Blood Rights (House of Comarre 1)

by Kristen Painter

  He took it from her, brushing his cold fingertips over her warm ones. The brief contact magnified the cravings already echoing through him. He steeled himself against the need. ‘Thank you.’

  Her brows lifted, but she said nothing. Was it such a surprise that he could show gratitude? Perhaps it was. Let it be. The shock was good for her. She shouldn’t grow comfortable around him. That way led to danger.

  He lifted the glass to his lips, then stopped and stared back. ‘Do you like watching?’

  ‘What? No.’ She turned away, but not before the skin on her gilded cheeks colored.

  He hadn’t expected her to be shy about this, of all things, and as proof of his depravity, needling her gave him pleasure. She wanted him to drink. She could bear a little suffering for it. Especially since he seemed to be the only one of them struggling with this strange partnership. ‘You can if you want.’

  ‘I don’t.’ She walked to the bed. Her hands smoothed the bed linens where he’d rested.

  ‘Why not?’ Even in Doc’s big shirt, the lean, feminine lines of her body were pleasing. Not that Mal cared.

  ‘Because.’ She fluffed the pillow.

  ‘That’s not an answer.’ The warmth seeped through the glass into his hand. Her warmth. He groaned inwardly. For a moment, he forgot which one of them he was torturing.

  ‘I don’t want to. That’s all.’ She stood by the bed, eyes focused on anything but him.

  ‘You should.’ He brought the goblet to his nose and inhaled. This time, he couldn’t muzzle the groan. The rattling in his head grew louder.

  ‘Why?’ That got her to face him. Her jaw was set in a stoniness matched only by her eyes. ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘You should know what you do to me.’ If he wasn’t already on a slow train to hell, that certainly guaranteed his ticket.

  ‘I know very well what my blood does to you.’ She rolled her eyes and had the audacity to look amused. ‘Now drink. The flirting isn’t getting you anywhere.’

  ‘Flirting? Is that what you think I’m doing? Not bloody likely.’ He hadn’t flirted with anyone since he’d given up the vein, and he wasn’t about to start with a woman who’d stated more than once her willingness to kill him. Annoyed, he knocked the glass back, downing the contents in several rapid swallows.

  The power of her blood slammed into him like a fist.

  Arcing pain shot from joint to joint, flaring through his muscles. He ground his teeth to keep from vocalizing, but the sheer volume of agony doubled him. He went to his knees. The glass slipped from his grasp, spraying red droplets over the Persian carpet. By the time the goblet had stopped rolling, the pain that had come so fast had disappeared. A new clarity invaded him, filling him with invigorating strength. His head cleared of all but his own incredulous thoughts. The voices vanished, buried beneath the rarest of all sounds – the beating of his heart.

  Sweat cooled the back of his neck. He lifted his head. Chrysabelle stood directly in front of him, arms crossed, and smirking.

  ‘Feeling better?’ she asked.

  He pressed his hand to his chest. ‘It’s beating. I can’t get used to that.’

  ‘Here.’ She handed him the bottle of water off the tray.

  ‘I don’t need that.’ Life, real life, coursed through him.

  ‘Yes, you do. You have to kiss me, and you just downed a glassful of blood. My blood, but still. That might work for you, but I don’t particularly want to taste it.’ She pushed the bottle closer. ‘Drink.’

  ‘It didn’t bother you the first time.’ He jumped to his feet. Maybe it was the hot rush of blood, the new burst of energy or the beautiful woman in front of him, but suddenly, kissing her didn’t seem like such an awful thing to suffer through. He’d been angry the first time. Unsure of himself and the way her blood had affected him. This time, he wasn’t angry. If kissing her was the price he had to pay for feeling this strong and this powerful, so be it.

  ‘It didn’t occur to me the first time.’

  He took the bottle, wrenched off the cap, and drank. He swallowed with gusto and held out his arms. ‘Happy?’

  ‘Not particularly, no.’ In fact, she looked downright terrified. ‘Just get it over with.’

  ‘Now who’s flirting?’ He tossed the bottle aside and reached for her. The honeyed perfume that surrounded her enveloped him with a fresh wave of intoxication. His hands fit to her waist like they’d been there a thousand times before.

  Tentatively, her hands found his arms, resting on his biceps. Keeping him at bay. Without any real effort, he assumed his human face and retracted his fangs. ‘Better?’

