kindred 08.6 - blood enchanted

by Nicola Claire

  “Do you know what Ediz is?” Hakan asked, not moving away from my blade or my body. His thumb had started stroking the side of my neck, directly above my pulse point.

  He didn’t need the contact to know my heart was still racing, but like all vampires he was drawn to the evidence of my distress. Vampires are predators, don’t let the stories fool you. They hunt. They make it look effortless. They know every trick out there to subdue their prey.

  His thumb felt soft and alluring. Seductive. The way his eyes flashed beautiful, crisp blues and dazzling, sparkling silvers could steal a girl’s breath away.

  Just as well my mother had taught me better.

  “Mutant lizard,” I replied, offering a stroke of my knuckles as incentive.

  The vampire’s nostrils flaring was the only reaction to the intimate and threatening manoeuvre.

  “He is Erbörü,” Hakan replied. “He will not halt now until she is dead.”

  “Why?” The word was out before I could stop it. A wisp of a thing, filled with dread and horror. Laced with fear and guilt.

  I’d brought Georgia here. I’d recognised that her Dark Shadow was close to the surface. I should have known better. I should have looked out for my friend.

  “Because he has tasted her blood, hayatim,” Hakan said softly. “Because he is much like me.”

  My eyes met his. The inference obvious in the words alone; I didn’t need to see the resolute look he gave me. I’d let him taste my blood. I’d led the Dark Shadow into a trap. I’d fucked up severely.

  So much of what had happened in the past few days was my fault.

  Even losing Luc.

  Hakan had taken my brother to get to me.

  “You are vampyre,” I said in a hiss. “Have you so little control?”

  It was a last ditch effort to insult him. Words mean something to a vampire. They carry weight.

  But he only smiled. A small, deeply saddened smile.

  “I am a Prince of Mhachkay,” he said, stroking my neck as though it would calm me. “I have two hearts. Two souls. And they have chosen.”

  Oh, I did not like the sound of that.

  “And Ediz?” I asked as a thunderous roar rolled out of the now destroyed room. A chair flew through the air, slamming against the wall I was still held firmly against. The couch followed. Hakan let out a low growl, a crimson hue flashing in his eyes when the wall shook so hard my teeth rattled.

  “Yeter!” he growled and received a chilling howl in return that became a hiss.

  He let a slow breath out and leaned his forehead against mine. It was far too intimate. Even more so than his thumb over my pulse point or his hard pecs pressed against my breasts, or the feel of his straining arousal against my fisted hand around the sword hilt.

  “You can end this,” he said, his eyes closed, his nostrils flaring. Scenting me. “You can save her. Save your brother. Save your city.”

  I’m not sure which threat did it. I’d like to say all three, but the threat to Georgia had become real, and the threat to Luc had existed for so long now, that it might have been the new threat to my city that won out in the end.

  I kept the sword still, fingered a stake at my hip, and reached for my Light.

  His fangs sinking into flesh surprised me.

  Why? I don’t know.

  Maybe it was the ribbons; twisting, turning, entwining inside me. There was no alarm. No warning. No fear. Only a hint of something elusive, something desirable, something like hunger.

  He growled low, wrapped his free hand around my sword arm, and squeezed hard. Hard enough to make the Svante clatter to the floorboards.

  I whimpered.

  Georgia screamed in fury.

  And my stake entered Hakan’s side.

  I didn’t have time to register the fact that I’d staked him. Again. Nausea rolled through me, thick and saccharine. My body shuddered. And Hakan wrapped his arms around my shoulders, tucked my face into the flat of his chest, and lapped up my blood, ignoring all distractions.

  The silver of the stake burned his flesh, soft whorls of smoke rising from where it still resided, tickling my nose. Ediz roared. Hakan growled, the sound becoming a soft purr. And I finally, finally, grasped my Light.

  Desperation made me reckless. I’d used Dream Walking as a defence twice in the past few hours. Too soon. Too much.

