Blood Bound

by Becca Blake

  Miria shook her head. “We can’t afford to take one. Besides, it’ll only get worse if we wait. Once we’re out and we find a safe place to hide, we can rest. Until then, we have to keep going.”

  The yellow glow from the leyline lampposts along the staircase slowly gave way to a softer, blue-tinted light.

  “Look, Miria! It’s from outside,” Azalea said. With the way the staircase wound, they couldn’t see it—not yet. But they had to be close.

  The staircase continued just around the corner to a wide landing, where the light shined through the brightest.

  Their salvation was just around that corner. Only a few more steps now.

  Azalea stopped. She willed her legs forward, but they remained locked in place.

  Miria looked over at her, then looked over her shoulder. “We need to hurry.”

  “I can’t.”

  “The exit is right there,” Miria said, irritation leaking into her voice. “We can nearly see it.”

  With all the strength in her legs, Azalea tried to move forward, but still they wouldn’t budge. “I…can’t,” she said again.

  Miria took a shaky breath. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about leaving Nero-fucking-Cineris again,” she said, her voice low. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re thinking about going back down there. Not after we’ve come this far.”

  “No, Miria. I cannot move my legs.” Her voice came out small and terrified.

  Something was very wrong. Her body was frozen, heavy, unyielding. She pulled as hard as she could and screamed as some unknown force resisted her just as hard.

  Miria slipped out from under her arm, which remained locked in place, hovering in midair above the space Miria’s shoulder had just occupied. Frowning, Miria tugged on Azalea’s arm, ignoring her injured side to use both hands.

  A swift, fierce agony shot through Azalea’s body, burning from within out through the tips of her fingers and toes, searing her mind. The pain was inescapable, impossible to ignore.

  “Stop!” she yelled to Miria.

  Miria stepped back, and the pain relented, though a tingling in her limbs remained.

  Light footfalls came from the stairs behind her, but Azalea couldn’t turn her head to look. Instead, she looked to Miria, whose face had somehow turned even paler.

  “Who is it?” she breathed out, though she already knew the answer well enough.

  The footsteps came to a stop just behind her. Her skin prickled as breath like a chilly wind caressed the back of her neck. A hand slid from her shoulder down her outstretched arm. Fingers interlaced with hers and pulled her arm gently back down to her side, straightening her out. Unlike when Miria had attempted to move her arm, there was no resistance this time.

  Her breath was shaky with terror from the creature behind her who had tasted her blood, the monster who she’d longed for. His possessive touch made her skin crawl, making her own body a prison from which she could not escape. She didn’t dare ask what he had done to her; the words died in her throat.

  She kept her eyes locked on Miria’s, her gaze the only comfort Azalea could find. Miria stood still as a statue, looking like she was paralyzed with fear rather than some supernatural force.

  Lord Nero Cineris stepped out from behind Azalea and looked her over. He rubbed his thumb on her cheeks, rubbing away caked-on splatters of the guard’s blood. He brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed it out, like she was a doll he was cleaning up.

  Maybe in his mind, that’s exactly what she was.

  He ran his hand down the curve of her waist, stopping at the frayed ends of her ruined dress. He shook his head regretfully. “It was such a beautiful dress,” he said. “What a shame for it to go to waste.”

  If her body could move, she would have shuddered.

  “Let us go,” Miria wheezed out, finally finding her voice. “Please, just let us leave.”

  Nero ignored her, keeping his attention on Azalea, cleaning up her appearance as much as he could. For the first time, she brought her eyes to his and found them cold, detached. They were the eyes of the monster he’d hidden from her all this time.

  She’d let her guard down around him too much, let him get too close. Miria had been right all along. In the time she’d spent in his palace, she’d looked the other way to willfully forget about what he was.

  Tears slid down her face, though she could not wipe them. They seeped into the dirt as they fell at her feet.

  “What have you done to her?” Miria demanded, asking the question Azalea couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  “Did you not see the blood ritual at dinner tonight?” he asked, almost sounding bored.

  “What was it?” Miria asked.

  “Azalea is now my bonded blood servant. I told her earlier she wouldn’t leave me, and she cannot defy me.”

  Azalea closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to see any of it.

  “Look at me,” he commanded in a calm voice barely above a whisper.

  Power surged through her body, pulling her eyes back up to meet his.

  “You cannot defy me,” he said, more emphatically this time. “Our connection is strong right now from the ritual, so I sensed as soon as you left the palace grounds. I followed the trail of blood you left in my home. In my city.” He glanced briefly at Miria.

  Miria, for her part, had the good sense not to attack him while he spoke. There was nothing she could do, and both she and Azalea knew it.

  “You only made it this far because I allowed it. I wanted to see if you would truly leave me, or if you might feel any regret.” His face hardened. “It seems you didn’t. You were all too eager to leave.”

  “That’s not true,” Azalea said, finally breaking her silence.

  “I’ll admit,” Nero continued, ignoring her input, “you surprised me.” He rubbed his thumb on her cheek again, this time wiping away her tears. “You were much bolder than I believed you would be. I saw that you killed a vampire the night we met because you had no choice, but I never thought you would do it again.”

