Roseblood

by Emily Shore

Dad stepped forward to confront him, but my mother went for him first.

  “Aurora!” Dad yelled at my mother’s impulsiveness. She didn’t see the vampire leader trailing him.

  Just as the wolf bodies crashed together, rearing up on their haunches, jaws vying for the throat, the vampire leader penetrated my wall, thrusting into it at vampire speed, aiming for me and not my mother. I leapt back toward the wall from the new threat. Before the vampire could so much as whisper in my direction, my brother attacked first…with Raoul. Within a second, the vampire was on the flat of his back with Raoul holding him down, Heath’s hand gripping his throat, demanding, “Call off your dogs.” It was more of a grievous insult to a vampire than even to a wolf.

  The vampire only stared at me and grinned. Only once the trickle reached my upper lip did I understand why. A nosebleed.

  “I’ll feast on that in another minute,” He cackled. It was my Heath’s turn for impulsivity and violence. I winced at the sound of the vampire’s ribs cracking from my brother planting his boot on the leader’s chest.

  But I feared he was right. More vampires, more wolves started breaching my firewall, careless of the flames smoking in their hair and singing their clothes. My fire had grown weaker, less hot. And the others were rising from the tree line. Brian and my father tackled the new ones while my mother battled the wolf leader.

  But now, there was a new threat. A dangerous one. I couldn’t move. Panic engulfed me. A paralytic vampire. Suddenly, I could do nothing. Not so much as blink. But I could still see, could focus enough to notice the vampire at the edge of my wall just breaking through it. Slate gray trench coat and dark hair. She was the paralytic. But she could only control my body. Not my mind.

  Heath I called out to him. The paralytic!

  Just then, my mother yelped. My blood turned cold as a water snake. I couldn’t even shift my eyes to see what was wrong, but I could hear her cries, could hear my father shout her name and saw his shadowy wraith figure pass by me to come to her aid.

  It was a mistake to signal Heath. His broken focus was the inch the leader needed. All this time, he’d waited for his opportunity. His arms around me in less than a second. A master teleporter. An ability more dangerous than the paralytic. Out of the circle in a moment. Fangs followed. Pupils dilated. But the paralytic no longer held me. And I still had faint silver lines in my palms. Just as his fangs prepared to lodge, I envisioned his ability, my creation power mimicking it. But I didn’t project as far. Just teleported a hundred feet away. Enough for him to follow me, effortless in vampire speed. I teleported again but knew I couldn’t keep this up for long. With every shift in location, the vampire approached, closing in, predicting my location before I even did. That was when I realized why. A precog teleporter. No wonder he was so powerful. He already knew where I would end up. A mental ability like that was more difficult for me to create, to attempt. And he knew that.

  I couldn’t teleport again. Instead, he forced me to my knees just as the last of my silver lines faded, my adrenaline taking a nosedive. Even with my firewall depleted, my family wouldn’t reach me in time. Not with the rest of the members battling them.

  “Right before I remind you of your humanity, Reina Caraway, I’ll have you remember my name.”

  My name. Reina. Gifted at birth. Silver blood. Wolf blood. Royal birthright. Child of prophecy. Reina meant pure. Reina meant queen. Destined for queenship.

  Royalty was my blood, but ruling was my destiny.

  Silver blood ignited, I snapped, rising to face the vampire. Lust and rage in his black eyes. First, I summoned my father’s power so he couldn’t use precognition against me. And then, I wrapped my hands around his throat, charging my fire into his skin. Even as the vampire buckled, kneeling before me, even as I winced, grinding my teeth from the concentration and energy this required, my nose puckering from flesh burning and silver blood boiling, I knew he would not forget my name this night.

  No one would.

  And I would never know his.

  Now, I used his precog power. Three more seconds and he would crumple. Five more seconds and he would pass out. Seven more seconds, his skin would be nothing, he would be nothing.

  But I couldn’t predict everything.

  I couldn’t predict Skip.

