Mr. Vrana (A Soulmark Series Book 4)

by Rebecca Main

  For a long moment, she remains silent, her scrunched brow slowly smoothing. I can tell her thoughts are racing as she weighs the pros and cons of her next words.

  “I know you’re not really with Bash,” she admits. “Though he hasn’t told me whose relationship he is covering for by being with you, I’d wager a guess it’s Jakob.”

  I swallow, my eyes darting away for a moment as my heart skips a beat. When my gaze returns to hers, an eyebrow quirks itself at me inquisitively. “And why exactly do you think that?”

  “Jax and Ruby would never be able to convince Jakob to allow you to enter the court with them, nor Sebastian for that matter. Jakob is far too particular about whom he allows in his family to be persuaded into allowing one of his children to bring along a significant other. Therefore, it must be him you are with.”

  I don’t deny the allegations, holding her gaze stiffly before giving a short nod. “Your deduction skills are admirable,” I tell her begrudgingly. Briar smirks at the compliment, but at least the malice is gone from her expression.

  “You said he hasn’t told you about our… relationship. Yet you seem to know something. How?”

  I go to the lone chair in the room and sit down, fanning myself with one hand lazily. “I thought it quite obvious that something was going on between the two of you,” I say. “You can barely keep your eyes off each other when in the same room.”

  Briar’s smirk falters. Dread fills her eyes. “You think it's obvious…?”

  I frown back. “You are together, aren’t you?”

  She hesitates before giving me a clipped nod. “I suppose this makes us even,” she murmurs. “I know your secret, and you know ours.” My lips purse, but I incline my head regardless. Briar closes her eyes.

  “I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone,” I promise.

  “I would hope not, seeing as if anyone found out about Bash and me, both our families would be punished.”

  “Why?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Households don’t mix, Irina,” she growls at me. “It's forbidden. Nobody can know. And nobody can know about whatever relationship you have with Jakob either. It would not be approved of.”

  “But it’s 'approved' now with Sebastian,” I argue.

  “Barely,” she tells me. Her severe regard brings a shiver down my spine, and my waving hand stops its movement. “Nobody can know. Most especially, Jakob. He would not be agreeable to Bash and me being together. In fact, I’m sure he would be furious.”

  We share a measured look, and I find in her gaze a resoluteness similar to my own. “Agreed.”

  “Good," she says, the tension in her frame finally slipping from her body. “Help me with my costume, would you?”

  My eyes widen as I stare at her seductive lingerie set. “Is that not it?”

  Briar laughs. “Good heavens no,” she tells me and retrieves a gown tucked away in the back corner of the room. It is velvet evergreen with a wide golden yellow sash wrapped around its slim waist. “Tonight I am the illustrious Scarlet O’Hara.”

  I sigh and help do up the buttons at the back of the iconic dress. “Thank you,” I say, once I’m finished, and she walks over toward the mirror. “The lesson was helpful.”

  Briar grins at me in the reflection, pressing out the nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt. “Why of course,” she says. “Anything for my Bash.” She shoots me a wink and continues to admire her reflection. A small smile lifts at the corner of my mouth but stalls in its journey.

  “Can I ask you one last thing?” Briar gives a noncommittal hum. “How long have you been together?”

  “Awhile,” she says after a moment. Her words are oddly flat as she attempts to hide her discomfort. “Before you came here with your family. Bash has visited the Dark Court many times as a guest of some household or courtier infrequently in the past.”

  “Has he ever been your guest?”

  Briar blanches and snaps around to look at me. “Gods, no. Our Households aren’t—we can’t afford for anyone to know about us. It’s bad enough that you do, and that you were able to figure it out. If anyone else does….” Her fangs bite into her lower lip. “Households don’t mix. Especially not ours.”

  She looks as if to say more but thinks better of it and turns back to face the mirror. Her scowl smooths, leaving her expression carefully blank as she tends to a curl on her temple.

  “How exactly have you kept this from your sister?” I ask, unable to resist digging a little deeper. “You two are attached at the hip.”

