by Lana Sky
“Well.” Dmitri delicately cleared his throat. “I suppose it’s a welcome coincidence that I had my private jet moved to a lesser known runway not too far from here. Isn’t it?”
Bloody Hell
Dmitri’s climate-controlled private jet proved to be surprisingly…cheerful. In a contrast to Dublin’s monochromatic color scheme, tanned leather created a cozy backdrop, punctuated by hints of elegance. Like the grinning, glassy-eyed flight attendant already on board, waiting to serve crystal flutes of champagne.
Ignoring her, Dublin marshaled me into a recliner-style seat by a window and claimed the one beside me, effectively serving as a barrier between me and his “old friend.”
Dmitri didn’t seem to mind. He unfurled himself into a seat near the back of the cabin, grinning like a well-fed cat. Something told me that turning our back to him at all was a risky endeavor.
But Dublin consumed my sole focus, and I couldn’t spare an ounce of concern for anything else. Tension radiated from him in waves. I suspected little was due to Dmitri’s presence. No…
My heart raced as I brushed my hand along my front, watching the fingers settle against my stomach. Panic danced on the edges of my conscience, urging me to deny. Ignore. Pretend. Facing the truth of my “tumor” terrified me more than anything in the world.
More than Dublin.
More than Raphael.
The mere possibility shattered my safe, cautious mind state. I’d been groomed to spend most of my life alone, sans even human children.
But now?
The thought of another reality terrified me. Almost as much as the threats building against it.
“Who is Mero?” I whispered, still eyeing my splayed fingers.
Dublin flinched, but he’d had long enough of a reprieve from the question.
So had I.
Though perhaps we both were no match for the topic in the end. After all this time, I’d thought I’d witnessed the full spectrum when it came to the emotional range of Dublin Helos.
Anger. Guilt. Rage. Pity.
But the expression contorting his features now was unlike any I’d ever experienced. Pained.
“One might call him the founder of the Grayne,” he rasped in a tone devoid of emotion.
Not for the first time, I truly understood the vast gap between us forged by more than mere age. Sheer centuries of distance. He looked eons older in the space of a heartbeat. Ancient.
“I thought you said my ancestor James was the leader of the Grayne?” I remembered as much from his impromptu history lesson delivered the night before my fateful meeting with Raphael.
Though, to be fair, that was all I knew about this mysterious order that had consumed part of my family. Any attempt to pry a single bit more from Georgie had been met with deflection and stonewalling.
Until we both couldn’t take anymore.
“He was,” Dublin said. “Mero was…let us just say the catalyst to your predecessor’s sudden fervor when it came to hunting my kind. In the grand scheme, Mero knew that his human pawns would be all but useless against a foe like Raphael. You were merely a vehicle.”
“You knew him?”
“I did.” And that was that. He closed up. Turned to stone. Something told me that even bringing up our contract now wouldn’t get him to soften to me again on the subject.
So I changed tack. “How did you know? About the blood,” I clarified. It was something that had always bothered me beneath the surface. Perhaps I hadn’t admitted it to myself until now. “That I would have to…”
“You were dying,” he said simply. “You claimed that food held no appeal. In the name of saving your life, I took a risk and decided to… Let’s call it thinking outside of the box.”
“And what about your blood?” I observed the bluish veins twisting beneath his skin. “You told me it wouldn’t work anymore. That it couldn’t heal me.”
Yet here we were. His blood had already saved my life ten times over since his return.
“And,” I added as something else rose to the forefront of my thoughts, “it used to overwhelm me. I would be out for days, but now…”
“There is something I need to tell you.” He turned away, staring beyond the luxurious cabin into a world I could never follow.
Biting my lip was the only way to brace myself against whatever he might reveal. But I was no match for his touch; he captured my hand, swiping his thumb across the palm. And just like that, I was disarmed.
