Blurred Bloodlines [2nd in Blurred Trilogy]

by Kallysten

  He entwined his fingers with hers on his chest. “Then don't."

  "We have to. Someone could come in."

  She could hear Blake's smile in the smugness of his voice. “Did I burn your brain cells or something? I told you, I locked the door."

  She shifted against him, pressing her body alongside his. He was slowly warming from their contact, and she never tired of all the different ways she affected him. Even as delightful as this was, though, worry was creeping up inside her, and in her voice. “They could unlock it."

  Most people in the camp knew about them, but she saw no humor in being caught in the act. Blake, of course, seemed to think it was half the fun.

  "Have you thought about it?” he asked, obviously trying to distract her.

  She became very still against him, even holding her breath for a few seconds. Then she slipped away, lying next to him, both hands resting on her stomach. “You're impossible,” she said in a flat voice.

  He rolled onto his side, resting his temple against his closed fist as he observed her. She closed her eyes, shutting out the weight of his gaze. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, betraying that she wasn't as calm as she pretended. She couldn't have said what she was, though. Annoyed that he was bringing it up again when she had asked for time to think. A little bit aroused, though she wouldn't have admitted to it. But mostly, scared. It was strange that this scared her, when fighting demons didn't.

  Blake's fingers walked up her arm and to her shoulder. She batted at his hand, and he captured hers, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. She tried to glare at him, but her look turned into something else halfway through.

  "But you've thought about it?” he asked very softly, then kissed her hand again.

  "What if I have?” she muttered, resigning herself to the fact that he wouldn't stop asking until she answered.

  He just smiled.

  Marc would have to be blind to fail to notice Blake's and Kate's distraction during the meeting, or the way they sneaked off hand in hand immediately after it concluded. He shook his head as he watched them go, but he was smiling as well, amused. He was used to Blake acting like a spoiled child, but to see him infect the usually so-serious Kate with his particular brand of carefree silliness was entertaining.

  When he looked away from them, his gaze fell on Daniel, whose frown was traveling back and forth between Marc and the door where they had disappeared.

  "I don't get it."

  Marc shrugged. “No one asks you to."

  This answer did not please Daniel, and a sour note crept up in his scent as he shifted his stance. “This is all going to blow up, and then I'm the one who'll be left without my best fighters."

  "Nothing's going to blow up."

  Marc absently glanced back at the now-closed door, wondering where they had gone. The soldiers’ bedrooms were located on the other side of the building. Only training rooms and the armory lay that way, and neither had seemed quite in the mood for a sparring match. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the meeting room. Wherever they were and whatever they were doing was not his concern. He'd probably hear about it from Blake. However hard he tried to tell his Childe that privacy was a lovely thing, Blake insisted on oversharing.

  Daniel's knitted brow was still skeptical, and Marc clasped his shoulder. “It works,” he insisted, pushing Daniel toward his office. “It's been working for six months. It will keep on working just fine as long as no one pokes their noses into our business."

  The hint of warning he injected into his words brought a sharp look to Daniel's eyes and a faint, peppery edge to his scent that almost resembled guilt, which surprised Marc. Was that what Daniel had felt when, after he had tried to talk Kate out of dating Blake, Kate had told him in no uncertain terms to stay out of her personal life? Blake's grin and posture, on that afternoon, had radiated his pride, and Marc could still hear the cockiness in his voice when he had leaned in toward him to murmur, “Told you so.” Until that moment, Marc wouldn't have believed that Kate was capable of disobeying her superior—and he wouldn't have believed she'd accept sharing her new lover with Marc.

  "Anyway,” Daniel said after clearing his throat. “You wanted to show me something on the map?"

  Marc nodded and followed Daniel back to his office. It was larger than the office at the camp near Claremont, but the shelves behind Daniel's desk were still overflowing with an assortment of mismatched items, some of them military supplies, others trinkets that Daniel diligently carried from assignment to assignment. Many humans were like him, clinging to relics of a past that had been shattered when the demon invasion had started, a past they had never known. They all hoped that, sooner or later, they could return to what they saw as a Golden Age. Marc had lived through that time. He knew there had been nothing golden about it. The only souvenirs he kept were in his memories, and he dearly hoped that, once the demons were beaten, the world would be rebuilt better than it had once been.

  Daniel spread out a map on his desk, covering other maps, reports, and the usual mess that cluttered his workspace. He pointed at a location indicated by a small black dot.

  "This is where they stopped us last time,” he said, glancing up at Marc for just a second. “The breach has to be nearby."

  Resting a hand on the edge of the desk, Marc leaned over the map. It showed the coastline, including the peninsula on which the town was located, and the barricaded bridge that led to it. Those barricades were the reason why such a small town had not been destroyed by demon attacks long ago. Past the bridge, ruins lay for miles and miles, devoid of human lives. On the outdated map, small cities were still neatly aligned along the coast, waiting for the first days of summer and the tourist season. Only the thin lines representing reconnaissance expeditions from the squad told a different story. They looked like a tangled mass of thread.

