Blood Reunited

by Amber Belldene

  He scribbled to Pedro. Sorry. I like bad boys.

  If Bel noticed the commotion, it didn’t faze him. “We recently discovered the special properties of Blood Vine and of Hunter blood. I found the unusual presence of gold in both sources. In the laboratory I was able to isolate a gold-based protein I call hemoaurum.”

  Everyone in the room knew the remarkable details, but the drama of it was still noted with murmurs.

  “I was then able to engineer an exact copy of this protein.”

  “A protein?” asked a petite African female. Nceba, Pedro remembered. One of the oldest vampires in the world. Her voice was softly inviting and everyone leaned in. “Do you understand how it works?”

  Bel started to answer the question, but the vampire’s female assistant leaned in and the Justicia member whispered in a language involving those cool tongue-clicks. The blood servant’s hands settled on the other female’s shoulders and stroked her too-thin neck. They must be lovers. The female vampire’s eyes fanned into crow’s feet, and the slightest bit of silver dusted her temples—sure signs she was wasting away.

  When the clicks ceased, Bel replied. “No. I do not yet understand the mechanism. And unfortunately, as of yesterday, the vampires receiving hemoaurum infusions show no physical improvements. My experiment failed.”

  Bodies stirred in their chair and the dining room resounded with the scuffle of minuscule movements. No one spoke. Pedro wanted to shout, or sing something, just to spare Bel the awkward moment.

  Finally, Loki burst the un-silence. “And have you spoken to Uta as I commanded?”

  Bel’s eye flicked to Uta’s. “Yes. She has informed me of a theory, but I—”

  “Ah, yes. Uta’s secret.” Loki’s eyes darkened. “Uta Ilirije.”

  She straightened her spine.

  “You possess knowledge of the powers of Hunter blood?” Loki asked the question, but Pedro sensed he knew the answer already.

  “I have sworn to keep this knowledge secret.”

  “And before us, you willingly break it?”

  Huh? Loki’s voice had gone all weird and formal.

  “I do.” She squirmed on her ice pack, and it crunched like the breaking of a crust of snow. Then she rose with perfect grace.

  The air thickened and everyone in the room shifted in their seats. Andre glowered, staring out the window at his ruined vineyards, so Pedro looked to Bel for a clue. But his gaze volleyed around the room, apparently equally confused.

  Then Uta began her story.

  Chapter 20

  THOUSANDS OF YEARS had physically conditioned Uta to hold this secret under her tongue. True, a giant, reeking sheep-orgy of events had transpired to reveal its gist, but there was still the matter of a vow. Her sire, Rize, had been a complicated male, but her reverence for him went beyond duty and it pained her to break his confidence. She was no conservative, hadn’t kept the old customs in centuries, but a vow was a vow. A promise made to one’s sire—well, the only thing stronger than that was a blood bond. There would be consequences, wet and messy ones. She licked her lips.

  But Loki was right, it was time for the secret to come out. So she flexed her tongue, attempting to loosen it.

  “My sire survived the first war between Hunters and vampires. And he told me of another survivor, a halfling child named Ayal. She still lives today, in the mountains of Eastern Turkey.”

  “A survivor? I don’t believe it—she would be older than all of us.” Sadavir glared at her as if he could intimidate her.

  “I do not give one frigid fuck if you believe it, Sadie,” she lashed out. What was wrong with the fool? Couldn’t he tell she was on edge, horny, and about to break some shit?

  “What is her secret, Uta?” Loki asked gently.

  She took strength from his familiar smile and paused for drama. Simply because sticky chaos was about to rain down did not mean she could not enjoy being the center of attention. Spinning slowly, she made certain all eyes were on her.

  “With Hunter blood, our ancestors enjoyed the light of day.”

  The collective gasp satisfied her flair.

  “You insinuated this at our last meeting, and I did not believe you then.” Sadavir crossed his legs, examining his fingernails. “How convenient that you now purport to have living proof in a mysterious, yet absent, halfling.”