  ‘Just do it, please.’

  He bent his head and brushed his mouth across hers with a gentleness he hoped would forgive the first time he’d done this to her. Her lips parted under his press, and he tasted the same warm sweetness he’d just drunk, but purer. He lifted one hand to her neck, threading his fingers into her hair and grazing his thumb across the pulse that trembled beneath her ear. The skin there was so warm and soft he had to fight to keep his fangs retracted.

  Her grip tightened on his arms. Her head tilted a little farther back.

  And then a sharp realization pierced him. She wasn’t food. She was life. Brilliant and sparkling and powerful. No one had ever made him feel—

  The door swung open. At the noise, she pushed away and scrambled for her weapons. Her cheeks flushed and she bent her head, swinging her hair down to hide her face as she strapped the blades on.

  Ronan stood in the open door, leering at Chrysabelle like the bloody fool he was. He laughed rudely. ‘Looks like you’re not so superior after all, princess. At least Dominic’s whores get paid.’

  Mal took a step toward the whelp as Chrysabelle twisted toward him in a blur of white and gold. Something shot from her hand. Ronan howled, grabbing at his suddenly bloody shoulder. A bone dagger protruded from it, sending up wisps of smoke.

  Mal looked at her in amazement. ‘I barely saw you move.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s the kiss. I’m always fastest after a fresh infusion of power. Not usually that fast, but you’re a lot stronger than Algernon was. He never had the benefit of his drained sire’s powers.’

  Oh good. At least he had that going for him.

  She walked to Ronan, yanked the blade out of his body, and wiped it on his shirt. ‘Was there a reason you barged in without knocking?’

  ‘You little whore.’ He reared back, fist raised.

  She punched him where the dagger had been. Dropping his hand, he groaned and staggered back, smacking into the door. ‘Answer me, or it’s Malkolm’s turn to take a shot.’

  Now that sounded like fun.

  Angry vapors wafted off Ronan, but a quick glance at Mal kept him from reacting further. His lips curled back in an evil sneer. ‘Mortalis is back. Your aunt’s ticket’s been punched.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Chrysabelle shoved through Dominic’s office door. He and Mortalis were bent over a small figure on the couch. The Asian woman from the Pits slouched in Dominic’s desk chair. Chrysabelle’s stomach roiled with panic. ‘What happened? Is she okay?’

  The vampire and the fae moved to face her, giving her a clear look at the blood-covered figure. She stopped dead and released the breath she’d been holding. ‘That’s not my aunt.’

  ‘That’s Nyssa,’ Mal said behind her.

  ‘Is she going to be okay? I know that name. Who is she?’

  ‘She’s a runner for Jonas Sweets. And she should be fine.’

  Jonas was the guy Maris had contacted. A numbing chill settled into her belly. Had they already broken Maris? ‘He’s the guy who sent me to you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Mal answered.

  Mortalis turned back to Nyssa, but Dominic approached Chrysabelle. She started in before he could speak. ‘Ronan said Maris’s ticket had been punched. What did he mean? Where is she? What’s going on?’

  Dominic held his hands up. ‘Ronan is a heartless fool.’

  ‘There’s a lot of that
going around,’ the Asian woman said. She twirled a jeweled letter opener in her fingers.

  ‘Katsumi.’ The warning in Dominic’s voice matched the flicker of silver in his eyes. ‘Mortalis trailed a Nothos back to an abandoned hangar in one of the old private airports. There was a plane parked inside, evidence of two human kills, and the heavy scent of comarré blood. Before he killed the Nothos, he saw two noble vampires, one male, one female. The male used black magic.’

  Mortalis lifted his head from Nyssa’s side. ‘The female is the one who hurt Nyssa.’

  ‘Mikkel and Tatiana.’ Red edged her vision. If they’d harmed her aunt in any way, she was going to kill them both. Maybe stake them to a field of sacred ground and wait for the sun to come up. ‘What are we waiting for? You must have a sun-proof vehicle. How long will it take to get to the hangar?’

  ‘We’re not going to the hangar.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘The plane took off. They’re headed back to Corvinestri.’

  She stepped back, shaking her head. ‘They’re going to kill her.’

  Mal’s hand settled on her shoulder. ‘Not if we kill them first.’

