutched the pillows to her face. Octavian’s side of the bed still held his dark, sweet scent. An exhausted sob shuddered through her as she inhaled what was left of him, punishing herself for falling in love with yet another man who’d betrayed her.

“My lady?”

Tatiana ignored Kosmina and stayed face down in the pillows, grief pressing her into the bed, betrayal raking down her spine.

“My lady, Daciana is outside with Jonah.”

The mention of Daci’s young,
willing
comar led to thoughts of Tatiana’s own missing comar. Another male added to the list of her betrayers. An angry growl built in her throat. Somehow, he’d escaped her again. If she ever captured him, she would kill him the instant she could. She forced the growl down to speak, her words muffled by the bedding. “Leave me.”

“It’s been three days, my lady.” And over the course of those three days, Kosmina’s voice had gone from soothing to frustrated. “You must feed.”

“I will feed when I’m ready. Leave. Me.” Another word and she’d snap. Already she teetered on the knife edge of insanity. Blood would spill if she was pushed further.

“Yes, my lady.” Kosmina’s pulse faded as she walked away. The doors to Tatiana’s quarters opened softly, then began to swing shut. A second later they burst open and a new presence flew through them.

“Tati, please get up.” Daciana. The only companion Tatiana had left. The only one she could still trust. “I know you’re grieving, and my heart aches for you, but you can’t give up. There has to be something we can do to get Lilith back.” She sat on the side of the bed and took Tatiana’s hand. “And you need to feed. You’re as cold as marble. You’re only weakening yourself further.”

Tatiana pulled her hand away. “He
betrayed
me.”

“Octavian loved you.” Daciana sighed. “Whatever he did, I can’t help but believe he was forced to do it.”

Tatiana swallowed the anguish creeping up her throat. “No one forced him to kill himself.” The bitterness of those words almost undid her. “I made him my consort, Daci.
I would have
married
him.” She twisted herself upright, pulling her knees to her chest and leaning back against the padded leather headboard. She rocked back, her eyes filling with cold tears. “I’m such a fool. I believed every word he fed me. And the whole time, he was just stringing me along, using me for Hades knows what.”

Daciana’s shoulders slumped. “Tati, you don’t know—”

She stopped rocking. “Like hell I don’t. Why do you think he killed himself? Because he knew I’d do it for him when I found out what a traitor he was.” She tore the bed linens off and jumped out of bed. “He cost me my daughter.” She was shaking now, her body trembling with grief that had no outlet.

Silver glinted in Daciana’s eyes, turning her soft expression hard. “Then consider his suicide a gift.”

The words bit into Tatiana’s soul, freshening her pain. “How can you say—”

“Enough.” Daciana stood and planted her hands on her hips. “This isn’t the Tatiana I know. The strong, determined woman who fought her way to the top. You’re the Dominus of the House of Tepes.”

“I know who I am.”

Daciana narrowed her gaze. “Then act like it.”

Tatiana froze in shock. Few spoke to her that way, but Daciana wasn’t just anyone. She was the only family Tatiana had left.

“You know I’m right,” Daciana said. “You need to do something, not lie around in bed moping.”

Tatiana wrapped her arms around her body. Daciana spoke the truth, but Tatiana wasn’t ready to put the pain behind her. It had bitten too deep. Taken too much.

Daciana’s harsh expression softened. “I know you’re
hurting, but you’re not alone in this. Whatever you want to do to get her back, I’m with you.”

Tatiana swallowed, letting Daci’s offer wash through her. She nodded and the darkness shrouding her soul lifted enough to let the light of possibility shine through. “I know what needs to be done, but getting there, finding a way out of this…” The image of Lilith in Samael’s arms, followed by Octavian’s ashes strewn across the floor, flashed in her head. She turned away. “You don’t understand.”

“I do understand.” Daciana strode forward and grasped Tatiana’s shoulders, forcing her to meet Daciana’s gaze. “What has happened to you is more horrible than words can describe, but you’re a fighter. You’ve always been a fighter.”

“And I will be again.” Tatiana shook her head. “Just not now. I need more time.”

Daciana’s lip curled. She drew back and slapped Tatiana across the face. “You’ve had enough time. The nobility is beginning to talk.”

Stunned from Daciana’s attack, Tatiana reeled back, the first frissons of anger breaking through the pain. “Why did you—”

Daciana followed and struck her again.

