by Kali Argent
Deidra and Rhys were the only werewolves she’d encountered since her transition, but they had similar scents, sort of wild and earthy, like the forest after the rain. Nikolai had a scent all his own, one that defied explanation, but that she found alluring all the same. Other vampires, though, like his siblings, had a dark fragrance, a combination of spice and musk that called to mind images of her old yoga studio.
Humans were much different. Sweet, decadent, she’d never smelled anything like it, and it always made her mouth water.
Kamara swallowed hard.
Standing, Jonah rushed around the table and pulled the woman into his arms. “Easy, my love. This kind of excitement isn’t good for you.”
“I’m okay.” Her focus was a little dazed, and her bottom lip trembled, but Kayse pressed her hand to Jonah’s cheek and smiled. “She’s here.”
Next to her mate, Kayse didn’t just look pale. Her skin was practically translucent, her veins showing in dramatic detail beneath their thin layer of protection. Tiny pink dots littered her arm from wrist to elbow, all equal in size and shape. There were so many of them, Kamara couldn’t distinguish a pattern at first, but as she studied the scars, she realized that they weren’t individual spots, but pairs of them, all equally spaced.
Running her tongue over the tip of her right fang, Kamara sank back in her seat as a wave of sadness crashed over her. Someone had hurt that poor girl, and judging by the long, thicker lines—some not fully healed yet—that crisscrossed her skin over the bite marks, she still hadn’t recovered from it. Before she’d transferred to Narcotics, Kamara had spent four years working as a detective in the Special Victims Division. She knew self-harm when she saw it.
“Yes, love, she’s here.” Pulling her closer, Jonah cradled the back of Kayse’s head and looked at Kamara over his mate’s shoulder. “She’s a Seer,” he said, answering the unspoken question that lingered between them. “Like your grandmother. Like you.”
“Me?” Kamara yelped. “Oh, no. I don’t—I haven’t—no.”
Yes, she’d admitted to dreaming of Nikolai, but she’d never claimed to be able to predict the future or see things that hadn’t yet happened. She wasn’t some fortune teller or gypsy or even a psychic.
“Are you sure about that?” Nikolai asked quietly as he took her hand and linked their fingers together. “Nothing comes to mind?”
“I—”
“Jonah, I’m so sorry.” Another woman, this one dressed in a bright yellow T-shirt and a pair of fitted, dark-wash jeans hurried into the dining room. “I don’t know what happened. Is she okay?”
Her bare feet swished over the area rug as she approached the couple. Gently, she stroked Kayse’s hair with a kind of motherly affection as she pushed her own windblown, ebony locks from her face. The pink polish on her fingernails had begun to chip some time ago, and she didn’t have on a stitch of makeup, not that she needed it. Everything about her, from her clothes to her demeanor screamed low-maintenance, and Kamara liked her immediately.
“Oh, hello,” the woman said when she spotted Nikolai and Kamara at the table. “I’m Heather.”
Kamara introduced herself, then her mate.
Heather’s eyes rounded. “Your brother?” Her gaze strayed to Syrus, then back. “Well, well, the prodigal son has returned. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I hope not all bad,” Nikolai responded.
“On the contrary, you’re practically a legend around here.” After patting Kayse on the back, Heather sashayed over to Syrus and settled into his lap. “Hello, handsome,” she greeted with a chaste kiss. “You didn’t tell me your brother was coming.”
“I’m just as surprised as you, bellissima.”
“Gorgeous,” Nikolai supplied before Kamara could ask. Then, “Yes, our roots are Italian.”
Rolling her eyes, she inched further down in her seat and huffed. “Stay out of my head.”
“Kamara is a Seer,” Syrus told his mate.
“I’m not.” She really wished everyone would stop saying that.
“Oh, but you are.” Easing away from Jonah, Kayse turned with a bright smile. “You must be.”
“Before Heather’s arrival, you were about to say something,” Nikolai prodded. “When I asked you if anything came to mind about your dreams.”
“I dreamed my mother died on a Tuesday.” She’d died the following Tuesday. “It was just a coincidence, though. My mom was sick for a long time, so we all knew it was coming.”
“You dreamed of Nik for twenty-something years,” Veronica added.
“Off and on,” Kamara admitted grudgingly.
“Anything else?”
“Maybe. A few times.”
She’d dreamed about her neighbor’s house burning the night before it had gone up in flames. She’d dreamed about car accidents and cheating boyfriends, all of which had turned out to be true. A year before the Purge, she’d dreamed of a virus that would destroy humanity, but at the time, she’d attributed it to one too many zombie movies.
“Then, it’s true,” Nikolai muttered. “I’m sorry, cara mia. I think my brother is right.”
Kamara breathed deeply, fighting the panic that bubbled just under the surface. She’d survived an abusive father, numerous drug raids, a plague, being held captive by vampires, and nearly drained. She’d barely batted an eye about becoming a vampire herself, and meeting a man she was supposedly destined to be with had barely registered on her what-the-fuck meter. All that, and here she was, losing her head because she may or may not have some magical witchy ancestry.
It was stupid, and freaking out about it wasn’t going to change anything.
