A Taste for Blood (The Godhunter, Book 6)

by Sumida, Amy

  I sighed as the water rose over my skin, little bubbles hitting me like a massage. The bottom of the basin was smooth stone but there were several cracks leaking heated air. I ran my toes over them and laughed. It tickled a little. Arach arranged himself over the steep incline that led into the pond, everything but his shoulders and head, in the water. He leaned back, head pillowed on a bed of moss, and gave me his contented grin.

  “Come here,” his fingers beckoned beneath the surface.

  I glided over and slid up his chest, coming to rest against him with my face an inch away from his. Our legs intertwined and my mouth found his. Hands and tongues and very sharp teeth. I groaned as he lowered those teeth to my shoulder and took a quick nibble. He looked up at me, a smear of blood on his lower lip.

  “Sometimes I can't comprehend all of your emotions,” he whispered before he breathed fire over the bite.

  “Sometimes I don't want to understand yours,” I replied in a sober tone.

  “I know,” he glanced at the rolling surface of the water. “I think you will though. Faerie is changing you, I taste it in your blood, and someday our emotions will be a lot more similar.”

  “I don't think I want that,” I frowned.

  “I know that too,” he said regretfully, “and that's part of what I don't understand. Why do you wish to be crippled by these softer feelings?”

  “Crippled?”

  “It's difficult to rule,” he sighed. “It's even more difficult if you can't look at things critically. I understand your need for kindness and I agree that I was too harsh before. I needed to care more for our people but too much compassion can cloud your judgment. It's a weakness, leaving you open to manipulation.”

  “Compassion doesn't have to be blind,” I tilted my head. “Kindness doesn't have to be weak. If you temper them with wisdom and prudence, you won't be taken advantage of.”

  “That's your humanity talking,” he had an indulgent look on his face, an improvement from what would have been there a couple of weeks ago, “fey are more practical.”

  “Ah,” I smiled and rubbed my body against his. I was rewarded with a groan. “You forget that I have a taste for blood as well. I know you're different too. Faerie may be changing me but I am changing you. Your cold, calculating heart is learning the benefits of tenderness I think.”

  “I have no problem with tenderness,” he growled and pulled me closer, “or your taste for blood. In fact, I think you may find there are numerous tender spots on my body that could satisfy both of our tastes.”

  “You are so naughty,” I laughed, “and so very cunning. Trying to wiggle your way, literally,” I placed my hands on his shifting hips, “out of talking about your feelings. How very male of you.”

  “And very fey,” he agreed. “I admit you've changed me. I even admit that my happiness is due in most part to those changes. My base emotions though, the way I think and view the world, are still untouched. I am a Faerie King and I must rule with a fey heart. If not, our kingdom will suffer.”

  “I think you may be overreacting just a tad,” I grimaced.

  “You think my heart and mind are strange,” he said seriously, “and that's okay, I understand it, but what you're failing to see is that here, in Faerie, your human way of thinking and feeling are just as strange to us, and it is you who are alone in this. Our people cannot be ruled with human thoughts and a human heart. You must change or you must remain a silent Queen. I am sorry but it's the truth.”

  “I don't want to change,” I whispered.

  “I know,” he kissed me gently, “and frankly, I don't want you to change either. I appreciate our differences now, that's one of the ways you've altered me, and I think I'm overly attached to the way you love me.” He paused to give me a deeper kiss and I placed my palm against his chest to feel his heartbeat quicken. “Stay as you are forever,” he whispered, “and I will be a happy sidhe, but I can't let you interfere with the way I rule our people. Please understand.”

  “I do,” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I see your point, I can't govern fey when I don't understand the basic way they think or the reasons why they do things. I'll let you decide what's best but,” I tapped his nose, “I still want to be made aware of all your decisions so I can at least try to learn why you think like you do, even if I don't.”

  “Fair enough,” he smiled, “my Queen.”

  “Time for another ruling, King of Fire,” I laughed throatily. “I have this terrible ache, low in my body. What's there to be done for it?”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I wasn't really paying attention while I was walking through the corridor. Just kind of letting my thoughts drift, attempting to remember something more from my past, something human. I nearly tripped over them, I probably would have if they hadn't been moaning so loud.

  “Oh, Isleen,” I stopped at the last second and the leanan-sidhe looked up from her meal, er, date? “Sorry to interrupt. Carry on.”

  “Queen Vervain,” the woman gracefully extended a hand to stop me. “We're finished here, I think I'll walk with you.”

  “Oh, okay,” I shrugged. “I'm just heading to the library.”

  “Reading some fairy tales?” She barely spared a glance for the sidhe she'd been feeding on but he stared after her with open longing. “For research?”

  “Not at all,” I looked back and forth between her and her meal before continuing on. “Why read about it when I have the real thing?”

  “Yes,” she brushed back her thick black hair. “The real thing is always best.”

  “May I ask you something kind of personal?” I stopped walking and turned to look at her.

  “Of course,” she tilted her head at me. “Ask whatever you wish.”

  “Do any of them mean anything to you?” I waved back the way we had come.

  “The men?” Her brows rose. “They mean life.”