  She inhaled through her nose, determined not to let him provoke her. “Apparently the other aggressionists do not share your doubts. We have reports of hostages taken from at least one compound attacked by vampires.”

  A room full of bodies shifted, and she enjoyed owning all of their focus.

  Andre leaned over the table, resting his weight on his elbows, and smirked. “Just tell us the whole damn thing already.”

  She cast him her best death glare, but he only chuckled—Andre was one vampire she’d never been able to intimidate. So she began.

  “In the beginning, vampires lived like creatures of the night, like animals, predators. We had no civilization, and barely a language. We hunted by night and hid in the darkness of caves, or more often, human burial mounds. Few vampires even knew how to turn a human, and there was no desire to do so. More vampires only meant more competition for the hunt.”

  Bel’s focus tugged at her—to be the object of his attention even just as a storyteller intoxicated her. She resisted the urge to speak only to him.

  “Humans did not leave their hovels at night. Vampires stole into human villages and homes to hunt. One entire village fled, abandoning their homes for fear of murderous vampires. The vampires had to learn control, how to feed without killing the humans or driving them away. One day, a male vampire—they had no names then—found a girl alone. The legend said she was very beautiful, and like all her clan, she possessed yellow eyes.”

  Uta rolled her own eyes. Legends always said such things.

  “In the face of a frightened, beautiful young woman, this vampire felt pity. He fed as gently as he was able, and for the first time, he did not kill his prey. According to my sire, this was the first time a vampire discovered the power of a bite over a human, and the communion transformed him.”

  “Wouldn’t they have known from biting each other?” asked Joon Song, one of her favorite members of the Justicia.

  “Maybe, maybe not. I do not know of their life in darkness—did they bond, did they make love? Could they do such things in their caves with no language? I have asked myself these questions many times.”

  “Indeed.” Loki scratched his hairless, boyish chin. “And where did these poor creatures, our ancestors, come from in the first place?”

  Sweet Auntie Europa, she’d had enough with their inanities. She squared off at him with her hands on her hips. “What do I look like, some kind of oracle? I never claimed to understand all the vampire mysteries. Adam, Eve, Lilith—they are all just stories. All I know is what Rize told me: this male vampire fell in love with her, and she accepted him. The woman was a widow, and she bathed him, clothed him in her husband’s garments, and taught him to speak her language. Over time, his fellows joined him, happily mixing with the humans and adopting their ways. Some of the humans became vampires, others bore children, or chose to remain human.”

  Sadavir leaned forward. “You expect me to believe all the vampires in the whole world went to this one Hunter hovel and acquired civilization?”

  “Perhaps so, or perhaps it is only a myth. Perhaps some vampires are to this day still living in caves, hunting humans, and giving us a bad reputation.”

  Andre laughed and then Bel followed suit, the timbre of his chuckle a little richer than his father’s—at least to her ears. She could possibly live on that sound alone.

  “This was an idyllic time.” She listened for a single breath. No one inhaled. She had them enthralled, a small consolation. “Then, out of the azure, the Hunter elders attacked—”

  “The blue,” Bel said.

  “What?” She stared at him, not grasping his meaning until his self-sa
tisfied expression revealed he’d corrected her idiom. She crossed her arms. Did he think she could learn thirteen tenses, memorize a dictionary, and internalize every asinine English expression in a single plane ride? She was only two thousand years old, for Io’s sake. Even Loki could not do much better.

  “Davo, Bel, let her finish.”

  Thanks to her seething irritation, it took a moment to find her place in the story. “With the advantage of surprise, they killed the halfling babes, the vampires, and Hunter mates. The remnant who escaped are our ancestors. Hunters pursued them to the ends of the earth. The survivors had been cast from paradise. Grieving and traumatized, they wanted no vampire to know the power of Hunter blood, so we would never mix again. I swore to my sire, Rize, I would keep the secret. But Pedro learned, and also Ethan Bennett, so now you must all know the story.”

  “Why did the elders attack them?” Loki asked.

  Lucas stood up. “I’ve been considering that question since I recreated my family’s record of these events.”

