by Rebecca Main
“No arguments. We do this my way, or not at all.” When I’m more than 50 percent positive a brawl won’t break out, my vision returns to its normal technicolor. “It’s just through those double doors,” I say to Xander and Ryatt, pointing to it. “We’ll be in shortly.”
Ryatt scowls and stuffs his hand in his pockets. The downward angle of his head and raised shoulders is one I am used to seeing from him and know a foul comment is ready to spew from his mouth. I brace myself for his barbarous words, but instead, the chilly air crackles with gentle static and another voice sound in the air.
“Have you found her? Over.”
My arms fall to my side as my mouth drops open. “Is that… Keenan?”
Losing his bluster, Ryatt’s shoulders sink down, and he gives a reluctant nod. Pressing his fingers to the well-hidden earpiece on his person, he responds in the affirmative.
“We’ll be awhile. Over,” Ryatt adds, passing an indescribable look toward our older brother.
“Who else is here?” I ask, pressing both hands to my stomach. A cool hand slides up and down my spine before settling on my lower back. The fingers rub small circles there, and a wave of comfort flows through me.
“Calliope. Atticus and Zoelle are watching over the pack,” Xander says.
“And Quinn is doing her best to keep them on their toes.” Ryatt smiles wryly, but it is strained at best.
For the first time since their arrival, I examine my brothers' appearance. Both are dressed in black, with slim utility belts wrapped around their waists. They also wear the same purple half-moons beneath their eyes, and I wonder how long they have been without their soulmarks.
How the distance must be killing them.
“Shall we, then?” Jakob asks politely. Both lycans scowl at Jakob’s question, but reluctantly walk off toward the room. I keep my feet firmly planted and reach for Jakob’s hand. Knowing how well they can hear me with their sharp ears, I do my best to keep my voice low.
“I didn’t call,” I say, turning into Jakob’s body. “They found me. They didn’t forget about me.”
Emotion clogs my throat. It is a tight, burning sensation as I hold back even more tears. Jakob shushes me sweetly, brushing back my hair.
“Who could forget you?” he asks. I give him a watery smile in return. “I came to tell you of the tribunal’s verdict.”
My eyes widen. “They’ve already made their decision?”
“The Thorburn’s case was tried during daylight hours. Several members met their death by the sun’s light for collusion and treason. They were stripped of their title, as well.”
I take a long moment to process his news. I open my mouth to speak and ask about Ruby, but a lump in my throat prevents me at first. “And… Ruby?”
“Alive,” he says. “But her actions will not go unpunished. She will face her sentence on tomorrow.”
“What?” I ask breathlessly.
“A lashing with Valdora’s lightning whip. Each member of the Roux Household will be allowed to strike Ruby once.” Jakob’s face transforms into a glower as he delivers the news. I duck my head and take in a deep breath to calm myself.
“At least it isn’t death,” I murmur and turn my gaze back toward him. Jakob nods solemnly.
“Let’s not keep them waiting,” he mutters with a sigh, then presses a soft kiss to my forehead. Jakob makes a move to pass me, but I place a hand firmly on his chest. He looks down quizzically at me.
“I think it would be best for you to wait upstairs while I have this conversation alone with my brothers,” I tell him. “Wait for me upstairs in your room?”
Jakob sighs. “As you wish.”
When the sound of Jakob’s bedroom door closing reaches my ears, I walk to the parlor. A sense of dread slows my steps as I near, my palms becoming itchy and sweaty as my nerves threaten to overtake me. Ryatt studies the wall of booze and blood, choosing a bottle of dark amber and pouring a glass three fingers high.
As Ryatt moves to stand behind Xander’s seated form, I walk over to the bar as well. My glass fills with syrupy blood, but only a carefully measured two fingers. The weight of their gazes leaves me hesitant to face them, but after a long sip of my blood, I find the strength to do so.
“That smells awful,” Ryatt comments as I approach and sit across from Xander in a low back chair.
“Well, it tastes divine,” I shoot back and take another sip.