“That day Raphael fed from you. His venom hurt you, didn’t it?” he asked without meeting my gaze. “More than as just a mild discomfort.”
“Yes…” I cringed at the memory. One bite and it had felt as though my insides were melting around me even as my heart struggled to beat. “But yours didn’t.”
“That’s because he killed you.”
I looked up in confusion, but he still faced away from me. Purposefully, I realized. Whatever tinged his gaze now, he didn’t want me to see.
“I… What do you—”
“Your heart stopped beating,” he explained, as detached as though reciting a well-known tale from heart. At the same time, his fingers tightened, holding mine firmly captive. “I heard it. I saw it. You were gone before I could even reach you. And in that moment, I had to make a choice.” His voice grated over the word, conveying more than the usual definition. Choice. Something life changing. Life altering. “You wouldn’t understand. There was no time to think. No time for hesitation. For once, I was—” He broke off and released me, but he didn’t pull away. His fingers formed an open cage, almost as if he expected me to recoil first.
For whatever reason, I forced myself to stay.
“What choice? What did you do?”
When he didn’t respond, I eyed my naked fingers, too numb to process my emotions. Was I horrified by the potential answers? Shocked?
“Let’s just say I pushed your body beyond its limits and I nearly killed you in the process. All for nothing, because I failed anyway.”
I swallowed hard, too uneasy to even press for answers. Did he overdose me with his blood? Give me too much venom?
“But I’m still alive,” I pointed out before swallowing the lump that had risen to my throat.
“Yes.” He sighed, deflated of all tension. “You came back. Still breathing. I assumed I’d made a mistake. Perhaps it was the venom? The why didn’t matter. I decided to leave in search of answers. In my absence, I ensured the necklace would protect you.”
“But what you told me was a lie, wasn’t it?”
Its purpose hadn’t been solely to keep me alive.
“As long as you wore it, I could find you,” he admitted, finally lifting his gaze to mine. “No matter your location.”
Deep down, maybe I’d known that. In some ways, it had been easier to let myself pretend my survival could be so simply insured—a magic necklace slipped around my neck just in the nick of time.
But in his world, nothing came without a price.
“I didn’t realize my miscalculation until I tried feeding from you,” he admitted, referring to the night I’d found him at the church. “You reacted violently. Not to mention that you were weak. Malnourished and… When your cancer was discovered, in a way, I wasn’t surprised. Merely by attempting to change you, I had unknowingly encouraged a new breed of ‘life’ to take root. Mero always did have a rather ghoulish sense of humor.”
I exhaled sharply in a poor excuse for a laugh. It was a morbid joke, even for a vampire.
“I know it was wrong to deceive you.” He reached for my hand again, and a part of me scoffed, eager to write him off. But he had never sounded so raw before. So open.
And for whatever reason, I couldn’t pull away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I?” He laughed darkly, shaking his head. “When I didn’t even understand myself?” He eyed me warily and reached out with his thumb. When I didn’t cringe, he brushed my cheek, lingering against my skin. “I stil
l don’t. Years of servitude to that bastard, yet he’s never toyed with me. Toyed with lives just to test me. Not like this.”
And perhaps that fact alone was Raphael’s driving motive.
But trying to understand the man at all made my head throb. I cradled my palm against it, rubbing my aching temple.
“I need time to process this,” I said softly. “I just… I need time—”
“I understand. But there is one thing you mentioned that I would like to explore in further detail.” He cocked his head, his eyes narrowed. “What did Raphael say when he gave you my contract?”
I sucked in a breath. “He said that if I helped him prove something, he’d give me what you bargained for.”
“Damn him.” Lurching to his feet, Dublin transformed once more into stone. Ruthlessly focused, he scanned the length of the cabin until he eventually found Dmitri.
The other vampire was seated in the same spot, balancing the giggling flight attendant on his lap.
“Do you have an ability to communicate with the ground?” Dublin demanded. “Where?”