“Okay, say I am. What does that have to do with anything?” She recalled an earlier question she’d meant to ask but had been interrupted before she’d had the chance. “And what the hell did you mean about my family?” Impatient, she growled when Jonah just cocked and eyebrow. “I said my family died in the Purge, and you said that might not be true.”
Leading Kayse by the hand, Jonah walked her to her chair and held it out for her, waiting for her to sit before taking his place at the head of the table. “I believe your family died in the Purge. I meant that they were not your only family.”
Her head was starting to hurt, and he wasn’t making any sense. “Speak plainly.”
“Very well.” Templing his fingers, Jonah tapped them against his lips and bobbed his head several times. “We all thought the witches had been hunted to extinction a century ago, and mostly that’s true. There are no magic-users anymore, not that I’ve found, but Seers are descended from witches.”
“So…” Kamara splayed her fingers on the table and looked from Jonah to Kayse. “Are you saying that Kayse and I are related?”
“Yes.” Beaming, Kayse nodded, making her curls bounce around her heart-shaped face. “In a matter of speaking, we are family.”
They still had a lot to discuss, particularly about Nikolai’s father, but Kamara’s head pounded, and her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. There was no proof of what Jonah said, but she felt the truth of it in her heart. Just like she’d known she could trust Nikolai from the moment she’d met him, she knew Jonah wasn’t lying, but it was all too much.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head as she rose from the table. “I can’t do this.”
CHAPTER NINE
Nikolai’s instinct was to go after his mate, to sooth and comfort her in any way she needed, but he didn’t. Kamara required a moment alone, to process the revelations she’d learned, and he needed to speak with his brother.
Even as he spoke with his siblings, though, he checked in on Kamara, scanning her thoughts for anything out of the ordinary, especially the static he’d come to associate with his father’s manipulation. He knew she was upstairs in the library, trying to make sense of it all, but she sounded calm, overwhelmed, but in control.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded. “Whatever I need to know to help her, tell me.”
Heather nodded at once and jump up from Syrus’ lap. “Come on, handsome. Let’s go raid the kitchen. I smell gumbo.”
“Ah, a female after my own heart.”
Gracefully, Veronica rose as well and swept around the table to extend her hand to Kayse. “We better hurry, or Syrus will have licked the pot clean. You know how he is.”
Kayse chuckled, taking Veronica’s hand and blowing a kiss over her shoulder to her mate as they strode out of the room toward the kitchen.
Once they were alone, Jonah rubbed both hands over his face and sighed. “What I know, I’ve learned along the way after Kayse came into my life. She knows more than me, but talking about it upsets her.”
Nikolai had noticed the marks on her arms, but it wasn’t just the physical scars that haunted his brother’s mate. She’d been hurt, yes, but more than that, she’d been broken, and he didn’t know if she’d ever fully heal from the trauma.
“What happened to her?”
“The same that happened to your mate, except Kayse didn’t have someone like you to rescue her.” His features turned to stone, but he held a world of sorrow in his eyes. “She was taken and imprisoned by Nigel Abraxas. He fed from her, brainwashed her, tormented her, and abused her until she was so damaged, she was no longer of any use to him. Then, he sent her to the slave auctions to be sold like cattle.”
“He knew she was a Seer,” Nikolai surmised.
Jonah nodded once. “How do you think the coven gained power so quickly?”
“This happened before the Purge?”
“Seven years. She was with him for seven years.”
“Brother, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” Fear settled in Nikolai’s heart at the mere thought of Kamara suffering the same fate. “Do you think that’s why our father wants Kamara?”
His father had drained countless humans and turned hundreds of vampires. He’d never shown a modicum of interest in any of his sirelings, certainly not to the degree that he stalked Kamara.
“I think that’s a safe bet.”
“But how did he know? I mean, Kamara didn’t even know until five minutes ago.”
“The magic, however dormant, is in their blood. Haven’t you noticed the difference?”
Nikolai had only fed from Kamara once, and just a small amount, but he felt stronger and more focused than if he’d drained half a dozen blood bags. With no experience in the matter, he’d assumed it was because she was his mate.
Nikolai rubbed his forehead as if he could press away the headache building behind his eyes. “What about the telepathy? Can he see what she sees?”
“I don’t know, but my instincts tell me no. I believe he catches glimpses of her thoughts, then twists and manipulates them.” Jonah sneered. “You know how much he enjoys his little games.”
Nikolai knew better than his brother, but none of that mattered. He just wanted to understand what was happening so he could help Kamara.
“How does he do it? Is it because she’s a psychic, or a Seer, or whatever?”
Jonah shook his head. “I don’t know what causes it, but I believe that is the case. I’ve only heard of it happening with Seers and the like.”
“The only way to break that bond is to kill the sire.” Not that Nikolai was opposed to patricide, not after all Elias had done, but he didn’t know how he’d get close enough to his father to carry out the act.
Jonah grinned at the thought, but shook his head. “As appealing as that sounds, it’s not the only way. Your relationship with your mate is far stronger than any sire bond. If you claim her, complete that connection, it’ll break our father’s hold on her.”