  “Rin…” He persuaded my hand away from the vampire’s throat. The leader still passed out, but not dead. “Rin…” Skip repeated again, hands cupping mine, his persuasion steadying their shaking, soothing my raging silver blood till it tempered. And I caved, collapsing onto him. But I heard the sounds of bodies battling, the thundering of paws and wind whipping in response to vampires and wolves retreating.

  The Council and Guardian forces had arrived.

  But there was another sound. Despite how heavy my eyelids were, I couldn’t pass out. I flicked my head up. Not a good sound. I looked to Skip, eyes pleading. He nodded before carrying me in vampire speed back to the circle. My mother was wounded. I sunk to my knees beside her. She huffed and whined in wolf form, an occasional yelp. The wounds in her chest…multiple wolves had created those. This was more than just battle scars. This was vindictive. They targeted her. A punishment. Because she gave birth to me.

  Inside, I cursed myself again and again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Selfish Reina. Maybe it’d be different if I’d surrendered. At the very least, one swift drain of my blood and they’d have left the rest of my family alone.

  “A healer!” My father shouted, but Enton stood by him, shaking his head. The only healer was the death before Charlotte. The drained vampire.

  Brian bowed his own wolf head toward her, whining softly. Heath clutched her side, fingers tiptoeing across her fur. My father steadied her, hand cupping her cheek. I dragged my hands through my hair, wanting to scream, wanting to shake the earth, cursing myself. I was a fucking creator! And I didn’t know how to heal her.

  “Rin, please move aside.”

  I almost didn’t register Skip’s voice directing me. Almost. In one split second, I remembered all the countless nights Skip had healed me. I leapt out of the way to give him room.

  Heath tapered his brows and Brian growled, but I snapped at them both, “Let him!”

  It was in the slightest pause, the momentary hesitation that I read pain in Skip’s eyes. When he laid his hand upon my mother’s fur, I subtly and slowly dipped into his memories. The raw emotion, the grief creating a web surrounding one significant memory. The night he’d found his father. The night he’d watched his father take his last breath. Just like tonight, Skip had placed his hand upon his father’s fatal wounds, wounds from countless claws and teeth. But he’d been too late. He couldn’t save him. In that moment, I felt the trauma of a young boy from his powerlessness, anger, hatred, grief, his sense of loss. Every single emotion returned to him now.

  This time, he would not fail.

  And I believed him.

  While I held my breath, Skip mustered all his focus and sunk his persuasion into the deepest of wounds, closing my mother’s flesh. She yelped, instinct causing her to sneak, but Heath and my father forced her back down so Skip could continue his work. I marveled as the blood returned to the cavities and pathways of flesh sealed up like invisible stitch-work…skin restored. Fur would grow back. Skip was not concerned with that.

  Glancing up around the circle, I saw some Council members, the ones not pursuing our retreating attackers, staring in wonder as Skip finished his healing act. Even with his reputation, it was wholly different witnessing him up close. I knew that better than anyone.

  Once he’d closed up the remaining flesh and my mother stopped huffing, Skip removed his hovering hand and sighed. My mother rose to her paws, circled once, then twice, then crouched low, bowing her front to Skip. He relaxed, then nodded. Applause erupted from everyone in the circle, my mother’s pack baying their own.

  Without reservation, I knelt beside Skip, took his face in my hands and kissed his mouth, as long and full as Christine to her Phantom. And to he
ll with it all.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Opportunities

  When things quieted down and Council members began to disperse, my father approached Skip and placed a hand to his own heart, a traditional Le Couvènte thank you, one that deepened to the heart.

  “Now, I owe you two debts of gratitude,” Dad reminded Skip of the first night he’d saved my life, saved my wings.

  By now, my mother and Brian had changed back into human forms, fully clothed. Only a couple of her pack members, her beta and gamma remained, reminiscing with her about other times.

  Enton Carolton approached us, interjected, echoing my father’s words, “We all owe him a debt. Were it not for Stefan, we would not have arrived as soon as we did. We met with a surprise rebel uprising on our way here after sequestering the King and Queen at a safe location. We were close to his family’s property when the battle broke out,” he explained. Skip appeared humble and modest on the outside, bowing his head to the council spokesman, but I recognized the dignity in his stance, the honor and pride squaring his shoulders. I mimicked him.