  Exhaustion slammed into me, as Georgia’s body flew through the air and landed crumpled in a heap at my side. Hakan fell to the ground at my feet, his fangs pulled from the puncture site before he could lick the wound closed. I staggered, sliding down the wall as I tried to get to Georgia. Hakan appeared beside me; hazy, magnificent in his anger. And Ediz came barrelling out of the room and streaked across the hall.

  My vision was fading, but I willed myself to stay awake, to stay conscious, to save Georgia. Bile coated my tongue. Sweat rolled down my spine. Chills started making my teeth chatter, my body trembling in a way I had no hope of controlling. Of stopping. Of beating.

  I threw myself between Ediz and Georgia. The effort required making me lose my grip on Hakan’s Dream Walking self. The floorboards came up to meet me, my head spun, the room with it. My hand wrapped around Georgia’s wrist, my back coming to rest at her side.

  Ediz let loose the most terrifying sound of rage, and then Sanguis Vitam filled the air.

  It rushed over my body, stroked soft tendrils down my arm, across my cheek, and encased me - and Georgia - in a protective bubble.

  Ediz slammed up against the invisible barrier and bounced right off it.

  He shook his head, bared his incredibly long fangs, flexed his claws, and took a step forward, ready to attack again.

  “Yeter!” Hakan growled. A series of commands in that same foreign language followed. I blinked through spots, breathed through the desperate need to vomit. Panted as though I couldn’t get enough air.

  Slowly Ediz backed down, his eyes darting between his master and his prey. And the pathetic excuse of a Nosferatin lying between him and his goal.

  Silence followed. A stand-off, except two of the participants were almost out for the count on the floor.

  I’d been such a fool to come here. I’d been so blinded by my need to solve my own problems that I’d nearly caused the death of an innocent woman. Of a friend. My life was mine to throw away, but bringing Georgia into this mess, adding her body count to that of Luc, it was idiotic.

  My Sigillum burned, reminding me I had options.

  I closed my eyes, felt defeat wash through me and then lifted a leaden hand to the sleeve of my jacket. It took three tries to get the material to budge, to get the Sigillum uncovered. Mint green and lime washed through with magenta and violet. Fear, worry, anger and rage.

  Footsteps sounded out beside me. The sharp click of expensive shoes on wood. I flicked open heavy lids and stared into the calm and intrigued face of Hakan Bahar. He was crouched down in front of me, his eyes moving swiftly over my face, my body, my Sigillum. He seemed completely at ease, not recovering from the incredulity of a forced Dream Walk, or the loss of control, or even a stake to the side of his chest. No anger marred his perfect features. No reproach or judgement in his steady gaze. No breathlessness hinted at the effort it must have taken for him to rein in his mind-numbingly powerful shifter charge. Just mild curiosity as his eyes landed on my fingers pressing into the centre of my arm. Right above my blazing Sigillum.

  “What have you done?” he asked in that lilting accent, the rolling of vowels wrapped up in soft velvet. “Who have you called?”

  Ordinarily, it would have been Luc. But Luc was missing, so the power that rested in my Sigillum would have sought out someone just as close, just as much a part of me as my twin.

  “You’re running out of time,” I whispered. “Where’s my brother?”

  He lifted his hand, a long finger stretched out to trace the tears that coated my cheek now. Such exhaustion. Such loss. Such defeat.

  “Your brother is safe, hayatim,” he whispered
back. “Safer than you,” he added, and my eyelids closed, my head already nodding understanding.

  There wasn’t enough time. Confusion made deciphering Hakan’s meaning difficult, but I’d insulted him today. He wasn’t prepared to let me escape without retribution.

  To a vampire, punishment is in the offence. It didn’t matter that his two hearts, his two souls had chosen me. I had offended him.

  And there wasn’t time for the Sigillgum’s call for help to save me.

  “Leave Georgia,” I whispered, the plea a sharp stab in my gut.

  He’d won. I wondered briefly, in the self-pity that had invaded my soul, if he’d always win. He was stronger, faster, and more cunning. He was vampyre but he was more.

  What was a Mhachkay? What did being a Prince of Mhachkay entail?

  His finger stroked down the side of my face, a soft caress through rivers of tears.

  I never cried. Never. Why was I crying now?