  “I mean beyond a food supply.”

  “Are you asking if I love any of them?” Her lips turned up in a slightly mocking smile.

  “I know,” I sighed, “how human of me, right?”

  “No,” her expression sobered. “What's human is your idea of love. Now to answer your question, yes, I love them all. I love them for the moments they'e in my arms. I love them completely and faithfully, and if they are available the next time I need blood, I will love them again. If they're not,” she shrugged delicately, “I will love another just as completely.”

  “But that's not love,” I frowned. “Look, I'm not criticizing what you do. I was just curious because of something the King said to me.”

  “Who are you to tell me what I feel?” She said it without any heat, just a question. “You asked me if I love them and I told you I do. You have no rule over my heart. You can't tell me what I feel is not love.”

  “To me, love is caring about someone, about their health, needs, and wants. To think about them when they aren't with you and wish they were. To trust them with your heart and body. To feel sad because they're sad and to want to make them happy. Things like that,” There was a fluttering in my belly, a certainty that what I said was true. I knew about Love.

  “And to me,” Isleen smiled patiently, “love is about filling the ache. Love is the burning rush of need that calls for completeness. It's wild, a heartbeat in my throat, a tremor on my lips. Love is focus and fascination. It's taking a moment and sharing it with another in a way that reveals who you both truly are. There is trust in that and courage in the ability to accept that it might be misplaced. Above all, it does not have restrictions. The greatest love stories are not always novels, sometimes they're merely poems.”

  “Whoa,” I whispered in awe. The little fluttering had risen at her words and assured me that this too, was love. She was right and I shouldn't have judged her so quickly. “Thank you, I think I can begin to understand now.”

  “You're most welcome,” her lips spread wide in a toothy grin. “I was honored to be consulted and I must say, you asked t
he right fey about it because we leanan-sidhe are the most loving of all faeries.”

  “Yes, I imagine you are.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  I flipped through the leather book Arach had given me. I'd had an urge to draw, maybe even paint, but I decided to try the drawing first so he'd obligingly brought me some art supplies. I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't the book filled with rough, blank pages and a silver stylus. He'd had to show me how the texture of the paper scraped the silver off the stylus and created lines. It was actually very beautiful. The silver made delicate tones that could be darkened to whatever degree you wished and when the silver tarnished, it became a beautiful brown.

  I'd become kind of obsessed with it, taking the book with me everywhere and stopping to draw whenever the mood struck. I had several pages filled already, drawings of red caps at sword play, goblins at work, and leanan-sidhe doing what they do best, looking absolutely stunning. My favorite one so far though, was of a little goblin named Breck.

  I'd caught her staring at herself in a shield. She'd been watching the red caps train and one had tossed his shield aside. She'd caught it like a love token and had settled it on her lap, so she could admire herself. I'd drawn her at the perfect angle, so you could see half her face from the front and the rest as a reflection in the shield. One of her chubby hands was holding back a length of stringy hair so she could see all three of her bulbous eyes.

  I'd been repulsed by the goblins at first but then I'd slowly become accustomed to their different appearances and realized that my initial opinion of them, just like with the Hidden Ones, had been unjust. They did not perceive themselves to be hideous or even different. Their appearances were absolutely normal to each other and they had their own ideas of beauty. Once I let go of my prejudices, I was able to see it too and Breck had been my breakthrough.

  I sketched her in as much detail as I could, trying to catch the flaking scales on her hands and the shiny patches of slime on her face, but the most important thing, the detail that finally spoke to me, was her smile. Her lips were leathery and very full but when they spread with an almost child-like delight over her own appearance, her joy showed through and she became beautiful to me as well. Every little girl wants to look in the mirror and see something pretty, to know that nature decided she was special and gifted her with a lovely appearance. It's just human nature... and goblin evidently.

  I had to show her the drawing since it became obvious I was studying her and she immediately wanted to know why the Queen would scribble, scribble, scribble while looking at her dribble, dribble, dribble. She'd been delighted that I wanted to sketch her and had swiftly returned to her pose, graciously sitting over half an hour for me. When I was done, a crowd of goblins gathered round to admire my work and Breck had left hand-in-hand with a proud looking green fellow.

  With the Hidden Ones, I'd admired their spirits, the beauty beneath the surface but honestly, I hadn't found them to be beautiful. Caring about them hadn't changed my idea of attractiveness, it had simply made their looks irrelevant. Breck had taken it further for me, she'd changed what beauty was to me, shown me a different perspective.

  I rubbed my hand over the drawing, wondering how I'd come to care about these fey so much in such a short time. Even the red caps didn't scare me anymore. Nothing was as it seemed in Faerie.

  “What are you smiling at?” Arach came through our bedroom door.

  “A goblin girl,” I showed him the drawing.

  “Lovely,” he took the book and flipped through. “These are very good.”

  “Well it is what I do for a living,” I smirked and then frowned. “Do I?”

  “I...” he laid the book back on the table. “I don't recall you ever drawing before.”

  “Oh,” I tried to laugh it off but it came out sounding forced. “Must have just been a fantasy of mine.”