“So… you drink blood now,” Xander says after I swallow.
“I am part vampyré. Blood makes up about 90 percent of my diet now.”
Ryatt’s eyebrows quirk up. “And the other 10 percent?”
“Very rare meat. Red meat, to be exact,” I inform them, hoping the dose of embarrassment I feel doesn’t resonate on my cheeks.
“Are you drinking enough?” I frown at Xander’s question, but the seriousness does not fade from his expression.
“I suppose so,” I respond, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It doesn’t help that I’m constantly hungry—”
“Is he restricting the amount you drink?” Xander interrupts. He leans forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as his expression darkens. “We know he starved Callie’s friend, Nova. If he’s doing the same to you….” A growl tears through the room, and I stare at Xander in shock as he jerks back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No,” I say. My gaze darts between my brothers' matching looks of doubt. “No,” I repeat more firmly. “My blood intake might be kept on a schedule of sorts, but it’s so I don’t overindulge. It’s easy in the first fifty years to lose yourself to bloodlust, and that isn’t something I want to succumb to. Perhaps Nova’s consumption was more restricted at first, but we both adhere to the same diet now. Though,” I continue with a slight frown, “mine is slightly different seeing as I also eat meat.”
Xander sighs. “How did this happen, Irina.”
My fangs dig into my bottom lip. “It’s quite a long story.”
Ryatt takes a seat next to Xander, his glass of whiskey already half finished. “Start at the beginning.”
I do. I tell them how I fled with O’Riley and Mathis. I relay that they were picked off and I alone faced Jakob. The only thing that kept me alive during our fight that should have seen me dead was my soulmark. This news draws the blood from their faces, and with what remains of my lycan senses, I can smell their distress and anguish. But I rattle on.
I tell them of the precarious situation we found ourselves in at the Dark Court. How Jakob was in search of vengeance, no matter what the cost. How dangerous the discovery of our soulmark would be should anyone find out about it.
“And are you…?” Xander’s eyes look at my wrist. I rub the infinity symbol fondly.
“Sealed, marked, and bound,” I tell them. “For the longest time, I thought Jakob would have me killed. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the threat of his own demise. We went weeks without completing the marking thanks to a necklace Jax crafted. It kept the bond between us incredibly weak, but once it was off, there wasn’t any going back.”
“I see,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes fall upon the amethyst ring before flicking up to meet my copper eyes. “You found his family rings, then?”
I nod.
“After the Celestial Court, everything snowballed. We learned it wasn’t just one household to blame for the death of Jakob’s family and stealing the rings. It was three. Adrian Thorburn held a grudge against the Vranas before they earned their seat at court because of Max’s words against him—he was the original head of the Vrana Household,” I quickly explain. “Adrian found an opportunity to take out the family by working with Iris Roux who hated Jakob for stealing her sire’s attention. As for the Mubarks, they supplied the muscle to cut down Jakob's family. He's always been under Adrian's thumb.”
“Vampyrés can hold quite the grudge it seems,” Ryatt says, rising to refill his glass.
“Y
ou’re telling me,” I say, sinking back into my seat. “They aren’t the type to forget a slight against them.”
“The Celestial Court wasn’t long ago,” Xander says. “I received word from the Blancs’ pack’s third about the court’s minutes and decisions a day or two before we left. I hadn’t realized our pack’s fight with the Wselfwulfs had garnered so much attention.”
“I believe our only saving grace was Atticus’s engagement to the Blancs’ daughter,” I say. I tuck my feet up under my bottom, waiting for Ryatt to return before finishing my lengthy tale.
Xander releases a sigh once I've finished. “And you, Irina? Who killed you?”
My shoulders sink an inch as I look away from their probing gazes. "When I left to get help for Nova, I got disoriented and lost. I didn’t realize I was following the sound of someone's voice until it was too late.”
Xander leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “What do you mean?”
“I heard the song of a banshee, Xander.”