  “He already used a good deal of his persuasion on that force,” Enton finished and pressed his own hand to his chest, too. “Mr. White, if you are ever interested in trying your hand at politics, the Council would be fortunate to have you.”

  “Thank you, Enton. I will consider it, but I would be lying if I said I did not have loftier goals.” He did not hesitate to eye me after. Everyone knew males could not file a blood claim even if male clan and pack leaders created quite a ruckus around elections. Every Queen had the right to choose her king. And Skip would make a great King.

  Once Enton departed, Skip returned to my father’s prior subject. “Not two debts. Not for a former monarch,” he denied, shaking his head. “It was my honor.” The fact that he omitted only one debt was not lost on me.

  “One debt.” Or Dad it seemed.

  Skip nodded.

  My father waited.

  Skip sighed and I could tell fatigue from the evening wore on him as much as it wore on me. Even if I felt lighter from the prospect of my mother’s restoration, my body itself was just waiting for an excuse to crash. But I still couldn’t help my flesh quivering, shivering up my spine when Skip brushed the backs of his knuckles down my arm, lingering on my wrist for a moment before he slipped his hand into mine.

  “Might our training sessions be truly private?” He tested his boundaries, questioning my father and his commitment to this debt.

  Dad’s eyes became ghosts haunting mine, reading for my consent. Assuming control of Skip’s hand, I leaned toward him, my head brushing his shoulder and pleaded with my father across from us, “Please…” For a fraction of a moment, I considered the first night we were alone other than the studio. How Skip turned full-on vampire. But I also remembered how he turned his lust onto the poor wretch of a horse. I had to believe the temptation would lessen with time. Especially after tonight.

  With a sigh, my father’s shoulders fell and he acquiesced, “I believe trust is more than warranted after tonight. Provided training is the main goal,” he reminded us, warning finger raised.

  Skip and I confirmed with a nod, especially given how dangerous anything to the alternative was. Training itself was dangerous enough. But a stolen kiss or two wouldn’t hurt. Or…um stolen blood. I leaned closer to Skip again, hinting by tapping his wrist.

  “Rin,” he murmured low. “Might I have a word? A brief walk?” He nodded to my father, who consented.

  We agreed not to go far and kept away from the trees. Instead, we strode down the long drive up to my house, knowing Guardians were monitoring the area. For the life of me, I couldn’t determine why he wanted a walk now. Both of us seemed ready to pass out. Once we arrived at the iron gates to my family’s drive, Skip tugged me close to the stone pillar and pressed my back to it, seizing my hands and flattening them against the stone so his chest pinned mine. As close as we’d ever come. His breath became a curtain of frost brushing my forehead, then my nose, my mouth for just a fraction of a second before it traced along my jawline, then the arch of my throat, down to my collarbone where he rubbed his lips. I shuddered. I could smell every inch of him. I could feel the thrumming of his silver blood in his hand as it sidled mine.

  “Rin,” he whispered, releasing one of my hands only so his fang could bite his wrist to release a trickle of silver blood. I didn’t hesitate. Tonight, I gorged myself. Greedy and thirsty, I fed, drank, gulping back the sweet watery blood that granted me more energy, more life thrusting in my veins. It was like the jumpstart to my body’s low battery.

  No sooner had I raised my head, finished with his wrist than Skip kissed me. He did his own devouring. When his tongue parted my lips and his body practically chased down my own, I moaned into him. For once, his hair lay like stardust around his chest and shoulders, an open temptation for me to touch. It didn’t last more than a second because his hands clamped down on mine, mimicking his earlier move. The backs of my hands crammed against the chilled stone, but the rest of my body grew hot, my cheeks flushing from his weight, from his tongue tantalizing mine. Tonight had changed much between us. Tonight, we hungered for each other.

  I shivered as the silver blood inside me quickened and I sensed the desire building within me, navigating to my shoulders. Before my wings could shoot out of my body, I broke free from Skip, nearly doubling over at this unfamiliar desire. Nigh uncontrollable. Skip only chuckled, placing his hands on my hips, steadying me.

