Mr. Vrana (A Soulmark Series Book 4)

by Rebecca Main

  “To say the least,” I reply, unable to keep the raspy quality from my voice at bay.

  Jakob uncorks a bottle of wine and carefully mixes it with a measure of blood. He takes a seat beside me, handing me my glass and leaning back like some jungle cat against the end of his bed. His own glass is cupped lazily while he watches me take my first sip.

  A purr erupts from me at the first touch of the blut wein on my tongue. It tastes rich and full of life. It tastes of warmth and strength, and as the blut wein slides down my throat, I am rejuvenated. Immediately, I hunger for more.

  The cool press of a hand on my forearm stops me from indulging.

  “Easy, now,” Jakob cajoles. I lick all traces of the substance from my lips as Jakob removes the wine glass from my hand and places it between us. “It’s incredibly easy to lose yourself to bloodlust in the first fifty years of your rebirth.”

  “I don’t think I’d mind,” I confess. The taste of the drink still coats the inside of my mouth, leaving it parched and wanting more.

  Jakob reaches out a hand and runs his fingers through my damp hair. “You would” he assures me, the corner of his lips tilting ever upward. “It is sheer madness and not at all what you like.”

  “And how would you know what I like?”

  “I’ve been watching you for quite some time now,” he says, his eyes darkening. The tilt of his lips turns into something far more devilish than he initially intended, and I find myself shifting my body to face him more directly. Tucking my legs beneath me, I reach for my blut wein. He doesn’t stop me, but he watches... as always.

  My small sip almost provokes another spine-tingling purr from my throat, but I stifle the urge to merely enjoy the robust flavor. My vision remains a monochrome dream, but as Jakob takes my right hand and presses a lingering kiss to my palm, it flares to color and my soulmark sparks.

  “You have?”

  “Of course,” he says, his cold breath washing over the slope of my wrist and across the infinity symbol branded there. Once more my tongue darts out to wipe clean the residue left on my lips. Jakob follows the movement with rapt attention.

  “Why did you want to be here when I first fed?” I ask.

  He pulls back to lean against the bed once more, but he keeps my hand captive in his own. His fingers play along with the flesh nearest the soulmark. “There are things you must know about being a vampyré. Rules you must abide by not only as a vampyré but as a member of this family.”

  Curiosity stirs inside of me. “Such as?”

  “First and foremost, you must never tell anyone about our kind,” Jakob says, a playful lilt to his voice. I spare him a grin.

  “I’m sure I can manage,” I say. “I've been able to keep the lycan secret, after all.”

  “No killing humans.”

  I scowl. “Of course not," I say with a harsh bark of laughter following. "Though that's a bit much coming from you, isn't it?" I tug my hand from his, feeling a strong wave of indignation and anger rise within me. “You killed Nova. You killed one of Quinn’s associates, and God knows how many more over your lifetime. How can you—”

  Jakob holds up a finger, silencing my tirade. “It is inevitable that in your lifetime you will kill a human. Whether to feed, in anger, or in defense. Perhaps you may even do so for sport,” he says. His words trigger a surge of disgust to twist my stomach, and I look away from his stern glare. His fingers reach out and pinch my chin, gently turning my face back in his direction. “It is inevitable, dear heart,” he repeats calmly. “Do not upset yourself over something so trivial as blood not yet spilled.”

  Pushing down the riot of emotions inside of me, I aim my gaze past his shoulders. “What other rules are there, then?” I ask, unwilling to continue the subject for fear of my temper growing out of control. Jakob takes my hand once more.

  “When human life is taken”—Jakob ignores my scoff—“it is vital to destroy or conceal any evidence of vampyric marking, specifically bite marks. They are unique and distinguishable, and no vampyré, let alone supernatural being, wishes for another period of paranormal hysteria like that of the 18th century.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. I understand.”

  “Good,” he says, his voice treading low once more. “Next, you must respect the blood. We are not savages or animals, dear heart. We are the highest on the chain of evolution, no longer bound to our mortal coils. We must honor that which gives us such superiority.”