  Dominic nodded. ‘We need a plan. We can’t just stampede in and hope for the best.’

  Chrysabelle sank into the nearest chair. She leaned back and blinked hard to clear the tears threatening to spill. The sacre pressed into her spine. Maris’s blade. Chrysabelle swallowed. What defense did her crippled aunt have against those two monsters? Especially back on their own soil. This was all her fault. ‘I should go alone. Get the ring. Tatiana will give up Maris if I offer her the ring and myself.’

  ‘You will not offer yourself. Or go alone.’ Mal’s voice shook her with its vehemence.

  ‘I still have to retrieve the ring from my suite at the Primoris Domus. I can’t leave it where it is – look how much trouble it’s already brought.’ Her house could not become the focus for Tatiana’s anger.

  Mal shoved a hand through his hair. ‘I’m starting to think no good can come of giving Tatiana the ring.’

  Chrysabelle had begun to think that too. ‘At the very least, I will get it and destroy it. Then Tatiana can twist in the wind over her precious ring.’

  ‘But not alone.’ Mal’s stance broadened into something battle-ready. ‘I’m going with you.’

  ‘Agreed.’ After all, she had promised to talk to the Aurelian about his curse. He might as well be there to hear what she had to say. She rubbed her forehead. What was she thinking? The Aurelian wouldn’t tolerate Mal’s presence any more than Madame Rennata would allow a vampire beyond the great room of the Primoris Domus. And Chrysabelle would be lucky to get an audience with the Aurelian if Madame Rennata found out about the danger Chrysabelle had put the house in with that stupid ring.

  Dominic said something. Chrysabelle glanced up. ‘What?’

  ‘I said I’m going too.’ Dominic’s gaze shifted to a mother of pearl-handled falchion on the wall. The sword looked like it had never been used. ‘I’m not without skills myself. And I will not allow them to hurt Marissa.’

  The letter opener fell out of Katsumi’s hand and clattered to the desk. The woman leaned back in the chair, and crossed her arms, looking very much like a woman scorned.

  Chrysabelle tucked her hair behind her ears. How long had Dominic and Katsumi been sleeping together? ‘That’s all well and good, but you’re both anathema. The wards will keep you out of the city. I’m basically going alone anyway.’

  Dominic’s rich laugh brought her head up. His finger wagged at her like he was talking to a child. ‘But you see, I have a secret weapon.’ He turned and gestured into the dark recesses of his office.

  A broomstick of a man emerged from the shadows, the pale skin of his face and hands marred by oddly shaped freckles. Bottle-glass green eyes took her in. For a moment, she stared. Then her brain caught up with what she was seeing.

  Dominic swept one hand wide toward the room’s newest occupant. ‘Chrysabelle, meet Solomon, one of the few pure-blooded cypher fae.’

  Cypher fae. Those weren’t freckles. Those were numbers. She held out her hand to the rare creature. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’

  He splayed his six-fingered hands in front of him. ‘I am not gloved.’

  Still holding out her hand, she shrugged.

  Solomon’s brows rose and his eyes widened. ‘You would voluntarily touch me?’

  ‘I have no codes to hide.’

  ‘Codes?’ Mortalis snorted. ‘He’ll strip out every bit of personal info in that pretty little head of yours, including passwords, relevant numbers, and the personal configurations necessary to deceive wards that recognize you. And some that don’t.’

  Chrysabelle’s hand dropped to her side.

  Solomon sighed. ‘My unfortunate kin tells the truth. But your trust is endearing.’

  Mal stepped up next to Chrysabelle. ‘And you’re going to help us why?’

  She shot him a look that hopefully he understood as shut up and be nice. ‘He can get all of you into the city.’

  ‘I understand that,’ Mal said. ‘But why should he? What’s in it for him? No one does anything for free.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Katsumi interjected.

  The smile returned to Solomon’s face. He lifted one shoulder. ‘There is much I can glean in Corvinestri.’

  ‘Yeah, that, and Dominic has his number.’ Mortalis kneeled beside Nyssa, taking her hand in his.

  Impressive. Getting a cypher’s number was no easy feat, but if you could find the sum of their freckles, you owned them. What alchemy had Dominic used to achieve that?

  Mortalis scooped Nyssa into his arms. ‘I’m going to take her to the physician, then I’ll be ready to leave.’