“A satellite phone, of course.” Dmitri inclined his head toward an alcove at the very back of the cabin.
Without a word, Dublin crossed over to it, leaving a trail of rage like a storm cloud.
“I hope you ring lovely Yuliana,” Dmitri called after him, smiling sweetly. “I do so hope to see her.” As he turned to me, his grin widened. “There is no use in torturing yourself, dear. Come sit with me.” He patted the space beside him.
“No, thank you.” I crossed my arms, fighting to keep any of the turmoil ripping through my heart from showing on my face. “I’m fine.”
Accepting defeat, Dmitri sighed. “Suit yourself. It’s much harder these days to make this old voice carry far, but I suppose I must try. If you want answers, I am willing to trade.”
Trade. The way he’d said the word almost reminded me of Dublin—full of mysterious innuendo. And I knew better than to take any bait he might offer.
“I know more than you realize,” Dmitri added. “Like the fact that you are hungry. That you’ve been starving yourself and your child for far too long. That if you continue to be so reckless with your health, the results may be disastrous.”
“Helpful advice, considering you claimed it was an abomination,” I snapped. But as Dmitri raised an eyebrow, I realized I was shielding my belly with both hands.
“Ah, but that is where you misunderstood the meaning of the word, my darling.” He chuckled once and leaned back against the leather cushions of his seat. “I am an abomination. As are Dublin and Raphael. Powerful, unfathomable creatures are always glitches in the grand design, or so I choose to believe. I will admit that even I do not understand the nuances of your predicament. Why would you require blood, for instance, when from what I can tell, you are persistently mortal? Perhaps the requirement is meant solely to mock him with what you may never become? Ah, but who could envision such a cruel torment?”
With that, he turned his attention to his giggling flight attendant and nuzzled her throat. Then he wrenched her head to one side and—
I turned to the window and didn’t dare take my eyes off the view until Dublin returned. He occupied the seat beside me without a word, resolute in whatever mood had been building in him since the moment Dmitri had arrived.
It all had to do with that name. The figure who had driven us out of the country and was no doubt awaiting our return.
The man who seemed to want me dead, though I didn’t even know why.
Mero.
Where the Lonely Roam
“Eleanor.”
A gentle pressure settled over my shoulder, jarring me awake. Blinking, I gradually pieced together my surroundings. Somewhere small. Darkened. Confined. A car—his to be exact. Dublin himself was driving, and a glance at the back seat revealed that Dmitri was nowhere in sight. I was sitting up front, slumped within a leather seat, my head propped against a firm, muscular forearm.
“We’re in the States,” Dublin explained while manipulating the steering wheel. “Not far from the city. It’s been about an hour since we landed. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Oh? I scrambled upright and peered through the windshield. Dawn painted the horizon in a mixture of pink and orange hues.
Already, I could sense my body protesting the change in time zone. Exhaustion weighed my eyelids down, and my stomach rumbled, voicing its displeasure at having been denied a solid meal in nearly a week. An unwelcome reminder, Dmitri’s warning invaded my thoughts.
“If you continue to be so reckless with your health, the results may be disastrous…”
Gritting my teeth, I banished him with a shake of my head. “Where to?” I asked Dublin, steeling myself for another whirlwind journey.
Another high-rise? Another distant country?
“Somewhere safe,” was his reply.
He was still wearing the same black suit, his hair only slightly mussed from the journey. I eyed his expression, hunting for a clue to feed on. A frown. A raised eyebrow. Anything.
The man didn’t even blink, remarkably closed-off.
“What about the books?” I didn’t spy them in the car anywhere. “And answers. And what if—”
“I’m handling it,” Dublin gently insisted. “You’ve been through a lot. At least allow yourself a few days to readjust—in fact, consider it nonnegotiable. I promise arrangements have been made in the meantime.”
Yet not even five minutes later, he parked and exited the vehicle without waiting for me. Or a word of explanation. Frozen with shock, I gaped after him, struggling to process our destination.