  A languid shiver traces down my arms and up my legs as I fall captive to Jakob’s intent regard. “Blood,” I whisper. Jakob nods and urges me to take my glass. We take a drink together, our eyes locked.

  “In these first few decades, you will find yourself easily seduced by blood, and even more easily swayed by your volatile emotions. Others will try and take advantage of this, which is why within the Vrana Household, we restrict blood consumption of our fledglings.”

  The revelation settles over me gradually. All of this time, I had dismissed Nova’s strict diet, thinking it to be a cruel test. When in reality, it is anything but. Disappointment weighs on my shoulders, my throat beginning to itch painfully as I stare at the last ounce of blut wein in my glass.

  “Please, don’t tell me this is my allotment for the night.”

  Jakob shakes his head fondly. “Thirty-two ounces in total is your nightly allotment. Nova is in the habit of splitting her serving in two, drinking sixteen ounces when she awakes and the other half during dinner.”

  “And she never… cheats?” I ask innocently.

  “No,” he says. “I’ve used the sire bond to enforce this rule. She cannot drink more than what I have ordered. But using the sire bond to enforce this rule upon you is not an option, I am afraid.”

  My eyebrows shoot upward. “Why not?”

  “Hybrids, I have been told, do not develop a sire bond due to their lycan side. Therefore, I will either have to use the soulmark”—a scowl darkens my features and I ready to protest—“or have one of the family be at your side at all times to ensure you do not, as you so fondly put it, ‘cheat.’”

  My scowl retreats to allow a sheepish smile to spread across my lips. “I’m in favor of the latter option.”

  “I had a feeling you would be,” he murmurs back.

  Thick silence swells between us, heavy in unspoken words of wanting. Jakob takes my hand and intertwines our fingers. A phantom jump of my heart makes my thighs clench together in anticipation.

  I clear my throat lightly. “Anything else?”

  “Vampirism is a gift. We are unlike any other creature in that we are not born with any supernatural ability. Even sorcerers, who must learn their craft, have a small inkling of magic inside their blood. Vampyrés are reborn from their humble and mundane human lives into something greater. As such, the general populace of vampyrés expects fledglings to show a certain amount of gratitude. Those who do not, often find their gift taken from them.”

  “Nova doesn’t seem to appreciate her gift, and it hasn’t been taken from her,” I rebut.

  “That’s because all who have tried have failed. Nova came into this life as a trained warrior, and her skills have only grown since fighting in the Pits. She is wise in her choice of opponent, as well, and has yet to choose one who could fell her,” he counters.

  “Or she’s lucky.”

  “Yes, there is that possibility,” he says before continuing on with his rules. “A vampyré does not easily forget, Irina. Our actions and words stay with us for all eternity, which is why we must take care of the things we do and say, for they will not be forgotten. Mortals do not live by such standards as their lives eventually come to a permanent end. Their names, once tarnished with lies and deceit they have committed, do not follow them in death.”

  “I—” A different ache corrodes my throat, and I swallow thickly to work past the building emotion in my throat. I have yet to confront one horrible truth, and the sudden epiphany is more unpleasant tha
n what I have suffered in the past three nights. “My family… my pack.”

  Jakob frowns, but not in contempt. Sympathy—no, empathy—reads clearly in his gaze. “Even lycans are bound to this earth by a mortal coil. One day, they too will pass, but you, my dear heart, will live on.”

  Before I can twist away, Jakob nestles closer. A hand reaches out to cup my face, while the other finds my hip to draw me in. Tears are quick to slip past my defenses. Jakob wipes them away, whispering a litany of words meant to comfort as the somber contemplation of my family's inevitable death rocks my already unsteady foundation.

  “I don’t think I can… I don’t know how—” I begin to prattle on, before quickly being hushed by Jakob.

  “You will not go through the experience alone,” Jakob tells me as I sink into his light embrace. “And their deaths are not so near now that you should worry like this. Be strong, Irina. Your emotions are as turbulent as a tempest at its peak during these first few decades. Do not yield so easily to them, find the balance inside yourself or you will soon be fighting a much different battle.”

