Blue Blood (Series of Blood Book 3)

by Emma Hamm

  She covered her mouth with her hand but was certain her smile showed in the crinkles at her eyes.

  Jasper lowered his fists with a splash.

  “Mercy, damn it!” he scolded. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Or what? You’ll splash me?”

  “I’ll have you know, most people are afraid of me.”

  “Most people underestimate me.” She smirked. “But you don’t see me day dreaming in a river while suspiciously naked.”

  “You bathe fully clothed?”

  He was teasing her. She was certain of it. Two could play at that game, she thought, as she pushed herself from the tree and walked towards the pile of his clothing. With one finger, she delicately lifted his shirt into the air.

  “I do believe most people refrain from being caught in compromising positions while being hunted.”

  Jasper’s hands had traveled to cover strategic parts of his body while she spoke. “Most people grow weary after weeks of dirt and sweat.”

  “Most people, I’m certain of it.”

  She sat on top of his clothing. Cocking her head to the side, she looked him over with one sweeping glance. He was obviously expecting her to say something. She could see it in his eyes and the untrusting way he hesitated. So she said nothing.

  Mercy wanted to see how long it would take for him to come to her. Like a wild animal, perhaps he needed to make the first step.

  It didn’t take long.

  He blew out an exasperated breath. “Are you just going to sit there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “And you enjoy making me uncomfortable.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  Ignes wiggled against Mercy’s stomach. He was likely feeling cooped up, and she supposed she couldn’t really blame him. She reached between her breasts and scooped him out of his pouch. The tiny lizard harrumphed as she placed him on the ground.

  He lifted one foot to shake the cool water off, then the other that were now sizzling. He muttered about ungrateful hosts as he skittered towards the woods.

  Only once she was certain he was safe did she look back towards Jasper. Now he was the one watching her. He had tracked every bit of her interaction with the Phoenix.

  “What?” she asked. “You look as though you want to ask me a question.”

  “You’re different here.”

  “Am I?” She hadn’t really thought about it. Mercy was as volatile as a forest fire. She was frequently changing.

  He gestured with his free hand in the direction Ignes had traveled. “Even with him. In the prison you were more reliant on his powers. Now you seem content to allow him to wander as he sees fit.”

  “He’s not a human child, and he’s capable of taking care of himself. It’s been a long time since he’s been allowed to wander without worry he might go too far.”

  A breeze brushed over her cheek and combed through the long strands of her hair. They tickled her nose until she reached up to tuck the downy length behind her ear.

  Jasper shifted in the water. “You’re softer as well.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said with a laugh. “Softer sounds as though you’ve made a habit of touching me. Have you?”

  He blushed. His voice was gruff when he responded, “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean? I’m afraid I don’t comprehend.”

  “You were more abrasive in the prison. Dangerous. Didn’t seem to have control over your powers or your creature. Now you seem like you do.”

  “And that makes me softer?” she asked.

  “In a way. Certainly makes you more approachable.”

  “More human?” she smiled at him. “I think it’s the wide open space. I don’t feel trapped here, and that makes it easier. I don’t have to fight against the darker side of myself.”

  He stepped into deeper water. As the water reached the center of his chest, he pulled his hands away. Apparently, he thought she couldn’t see anything at that depth. Mercy didn’t have the heart, or the kindness, to tell him that the water was unnaturally clear.

  Mercy knew better than to ruin a good view when she was provided one. She was constantly surprised at how Jasper broke through the stereotype of who he should be. The big man didn’t need to be kind. Hell, he probably didn’t even need to be thoughtful. But he was.

  Everything he did was at odds with the way he looked. The wild, unkempt warrior who wore the delicate wings of a Fairy with ease.

  She waved a hand at him. “And you? You seem more at ease yourself.”

  “Being in the woods makes it easier for me to think.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Fairy.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “That means very little to me. I’ve been locked away for two hundred years; what makes you think I know anything about your kind?”

  He huffed out a breath that she thought might be laughter. She wanted to hear the great gravelly laugh that she had heard only a few times since meeting him. The sound made the muscles at the small of her back tense, and she wanted to find out why.

  “Not many people know much about Fairies. They’re a secretive lot,” he told her.

  “Well maybe that’s why they’ve been around for such a long time. They seem too delicate to not be intelligent as well.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to call them intelligent—” he paused mid-sentence and tilted his head to the side.

  Mercy had figured this was when he was talking to the tiny voice inside his head. His far away expression was constantly on his face, more often now that they were no longer in the prison. He seemed to be in a daze, but she knew he was partially aware of the world around him.

  Bluebell got the attention she wanted, whenever she wanted. Mercy admired that about him. Their creatures were important, even if many people disagreed with them. The creatures ruled the world now.

  Mercy thought that the world was adapting to magic, changing bit by bit. The humans would only be around for a small bit longer.

  Jasper snorted.