  “You’re blushing,” he teased, swiping a thumb across my cheekbone. “The wonders of humans.”

  Breathless, I rose to wonder, “How did you know?”

  Skip tilted his head to the side as if pondering my hidden meaning until he nodded, understanding. “All this time we’ve spent together…naturally, I’ve memorized your body by now. Your beautiful human and supernatural urges. It was obvious you needed my blood. I was happy to give it.” He rubbed his knuckles across my cheeks. I leaned into those fingers, recognizing them how Skip and his blood had become addictive. Just as Raoul had predicted.

  Raoul…

  I’d forgotten all about him and how he’d stood by my family’s side tonight. How he’d witnessed me kiss Skip along with everyone else. How I hadn’t given him a second thought…until now. For more than one reason since our privacy was interrupted. For Skip, ill met at the older vampire’s appearance. Judging by Raoul’s body language, I knew he’d watched us this whole time. Playing the Phantom far more than Skip.

  “Reina,” he interrupted. Skip stiffened. But for the first time, I became aware of how Skip relaxed. As if flaunting the previous event that had left me winded beneath him. His trauma triggered in more ways than one. “You must return home immediately.” Raoul was still a Guardian through and through. “We’ve just received word: the Queen is dead.”

  The fire’s warmth dried my tears hours ago.

  Late into the night, I holed up in our library, stoking the wood burning fireplace without ever standing to retrieve more wood. Instead, I created the logs and set them on fire every time. My parents had left, privy to the specifics of Queen Caroline’s death as both former monarchs and Council members. My brothers and a host of Guardians remained outside to protect me. As much as I yearned for Skip to stay, we both knew it was better for him to return home. With the first uprising or riot occurring so close to his home, he wanted to make sure his mother and sisters were safe. I couldn’t be greedy.

  Raoul was another story. He remained stationed just outside the library door. Not once interrupting me but for an hourly routine check-in. Not once did he raise any questions or concerns regarding mine and Skip’s little excursion by the gate or my unethical sampling of silver blood. He’d known I was taking it from Skip, but tonight, he’d learned how.

  Images from my meeting of the Queen paraded themselves in the fire. Each one was a flaming trickster. Each one branded into me. On that day, she became more than my Queen, she’d become my
friend. An ally I could depend on with her trust. Her wind chime voice still echoed from the couple of times I’d called her to ask more questions. Or rather the times she called me, however annoying her foresight could be. I recalled her last words to me even if I didn’t understand the humanity part. There was nothing human about my actions tonight. Of course she knew I was doing the right thing. She’d orchestrated it. Not her death but her sacrifice. She knew we would call for help. She knew the Council would answer. It was the last order she ever gave. Her last command as Queen. She gave up her protection for me. It was the only explanation.

  Now, she was gone.

  Fire trembled within the hearth, mimicking my shaking fist. More crackles from my knuckles fed the flames, rearing up, plaguing the room with smoke and cinders. Embers daring to bat at my skin. I’d formed a protective sheath around my skin. One of my many unearthed creator talents. Did Caroline see this, too? Did she see my grief when she made her decision? Or did death reach her before she knew how much I cared? How much I respected her and valued her wisdom, her…friendship. That a vampire Queen befriended a lowly human. I would always regret not telling her.

  Another knock. Soft, waiting. Heath would knock but always felt free to let himself in. Privileged oldest. Brian I could hear from a mile away if he ever bothered to darken the doors of the library. But since he spent more time outdoors, it was uncommon.

  “Come in again, Raoul,” I raised my voice from the upper level, corkscrewing the flames just above my hand, arranging them into various shapes. I wondered if I could burn art into canvas. Smoked art.

  “I brought you a little something. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since before the battle,” he pointed out and started up the steps, his boots barely making a sound on the winding staircase.

  “I don’t feel like―” I didn’t finish my sentence as soon as I caught a glimpse of the tray. Oh, good grief. “You play dirty, Raoul.” I eyed the assortment of fresh strawberries and grapes, the second from my parents vineyard no doubt, and the small fondue maker with an already lit candle having melted the chocolate.