by J. D. Brown
Jesu shook his head slowly, taking in my words. “No, the Ekimmuen can’t shapeshift.”
“I didn’t think so.” I looked away and mumbled the rest. “He bit off the tip of my finger, but the venom in his fangs burned through the rest of it until there was nothing left.”
The mattress sank as Jesu sat next to me. His fingertips grazed my forearm, slowly traveling down, and then hesitated before my wrist. “Ema… I am—”
“Don’t say it.” I turned my head further away, ashamed. I was never a bombshell of a woman, but I was lucky enough to be thin and proportional and complete. Now I was flawed. Scarred.
Jesu let his hand fall away from my arm. “I cannot blame you for hating me.”
My attention snapped around to look him in the eyes. “I don’t hate you.”
A weak smile tugged the corner of his lips. “I have failed you. I am supposed to keep you safe and because of my negligence, you were hurt.” His brow furrowed, but his anger was little more than a flash before his expression softened and he frowned. “Again,” he whispered. “I am sorry I was not there for you, again.”
I glanced at my lap and scoffed. “You act like I died, which I didn’t.”
“No thanks to me.” His fingers came to rest on my arm again. My shoulders hunched as I cringed away from him. I hated that he blamed himself for everything. It was my stupid fault. I was the one who morphed outside somehow. I was the one who got jealous and angry and lost control of my powers because I couldn’t be with Jesu the way Bridget could. I still didn’t completely understand how I could even like him in that way.
I glanced at his deep emerald eyes, so lost and desperate to do the right thing. He didn’t bother to hide his feelings, and maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe I could convince myself my feelings were wrong if he fought back, but he didn’t and my heart ached for him.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
He glanced at the ceiling and sighed. “Ema, I have not been completely honest with you.”
My chest rose, hopeful. Was he going to admit what he was doing with Bridget after all? Was I ready to hear it? In a split second, I decided that I was.
“I was in contact with Maria. She was sending me email messages.”
“Oh…” My back sagged a bit in disappointment and I blinked. “Is she okay?”
Jesu shook his head. “I have not heard from her since yesterday. I do not know if she or Naamah made it through the attack on the Council, or if—”
“Wait a minute.” My spine stiffened as meaning dawned. “You knew the attack was going to happen, didn’t you?”
His gaze lowered. “I suspected it ever since Fredrick left that message on my voicemail, remember? Maria’s email only confirmed it.”
“You should have warned someone! Half of them are dead now, half of them…” My voice trailed off as I realized why Jesu brought up the topic in the first place. “No,” I warned. My hands rose on reflex I and wrapped all nine fingers around Jesu’s. My breath hitched at the sudden realization that my maimed knuckle was fully exposed, but before I could yank my hands away Jesu wove his fingers through mine and tightened his hold. I wet my lips and then brought my gaze back to the desperation in his eyes. “Maria is not gone,” I said. “Don’t even think like that.”
He shook his head sadly, looking at our entwined hands. “I do not know what is taking place over there, Ema. I… I worry. I was upset when you told Nikolas about my father, but I understand why you did it.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?”
I nodded, a little surprised that he truly understood. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“What happened to Enki?” He was still looking at our hands, resting halfway on my lap and halfway on his.
I thought about the Crone sending Enki away with a message for Apollyon. “He left. There is a good chance he’ll come back.”
He faced me, his voice solemn. “Then, it is a good thing you had a plan, but, it is not without consequence. We will not know the full extent of my father’s actions until Stefán arrives, but I do know that Nikolas will ask how you are involved and he will want details.” His brow furrowed, his emerald gaze burned dark, piercing into mine. His voice turned deadly serious with his next words. “I will not let them use you, Ema. I will lie if I must. I will take you away, understand?”
I slowly pulled away from him and stood. His flat tone scared me. Not because I thought he would hurt me, I knew he wouldn’t, but because running could ruin everything and I’d never seen him so dark and serious before. I didn’t doubt that he meant what he said. I glanced at the floor and shook my head, hoping against hope that he would realize how serious I was, because I was not giving up without a fight.