  “You need not fantasize about it ever again,” he stroked the hair off my face. “Maybe you don't need to work but you've achieved a level of mastery that would allow for it. You're a wonderful artist.”

  “Thank you,” I felt better about forgetting my past every time he looked at me like that. “Will you sit for me?”

  “You wish to draw me?” His smile went wicked. “Would you like me to strip?”

  “No,” I nudged him into the chair across from mine, “at least not yet.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Three weeks later, I was searching for a lost slipper beneath the bed. I swear the goblins snuck into our bedroom to put things out of order just to irritate the fire fey maids. It had the unfortunate side effect of annoying me as well.

  “There you are,” I said triumphantly as I pulled both the slipper and myself out from beneath the bed.

  “And there you are,” a male voice startled me into dropping the slipper.

  Leaning against the window, holding his arms like they were about to do something stupid without his knowledge, was a gorgeous man. He had black hair falling down to his collar in soft waves, eyes the color of warm honey, and a body layered with enough muscles to make me take a second look. He was definitely not fey, he smelled all wrong for it, although very familiar.

  “How did you get into my bedroom?” Out of all the questions I could have asked, it seemed the safest.

  “I climbed,” his arms fell to his sides and he took a step forward. “It's true then, you have no idea who I am?”

  “No, I'm sorry, I...” I had a flash of his face above me, set in passionate lines. I blinked rapidly to clear the image. “Do I know you?”

  “Minn Elska,” his voice broke on a sob. “I'm your mate, I love you. You love me. That dragon put a spell on you that made you forget me and everyone else you love. He brought you here and we've been trying to find a way to bring you back ever since.”

  “We?”

  “Your other lovers and I.”

  “Other lovers?” I sat back heavily on the bed. “I don't...I wouldn't...”

  “Maybe you should have waited on the other lovers bit,” Roarke appeared in the window beside the first man. “Hello, Queen Vervain.”

  “Hello, Roarke,” I was pleased with myself for remembering his name, even though my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest. “How are you?”

  “Oh, fine, fine,” he nodded, “remember anything yet? Like maybe this guy here? His name's Trevor. Ring a bell? Or how about Odin, Kirill, or Azrael? Then there's the Froekn and Intare. There's a whole lot of people who want you back.”

  I just stared back and forth between them with a dazed expression.

  “Fuck this,” the man Roarke had called Trevor came toward me and I cringed back. He stopped abruptly, staring at me in shock. “Vervain,” he grabbed my arm and pulled me up against him. We stared at each other for a second and then his lips were on mine.

  Something shimmered through me and shattered like a mirror. It was like I'd been living in a fog and it had suddenly solidified and exploded apart. I could breathe again, I could see clearly, and I could remember. Like a curse in a fairy tale, the spell had been broken with a kiss. I wrapped my arms around Trevor and returned the kiss, feeling my wolf rise up to meet him as I started to shake. I finally realized what had been done to me and what I'd unknowingly done to those I loved.

  “Care to remove yourself from my wife?” Arach stood framed in the open doorway, his eyes glowing in anger.

  “Your wife?” Trevor pulled back from me and scoffed. “I don't think she's going to be taking those vows too seriously anymore.”

  “Arach,” I gently pushed Trevor aside and walked over to confront my husband. “I can't even... you... why?”

  “Because you wouldn't have me any other way,” his shoulders sagged, his whole demeanor deflating.

  “Arach,” my throat worked convulsively. “You betrayed me, made me an unknowing fool. Raped my mind and body and now you stand there calling me your wife?” I huffed an amazed sound. “You're not even the first to have done this to me
. Do you know that? The last guy took control of my body and left me my mind, it was more fun for him that way. You though, you took my mind and left me my body. I'm not even sure which was worse, being unable to control my body while remaining fully aware of what was being done with it or being completely unaware of who I am while giving you my body because of it. You made me love you and made me think that you loved me, when it was all a lie.”

  “I do love you,” he held up a pleading hand.

  “You know what's so horrifyingly hilarious about that statement?” I was on the verge of going medieval on his ass, as in slay the dragon. “You really do. I've tasted your blood, seen you for exactly who you are, and I've felt your love for me but the way you love is so far removed from the way I do, it's like they're two separate things entirely. You love like a dragon and I love like a woman. There's no place for our love to find common ground.”

  “There's the blood,” his eyes had lost their glow, everything about him seemed extinguished.

  “I am more than blood. I am more than bones and flesh and breath. I am more than magic and fire. I am more than all of these things because of whom and how I love.”

  “Then I've helped make you more,” he took a small step forward but it was enough to bring him within touching distance. “For I know that you love me.”

  “Yes, you've made me more,” I backed up and took a deep breath, tamping down the fire he was lighting and not in a good way. “After taking everything away and giving me no choice but to cling to you. But you're right,” I gave him a grim grin, “you've changed me, added to the layers of who I am. You've made me more cold and much more hot. You've made me more cynical, more wary, and more broken. Oh, and you've made me more powerful. Best you remember that the next time you think about making me forget. Because if you ever fuck with me or mine again, I will make you more miserable than you have ever been.” I turned toward Trevor and reached for his hand.