“A banshee?” Xander’s voice is hollow, its cavernous depth ringing with anguish. I duck my head and swallow tightly.
“Yes. Last I checked, nothing trumps something as powerful as a banshee’s cry. I wish I could tell you it happened quickly and that it was painless, but it wasn’t.” My chest constricts, and I wipe at the corner of my eyes to deliver their moisture away. “I wasn’t alone, at least. Not for a second,” I continue ferociously. “Claire stayed with me until Jakob arrived, and he killed Adrian.”
“Adrian… Thorburn? He killed you?” Xander asks. I barely have a chance to nod when he lets out a mighty curse, thrusting himself back and running his hands through his hair. “And who is this ‘Claire’ girl? What part did she play in your death?”
“It was Claire I heard, Xander. She’s the banshee, but you can't place the blame on her shoulders. She can’t control her gift. You know that as well as I do. A banshee is but a messenger of death… She didn’t kill me. Adrian did.”
“How?” he asks tersely.
“He bit me. He tore open my throat. My lycan healing slowed it somewhat, but it was Claire who kept me alive as long as I was. She used her hands to stem the bleeding as much as she could.”
Ryatt looks pained. “Irina—”
“Please,” I plead, looking back up to the two of them. “Just let me finish. My death was unavoidable. No amount of magic or medical attention would have brought me back, which is why Jakob fed me his blood. There was no guarantee I would transition into a hybrid, but he refused to let me die.”
The looks of disbelief that cross their faces are nearly identical. Their doubt is crystal clear regarding Jakob’s true motives. I know what they must think... that Jakob attempted to bring me back to save himself, and I suspect no amount of reasoning will undo such a callous belief. My heart breaks a little at the thought, but I plow on, head held high.
“For three days and nights, Vrana’s family each gave me their blood to ensure I would come back, even though none of them were in a condition to do so. It’s a miracle I survived at all, and I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for all of them,” I say passionately.
Xander stands and crosses the room to the bar. Glass sounds against glass and liquid splashing out in a rush fill the silence of his departure. When he returns, his drink is held between a white-knuckled grasp.
“Explain to me how your soulmark is still viable. You died, that had to have some effect on your bond. You don’t have to stay,” Xander reasons. He takes a deep drink from the alcohol, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth once he’s finished.
“Our bond was affected. Something was wrong with it. It was faint. Weaker, but still there. Before I… died, we had completed the sealing and marking. When I was brought back, that’s when we completed the binding.” The glass shatters in Xander’s hand. “Please try and control your temper for a while longer,” I ask with a fair amount of exasperation. “You were doing so well.”
“You completed the binding. You bound yourself to him?” Xander’s voice reaches a pitch I’m unused to hearing, and I cringe in response. Ryatt does as well, his blue eyes growing wide. His cheek twitches as he casts a glance at Xander’s reddening form, before smothering the urge to smirk.
“Yes,” I say and set down my own glass to stand. I plant my hands on my hips to square off with Xander. “And he bound himself to me as well.”
“What?” they ask in tandem. Their matching flabbergasted expressions tempt a smile from me.
“Because my death weakened the bond, we thought it wise to bind ourselves to each other to strengthen the soulmark. It’s also quite courteous and fair to share such a mantle. Why should only one of us have to bind ourselves to the other, and not both?”
Their continued looks of bewilderment coax my smile out of hiding, and I wear it smugly as I stare them down.
“Let me guess, it never crossed either of your minds to bind yourselves to your soulmarks?” Both have the good grace to look mildly ashamed, and we settle into a more peaceful silence.
Finally.
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, my gaze lands on Ryatt’s serene regard. We stay like this for a long moment, taking each other in. This is the longest separation either of us has ever known from one another. Though Xander is our brother by marriage and as close as can be to us with the trials we’ve withstood together… Ryatt is my blood. There is a bond between us that lies far deeper than anyone else realizes.
“You’re staying, aren’t you?” he asks.
“What?” Xander looks between the two of us in alarm. “No! Irina, I forbid you from staying.”