“Jesu, I have to stop this. I’m the one who—”
“No.” He rose and then lifted his palms to cup my cheeks, urging me to look at him. When I glanced up, I fell into the deep green fields of his eyes, the soft pale blue of his lips. His thumbs traced my jaw until they came to rest under my chin. He tiled my head and I was keenly aware how closely our mouths drew together as my eyelids closed.
A sharp knock sliced through the room. I squeeze my eyes tighter and tried to ignore it. Jesu’s hands fell away and the only thing to touch my lips was his breath.
“That is coming from your bedroom door.”
I opened my eyes and sighed. “Do I have to answer it?”
He chuckled and his dimple almost reappeared. “It is probably Eber summoning us for breakfast.”
I cringed. “Jesu, how am I supposed to get through breakfast? I doubt there is any human energy here.”
His smiled stretched wider and a twinkle brightened his eyes. “I will think of something. Now go answer it before they think you tried to escape.”
Chapter 12
Eber escorted us to the end of the hall opposite the way we’d come from the foyer. A door gave way to a wide set of stairs that didn’t curve as much as the ones in the tower. Red wallpaper peeked from between dozens of large picture frames. Golden-eyed vampyre faces stared from behind the glass. Some of the portraits were of animals.
They can shapeshift, I reminded myself. The animals were probably really Alpan vampyres in animal form, but why have a picture taken in that form?
The stairs ended before a wide stone arch. Beyond it was the dining hall. Cream-colored panels in gold frames lined the walls from floor to ceiling. At the top, the gold molding twisted in elaborate patterns that curled from one side of the room to the other. Several candles lit the windowless hall, set in candelabras around a large mantle. Tapestries, depicting the two wolves standing over the goblet, hung from the east and west walls.
Everyone, besides Jesu and I, sat around the dinner table, including a man and a young girl I’d not met before. They chatted in German, but immediately stopped as I entered and approached the table. Jesu followed close behind. He pulled out a red velvet chair across from Queen Cecelia and gestured for me to sit.
Cecelia smiled as I lowered into the seat. “I trust your rooms are comfortable? Rudo will be along soon with your things.”
I wasn’t expecting small talk, but knew it was best to be polite. She was a queen in this world, after all. “Yes, thank you.”
The girl sitting next to Cecelia looked sixteen, though for how long was impossible to know. She swiped a few strands of loose black hair behind her ear and smiled, looking at her lap. “Hello, Prince Jesu.”
Jesu hesitated a moment, as if he just noticed her, but his tone was polite. “Hello, Princess Sara.” He lowered into a seat between me and Tancred, placing himself across from Nikolas. Jesu leaned toward me and whispered. “Sara is Nikolas’ and Cecelia’s youngest daughter.” He nodded at the gentleman sitting next to Sara. “Brinnon is their oldest son.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said to them both.
“You are very polite for a vampire born of this generation.” Like his sister, Brinnon
spoke perfect English. I reminded myself that no one, except Jesu, knew that I was a vampyre. Brinnon wasn’t being rude with his comment. In fact, he sounded sincerely interested in why that was, so I answered back.
“I guess my mother did something right.”
Two servants entered the dining hall, each carrying a covered tray and a glass pitcher. What could possibly be on the trays, I had no idea, but I knew with certainty what was in the pitchers. I could smell it, the salty-metallic scent of liquid life. My throat dried and I struggled to swallow.
The servants set the trays on either end of the table and removed the lids, revealing large slabs of raw meat dripping in blood. Parched as my throat was, my tongue managed to salivate like a starving dog. My gaze followed the men as one distributed large quantities of meat onto everyone’s plate, while the other poured the drinks.
“Prince Jesu,” Sara spoke, while watching her clean white napkin. “How is your brother?”
Jesu, glancing to the side, sipped his drink and then cleared his throat before answering. “I suppose I will not know Jalmari’s condition until Stefán arrives.”
“Oh.” Sara shrank back in her seat.