  It takes several minutes to find my composure. Jakob is right. Pulling myself back from the sudden pit of depression and premature grief is a difficult task. It drives home Jakob’s earlier explanation of blood restriction more potently.

  “Please say this lecture is over,” I say with a weak laugh, wiping my cheeks dry with the back of my hand before finishing off my drink.

  “Almost,” he promises, keeping me close. “It is essential to accept the passage of time. To let go of the past, and move on with the times. We might have shaken time’s deterioration of our body’s, but that does not mean it cannot corrode our minds.”

  “Like Iris?”

  Jakob’s forehead crinkles in thought for a moment. “She was damaged before her turning, but yes, time did manage to mangle her senses by the end. We cannot let ourselves be caged by the past, or we will become a slave to it.”

  “And how does this rule fit in with your grand scheme of revenge?”

  Jakob takes hold of a lock of my hair and tugs it gently in reprimand. “I will gladly lay the past to rest once I have achieved full retribution for the crimes against my family. And it would seem, dear heart, that the time will soon come to pass.”

  “Patience conquers.”

  Jakob’s eyes alight at my words, and he tugs me forward further until my body is pressed against his. Warmth surges through my body as his hand slips up my thigh to pull it over his lap, and I straddle him.

  “It does indeed,” he concurs, letting his hand gently stroke the side of my thigh. For the first time, I am thankful for my lack of pulse. If I had remained lycan, it would undoubtedly attempt to beat its way outside my chest. Instead, my vision sharpens, until all that remains is Jakob.

  “Anything else?” Jakob’s face splits into a wide grin, and I let out a displeased groan, tossing my head back. “Seriously? What more could there possibly be?”

  “You’ll need to find a hobby,” he responds seriously. I begin to growl, ready to level him with a savage glare, but the feel of his lips ghosting over my clavicle calls me quickly to heel. His hand roams higher, slipping up under my silken nightie to the skin of my hip. “And last, family first. Always.”

  I quiver at the sharp nip he delivers to the bone, back arching into the touch even as I attempt to peer down at him. “Got it,” I reply, feeling a deeply seeded want resurrect at his attention.

  “Good,” he rasps, face peering up at me with a purely carnal look to his eyes. “Because you are a part of this family, Irina. In your transition, you received blood from all of us. Even Jax's magic is a part of you, as it kept the worst of your pain away.”

  I nod, unable to speak.

  “When you died….” His gaze turns far away. The tenor of his voice drops to a rumble. “Something happened to our bond. The transition made it weaker.”

  “But I can still feel it,” I say. “It’s there, just as before.”

  Jakob drops his head to my chest, his arm creeping around my back to hold me closer. If my body had still been mortal, I’d likely sport bruises from his grip. As it is, my new hybrid body takes his suffocating hold with relative ease. I thread my fingers through the blond hairs on the back of his head, ushering him closer still.

  He whispers against my skin. “I’ve waited centuries to have this.” Home. Family. Sanctuary. A love to call his own. These thoughts go unspoken, and yet they ring as clear as a bell between us. “And I almost lost everything. Again.”

  “Sometimes the things we want most come with the greatest risks. From my vantage point, you’ve come out on top despite the odds against you.”

  Jakob nuzzles my chest, his head traveling slowly upward. Another nip is delivered to my clavicle, and his tight grip around my body loosens.

  “Perhaps my risks would not have been so great, nor my odds, if my family did as I said. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Jakob—”

  Before my protest can be ushered out, I find myself on my back across the bed. He props himself above me, eyes smoldering and jaw set.

  “Jakob—”

  “There is one last thing you must learn to accept, dear heart. Within this family, and within this household, I am the head. Is that clear?”

  I am offered no opportunity to reply. Jakob’s lips crash against mine. Pouring through the harsh press of his mouth is a reprimand and the fervent desire to make a claim. I match his desperation, my lips moving against him frantically—my fangs teasing their prowess. When my hands attempt to pull him closer so I might feel the full press of his body against my own, they are captured in his iron grasp.