  He turned around to face Miria, who, other than her heaving breaths, hadn’t moved. “You, on the other hand… I am a creature of darkness, and I know a killer when I see one.”

  “I kill to save myself,” Miria said. “I kill vampires.” She leaned against the tunnel’s wall to support herself and spat blood at Nero’s feet.

  Nero smiled. “It hasn’t just been vampires, though, has it?”

  She looked away and remained silent.

  “As I said, I know a killer when I see one. I can respect that. Though, I can’t allow this to continue, of course.”

  “Are you going to kill us?” Azalea asked.

  “No,” Nero said. “I’m not going to kill you. You are my blood servant now, and your death would be painful for me. However…” He stepped close to her and put a finger under her chin, tilting her head back to look up at him. “You will live to regret this attempt to betray me.”

  30

  A surge of bloodlust rushed through Miria, leaving her stab wound a distant memory. She made no attempt to suppress her fury. This creature had murdered the man she loved. He would kill her, too, then torture her closest friend for the rest of her life.

  She wanted him dead more than she’d ever wanted anything.

  Her grip tightened around the dagger, and she ran forward to attack him.

  With a dark laugh, Nero slammed into her, deflecting her momentum and sending her flying into the rocky wall. “Lose with dignity. There’s no reason to embarrass yourself.”

  Azalea’s scream, a desperate, distant cry of Miria’s name, pierced the air.

  Miria looked up at her, at the rage written on her face that mirrored her own. Her heart broke for her friend. Miria wasn’t nearly strong enough to protect her.

  But
she would not lie down and die. Miria jumped to her feet, ignoring the screaming pain in her side, and ran for Nero again. This time, he didn’t move to counter her, instead letting her get close. She swung the dagger wildly at him, swiping for his neck, his heart, anything in reach.

  She connected with nothing but the air around him as he dodged every blow.

  Nero kicked her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling to the floor. “It’s remarkable that you’ve managed to kill any vampires at all,” he said. “Weak and slow as you are.”

  His taunts weren’t wrong, which made her even angrier. She was slow and weak. Every kill she’d managed was achieved through distraction, deceit, or stealth. In a one-on-one fight, she would never have the strength to take down a vampire.

  She couldn’t beat him.

  Still, she crawled for the dagger she’d dropped, every movement excruciating. She couldn’t see straight through her blurred vision, and the single dagger split into three. Azalea had been right that the injury was more severe than it looked. She might have been fine if they’d been able to get to the surface and make it to a doctor in time, but now, that would never happen. Even if Nero walked away and left her here, she’d put too much strain on the injury, and there was so little time. She’d never make it anywhere.

  She was going to die.

  Nero’s gaze was heavy on her as he watched her crawl.

  Pitiful. Weak.

  She knew it to be true.

  She hated him. Hated herself. Hated a world that would allow two young girls who’d barely known life to be dragged away to such a dark and uncaring world.

  Distantly, she could hear Azalea sobbing and apologizing. What did she have to apologize for? Everything was Miria’s fault.

  It had always been Miria’s fault.

  She reached the dagger, but just as she closed her hand around the hilt, her hand was crushed under the weight of Nero’s boot.

  Miria jerked her hand back with a pained cry. She looked down at her fingers, wondering if any of them were broken. Not that any of that would matter soon.

  Nero leaned down to pick up the dagger and loomed over her. She had no more strength to fight, so she just stared up at him, broken and defeated.

  “Come here.”

  Azalea obeyed the command without question, compelled by the strength of the blood ritual. “Please, let Miria go. I’m so sorry for betraying you, my lord. I swear, this will never happen again.”

  “Of course it won’t happen again. This ends right now.” He held out the dagger for her.

  She stared at it, shaking her head. “Please, no.”

  “Take it.”

  Azalea took the dagger from him.

  Fear flashed across Miria’s face as she had the same realization as Azalea: Nero was going to make her kill her best friend.

  “Miria was attacked,” Azalea said. The words rushed out of her. If she could only say them quickly enough, before he gave the order, maybe she could persuade him. It was the only hope she had before he forced her to do something that would leave her irrevocably broken. “Just like I was at the Blood Den.”

  Nero paused, and his brows arched upward as his expression shifted from one of cold fury to one of curiosity. “Go on.”

  The stiffness in her limbs faded as she regained control over her body. Nero must have released his hold on her long enough to hear her out. She ran her hand down his face, like she’d done so often during their time together.

  The dagger weighed heavy in her hand with the knowledge that she was close enough to kill him, if only she was capable of doing so. Even if she could, it would be a stupid move. He was fast enough to stop her if she attempted it.

  “I was terrified for her,” Azalea continued. “She killed that vampire from the surface. We knew you had a truce with them, and we thought Miria would be executed.”

  “Julian,” Nero breathed. He glanced down at Miria, regarding her. “He and the others with him had an unusual obsession with the pair of you. Perhaps because I wouldn’t allow them to have you. They are not accustomed to being told no.”

