by Kayleigh Sky
“What’s that?”
“A mushroom liqueur.”
Asa shuddered. “You made that up.”
Zev laughed, and his eyes sparkled. Like stars and diamonds and rhinestones. Who’d painted that portrait? Asa wondered.
“Would you like to try some?” Zev asked.
“Mushrooms are for steaks.” Asa moved a pawn to d4.
“True. I like steaks too.” Zev moved a pawn to g6.
While a part of Asa wanted to sneer blood red, I bet, another part of him wanted the game to go on forever. But he intended to crush Zev.
Maybe he should let Zev win, but somehow, he knew Zev didn’t want him to. He wanted the challenge. He wanted Asa to feel safe.
To trick him?
“I haven’t had one in a while,” said Asa. “Too rich for my wallet. I’m a burger and fries kind of guy now.”
Zev reached for his knight. Was he going to respond to Asa’s jibe. Avoid it? He held his piece over f6, a slight tremor in his fingers before setting it down.
“Well…” He winked, and Asa’s eyes widened. “I must not be paying you enough.”
Asa let out a breath and made another move. “Is that an offer of a raise?”
“I’ve never had a real job,” Zev said, not answering Asa’s question.
“You’re a king.”
“I know.”
“You wanted to be.”
Zev cocked his head, a tiny smile playing on those lush lips. The skin looked so damn soft. “Did I?”
“Didn’t you? You said you weren’t supposed to be, right?”
Zev was quiet for a moment, his eyes darkening. He moved his jaw back and forth and said, “You mean, didn’t I murder a king for my throne?”
Asa stilled, the only movement he made the tightening of his fingers on his glass. “I don’t know. I only hear things.”
“I told you I hate violence.”
“I hate whoring out my blood.”
The comment escaped before he realized he was saying it, but he wasn’t taking it back. It didn’t sound bitter as much as scared, and a frown tugged a line between Zev’s brows. Asa didn’t know what this game was. Seduction? He was failing at it, though he ached to kiss those bourbon-sweet lips. Bite them. Draw Zev’s blood. Hold the strong face in his hands and melt his palms to the hot curve of cheek and jawbone. Breathe the humid expirations of his breath. Whisper sweet nothings in his ear until the pain in Zev’s eyes drained away. Until he shone like the jeweled boy in the portrait.
A lover. A lover had to have painted him.
What was he like in bed? Hot, passionate? Playful and joyous?
A tiny smile appeared on Zev’s lips again. “Well, you’re here now. You don’t have to do that anymore.”
Except he was whoring out worse than that, which he didn’t want to think about.
They played silently for a while. Asa drank in the scents of bourbon and something like caramel. A sweet, warm, and wintry smell. He shot Zev stares and looked away the minute Zev glanced up.
The color in Zev’s face deepened. He chewed his lips and scowled at the board. Then Asa took Zev’s pawn with his bishop on h7, and Zev sat back with a huffy sigh.
“Where were you raised?” he asked.
“Walnut Creek. You guys renamed it with a bunch of other cities. It’s Comity now.”
Zev raised both eyebrows. “The Seneras’s District.”
“My turn.”
“Your turn?” Zev frowned. He still hadn’t made his move.
“You asked me a question. Now I get a turn. What happened to the family that owned this house?”
Now Zev smiled, one half of his mouth rising higher than the other. “They live in a smaller house on the other side of the property, which belongs to them. I only own this manor, which I bought from them. Have you lived in Comity all this time?”
Why did he seem doubtful? Asa shook his head. “No.”
“Where—”
“Cheating.”
He held his breath through Zev’s narrow-eyed stare. No jangle of anger arose in the vampire though. He twisted his lips, then blew out a sigh, and picked up his king. His fingers were long, his knuckles slightly redder than the rest of his skin, slightly coarse. Like fine sandpaper. Asa’s lips burned with a hunger to brush each knuckle with a rough kiss.