  “Your familiar is safe,” he murmured, his hand wrapping around my cheek, hot palm cupping my face tenderly.

  I blinked in reaction to his name for my friend, but understood the error. The Dark Shadow was so much like an animal at times, that it was easy to mistake it for a familiar. But I was no mage, magic might flow through my veins, but it is only that of the Nosferatu, mixed with that of the Nosferatin. I could not wield it like a witch.

  Hakan’s lips spread into a soft smile, as if he was reading my mind, reading my doubts. Reading my very soul.

  “Everything they have said is true,” he murmured. “Everything.”

  I held his gaze, but talking was beyond me. A little longer, and salvation would appear. Tempered with a cold wash of humiliation, and a large dose of heated rage.

  My father was going to be pissed.

  That’s if Hakan didn’t tear off my head before he got here.

  Then Papa would be a tornado.

  My lips edged up in a small smile; amusing imagery had always been my downfall.

  “Kan büyülü,” Hakan said softly, his thumb stroking across the quivering pulse at the base of my neck. “Kan büyülü,” he repeated, as though the words were a chant. Kan büyülü whispered through my head. Through my heart.

  I didn’t understand this call he represented to me. I didn’t understand this restraint he showed when punishment was due. I didn’t understand why Papa wasn’t here already.

  “Ediz,” Hakan said, still touching me, still looking into my eyes with bottomless pools of blue. “Get ready,” he murmured.

  “They are already here, bey Bahar.”

  Hakan nodded as though he’d already suspected as much.

  “How many?” he asked.

  “Twenty. More are approaching from the VC.”

  “Is he here?”

  “Yes. But there is one who is even more furious than him.”

  Hakan cocked his head, his blue eyes flashing silver in the dim hallway.

  “I see,” he murmured, then he leaned forward, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck to lift me closer, and pressed his lips to mine. I couldn’t fight him, and that made me mad. A small fluttering of something I could use suffusing my body.

  And then his Sanguis Vitam flowed into me, my defences down, my protective walls shattered beyond repair, my will to resist all but forgotten.

  Mine whispered on repeat through my head. Kan büyülü was added to the refrain. And then his hot lips coasted over my jaw, down my neck and rested above where he had bitten me earlier. The bite marks would have healed, even without his saliva to close the wound. I am part vampyre, I can heal when my body is whole enough to effect it. I was surprised I’d been strong enough now, and maybe I hadn’t been. Maybe it still bled and that’s why I was so weak, so depleted of strength, so exhausted.

  Mix in three Dream Walking Light blasts and I was open to anything this vampire did.

  A whimper escaped me.

  Hakan paused. I had the feeling that it was against his better judgement, and then with a growl of regret he pulled back, taking his Sanguis Vitam with him.

  He reached down and picked up my hand, and then placed it above his bite marks, where I’d just felt the hot, wet stroke of his tongue.

  “I will not take what is not freely given,” he announced, his eyes cold and emotionless. “But you will give it freely soon.”

  “No,” I whispered, the words barely audible against a pounding that had started up inside my head. “Never,” I managed before sickness made it difficult to open my mouth without needing to swallow.

  “Hayatim,” he chastised gently, “never say never. You are proof of that.”

  He stood up suddenly, and then both Hakan and Ediz disappeared.

  I breathed. Slow, purposeful breaths of air into a crushed chest and deflated lungs. My pulse pounded in time to a rhythm that sounded too frantic, too real. Georgia made a sound behind me, her arm twitching and then somehow moving to wrap around me. She wasn’t breathing. There was no red glow in the now too dark hallway. Just a steel bar encaging me. Protecting me. Keeping me from floating away.

  Hakan had wanted to mark me. The bite, the Sanguis Vitam, his words of promise all meant the same thing. But something had stopped him. Something had made the vampire halt in his tracks. A move that would have been remarkable had I the strength to reason it out just then.

  Vampires on the hunt rarely stop. And they very rarely give up an opportunity to punish when they’ve been so slighted. Battle is battle, and although we hadn’t been in an arena, this confrontation had definitely been a fight. The start of a war.