The servants came to stand beside me. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple as several slices of flesh were scooped onto the white plate in front of me. Red juice pooled beneath the meat. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and pierced it with the tips of my fangs. The scent seared my throat. I tried not to breathe, but it was no use. My eyes defied me, watching the stream of life fall from the pitcher spout, into my cup. The liquid glistened like a million tiny rubies, the flicker of candlelight reflecting thin ribbons of sparkly red across the table.
I hid my hands between my knees and then phased my pinky finger in desperation. It didn’t work. There wasn’t a single trace of human energy in the castle. Whatever produced the energy evidently wasn’t the blood itself. More likely, our breakfast was made up of animal blood, and animal energy didn’t work. I had phased in front of dozens of animals before and never felt the calming sensation from them.
The thirst rammed its ugly horns against my insides, clawing its way to the surface. I smoothed my sweaty palms over my skirt, trying to fight the urge to inhale my meal while everyone around me cut and chewed small pieces in a very mundane way. It wasn’t fair.
“Speaking of your brother, where does he stand in all of this?” Nikolas said between bites.
Cecelia scolded her husband. “That is not proper dinner conversation.” To Jesu she said, “You don’t have to answer that, dear.”
“It’s rather suspicious that his mate would be the one to raise your father,” said Tancred.
Jesu met each of their gazes in turn and spoke carefully. “I can assure you Leena acted alone. My brother was in quite a shock and mourned her death. I saw Leena’s wounds with my own eyes; her end was a violent one. I believe she meant to kill my father to save Jalmari, but she failed.”
Though I sat next to Jesu and heard every word, the conversation didn’t register in my mind. Some subconscious part of me shuddered as a flash of memory—Leena’s limp body fallen at Apollyon’s feet—passed through my thoughts. But the vision was gone as suddenly as it came. All my conscious mind could focus on was the blood oozing from the raw steak and the crimson liquid filling my glass. Pain pulsed under my chapped lips. My tongue weighed heavily on my lower jaw. My throat constricted and my lungs fought for each breath. If I didn’t do something soon, my eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.
Just a sip… It will be worse if I don’t drink anything. They’ll think I’m insulting them. Just one sip...
My hand twitched of its own violation toward the base of my glass. Fingers wrapped around the flute. I clenched my jaw while exercising just enough restraint to keep from snapping the glass in half.
Why do vampyres even use glass? All their cookery should be made of cement.
After that thought passed, I realized the rim was already pressed against my lips, and I had already gulped half the contents. My eyes widened, but I was helpless. I couldn’t stop. My head tilted back as the glass emptied. Instinct kept my spine frozen in an arched pose as I waited for the final drops to trickle down the sides onto my tongue.
I sighed in relief as the blood claimed my core. Warm, vibrant energy traveled quickly to my stomach and then continued through my arms and legs, to the tips of my fingers and toes, filling me with euphoria. Reality came crashing back as I set the glass on the table. My cheeks warmed and I glanced around at the others.
“I may not know where my brother is now,” Jesu was saying through clenched teeth in answer to a question I hadn’t heard, “but I know he does not stand with our father.”
No one noticed my little scene next to Jesu’s and Tancred’s argument. I breathed a little sigh of relief. Then my gaze fell to the slab of meat on my plate. My fingertips tapped against my leg. I’d never eaten raw meat before. As I sniffed the food, the coppery blood scent rolled my eyes back into my head like a heavenly perfume. Drool rose to the corners of my lips and my tongue slowly rolled over them.
“You will all know when Stefán arrives,” Cecelia said. Her voice sounded magical through the euphoric haze. A trace of old-world dialect carried like a feather in the breeze of her breath, amplified in my mind by some dark, ancient connection to the Nephilim world. Yewe’ll know when Steván arriveths. Candlelight set her plump alabaster skin aglow like an adult-sized cherub, her checks perfectly round and golden in the light.
She would be prettier with long flowing hair.