I cock a brow and hip, unfazed by his outburst. But inside a strange thrill runs through me. His command does not hold the weight it once did, and though there is a camaraderie between our lycan nature, my wolf no longer sees Xander as its alpha. And how could it, when he is still bound by the curse that holds our kind captive. His kind captive.
"And leave behind the only man who knows how to pleasure me?” I snort for good measure, trying to keep the mood lighter than it feels. “I think not, brother.”
“No, no, no,” he rambles on and begins to pace. The remains of his glass crunching beneath his heavy boot. “You're coming home with us.”
“No, Xander,” I correct gently. “I won’t.”
Xander lets out a frustrated growl, more than prepared to issue command after command to see his will executed, but it is Ryatt who pipes up first.
“Is the sex really that good?” he jokes.
I laugh weakly in response, sharing a small smile with him. “I think I’m happy here.”
“You think?” Xander scoffs and keeps to his manic pacing. “That isn’t good enough.”
“Well, I haven’t had the chance to properly experience life here without the threat of death hanging over my head. Or without being set to task on a quest for vengeance, but… yes, I think I could be happy here. They treat me well. They care for me, and I for them.”
“They kept you hostage—”
“I’m well aware of what the status of my existence was here, thank you very much, but you told me to stay alive, Xander. And I did what I needed to do just that. I couldn’t stop complications from arising. I didn’t expect them to watch out for me or my feelings to change as time went on, but they did. Please,” I beg, my voice growing strained. “Please don’t hate me for changing. I’ve become so much more than I ever was in the past two months. I’m so much better.”
Xander stops his movements, his fists pressing into his eyes as he takes in several deep breaths. “Irina.” My name is gripped with emotion as it falls past his lips. Xander’s arms fall down to his sides as he stares at me helplessly. Painfully.
“I’m staying, Xander,” I tell him quietly.
“I was supposed to bring you home. I was supposed to save you,” he replies and takes a step toward me. “You’re my baby sister, and I didn’t protect yo
u. I couldn’t find you, Irina. If I had made you stay. If I had—”
“Xander.”
We meet in the middle, our arms tying around each other in a suffocating embrace. My tears coat Xander's black shirt, and a wetness appears at the side of my head, not of my own making.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks.
I give a vehement shake of my head. “You’re here now, Xander. That’s all that matters. You did find me. I just didn’t need rescuing after all.”
“I’m your big brother,” he mutters back, his mouth stuck to the side of my head in a lingering kiss. “Rescuing comes with the territory.”
“As does cock-blocking, which I will happily provide if it will prevent you from bumping uglies with the bloodsucker upstairs,” Ryatt chimes in. Xander and I disengage with a shared laugh.
“I’ll kindly ask you refrain from such derogatory terms seeing as how I too indulge in blood now,” I say.
Ryatt shrugs, a half-hearted smile on his face. “So you’ll stay here,” Ryatt says, standing with an exaggerated sigh. “For how long, sister? And please don’t say ‘forever,’ it would be terribly cliché.”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I can’t quite imagine being without them anymore. Their blood runs through my veins. I’m as much of a Vrana as I am a part of the Adolphus pack. But if something did go wrong… I know I’ll always be able to come home to you.”
“You’ll come for the weddings I hope. Xander and Zoelle's wedding is in the spring, and Atticus’s this winter?” Ryatt asks.
I nod. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss either for the world." I wipe the last of my tears from my face. "Now, I think it best you two stay the night. Invite Keenan and Calliope in as well. There’s a matter I’d like to discuss with all of you, but first I need to speak with Jakob,” I say.
The two aren’t pleased, but I’m already gliding across the room.
“Have pity on the two of us and don’t be too loud,” Ryatt calls after my retreating form.
++
His room is not so unlike the bedroom he keeps in the Dark Court’s underground palace. It is modern and sleek, filled with silver and crisp whites and polished black. He stands near a window at the opposite end of the room, his arms folded over his chest as he stares out into the cloudy night sky.