  He’d won, yet he’d walked away from the spoils.

  He still had Luc, so one could assume that he felt justified in showing his hand.

  But he’d walked away, and somehow that left me both fearful of what might come next, and disappointed. Those fucking ribbons twisted in a chill breeze of foretelling, tangling up my gut. Saddened. Lonely. Bereft.

  Where was my anger? Where were my shields? I was in deep, deep trouble, and it was nowhere near over yet.

  I let out a low moan of disquiet, felt Georgia’s arm band tighter around me, and sensed the shift in the air in front of my face.

  I blinked. Light washed the half destroyed hallway. And magenta burst out of two very angry, very unamused, very wild looking eyes.

  My father stood before me, staring down at the Nothus who had shoved me bodily behind her in lightning fast moves, and then shifting his extremely disgruntled gaze to my face.

  Magenta flashed like lightning.

  “Éliane,” Michel Durand, the Champion of the Iunctio, and my very irate father purred. “What have you done?”

  I smiled. An instant and regretful reaction to have under the circumstances, and blinked up blearily at my dad. He’d come.

  And not just him, but from the feel of the Sanguis Vitam that pulsed in the air around me, so had the upper echelon of his line. The most powerful and hardened of his soldiers. The most deadly and quick to react to any threat.

  I struggled to get out from behind a very protective Dark Shadow, swatting Georgia on the arm in frustration when she just growled. And felt the cool hand of a vampire wrap around my upper arm, and haul me into his side.

  I blinked into Alain Dupont’s highly disapproving gaze, and felt my mother’s Light blast into Georgia when her vampire attempted to come to my aid.

  “Uh…” I managed.

  Papa growled.

  Alain sighed.

  And the Master of the City, Jett Vardi, one third of Georgia’s triumvirate, stormed through the back door.

  10

  And Then He Was Gone

  We were in so much trouble.

  The Master of Auckland City, long dark, curly hair loose around too wide shoulders, thick lips pressed in a hard thin line, lethal glint in his steely blue eyes, stared down his crooked nose at Georgia as she sat shoulder to shoulder with me on the dust strewn floor of Hakan Bahar’s half destroyed hall.

  Next to him, arms
crossed over a broad, expensive suit-clad chest, fire and lightning shining in narrowed magenta washed eyes, nostrils flaring in an unbelievable show of restraint, stood the Champion of the Iunctio. Staring down his patrician nose at me.

  Both Georgia and I turned to look at each other… and smirked.

  Hell hath no fury like a vampire being laughed at.

  Papa growled.

  Jett joined him.

  The walls rattled and the last remaining architrave crumbled as it lost its hold and fell to the floor.

  Silence met its demise. I was finding it difficult to breathe.

  “Did it not occur to you,” my father said, his French accent so much more pronounced with the increase in his rage, “that approaching the vampyre who holds your brother captive was a seriously miscalculated move?”

  I didn’t say anything. The ability to speak was all but lost. Embarrassment had washed through me, making my exposed Sigillum flare a tell-tale tangerine. Being berated by my father was never a nice experience. But having to suffer through the indignity of it in front of the most powerful vampires of the Durand line was excruciating.

  I gritted my teeth, lifted my chin and met the furious glare in his eyes.

  “When will you,” he added, attempting to pronounce each word with the utmost care, “begin behaving like an adult? Is there, perhaps, a reason why you insist on such reckless and illogical behaviour? How do you think,” he went on, really winding up now, “this reflects on the family?”

  “The family?” I repeated before I could stop myself.

  “Yes, Éliane, the family! We have a responsibility to set an example…”

  “And what of Luc?” I all but shouted back, somehow managing to get to my feet, the wall offering a decent crutch without being too obvious about it. “Is he not more important than our reputation? Is his capture not a slight against your precious appearances too?”

  “Éliane,” Alain warned softly off to the side. I glared at him and returned my attention to my father.

  “What have you been doing this past week?” I demanded. “Have you even attempted to confront Hakan about Luc? Or is the punishment in the offence?” I all but screamed. “Luc fucked up so now he has to pay the price for it!”