  Briar stills, a measure of pain registering across her face as she shakes her head. “Iris doesn’t know. She would be even more furious than Jakob to discover my relationship with Bash. She hates him and you. She hates your entire family, really, and would do anything to see you suffer. Even if it meant hurting me as well.”

  I fold my arms over my middle at the growing tightness in my stomach. “I understand why she hates me, but the others? Why? What did we do to her?”

  “You don’t know, do you?” I catch her eye in the mirror and shake my head. Briar presses her lips together firmly and releases a sigh. “Never mind the why,” she says firmly. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve already agreed to keep each other's secrets. There’s no need to delve deeper. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a masquerade to attend.”

  The Dark Court | 1846

  “Jakob, why did you not attend the Delacroixs’ Nuit de Culte?” Ren asked, her innocuous question followed shortly by a breathy sigh.

  The man in question remained unmoved by his pursuit of the women's petite mort, and let his tongue trail up the length of her sex. She quivered in delight, another breathy sigh issuing faster than the last. His fingers spidered up her thigh, only to hook her waist and pull her closer—

  “Mercy!”

  Jakob grinned against the sensitive flesh and danced his lips over to her inner thigh. “I’ve no desire to waste my time on deviant orgies disguised as masquerades,” he replied, pressing his cheek against the smooth flesh.

  “And yet your talented tongue would be much appreciated—ouch! Stop that you, naughty boy.” Ren’s rebuke lacked severity, and yet Jakob gazed up at her solemnly.

  “To be frank, madame, I hardly wish or want for another to share my bed. You are the only one for me, and as long as you will have me, I will be yours.”

  The slender woman moved to rest on her elbows, her aristocratic features softening. “Is that all, my love?” Jakob hummed his response. “It has nothing to do with this?”

  Her fingers reached out to trace the dark infinity symbol on his fair skin, and Jakob froze.

  “I doubt that stain—”

  “Soulmark,” Ren corrected swiftly.

  Jakob frowned and readjusted to rest upon his forearms. “It would be unwise for the Dark Court to discover this mark. Being different or being anything but fully vampyré is frowned upon. One would think the Dark Court would launch a campaign against all other supernatural creatures with what hate they can spew."

  A red eyebrow arched in his direction. “I am a member of a Royal Household who claims the blood of sirens runs through our veins.” The slightly younger vampyré flinched.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Her nose scrunched in distaste. “If you speak of the Thorburns’ candor for blood purity—”

  “As well as the Mubarks and Habsburgs,” Jakob slipped in and received a disapproving glare for doing so.

  “They only parrot what the Thorburns say for their favor. All the Greater Households have a preference for at least one of the Royal Households, if not two. The Vranas prefer the Delacroixs, for the Delacroixs persuaded the Rouxs to vote in favor of your challenge. The Pulzins prefer my household—”

  “Because they have all fallen for your siren spell,” Jakob teased, earning a rare small smile from his lover.

  “And let us not forget the newest family who wishes to contend for a title. The Krovopuskovs. Who do you
think they will seek favor with?”

  “I rather don’t care, for it won’t be my household,” Jakob replied. He feathered a kiss across her hip bone, enjoying the sight of the goose bumps that arose. “I’d rather not talk at all. I’m far more interested in fucking you. I want to see your blood painted across your lovely breasts and lick them clean. I want to drive into you until you beg for mercy once more—”

  “I wish to talk.”

  The female elaborated her point by crossing her legs, her knee bumping into Jakob’s chin, among other things.

  “I don’t want you to think being different is a mark against you,” she said, her voice tremulous. “You have to understand. The Dark Court has lasted on tradition alone for centuries, but with all the change recently, I’d hardly expect them to expel you from court over such a thing as a soulmark. Most would only be curious.”

  Jakob pulled back until he sat on the edge of the bed. The muscles in his back flexed and bulged as he leaned forward. “I don’t think curious is the right word, my love. They would surely seek out the one who bore this mark and use her against me in some way.”