  “Would you have killed her for it?” Azalea asked.

  “I’m uncertain,” he admitted after taking time to consider the question. “I may have had to in order to appease them and prove that it was not intentional on my part.”

  “When Miria came to me, I didn’t want to leave. I swear it.”

  Nero cocked his head to the side as he waited for her to continue her explanation of the night’s events.

  “I was just so scared for my friend. I love her as my own sister. Please, don’t kill her. Don’t make me do this,” she said, her pleas turning to sobs.

  Nero took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Return home, Azalea Nydira. Wait in my bedchamber for my return.”

  The weight of the command wrapped around her, and her body turned stiff once more from the compulsion. With everything in her, she fought it, willing her body not to leave, but she was powerless in the face of the bond they shared. She turned, dagger still in hand, and started back down the long, winding staircase, unable to even look over her shoulder for a final goodbye to Miria.

  31

  Even if Nero wasn’t about to kill her, Miria was well aware she didn’t have long to live. Azalea’s pleading couldn’t change that.

  “Thank you,” she managed, though speaking pained her.

  Nero raised a brow. “For?”

  “Not forcing her to do it.”

  For that much, at least, she was grateful. Azalea would never be able to live with herself if she’d been the one to do it. And at least she wouldn’t have to watch. Miria turned her head away from him, looking down the tunnel at the hints of moonlight illuminating the walls.

  It was a shame she wouldn’t truly see it before dying. That was all she’d wanted.

  “Please, just make it fast.”

  “Azalea belongs to me. You attempted to steal her from me.”

  “Bullshit. She’s her own person. She belongs to no one.” Miria continued staring down the tunnel. If the last thing she saw was the touch of moonlight, that would have to be enough. At the very least, she didn’t want it to be Nero’s face she last saw.

  Nero sat down against the tunnel wall across from her. “No, not anymore,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s my blood servant now. She is mine.”

  “You forced her into that. She didn’t know what she was agreeing to.”

  “Perhaps not. But it is what it is. There’s no changing it now; there’s no reversal of the blood ritual.” Nero stood up again and began pacing around the small landing.

  “She trusted you.”

  Nero gave Miria a smile that looked almost remorseful. “She didn’t listen to you, I assume? I imagine you warned her not to trust me. Her naivety is part of her charm, I suppose.”

  Miria coughed again, coating the ground next to her in red. “You’re just going to let me suffer here until I die.”

  Azalea had taken away both of the daggers, so she had no way to end her suffering sooner. There was only the long, painful wait. Death would be a mercy that Nero refused to grant her.

  “Do you suppose she believes I’ll let you go? Or does she think I intend to kill you anyway?” Nero regarded Miria, who didn’t answer. “You are lucky she cares so much for you. If not for her, I would have no second thoughts about sending you to your death…whether your murder of the ambassador was self-defense or not.”

  Miria’s laugh was accompanied by the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. “But you know you don’t need to do the deed yourself. Death is coming for me, whether you send me to it or wait for it to come on its own.”

  “Yes.”

  Gods, she wished she had the strength to fight back, to at least bring him down with her, to save Azalea from his clutches. But all of her strength was gone now. />
  Nero crouched down beside her and brushed her hair out of her face, ignoring her scowl as he did so. “I just want to keep Azalea happy. I’m well aware of how I must look from your perspective, but I do care for her. I wouldn’t want to tell her that her friend was dead. You understand, I’m sure.”

  “So, what? You’re just not going to tell her? Let her think I’m alive somewhere, living my life while you keep her as a prisoner?” When Nero didn’t answer, she made a wheezing sound that barely passed for a laugh. “I suppose it won’t be the first time you’ve lied to her.”

  “I have not lied to her,” he said quietly. “Nor will I after this. You will live, and you will leave this city.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Miria looked back toward the moonlight again. Gods, her broken body hurt. The wound at her side throbbed with every breath, her body ached from being kicked around, and the pain in her fingers from when he’d stomped on her hand was excruciating.

  And still, the knowledge she would die before seeing the surface hurt more than any of it.

  “This arrangement is for the best. I will enjoy my time with Azalea more once you’re gone and can no longer poison her against me.” Nero brushed her hair away from her face again. “It’s time.”

  Before she could ask what he meant by that, he leaned down and plunged his fangs into her neck.

  After the initial pinch, a sense of calm traveled through Miria’s body, and the pain disappeared, forgotten in light of the euphoria that flowed through her. This was the relief she’d been waiting for, the release from her broken, dying body. Her consciousness floated above her, unaware of anything outside the thrall of pleasure that flowed through her.

  She was light, and free, and if this was death, it didn’t feel too bad. When the goddess of death ushered her to the After, she hoped only that she would see Zephyr there.

  The moonlight faded as her vision went dark.

  Something pressed hard against Miria’s lips, and she opened her mouth to accept it. Something warm and sweet flowed in and dripped down her throat.

  She opened her eyes and saw Zephyr, hovering over her as he held a flask of water up for her. She’d just passed out again, and he was taking care of her.