  ‘Is she going to be okay?’ Chrysabelle couldn’t help but hope so, even if she didn’t know the girl.

  Mortalis nodded. ‘She’s half shadeux. Very resilient. If the Nothos hadn’t put iron cuffs on her, she probably could have taken it out on her own.’

  As Mortalis left, Mal questioned Dominic. ‘How soon can we leave? I assume you have a plane?’

  ‘I do,’ Dominic answered. ‘It will take half an hour to get to the airfield, but the plane and pilots won’t be ready for another hour and a half. I don’t know if Tatiana had time to refuel or not before they left, so that may mean another stop for them before they hit Corvinestri. Either way, we won’t be far behind.’

  ‘Time to get back to the ship and get Doc,’ Mal said.

  ‘I need my bag too.’ Not to mention the body armor in it. ‘And my Golgotha blade.’

  ‘I have a few alchemical weapons to prepare as well.’ Dominic nodded. ‘Then I’ll call for a car. We’ll head for the plane as soon as you return.’

  ‘Good.’ Mal grabbed Chrysabelle’s arm. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Us? The sun’s up.’ Chrysabelle stared at Mal. Tried not to focus on his mouth. ‘How exactly are you going to get from the car to the ship without turning into vampire flambé?’

  Mal stayed silent for a moment, then cursed and shook his head. ‘Doc will know what weapons I want.’ He cursed again. ‘Hurry back.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  One varcolai, one comarré, one former ghost, two fae, two fringe, a second anathema, and the ever-present host of disembodied voices. All of them, save the comarré at his side, the fringe pilot and copilot, and the voices in his head, huddled around a large table in the conference area of the plane, debating the best way to extract Chrysabelle’s aunt without getting any of them killed. Fortunately, Dominic had left Katsumi in charge of running Seven so Mal didn’t have to deal with her too. He sank lower into his seat. How had his life gotten this freaking crowded? At least his recent feeding meant the voices weren’t thrashing his brain.

  Beside him, Chrysabelle sketched what she remembered of the floor plan of Tatiana’s home. Her pencil lifted off the paper, and she paused. ‘Could I ask why you’re growling?’

  ‘I didn’t growl.’

&nbs
p; She erased a line and added a window, nodding the whole time. ‘Yes, you did.’

  Maybe he had. Considering the circumstances, growling was the least he should be doing. He stared at one particular member of the group around the conference table. ‘You shouldn’t have let her come.’

  Chrysabelle glanced at him, rolling her eyes, darkened by the helioglazing on the plane windows. ‘For the last time, I didn’t let Fi come. She bullied her way here. You of all people should know how Fi is when she wants something. Besides, she actually went shopping for me. She was so thrilled to find out she’s not attached to you anymore, I can’t believe she’d choose to be near you again. I guess she couldn’t bear to be away from Doc.’

  ‘Have you looked at the clothes yet?’ Chrysabelle still hadn’t changed out of Doc’s borrowed shirt and her original trousers. Both pieces were covered in dirt and blood spatter. He wondered if the items beneath those were still as pristine white as the day she’d sauntered through the gym, taunting him to bite her. The memory caused him to shift uncomfortably.

  ‘No, but I’ll worry about that after I finish this plan for Mortalis.’

  ‘You might not be so benevolent after you see what she picked out. Fi’s taste can be a little … extreme. And you still shouldn’t have let her come.’

  Her pencil lead broke. She clicked out a new length. ‘You know Doc didn’t do anything to stop her, I might add, but I don’t see you giving him grief.’

  ‘I will.’

  She stabbed her pencil toward the aisle. ‘Want me to let you out so you can start that now?’

  ‘No.’ He crossed his arms and tried again to get comfortable. Dominic’s private jet was plush, but nothing about this trip made it easy to relax.

  ‘Don’t you need to sleep, what with the sun being out and all?’

  ‘I slept earlier.’ Before I kissed you, he wanted to say, just to see if she’d blush again. Other than the coloring of her cheeks, she hadn’t seemed as affected by the second kiss as she had been by the first. Or maybe he’d imagined her initial reactions. Or maybe she was too worried about her aunt to think about anything else. That was probably it. What did he know about anything anymore? The world around him now matched the chaos of his head.