  “Not yet,” he whispers harshly against my lips, thrusting my arms over my head.

  His lips travel down my neck and across my shoulder, then journey up my right arm in languid, open-mouth kisses until I am squirming beneath him. His half-lidded eyes lock with mine as he reaches my soulmark.

  “Don’t tease,” I plead.

  “I could tease you for decades,” he replies without missing a beat. “Let the tension build and build until we burst into flames and take each other for nights until our need’s sated. Then do it all over again. But tonight I have no intention of such torrid affairs. Tonight we finish this grand fight of ours that you started those months ago.”

  His tongue darts across the length of my soulmark. My response is immediate—a feline stretch of my entire body as a current of sparks flitters through my veins. A pleasurable sigh traipses past my mouth.

  “You want to complete the mark?”

  It’s a silly question, and more rhetorical than not, but I have to ask. I need whatever this is between us to be stated. No more games or ulterior motives.

  “Before, I refused to acknowledge this mark for what it was: a gift. And now, after everything, I cannot believe how blind I’ve been to it. What I want is you. For eternity.”

  “Eternity is quite a long time,” I whisper back, my eyes falling in and out of focus at his words. Jakob directs a stream of air over the wet skin of my wrist, and a violent wave of shivers race down my arm and the rest of my body.

  “Or perhaps, not enough,” Jakob rebuts in a low, meaningful voice.

  His lips lay across my soulmark again. The kiss is unhurried and drives me wild. Pleasure scours through me until I am confident I will faint from the electricity burning me alive inside out.

  “Please.”

  I can feel his satisfaction coast through the bond, not to mention the smile on his face as he pulls away.

  “Please what?” His hands take their time running down the length of my arms. His nose and mouth drag over the soft skin until they reach my neck. I arch, my eyes fluttering closed as his fangs trace the artery there at my throat. “Please what?”

  My eyes snap open, my body turning taunt and then—

  “Oomph.” Jakob looks up at me, a touch startled with my legs framing his torso and
my hands laid flat against his chest.

  “Please don’t tell me what to do,” I tell him with mock sweetness.

  His eyes flash with heat at my candor but blaze into something entirely different when my hands find the loose tie of my robe and undo it. “If we’re to spend eternity by each other’s side, you’ll have to learn I don’t like following rules, let alone yours.”

  Jakob growls. “Do not test me, Irina.”

  The robe slips off my shoulders and down my arms to pool around us. “Oh, this is very much a test, Jakob Vrana. And if you want to pass, you’ll choose your next words wisely.”

  The way he looks at me makes a delicious heat pool between my thighs. I bend down, letting my hair create a curtain around our faces and in the process rub my bottom half against him. A flash of darkness storms across his gaze, one that promises sinful retribution. My vision fades to black and white.

  I’ve never felt this way before—confident and sexy in my skin. Powerful. And all because of the way he looks at me.

  Jakob’s eyes seep into crimson in return, but still, he does not answer me. When he lifts his head to kiss me senseless once more, I press a finger over his eager lips.

  “You were right,” I tell him softly. “What you said before about our bond. Something fractured, when I died. It’s still there, of course, but it isn’t what it once was.” My finger retreats from his lips to the sharp slope of his jaw. “The influence you once held over me through the marking is gone, Jakob. That’s what’s different.”

  “Is it?” he asks tersely as I readjust above him, slowly rising back to sit on my knees with both my hands firmly on his chest.

  “Yes. And tonight I very much intend to even the playing field. Tonight, I intend to be yours, Jakob,” I say, my words igniting my fervor for this man. “And you will be mine.”

  Jakob’s hands run up my thighs to grip my hips. “You wish the binding to be mutual,” he says coolly. I nod, an odd clenching sensation stirring around my dead heart. “I’m in no position to refuse you,” he murmurs. “Nor do I want to. We shall bind ourselves to each other, then, and that is final.”