  "In Louisiana,” Marc said absently, recalling his first attempt at closing a breach, “they protected an area as hard as they seem to protect this.” He pointed at a rough circle devoid of reconnaissance lines. “But when we finally got through, it was just a camp. A large camp, but nothing more than that. The breach was nowhere close. We lost a lot of men taking that camp, but it didn't help in the end. The demons would have come to us eventually."

  His eyes searched the map, trying but failing to recognize a pattern.

  "So you think we should look elsewhere,” Daniel said, the frown all too clear in his voice.

  "I think we should try, yes. Maybe somewhere around here?” He pointed at a new area of the map, beyond the tangle of lines and eastward of the position the demons seemed to be defending. “It's still close enough that they could join their camp through here."

  "If it is a camp,” Daniel pointed out, but he sounded interested.

  They spent the next half hour discussing a new reconnaissance plan. Daniel was in charge, and in the end it would be his decision where to send the squad, but for a while, Marc welcomed the distraction. He rolled his eyes whenever Blake decided to share too many details with him, certainly, but that didn't mean his mind didn't work on overdrive whenever he knew Blake and Kate were together.

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  Chapter 2

  Every time Kate stepped into her shower stall, she caught herself grinning. Back in Claremont and at the camp outside the City, water and energy restrictions had meant that hot water was only available for a few minutes per shower. Lakeview was smaller than Claremont, but it had enough resources that such restrictions didn't exist here. The drawback was that outside supplies were more difficult to obtain, and Kate had needed to do some serious bargaining to find the perfumed soap that was the one indulgence she allowed herself.

  Careful to keep her braided hair away from the spray of hot water, she picked up the thin lavender-scented soap from the small plastic basket in which she kept her toiletries; the fresh scent filled the stall as soon as she wet it. She had noticed Blake enjoyed this scent a lot, and she always used it
for special occasions. She hummed softly as she washed, and tried to keep her mind off what was to come. If she thought about it, she would start getting nervous again, and she might even change her mind.

  "It's going to be fine,” she murmured to herself. “Nothing needs to happen. It's just a dinner."

  Even to her own ears she sounded less than convincing.

  She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the spray of water. She stayed like this for a few seconds, then shut off the water and stepped out of the shower and onto the cold tiles. If she was truly going to do this, she needed to get ready.

  Running the threadbare towel briskly over her body, she dried herself, then walked out of the small bathroom and into her bedroom. Lakeview housed its soldiers in what had once been a hotel near the lake, and the accommodations were the best she had been offered since she had become a fighter. The decor was a little bland, maybe, neutral colors all around, but a room to herself was certainly a luxury she wasn't accustomed to. Most soldiers had to share rooms, and being Daniel's second-in-command had its advantages.

  The three boxes were lined up on her bed, exactly as she had found them when returning after a day spent training new recruits. She knew who had left them even before opening the note that accompanied them; only Blake had a spare key to her room. The first two boxes were plain cardboard, but the smallest one was blue suede, and her fingers itched to pick it up and finally open it. She could guess it was some kind of jewelry, and she was a little anxious to discover what it was. Knowing Blake, it could be anything from a lovely bracelet to a nipple ring. She hoped it wasn't the latter—for his own sake, she hoped he had listened when she had said no to that.

  On top of the largest box, the note she had opened earlier lay half open. She picked it up and read it again, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering a little faster as she did.

  I hope you'll like these. Be ready at eight.

  She touched the words, then Blake's signature. His handwriting was a little slanted, the cursive letters slightly rough and irregular. It fitted him.

  Putting the note down again, she lifted the cover of the largest box—and immediately gasped. A dress lay in the box, white and silver with large black flowers across the bodice and down the skirt. Her hands trembling a little, she lifted it out of the box, and noticed the lace inserts in the ankle-length skirt. It was silky smooth between her fingers, and she could just imagine what it would feel like on her skin. She had never seen anything so lovely, let alone worn it. It looked like something from another age, before breaches had opened all over the world and demons had started their relentless attacks on the human civilization. These days, simple fabrics and clothes that were both utilitarian and easy to make were the norm. She could only wonder where Blake had found something so extravagant.

  Moments later, her wonder turned to awe when she slipped the dress on over plain cotton panties and bra, and found that it fit perfectly. She could have sworn it had been made for her. Surely, though, that was beyond Blake's means. There was at least one seamstress in each town who could sew special garments, usually for weddings and celebrations, but their prices were supposed to be exorbitant—not that Kate had ever had the need for one.

  She smoothed her hands down the sides of the dress as she turned to the second box. In her haste to open it, she dropped the lid. It fell to the carpeted floor with a whisper but she barely noticed as she pulled out the shoes from inside the box. She remembered Blake checking her boots, a few days earlier, and commenting on what small feet she had; she hadn't thought anything of it at the time. These weren't anything like her combat boots, though. Black with a white trim, they had heels—not very high ones, but still higher than she had ever worn—and a curved opening at the toes. These, she noticed, weren't new. The soles bore some signs of use. Although not anything like what she was used to, they were lovely, and surprisingly comfortable once she slipped them on. She walked back and forth through the room, getting used to the heels, and was almost surprised when she didn't immediately trip over her own feet. All those balance exercises were paying off, she thought with an inward grin.