Zev turned the king in his fingertips and smiled. “Okay. Your turn.”
“Where’d you come out?”
Zev frowned. “Come out?”
“Of your city.”
Zev opened his mouth, and a small sigh escaped. “I wasn’t in my city during the Upheaval. I was visiting my aunt and uncle. We came through the Grania Portal, which was near the city you call Livermore.”
“And you call Grania.”
Zev tipped his head. “Is that a question?”
With a huff, Asa leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. An amused smile played on Zev’s full lips. Don’t stare. Not at his lips anyway. Don’t squirm. He focused on Zev’s chin, its dimple a shallow tease, barely there, begging for the tip of Asa’s tongue. Fuck, don’t think about that either. Zev’s smile grew.
“Well,” Asa grunted.
“I was thinking,” said Zev, tipping his head to the side. “Favorite chess match.”
Asa widened his eyes, and he grinned. “The Deep Blue versus Kasparov.”
Zev’s smile turned quizzical. “Really? A game with only one-sided passion.”
“Is that how you see it?”
“Yes. How else? Deep Blue was a computer.”
Asa stared into Zev’s dark eyes. “It’s pitting yourself against the ultimate other.”
“Or against one’s true self,” Zev murmured.
Flummoxed, Asa said, “I don’t—“
“Your turn.”
Asa folded his arms again. “Any pets growing up?”
“Cats and dogs aren’t made for the dark.”
“Just vampires.”
“Question?”
Asa ground his teeth together. “Statement.”
“I don’t know that we were made for it. We believe that the darkness was our punishment.”
“And this is your reward?”
Zev took Asa’s bishop and raised his eyebrows.
“Nevermind,” Asa said. “I take it back. Not my question.”
“That’s good, because it’s my turn.”
“Your—”
“Pets. That was the last question.”
“Oh.”
Zev finished his drink and got up. “Another?”
Asa shook his head. “I’m still on the clock.”
“You aren’t, but that’s okay. Leads me to my next question.”
Wind blew a spattering of rain against the window. Asa glanced outside. The sun winked through the clouds, bright and silver. He looked back at the board and moved his knight to g5. There was nothing Zev could do to save himself now.
The vampire sat with his drink and moved his king to g8. Asa followed with his queen on h5, and Zev stared at the board with a wisp of a smile tugging at his lips. “I lost,” he murmured.
“Looks like it.”
He slumped in his chair. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Guess I should go now,” Asa said.
Zev took a swallow of his bourbon. “One last question first. Have you ever been in love?”
Asa’s heart dropped, its absence in his chest filling him with a hollow ache. “No.”
Zev moved his head in a slight nod before he took another drink and let out a sigh. “That’s a shame. I was once.”
17
Zev Takes A Hike
Zev and Rune had pounded out the path through the trees to the paved trail Zev liked to walk when they’d come to the manor as boys. At night, they’d never feared meeting anyone, but the view during the day is what pulled Zev out of the house for his walks.
The main trail broke off in three directions, but Zev usually followed the same track, which meandered in a
lazy loop over the foothills, though at one point, it rose to overlook the valley and his home. From here, the people wandering below shrank to specks.
Nobody followed him. The house and grounds were his, though the surrounding acreage still belonged to Moss’s parents.
When he was a boy, he’d spent a few summers here, and it was where he’d brought his aunt and uncle after the Upheaval. His parents had wanted nothing to do with the human world after Abbatine collapsed and scalding geysers erupted in the Cleft. Supposedly, a narrow lake had formed where most of their city had once been.
Something about the air and the open space usually swept Zev’s heart clean, but not today.
Clouds cluttered the sky, and the cold air stung under a sun that brightened only to fade again.
And Zev’s heart wasn’t clear. It won’t ever be again.
Emek?