Before Tatiana could react, Daciana lifted her hand a third time. Rage moved Tatiana forward. She grabbed Daciana’s arm, bent it behind her, and took her to the ground. She crouched overtop Daciana, fangs bared. “Hit me again and I’ll—”

“Finally.” Daciana smiled up at her. “There’s the Tatiana I know. Channel that anger. Let it motivate you.” She
lifted her free hand and flattened it over Tatiana’s heart. “Who caused you all this pain?”

“Malkolm,” Tatiana hissed. “And his comarré whore.”

“Yes.” Daciana nodded.

Tatiana freed Daciana and sat back. “I have let this grief make me soft. No more.”

“That’s it,” Daciana encouraged.

Tatiana stood and lifted her head. “I am
so
sick of them interfering with my life. My plans.” She growled softly, weaving her grief into a suit of armor to protect her for the fight to come. Because fight she would. “If it means sacrificing everything I have left, I’ll get Lilith back and put an end to Malkolm and Chrysabelle once and for all.”

Daciana grabbed Tatiana’s hand and squeezed. “That’s the Tatiana I know and love. Come, feed from Jonah and renew your strength. Then, together, we will find a way to make all of this happen.” Her eyes went bright with promise. “I will never leave your side. You have my word.”

The pledge broke the last of Tatiana’s doubts, opening the way for her anger to take full rein. “If only everyone in my life were as faithful as you.” The wicked smile bent her mouth. “We have work to do.”

M
al followed the human woman, keeping enough distance so she couldn’t see him, but close enough that the dying roses scent of her blood still teased his senses. Human blood. It had been too long.
Too long
, the voices agreed.

Catch her. Drain her
. He didn’t need the urging. The fae who’d taken his love for Chrysabelle had done him a favor, leaving a hole inside him that the beast had slipped into as easily as a knife through flesh. The voices no longer mocked him as they had in the past, perhaps content that he was theirs to control once again.

Ahead of him, the human continued without a clue that she was about to become his dinner. Mesh shopping bags swung from her hands. Food that would never be eaten. Milk that would spoil.

The remaining shreds of control on his humanity had disappeared with the day’s setting sun and the increase in his hunger. He was lost to the bloodlust, severed from the threads of mortality that Chrysabelle had begun to weave into something whole again.

Whore
. Mal didn’t argue. She was a comarré and
comarrés gave their blood to anyone with enough funds. That left him out. Anger gnawed at his bones. She’d never been anything but an anchor tethering him to his humanity, keeping him from fulfilling his immortal destiny. He was a vampire, not a pet to be chained and fed when she deemed it so.

The beast hovered just below the surface of his black-inked skin, crouched and ready. Feral need flexed his muscles and he inhaled again, the perfume of his quarry stirring the chaotic pleasure in his head to new heights. He anticipated the succulent pressure of the human’s flesh beneath his fangs. The way she’d struggle and mewl, her feeble attempts to escape only fueling his predatory intentions.

The joy of the impending kill ran hot and electric down his spine, winding him like a spring.

She entered her apartment building without a glance back. Stupid humans. So unsuspecting. Then another dark figure followed after her. This one smart enough to look around before going in.

Fringe vampire. Mal snorted. No fringe was going to thieve his kill. He shot forward and latched onto the fringe faster than the lesser vampire could react. He snapped the fringe’s neck, then vanished into an alley as the ash settled to the sidewalk. He waited a few beats, but the act hadn’t caused the slightest ripple in the evening.

Satisfied he remained undetected, he went to smoke, slipped under the closed door, and hugged the ceiling. He found his target as she made her way up four flights of stairs. Garbage littered the landings and graffiti covered the dirty walls. Greasy food smells wafted from other apartments along with shouted arguments and blasting holovisions.

She should be happy he was about to take her away from all this.

One after the other, she pressed her thumb into the locks buttoning up her apartment, then opened the door. He stayed in the hall to give her a few minutes to relock her door and settle in. Experience had taught him a mark who felt safe was an easy mark to take. His smoke form blended with the lingering remnants of someone’s burned dinner and her junkie neighbor’s hash addiction. How perfect. In a building like this, in a neighborhood like this, it might take a week before anyone discovered her body.

He was smarter now than all those years before when he’d killed without thought. Now he knew how to leave no trace. To make it look like a suicide. He’d give them no reason to wonder about the locked door or the lack of forced entry.

The voices clawed at him, eager for their take. He filtered through the gap under the door but kept his smoke form once he got in, unsure of where she might be. The cacophony of heartbeats in the building made it impossible to pick out her pulse.