  “You’re right; it was unkind. My apologies, Bluebell.” A shy smile crossed his face. “She’d like me to remind you that Fairies are particularly intelligent and that she appreciates you seeing that fact.”

  “I take it you don’t tell her that she’s smart on a regular basis, hm?”

  He didn’t say anything more, but she could see the unimpressed expression on his face as though he had spoken. Loudly.

  Mercy burst into laughter. “Oh, Jasper, don’t you know anything about women? Compliments, compliments, compliments. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  “I’m pretty sure that saying warns the opposite.”

  “Ah, but that’s because we only want true flattery.” She popped her chin onto her raised knee. “If you walked up to a woman who wasn’t confident in her own skin and told her she was beautiful, she would think you a liar. But if you walked up to tell her that you noticed how skilled she was with her makeup or how the cut of her clothing is flattering, she would believe you. It’s about honesty, not about swaying a person’s idea of themselves.”

  When he shifted, the water splashed up his chest. “And now you’re giving me dating advice.”

  “I have learned never to disregard advice when freely given.”

  “Then you are more intelligent than I.”

  Laughter erupted from her. “See? You are already learning!”

  “Am I?”

  He certainly was. She leaned back onto her hands in the moss and watched as he moved. Jasper appeared as though he was trying to ignore her now. He turned away from her to resume his scrubbing.

  Great, violent streaks of red bloomed along his flesh as he ground the sand against himself. Strange how that didn’t seem to hurt him. Mercy thought it might have hurt her.

  But as she watched the red coloring, her mind changed it into something else. That da
rker edge in her, the dangerous part, saw fire instead of abraded skin. She saw flames licking up his shoulders and peeling through flesh. She saw him charring in the most beautiful and painful way.

  It was always the fine line she would walk. Attraction was one thing. But her mind would always see an attractive person and wonder what it would look like when they were little more than the charred remains.

  Her Phoenix mind didn’t see the problem. It was sometimes even a mating ritual for their kind. The strongest would burn each other alive in their passions, only to be reborn together. They would then spend an eternity tearing each other apart in the never-ending battle of life and death.

  Mercy didn’t need to remind herself that she was still in a human body. She was the human half, and Ignes was not yet old enough to understand his passions. This meant Mercy was the one to bear the brunt of their heightened emotions she was both startled and intrigued by.

  She shook herself. Seeing fire upon his skin was not helping anyone. She didn’t need to entertain thoughts that were likely get the two of them killed.

  His eyes were watching her when she looked at him. They were like wolfen eyes staring at her from the underbrush. Yet it was only his own wild mane that he stared through.

  “Are you going to leave?” he asked.

  “Why would I leave?”

  “I’m getting cold.”

  Mercy blinked a few times, feigning confusion. “And?”

  “And I’m going to get out of this water and likely embarrass you.”

  “Why would I be embarrassed by you? Are you embarrassed by your body?”

  His mouth gaped open for a few seconds as he tried to gather his thoughts. She kept her expression neutral, curious to see what he would do.

  Jasper squared his shoulders and his chest puffed out as he looked her up and down. “Not at all.”

  “Good.” She smiled slowly, like a cat who had been poured a bowl full of milk. “Then I’m not sure why you’re hesitating.”

  He caught her gaze and grinned. Sauntering out of the water like he owned the entire river, he plowed through the eddies towards her.

  Mercy sighed. She had known there would be scars. Decorated like some kind of well worn armor, his skin was marked by battles. He truly was a strong one. A jagged, white scar roped across his ribs. A large chunk was taken off of one of his hips just above the bone. Red bite marks, burns, and even a few magical rings were laid out across his body.

  Not to mention, he was still physically fit. Even the time he had spent behind bars couldn’t degrade his body enough to make him thin. He hesitated only briefly when the water hit his waist and she hadn’t yet moved.

  Mercy remained seated upon his clothing and enjoyed the show.

  Only when he stood before her, his hands upon his hips, did she look at him. Even then, she took her time. Her eyes lingered upon every detail from the seashell shape of his toenails to the center part on his head.

  He waved an impatient hand at her.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Yes?”

  “You’re on my clothes,” he said. His face was beet red, and his freckles stood out even more than before.

  “I know.”

  “Are you going to get off them?”

  “You really shouldn’t get them wet. They’re the only pair you have. And I’m afraid there just aren’t any others that will fit you.”

  He growled low in his throat. “Mercy.”

  “I just don’t think you should, Jasper.”

  She could feel his eyes burning into her. There was a heat that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps now he would understand the thoughts that had plagued her since their kiss. Which he had ignored, completely and thoroughly.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  “Immensely.”

  “I should throw you in the river for this.”

  “I can’t swim, so I would prefer it if you didn’t.”

  They were at a stalemate again. He seemed not to know what to say. Mercy knew that at some point in her life, she had known how to swim. But those memories were gone, along with her name and the faces of her parents.

  Finally, she relented, “Fire doesn’t mix well with water.”