  Sadavir hissed. “You dare speak in the Justicia? After you have heard the cruelty your ancestors wrought against us?”

  “Thought you didn’t believe her story?” Bel leaned over the table with an air of casual menace only a man wearing denim could manage.

  Was he defending her? He always had as a boy, when her swearing and impropriety had earned her insults. She might swoon, if it weren’t so important to keep on her feet.

  “Silence,” Loki said. “Let the Hunter speak. He has proven his loyalty to Andre and that was no small task, I’m sure.”

  Lucas bowed his head to Loki before he began. “Hunter culture is inherently conservative. We remain isolated from society so that, at the fundamental level, little has changed since the period Uta describes. That influx of vampires would have meant a radical change in culture and power. The elders attacked the vampires and those who had mingled with them to restore the purity of their original culture.”

  Uta nodded. “My sire attributed their actions to just such a notion of purity. And because of it, he came to believe it is not possible for Hunters and vampires to live at peace. Rize insisted we must live without the sun because Hunters will always be waiting and plotting in secret, while their powerful blood lures us into a sense of security.”

  Pedro stood, shifting slightly to shield Lucas. “That’s not true of all of them.”

  Sadavir shrugged. “Of course you would say that. He’s seduced you with his special blood. Now tell me, have you walked in the sun?”

  Pedro bristled, his barrel chest puffing. But then he flashed his charming smile and winked. “Too risky. I’m waiting for someone else to go first.”

  The room broke out in quiet laughter, and Sadavir glowered.

  “Enough,” Loki said in the formal tone he used for official Justicia business. “Uta Ilirije, is your story at an end?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there more questions for her?” Loki asked.

  “I understand our ancestors lived together and walked in the sun,” said the African vampire, Nceba, “but what of the wasting disease? Did Hunter blood cure it?”

  “You’re missing the point.” Bel hopped up, stealing the limelight. “There wouldn’t have been a wasting disease. Before this slaughter, every single vampire lived in their homeland, without cause to leave.”

  Uta’s chest rose with pride at his understanding, feeling for the moment like they were a team. “Yes, and Hunter blood satisfies our longing for the original homeland.”

  An astonished murmur rippled through the group. She did love to deliver zingers.

  “Yes. Which is why I have to get back to my research.” Bel made for the door.

  “Not yet, Lobel,” Loki said in a voice that prickled up Uta’s spine. “Uta, your secret is told.”

  All the eyes of the Justicia flew to her, except Andre—loyal old friend—who tried to get Bel’s attention. Bel, however, was fixated on her.

  Uta searched out her blood supply. Nils had tucked himself into the corner. She sent a whisper in his direction. “Be ready.”

  He nodded once.

  Oh gods of Illyria, this was humiliating. Not to mention that it was going to hurt like a sunburn and make a monstrous mess. And she liked this suit. Damn the old ways and Rize for putting her in this position. She found the blade in her breast pocket and flipped it open.

  Chapter 21

  BEL ITCHED TO ESCAPE the room and think harder about osjećaj and nostalgia and Hunter blood, but Loki ordered him to stay. The vibe in the room went weird and Andre was nodding his head like he was having a seizure—what the hell?

  Uta whipped out her shiny little switchblade. Fuck. Some ancient vampire code about telling secrets. He had to stop her. Sure, she could survive that blade, but through and through, his bonded body panicked.

  She was so quick—he was years too late.

  The slice happened at lightning speed, too fast to see.

  Blood poured down her front, soaked into her top, and splashed onto the table. Now hanging at her side, her fist clenched around the perfect pink tip of her tongue. Her eyes rolled back, and she swayed on her knees.

  “You’re all fucking crazy. Why would she do that?” Bel’s shouts sounded distant to himself, as if someone else called out, but he didn’t stop. He knelt, sliding his arms under her neck and her knees, still yelling, “Why would you let her? She was helping you.”

  “You know nothing of the customs, halfling,” one of them said. Bel didn’t care who.

  A human tried to pull Uta away from Bel.