“Safe?” I hurried from the car, craning my neck to eye the structure before us in disbelief. “Here?”
As though Gray Manor wasn’t what loomed up ahead, Dublin leisurely strode to the front door.
“Trust me when I say that I can protect you here as well as I could anywhere else.”
But there was a caveat to his statement, I suspected. One betrayed by the subtle clenching of his jaw. This newfound protection had come at a price.
One he refused to reveal as he opened the door and ushered me inside with a wave of his hand.
“You have nothing to fear,” he insisted as I hesitated beyond the threshold.
I wasn’t sure if the words were meant to be comforting. They weren’t, considering that everyone from my sister to her mysterious club apparently wanted me dead. Plenty to fear in all respects.
Returning here at all—especially after what had happened in the crypt—felt like slathering myself in butter, ready for the slaughter. I eyed Dublin’s neutral expression as doubt strained my worn, battered nerves. My trust felt all but indebted to him after the way he’d cared for me. Yet…
“Trust me.” He reached back for me as his eyes met mine again. The stoic grip on his emotions wavered, allowing a hint of softness to ease the stiffened corner of his mouth. “I’ve ensured your protection. Not even a spider could enter without my permission.”
His confidence soothed my fear just enough for me to mount the front steps after him. Once we crossed the threshold, the house didn’t transform into a horrific trap at least. No monsters sprang from the shadows to attack. In fact, the dour interior greeted us with little fanfare, and any fear quickly turned to suspicion.
“You’ve had people here,” I accused.
In my absence, someone had cleaned the drafty foyer and figured out how to restore heat to the house. In honor of the dreary, overcast day, a fire roared in the drawing room, basting my skin with heat as he led me past it.
“I’ll have them stay out of sight,” Dublin proposed with the air of a kindly benefactor humoring his bothersome charge. “I wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of your apparent independence.”
I swallowed hard, biting my lip. Just how much of my month in self-imposed isolation had he deduced so far?
“Given how long you’ve survived without your staff, I’m sure you don’t even r
equire a maid anymore,” he added.
Ah, that was a definite jab.
“You’re wrong,” I snapped. God help my instinctive impulse to needle him at every turn—though he had asked for it. “I am an heiress, after all. Whoever shall bathe me, and clothe me, and put me to bed?” I did my best to channel my mother, who would have pointed out those very dilemmas in horrified indignation. “Why, look.” I wiggled all ten of my fingers, pouting. “I have delicate hands.”
“Is that so?” He seized my wrists. A ruthless tug brought me closer to him, rendering me at the mercy of his gaze. “One of your defining attributes,” he murmured, turning his attention to the prized hands in question. “Worthy of protection. So, from now on, I suppose I will be the one to bathe you, and clothe you, and put you to bed.” His serious tone cast doubt on if he truly intended the proposal as a joke.
Laughing, I shrugged as though unaffected. “Via one of your contracted proxies? Kate, perhaps?”
He blinked. “Naturally, only I would ever be permitted to touch you. Such an important heiress couldn’t be trusted to the care of just anyone.”
My heart seized and I took the tiniest step back. Running away was my first, cowardly instinct. He could have this round. I had no trouble admitting how poorly unmatched I was in this arena. Nothing in my pathetic verbal arsenal could counter the sensual gleam flicking across his gaze.
But then I remembered just how sinful his touch could feel. One dose of those sordid memories banished all logic.
“Well, I do own your contract,” I blurted, my face heating. “It’s about damn time I put you to work, isn’t it?”
“That you do.” The grit in his baritone resonated down my spine. I’d barely processed the lust contained within it as he stepped in even closer, forcing me to crane my neck just to maintain eye contact. “Though, frankly, Eleanor, you’ve been rather lax in exerting such ownership. No commands to do your bidding. No humiliating assaults on my autonomy. I have to wonder…do you even have it in you?”