The men at the table grew more handsome by the second, even Tancred, with his hard jawline, so smoothly shaven. The vertical pinstripes on his shirt gave the appearance of a long, slender torso. His lean back and square shoulders were that of a drill sergeant, with a temper and tongue to match. An eager shiver ran down my spine.
Nikolas easily filled the room with his grandeur. He was just so huge, it was impossible not to drink him in. Bulging muscles threatened to burst through the fabric of his tailored suit. He looked absolutely ridiculous in clothes. My fingers ached to shred the fabric away from his body.
He’d look better in a loincloth, a real Tarzan.
Brinnon came very close to being as dangerously beautiful as his father. He had the same strong chin and square cheekbones. His eyes were ablaze, the same dazzling yellow as his parents’, under long wispy lashes any girl would kill for. He was only half the size of his father—or his mother, for that matter—but there was something else about him. Something I sensed. He was hiding something, and the mysteriousness made him a more exciting catch.
It didn’t matter to me. My core burned with energy and need, and I’d take them all on the dinner table this instant, even the bashful little Sara who reminded me of myself at a younger age.
I took the meat on my plate into my fist and squeezed, feeling the juice run between my fingers. My stomach growled, demanding a taste. I obeyed and devoured the meat in an instant. If I could taste it, I didn’t get the chance. I imagined it was delicious, because I instantly craved more. I reached across the table to the nearest platter and grabbed several slices, shoving them straight into my mouth. Once the slices ran out, I opted for the remaining slab, ripping off chunks with both hands. I would feed until I was saturated, and then I would fulfill my other burning needs with Brinnon, or Tancred, or maybe even Nikolas, if the king liked concubines.
The conversation taking place next to me grew heated. Some part of my consciousness picked up a single demanding line—“Why would Apollyon send his men after her?”—for which I replied, “He wants to fuck me.”
Six pairs of eyes faced me in stunned silence. My Nephilim side decided it liked the attention very much. I set down the bone I had been gnawing on and wiped my chin with the back of my hand. I leaned forward and then flashed a toothy grin at the crowed. “Though I wouldn’t mind if it was any of you.”
Nikolas’ throaty voice boomed from his lungs. “What are you talk
ing about?”
“I don’t know how to be any clearer; the psychopath wants to fu—”
A wave of dark, red liquid splashed across my chest, smacking me in the face, and crashing into my lap. The shatter of glass as one of the pitchers hit the floor was like a knife to my ears. Ruby droplets splattered a good twenty feet from the table, splashing against the gold molding on the walls. Gazes traveled from the massive puddle on the floor, back to me. I was drenched in it. The cardigan was ruined, the yarn heavy and weighed down from too much moisture. The skirt stuck to my thighs like film. My arms and legs were as red as hell itself.
Laughter drunkenly erupted from my lungs. “Oh how lovely.” I stuck a finger into my mouth and sucked off the blood. “Mmm!”
“Forgive me for spilling the decanter and ruining your floor,” Jesu said while quickly rising from his seat. “If you will excuse us, I will help Ema clean herself off.”
Cecelia regained her composure first and excused us. She then gestured for the servants to clean the mess as Jesu grabbed my waist and pulled me from my seat.
Chapter 13
Jesu held my wrist in an iron grip, pushing the prongs from the metal band into my skin. He hoisted me along the never-ending stairway to the guest wing. My feet tripped over themselves in a failed attempt to keep up with his long stride. He didn’t slow down. He just kept going like his life depended on reaching the top, his gaze glued straight ahead, jaw set in a hard line. I gave up and levitated, letting him pull me through the air like a kite. Blood dripped from my hands, leaving a trail in our wake, and I giggled.
“I’m making a mess,” I said, and then stuck out my tongue and licked my arms. Jesu ignored me, dead-set on his destination. My Nephilim instincts didn’t mind, since there would be a mattress and plenty of privacy where we were going. We reached the second landing in no time. Jesu whisked me into his room and then kicked the door shut.
I wanted to phase out of his grip and throw him on the bed, but he started pulling me toward the bathroom. “I like where this is going.”