  “Mine,” Bel barked.

  The man backed off.

  Bel scooped her up and carried her into the hallway, where he laid her on the floor. Her own crimson blood covered her. Her lips were pressed tight, and her eyeballs moved rapidly under closed lids. No more blood poured from her mouth, at least. Christ, what should he do? He had to help her.

  Uta, please be okay.

  He pushed auburn hair off her face with his bloody hand, the scarlet only one shade redder than her hair. Her skin had grayed.

  Beside her, the human rolled back his cuffs. Stupid, this was no time to worry about blood on your clothes.

  “I am Nils, her servant.” The human pulled open her jaw.

  “What are you doing?”

  “She needs blood to heal faster. I’m going to feed her.” Nils lined up her fangs with a thick blue vein in his wrist.

  “Like hell you are,” Bel said, pushing Nils back. He shoved his own arm into her mouth and punctured his skin on her razor sharp incisors. The moment she began to draw blood from him, his body shook with the pleasure. “Oh fuck.”

  Two voices laughed in response, Nils and—surprise, surprise—Andre.

  Bel shuddered, his skin tingling directionally along the path of his blood flowing into her.

  “First time?” Nils asked, amused.

  Bel ignored him. Hard not to, given what her fangs were doing to him. He managed to lean against the wall, his arm still at an awkward angle, but the rest of his body relaxed. The heady iron odor of her blood mixed with that flowery scent that clung to her, making his brain cloudy.

  Then he forced his neurons to fire in a singular direction so he could form a coherent thought. “Andre, what the hell did she do that for?”

  Nobody kept the old customs anymore. Certainly not Andre, or anybody on Bel’s crew. All that blood spilled—he gagged, couldn’t look at her shirt. It was how he imagined Mila’s bathtub suicide. The gags turned into heaves, and he tried not to wrench his wrist from Uta’s mouth. Then she reached up to hold it, like a baby learning to hold its bottle, and the gentle grip on his arm tantalized him.

  “Easy, Bel,” Andre said in a surprisingly gentle tone. “You realize she will be fine? It is like a hard spanking. According to tradition, breaking a vow cannot go without punishment, even if done with good intentions.”

  “Fuck traditions.”

  “Honor is one of the few things
that lives as long as we do, son.”

  Bel wanted to argue, but he was too blissed out. His skin burned; his nipples tingled. Uta lay silent, sucking his blood down fast.

  “Is this how bites always feel?”

  “She is your mate, Bel. This is what you long for.”

  Like a vampire longed for home, or Hunter blood…shite. There was another clue here, but Bel’s mind was a sky full of pink and blue cotton candy clouds and he couldn’t think straight.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth, wanting to be naked. His cock was a rocket in his jeans. And then, oh yeah, her tongue flicked along the top of his wrist. Damn, she regenerated quickly. She mewled into his arm as she took pulls of his blood. He melted—from those sounds or her bite, he couldn’t tell.

  “Let’s give them some privacy,” Andre said.

  Bel nodded, eyes squeezed shut. He would say thank you later.

  “They’re in the middle of the hallway,” Nils pointed out.

  “No matter, everyone else is in the dining room.”

  Bel hardly noticed they were gone. Could he come from her bite alone, or would he still need some manual stimulation? He didn’t even want to orgasm if he could stay on that stairway to heaven forever, with her drinking him, licking him.

  Then it was over. She broke the suction and pulled his arm out of her mouth.

  Out popped her new perfect tongue to lick her lips. “Mmmm,” she moaned, as if he were the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

  Then she opened her eyes. When she saw him, they went wide. “Sheep scat, Bel. You didn’t—”

  “Say shit, Uta. Scat’s not profane enough a word to suit you.” He could barely get the words past his clenched teeth.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Couldn’t help it.” He grimaced. “Instinct. You were hurt.”

  She sat up and tilted her head, smiling. “My bite has affected you?”

  He wanted to fall into her dark eyes—they promised they knew him, wanted him. They promised him a home. “I’m buzzing like a bumblebee,” he managed to say.