  Only the suede box was left. She sat on the bed after picking it up and held it on her knees for a moment before opening it. Rectangular and about as large as her hand, it had to be too big for a nipple ring. A necklace, maybe? The lid flipped back easily, revealing not only a necklace, but also a pair of earrings in the center of the box. The pieces appeared to be silver. The necklace, short enough that it would sit close to her throat, was made of three flat strands, the links that formed the strands so small that they were barely distinguishable. The three strands were entwined in a tight braid. Three similar strands of differing lengths dangled from the earrings.

  Kate touched the necklace with the tip of her finger, following one of the strands as it wove over and under the other two. It was all a terrible idea, she thought as she snapped the box shut. She put the box on the bed and rubbed her hands together; her palms were damp. She ought to call the whole thing off. Yes, that was what she was going to do. She would call Blake and—

  A knock on the door made her jump to her feet. She swallowed heavily and went to open it, absently throwing a glance at the alarm clock by her bed. It wasn't time yet. It couldn't be him.

  She wiped her palms on her dress before clasping the doorknob and twisting it open. Blake was standing there, hands in his jeans’ pockets. When she saw him dressed so casually, she became even more aware of her attire, and his eyes, detailing her from head to toe, only added to her discomfort.

  "You look scrumptious,” he said as he walked in. Taking her hand, he made her twirl in front of him. The dress fanned over her legs. Blake hummed his approval. “You're just missing..."

  He looked around and found the jewelry box on the bed. He let go of her hand and picked it up. She made herself keep still as he threaded the stems of the earrings through her ears, then laid the necklace at her throat and did the clasp, but when he stepped back again to admire his work, she shook her head. The earrings swung lightly, the strands brushing her jaw. The necklace seemed almost tight enough to choke her.

  "I don't think I can do this."

  Blake's smile did not waver even for an instant. “Not only can you do it, but you want to. Don't lie and say you don't, now."

  She opened her mouth to do just that—lie—but found that she couldn't say a word. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. Stepping to him, she pressed her face to his chest, hiding her embarrassment. His arms closed around her and he stroked her back up and down in soothing motions.

  "I do,” she admitted, no louder than a whisper. “But it's not..."

  She didn't know how to finish. He slipped a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up toward his. The smile was still there, but softer, somehow.

  "It's not what, sweetheart?"

  She grimaced and replied instinctively. “Don't call me that."

  Blake laughed, and she smiled. They were back on familiar ground, and she found her words more easily. “It's not... decent."

  "As long as all parties concerned consent, I don't see what's indecent about it."

  Did he not get it? “Blake..."

  The smile faded at last, and a serious expression, one she rarely saw him wear, settled on his features. “Listen, nothing needs to happen tonight.” He carefully picked a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “If you want to stop after a drink, that's fine. If you want to stop after dinner, that's also fine. If you want more than that, it's up to you.” An impish grin pushed forward on his lips even as amusement sparkled in his eyes. “And if you want to make it a threesome, you two know where to find me."

  She heard a heavy sigh behind her, and turned to find Marc there. Contrary to Blake's jeans and t-shirt, he was wearing black slacks, a fitted shirt, and a tie. What was it Blake had called her? Scrumptious? That certainly applied to Marc. She could feel her cheeks heat up again, but this time it wasn't fr
om embarrassment.

  Marc arrived just in time to hear, through the partially closed door, Blake suggest a threesome. He pushed the door open and let out an exaggerated sigh.

  "Could you be even more obnoxious?"

  Blake didn't look at him, his eyes remaining on Kate even as she looked at Marc, blushing like a fiery sunset.

  "I can try if you want,” Blake said, the edge of a laugh in his words.

  Kate snorted as she glanced at him. “Please don't."

  If Blake answered, Marc didn't hear it. While he remained at her doorstep, Kate came to him, her dress fluid against the curves of her small frame. Marc swallowed hard and forced his eyes to her face. Her smile was bashful and adorable. When she was standing just two feet in front of him, she raised a slightly shaky hand toward him. Marc met her movement and took her hand in his.

  "Hi."

  "Evening, Kate. You look gorgeous."

  Her blushing increased, if that was even possible. “You're not too bad yourself."

  Behind her, Blake groaned loudly. Marc glanced at him; he had covered his face with both hands in a dramatic gesture. “Good thing I'm here, or you two would still be flirting by the time we've closed all the breaches in the world."

  Kate turned toward him. “Blake? Please shut up."

  Grinning, he blew her a kiss from the tips of his fingers. She smiled and returned the gesture before looking back at Marc. The smile wavered a little, he noticed, and he was speaking before he knew it.

  "If you'd rather not—"

  "Marc?” She squeezed his hand. “Let's go."

  A last look at Blake revealed that he was entirely too smug. “You two lovebirds go ahead,” Blake said, shooing them out. “I'll lock up."

  The gleam in Blake's eyes was all too familiar, and Marc didn't like the promise of mischief it held at all. Swallowing back his misgivings, he focused on Kate. He'd enjoy his evening with her first, and then worry about what Blake was scheming.