His brother had given him a lot to consider, but his wealth of information begged the question about his source. “How do you know all of this?”
“Like I said, once I found Kayse, I spent years digging into any myth, legend, or history I could find. There are still families in New Orleans that come from long lines of witches. They don’t have their ancestors’ gifts, but they know all the old stories.”
That was a shame, because they could benefit from some real magic right about now. “And some of these stories included Seers being turned into vampires?”
Jonah nodded. “Technically, just one story, but it made me grateful that Kayse had at least been spared that.”
“You said you found her in at a slave auction.” That poor girl. Nikolai’s heart ached for her, but he knew that if anyone could mend her, it would be Jonah. “How did she get free?”
“I bought her.”
Nikolai jerked back. “Excuse me?”
“The auction happens every month at an old junior high school in a town about sixty miles south of Dallas. We drive up there, purchase a couple of prisoners apiece, then bring them here until they’re well enough to travel. After that, we have friends who transport them to a safe house in Kansas City.”
Kansas City. It kept cropping up in conversations from people who should have no clue about the Revenant’s existence in the town. “Noble as your intentions are, that seems kind of reckless, brother.”
“We don’t use our real names, and we never arrive together. There are a dozen guards and this wiry little guy who takes the money. As long as we can pay, no one questions it.”
It scared Nikolai to think of his siblings putting themselves in such danger, but he was also damn proud of them. Like himself, they were no soldiers, but they’d still found a way to help right the wrongs around them. It was an ambitious endeavor, and he wondered just how many humans and shifter owed their lives to his brothers and sister.
“We can’t save them all, of course.” Jonah sighed and rubbed three fingers across his brow. “So, we try to save the ones who need it the most. The very young, the sick, those broken by the coven, and the ones who might not survive another day.”
“I’m proud of you, Jo. All of you.” They may not be able to rescue every human from the auctions, but the ones they could save counted more than his siblings probably realized. “Of course, I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, but I think you’re doing the right thing.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve missed you, Nikolai.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” He wanted to ask why his siblings had never tried to find him, especially after the Purge, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. So, he let it go.
“I should go find Kayse. She’s not as fragile as Syrus makes her out to be, but…”
“You don’t have to explain. I get it.” Realizing it had been a few minutes since he’d checked in on his own mate, Nikolai cleared his mind and searched out Kamara, only to be met with that same cold, empty hiss that made his heart stop. “Shit, it’s happening again.”
“Go,” Jonah urged. “Take all the time you need. You’re safe here.”
Jumping out of his seat, Nikolai sprinted from the dining room, then took the winding staircase two steps at a time to the top landing. He kept running, passing several expensive paintings on the walls of the corridor, to the last room on the right.
He found the door slightly ajar, and the sound of soft mewling and rhythmic thudding drifted out into the hallway. Shoving the door back, he hurried into the library, taking in the mountains shelves overflowing with an assortment of books only in his periphery.
“Kamara?”
Rounding a black, leather sofa, he grimaced at the sight that met him. Kamara sat on the floor between the cushy couch and the glass coffee table, knees bent to her chest, eyes squeezed closed. She rocked back and forth, whimpering and muttering under her breath as she pounded her fist against the side of her head.
Rushing to her, Nikolai dropped to the floor at her side. He caught her wrist, pulling her hand away from her temple, then dragged her into his lap, pressing her back to his chest and locking his arms around her to prevent his mate from
hurting herself further.
“I’m here,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m right here. You’re okay. You’re safe.” He kept up a constant flow of words, reassuring her with every breath that he was with her, holding her, and that he wouldn’t let anything harm her. “I’m not going anywhere, cara mia. I’ve got you.”
“No,” she moaned, her chest heaving and her shoulders shaking. “Make it stop. Please make it stop.”
Her wracking cries destroyed him. Other than riding it out, he knew of only one way to take away the pain and stop the voice in her head, but he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t claim her without her consent, and she was in no fit state to give it right then.
Tossing her head back against his shoulder, she jerked and strained, convulsing in his arms. “Please, Nik. I can’t. I can’t do it. Please, make it go away.”
Her pleas were broken and barely intelligible through her sobs, and her suffering broke something inside of him. His vision blurred as moisture gathered in his eyes, and his heart shattered.
When she started to kick, drumming her feet against the hardwood floor, he wrapped his legs around her thighs, completely encircling her, and held on tight.
“I’m here,” he repeated. “I won’t let go. Just hold on, Kamara. Hold on to me.”
He continued to hold her, afraid of what she might do if he didn’t. He spoke past the growing tightness in his throat, the swelling emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, pausing only to breathe.
Eventually, her struggles ceased, and her breaths evened. She felt cold, and perspiration beaded across her forehead, but her pulse had slowed, and her sobs had faded.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Don’t. I’ll always be here when you need me.” He rested his cheek atop her head, nuzzling into the soft, virgin hair. “Your hair is growing.” He said it because he knew it would please her. “You asked me how long it would take to grow back. Do you remember.”
“I remember.”
“It’ll grow faster than when you were human. Mine grows about four inches a month.”