Was it possible he wasn’t Asa? Was Zev’s heart playing tricks on him, teasing him with the fantasy of redemption? The real Asa might be dead by now, beyond any chance of forgiving Zev for using him. Now Zev had a stain on his soul he’d never wash off. He’d made a promise to stop Qudim’s bloodthirsty rampage, and Synelix had been the key. He’d won the prize, but he’d lost Asa. And peace…
Peace was still a dream.
He paused where the path curved around a grassy slope and drank half the bottle of water he’d brought with him. A courier had arrived that morning with a demand from the Nazzarram family for an audience. Zev had argued with Moss in favor. It had been fourteen years since the immediate royal family had been allowed to leave their district. The morning had passed, and he’d skipped his Synelix, angrily dismissing Moss.
Now the anger had faded, and he was cold and hungry. He shivered as he capped his water and headed off again.
Asa…
After Zev shared his suspicions about Emek, Otto stared at him for a long time before saying, “You told me jack about this guy but expected me to find him when all I had was a name. Is this one of those fated things?”
Zev studied the chessboard. Emek had returned several times to clean and polish the wood, and each time he’d made a new move. Zev’s heart had soared each time too, beating with a delicious ache, though his stomach had knotted on itself. Somehow, winning this impromptu game had become the same as winning Emek, but Otto’s comment jerked his attention away from the board, and he laughed.
“‘One of those fated things’?”
Otto shrugged, as though Jessa weren’t his blood mate. “What was he to you?”
It was his turn to shrug, a movement that made his bones scream as though they weren’t supposed to work that way. “One of the humans we had to work with during the war.”
“A traitor?”
Zev narrowed his eyes. “Someone who wanted peace.”
“A seventeen-year-old?”
“I believe so. I never saw him in the light.”
“You don’t happen to know what his last name might have been.”
“Gladstone.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Of course, it did. Zev took a deep breath and reached for his king. Otto was going to find out anyway.
“His father was the developer of Synelix.”
He didn’t look up, stiffening at the whisper of the chair as Otto rose. He came to stand on the other side of the chessboard. Emek had set Zev up. He had no choice with his next move. With a grim smile, he took Emek’s bishop. But that set him up again. Now he was going to be chased by Emek’s pawns.
“Okay. Let me make sure I’m clear. I’ve been looking for a guy named Asa. You’ve hired a guy named Emek. Pretty unusual name, but—” Here, Otto held his palms up, fingers spread. “It’s the same name as the guy on the train with me and Jessa.”
Zev worked his jaw back and forth. “I doubt it’s the same person.”
“I doubt there’s any other explanation. Talk to me.”
“There’s really not much to tell.”
“Bullshit.”
Zev raised a glare, eyes coal hot. “I am your king.”
“You keep reminding me.”
“Just find out who Emek Henley is…”
Zev’s breath wheezed as he cut along the edge of the mountainside. He gazed down on the tops of oaks and sycamores. A hidden creek babbled below. In spring, wildflowers bloomed along the edge of the path. Now, green weeds mixed with the old brown ones. In a few weeks, the council of royal vampires—who’d give no clue whether they were friend or foe until Zev survived or died—would descend on his house for the coven meeting.
Bending as he walked, he snagged a weed with a dry seedpod that rattled as he shook it. A few small birds shot from bush to bush. On the last loop of the path, redwoods surrounded him. He walked for several miles, stepping over roots and broken branches and jumping the smaller creeks until the path broke out into the open and circled back the way he’d come. A few yards on, it dropped down to the manor again, but from here, he caught a glimpse of the ocean gleaming under the hidden sun.
With a sigh, he opened his water, drank the last of it, and stepped over the stone wall that curved along the edge of the lookout. He set his empty bottle down and straddled the top of the wall.