  “Perhaps, you’re right," Ren murmured. "But I still believe many would be envious you have a soulmark at all. I know I’m quite jealous not to bear your soulmark across my body. If I did, who could dare stop us from being together?”

  Jakob cast a startled look Ren's way, his brows raised near to his hairline. Ren, for her part, sat with her legs curled up to her chest and kept her eyes downcast.

  “You’re jealous?” His incredulity hung thickly between them before he forced a scoff from his throat and redirected his gaze elsewhere. “There is nothing to be jealous of. The chances of me finding this woman are nonexistent. I’ll outlive whomever it is. Furthermore, she could not dare hold a candle to your fire—”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Ren snapped. “A greater power—one greater than all of us—saw something in you and this other knowing that together you would be better than you were alone. She is your perfect match, Jakob, and she will hold a piece of you I could never dream of… That you show no interest in finding her baffles me.”

  “I have all that I need here,” Jakob insisted. “I won’t forsake you for a woman who might not even exist. It is not the man I am.”

  The bed dipped and moved, and suddenly small hands ran the length of Jakob’s back. They crawled over his shoulders and down his chest until the two were pressed together—his bare back to her naked breast.

  “I am not mad at you for having a soulmark, Jakob Vrana. Only jealous… jealous that another could have your heart… and jealous that I cannot claim to have one as well,” Ren whispered against his skin.

  “If I could choose, it would be you, Ren Roux,” Jakob said back and picked up her hand to place a kiss across her knuckles. Jakob frowned. “Where is your ring?”

  Ren rested her head on his shoulder. “With the twins. I felt guilty leaving them to fend for themselves and thought it might make them feel better. Besides, I do not wear the ring all the time. My family shares their set for there are far more of us than there are of the rings.”

  “Do not feel guilty,” Jakob said, turning and pressing his weight into her, so she fell beneath him on the bed. His hand swept up her body. Lust filled his eyes. “They will survive without you.”

  A soft sigh fell from her lips as she savored the moment between them. For to be wanted—needed—was a powerful, heady thing.

  “Call me, Mary,” she murmured, letting the meaningful moment press against them and pull them closer together. Her real name was more beautiful than Jakob could imagine. Jakob’s lips parted in awe at her vulnerability and drew in a sharp breath. But before he could speak his own truth, she silenced him with her lips.

  Chapter 12

  Present

  The Dark Court buzzes with energy in the nights following the masquerade ball. There is a story on everyone's lips. I hear them all from my place at Sebastian’s side as we make the rounds of the more popular gathering rooms: the Grand Salon, the Lamia Den, the White Drawing Room, and the Chamber of Lilith.

  Some courtiers dare to approach, speaking with Sebastian at length, while eyeing me with interest. I say nothing, except for the occasional commentary directed solely to Sebastian. My arm drapes around his back when any approach—a silent claiming of possession that Sebastian reciprocates with a hand upon my hip or waist.

  I maintain my aloofness, though it is not as severe as before. Finally, I feel as if I have found a balance to this act I put on. And it’s all thanks to Briar. Of all the topics we discussed, one thing above all resonated with me, her confidence.

  Before my act was cold, impenetrable, and full of disdain. Now, I am brimming with self-confidence. My icy walls still stand, but no longer do I hold myself so rigidly. Nor do I worry about the threat of attack, at least not from the vampyré.

  Demons, on the other hand, are not given the benefit of the doubt.

  Sebastian’s arctic touch against my thigh is no less startling than any time before, but at least I no longer flinch or balk. The weeks here have changed me. And I’m beginning to think for the better. No longer am I the just the sister of the alpha, overlooked and coddled by others of my pack for fear of angering my brothers. No longer are my ideas and thoughts ignored in favor of another. I’ve found my voice and a confidence that doesn’t feel forced.