  “Fire doesn’t mix well with many things.”

  “I suppose you could say that,” she said, tipping her head back even further to look up at him.

  The sun was blocked behind his head. Somehow, that managed to give him a halo as he glowered at her. Strange how attractive this man could look even shivering as he was now.

  Pity was not in her nature. But even she was susceptible to a grown man quaking like a child in front of her. She sighed.

  “Fine, have your clothing.” She reached underneath herself and tossed the garments at him. “Just be quick about it. We need to get back to camp.”

  “Is that so?” he asked as he pulled on his pants.

  “Priscilla sent me this way for a reason, but I can’t for the life of me remember why.”

  “Priscilla?”

  “The Hag. You ask a lot of questions, you know?”

  “All the better to know you with, my dear.” His flashing grin nearly blinded her.

  “Did you just quote a fairytale at me?”

  “Well, you are the definition of Sleeping Beauty.” His voice was muffled as he pulled the shirt over his head.

  “Oh, don’t say that. I’m hardly a princess.”

  He grinned as he started towards the camp. “Come on then, princess, we’ve got monsters to battle.”

  “We aren’t battling anyone.”

  “So you admit they’re monsters?”

  “Jasper!”

  Ignes grumbled as he was unceremoniously scooped up and thrust down her shirt while Mercy rushed to keep up with the laughing Fairy.

  12

  Life in the camp was easier than Jasper had ever expected. He had quickly fallen into a comfortable daily rhythm. He woke up, they convened for breakfast, and then each person would have their own respective duties to attend.

  Usually Jasper was asked to do the simple tasks. At first, he had insisted upon taking on the manual labor. He was a strong man, had always been the strong man.

  He quickly understood how wrong he was. Working alongside a real Giant and Centaur was humbling. Their strength was beyond anything a human could ever attain.

  The image of the Centaur handing an entire tree to Tiny would remain with Jasper forever. These creatures still seemed mythical to him. He woke every morning thinking this was a dream he would wake from.

  When he awoke each morning, he half expected to see the glowing lights of Haven.

  Instead, he was always greeted by the fireflies that insisted upon living inside his tent. Jasper thought they were an infestation, but Mercy had laughed when he had mentioned it and teased him for knowing so little about his own species. Fireflies and Fairies were always dear friends, she’d told him. How could he have forgotten?

  She was not the only one to tease him. The Hag was particularly fond of jabbing words that suggested he knew little more than a child. He took it as best he could. Most of the time he’d found himself laughing along with them.

  Jasper didn’t have the heart to admit to them how little he knew. Guilt had wormed its way into his chest. He should know more about Bluebell and where she came from, especially as there were so many others who were closer to their creatures than he.

  However, Bluebell had always seemed infantile to him. Her thoughts were simple, black and white, and her voice was high pitched. It stood to reason that she was incapable of adult thoughts.

  Tiny did not question his creature. Jasper frequently caught him laughing as the creature inside him told jokes. Priscilla teased her Hag that she didn’t know as much as she thought. And Mercy and Ignes were unnaturally close. He often caught them snuggled up by the fire together.

  It made a man think about his life decisions. It made him think about Bluebell.

  She had never onc
e failed to believe in him. Even the people he thought loved him had their doubts. Bluebell didn’t.

  He would never have changed his mind about her if he had not come to this place. These people were changing him, slowly but surely.

  They were good people. Every day he worked with them, ate with them, shared stories with them. The more time passed, the more they proved how golden their hearts were. They never once questioned whether or not they could provide him food. They never asked him when he was leaving or even for payment. They simply decided he was one of them.

  That was enough.

  His favorite time of the day was after the sun set. Everyone would all gather around a large bonfire and tell stories. The Hag was usually the storyteller, as she had been the first night. Sometimes, the others would provide a rare insight into their lives.

  The Thunderbird had particularly exciting stories of lightning and riding upon the backs of clouds.

  Even in that, Jasper had little to offer them. His stories seemed silly compared to theirs. A farm boy moves to the city, becomes a bodyguard, follows a tiny Siren the entire way, and devotes his life to following her. Only to be cast aside for another.

  He had realized how pathetic it sounded before the words ever left his mouth. He didn't know when his opinion of his life had changed so drastically, but he understood now that he had wasted a lot of time on someone who would never return his love.

  “Jasper, you’re lost in your thoughts,” Bluebell whispered in a tiny voice.

  “Easy to do these days,” he responded quietly.

  “But you’re missing all the fun parts! If you don’t listen to the stories, we can’t talk about them later.”

  This had also become part of their routine. Bluebell liked to go over every tiny detail. She had always enjoyed hearing about other people’s lives, and now she wouldn’t stop talking about them.

  Jasper shifted on the log he sat upon. “You’ll tell me the stories again, won’t you?”

  There was a pause before she responded, “That would also be fun. Do you think I could tell the stories as well as them?”

  “I do.”

  A soft, happy hum was his answer.