The minute his weight hit the stones, the view below him tilted in a sudden slant. His stomach dropped to the clatter of rocks sinking into his consciousness. He lunged sideways, reaching for solid ground, a bush, anything to grab onto as the wall crumbled underneath him. He scrambled, nails and skin tearing on rocks and roots. His foot caught on something, and his body flipped over it. He flailed his arms, hit the ground, and bounced loose. Chunks of the wall slammed into his ribs and head. He flipped again, airborne, and squeezed his eyes shut. Pain hit his back and chest and legs like cannonballs. He careened into a solid mass, and his vision went red.
A last tumble of rocks and broken branches scattered down the slope.
Everything stilled.
Zev gasped in a whistling rattle that spilled over his lips, squeezed out by white burning pain.
Fuck… Fuck…
His face pressed into dirt and leaves, and he groped at the air. God, where was he? At the edge of another cliff? His other arm stung with pins and needles, stuck between his body and the thing that had stopped him. He lifted his face and blinked. His vision blurred with dusty specks as he pulled in a shallow breath and pain gripped him around the ribs.
A sharp gust of wind stirred the tops of the trees.
Zev blinked again and twisted his head. An oak tree loomed beside him, broken twigs stabbing at his throat. He rolled, and his breath stalled as the pain tightened around him like white-hot strips of metal.
His fangs sprang against his lip, and blood trickled into his mouth.
The desire to laugh unnerved him.
He needed to feed. He’d die without Synelix now. His sore gums pulsed with his heartbeat, warning him he was badly injured. His shallow pants fanned the pain.
Goddamnit.
After a few more blinks, he got his gaze focused on the wall at the top of the hillside a few hundred yards above him. Only a few jagged pieces remained of the part he’d sat on. Another section continued in one piece alongside the path. If that part of the wall still stood on the other side of the curve, nothing would look amiss from the manor even if anyone did look up this way.
They’d look for him, of course. They’d find him.
Unless somebody else found him first.
You have to get up.
His stomach clenched and pushed bile into his throat. But he could do this. You’re fucking Ellowyn. Vampire.
It took a moment to slow his pants and pull in a full breath. Then, with his fists clenched, he jerked sideways.
And fell into the dark.
18
Asa Snoops
What the fuck?
Asa staggered back from the car, a soapy sponge dripping from his fingers.
The echo of pain that had slammed into his chest faded, but sweat dripped from hi
s hairline and his heart raced.
He stumbled in a circle, taking in the buildings and the vehicles lined in the driveway. Dennis, one of the newest employees, scrubbed the tires on an SUV a few yards away.
Cold air numbed his skin as clouds blew into the sky and pushed shadows across the grounds, but everything else was… normal.
Except his heartbeat. Except his shaky legs and knotted gut. Tossing his sponge back into his bucket, he headed across the slope to the manor.
“Hey,” said Dennis.
“Back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder. “Just gonna grab something to eat.”
Maybe the only thing wrong was he was hungry. He hurried through the back door and made his way to the kitchen where Isaac sat frowning. He had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth while he plucked the bones out of a tray of fish.
“Hey.”
Isaac looked up. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Just hungry, I think.”
Marcus sent him a look from under his brows. “Lunch was three hours ago.”
“This is perfect,” said Isaac. “You can try my soup.”
He patted the end of the table on the far side from Marcus, near the stove and the sink. Asa dropped onto a chair and clutched the table’s edge with bloodless fingers. The gristle-yellow shine of his knuckles made him a little sick, so he looked away and followed Isaac’s movements from the cupboard to the counter. The kid stuck a long-handled spoon into a tall metal pot. He stirred before he picked up the ladle beside him and glanced back at Asa.
“What have you been doing?”
Asa stretched his fingers and flattened them on the table. “Washing the vehicles.”
Wisps of steam floated off the soup and perfumed the air with a sharp, herbal scent. Isaac set the bowl and spoon down, crossed the room to the counter beside the stove and cut something in a pie tin. His mouth watering, Asa stirred the soup, blew away the steam, and slurped a thick, creamy spoonful. The strong herb filled his nose with its scent, and a faint mournfulness rolled through him. The smell was familiar. Something from a long time ago.