  I bring my fingers across the back of Sebastian’s neck, idly toying with the chestnut curls at the nape of his neck. He pauses in his conversation to turn his head and press a kiss to the delicate skin of my forearm, then returns his attention to the courtier, a vampyré named Victor who is part of the Mubark Household. He is in an ill-fitting suit of burnt orange and wears a slightly manic expression. His brown cheeks are flushed, and his lips are still wet from the bloody drink in his grasp. Every other minute his dark eyes skirt to me. The silver in them only a touch more present than Nova’s. He is young and an easy target for Sebastian’s questioning.

  I ignore them.

  My focus rests unabashedly on William 'the Beast' and Nova at the other end of the Grand Salon. I’m not the only one who watches them. Several supernaturals eye the pair as William explains the history of the push dagger he lets Nova inspect. There is an unlikely friendship between the two, the likes of which is based on their mutual hatred for vampyrés. Though, it’s hard to tell how much of Nova’s hatred is true anymore.

  In her too, there is a change, whether she knows it or not. The transition from Starlight Warden to vampyré is seamless, in its own way. Her human life was filled with violence and danger, and in that respect, not much has changed since arriving in the Dark Court. While she has become something she was taught to hate, at least she is on equal footing with those here.

  Sensing my regard, Nova shoots me a quick glance. I look away, feigning boredom as I cast my gaze elsewhere and open my ears to the conversation around me.

  A gasp sounds to my left, and my gaze flickers toward the source. A man with chest-length dreadlocks holds a hand to his heart, staring in pleasant delight at his much shorter companion. “Did you see it happen?”

  The woman gives a coy smile. “I did! Valdora was putting on the most wonderful lightning show to exhibit her power, per the Duchess’s command, and at the climax, she redirected her lightning bolt and hit her! She struck down the Duchess, and the crowd went absolutely mad—”

  “Wicked girl!”

  Laughter erupts at the other end of the room, and I tilt my head in its direction.

  “And she said, ‘Only a little slip of the tongue!’” The collection of vampyrés who lounge on a set of interconnected couches roar again.

  I take a sip of my champagne and train my eyes on Sebastian’s hand. The crush of voices is almost soothing, like white noise against my ever-wandering thoughts—thoughts that keep straying toward the slow pulse of the soulmark against my wrist and Jakob.

  My lashes draw closed for a long
moment. If Jakob’s hand was on me now…. I gulp and tear myself away from the dangerous thought.

  “I heard she’s been sleeping with him for weeks now. Though I certainly don’t see the appeal.” The nasal voice sounds from behind Sebastian and me, my lupine hearing picking up on the disdain. The voice is not one I am familiar with, but the next is all too familiar.

  “Because you have taste,” Iris’s silky voice answers. “I always knew the Beast was unstable, but sullying himself with a Vrana? Whatever regard he earned in the Pits is lost to him now.”

  The women cackle. “By the gods, you certainly hold no affection for the Vranas, do you?”

  “You forget, Poppy, I was here when the Vrana Household was stripped of its titles and power. I know only too well their true motives. How they wish to see the ruin of the Dark Court.”

  “The wolf?” Poppy croons. The whine to her voice makes me grind my teeth.

  “Among other things,” Iris says, a deadly calm to her voice. “We’re lucky the court hasn’t been infected with flees.” Poppy laughs and agrees. My muscles contract at the slight, spine straightening as if Iris is speaking directly to me. “The bitch will never belong here, but that’s beside the point. History always finds a way of repeating itself. Mark my words, the Vrana family won’t last till the end of the year. It’s only a matter of time before their true purpose here is revealed and their farce of a family is broken.”

  A caw from above draws my attention, and soon a volley of caws and chirps and screeches follow. The beams and light fixtures above host countless birds who peer down below at the Grand Salon's occupants. I frown back at them and briefly wonder which is Franklin. My eyes roam over the parliament of owls, catching the unnerving wide-eyed stare of a fair few.

  I do not doubt Sebastian and I are being watched and that one will report back to Jakob at the end of the night. The thought grates on my precarious temper, and a small tendril of ire slips through the soulmark. Before I can feel the press of Jakob’s inquiring concern flood through the bond, I find the golden channel between us in my mind and clamp down on it like a vise.