Chapter Eight
Elena stared into Margarita’s blood-red eyes and nearly fainted. Dear God. All the awful things she’d said about vampires. “I’m…” Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry… I—”
Margarita held her hand up. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Our species has its bad apples, just like humans—because all vampires were humans first.” The woman’s red eyes bored into Elena. “You don’t have to choose violence. I don’t. Your father didn’t.”
Her breath caught. “You knew him?”
Sliding her glasses back on, the vampire shook her head. “No. I know of him. Everyone does. Things were better when he was alive.”
No kidding. Elena’s rib cage felt like it would shatter if she so much as took a breath. She had been very young when he died, but still, she missed him so much—even though what she remembered about him seemed distorted now that she knew what he had really been.
Margarita returned to her sewing while reality hovered just out of Elena’s reach. She stared down at the cord. She was turning into a vampire, and Nikolai couldn’t kill her. And that, coupled with the fact all vampires weren’t evil as he had portrayed them to be, certainly put a new twist on their relationship. Had everything he told her been a lie?
She stared at Stefan, who studied her with his eerie, pale eyes, and then at Nikolai. He’d been no more than ten feet from her for the last two days, but she felt like they were miles away from each other. Even when he’d had his mouth and hands on her, they’d been worlds apart.
She sat again and turned back to Stefan. “Please find a way to free me from this—from him.”
“I certainly appreciate your desire, but I can see no way that I can be of help other than seeing you clothed and fed. That cord is elven-forged. Only the artisan can break it without killing you. It’s too late for me to help you.”
“The elf who made it isn’t available. And it’s not too late,” Nikolai said. “You can go back in time before I tied it on her…us.” The desperation in his voice matched her own. “Please,” he continued. “Fold time to before I bound her and take the cord away. I know you can do this.”
The tailor shuffled back into the room and gathered his supplies. He moved so strangely, and his eyes were brown, not red. If Margarita was a vampire, what was he, Elena wondered. He took the shirt from Margarita and handed it to Stefan, not even looking at Elena or Nikolai.
“Send a bill,” Stefan said, and the man bowed and backed away, then scurried straight for the door, followed by his assistant carrying her sewing box. Stefan rose and placed his hand on a black pad by the door, and it clicked and swung open.
Margarita paused just inside the door and removed her glasses. “Your father believed that vampires are not unfortunate victims of fate. He told us that we are creators of our own destiny. His words became our motto: ‘With wise choices, we are destined for greatness, with poor choices, oblivion.’” Her red eyes never wavered from Elena’s, as if trying to memorize her. “My people are close to complete oblivion. Make wise choices, Elena Arcos.”
She left, and all of them stared at the closed door for what felt like forever.
“Wow,” Elena said, finally.
Stefan leaned back against the door. “Nothing like a lighthearted farewell.”
Nikolai scooted to the edge of his seat on the sofa. “Go back in time and remove the cord from my possession,” he said, as if fate and salvation from oblivion had not just been bandied about.
Perhaps to him, Margarita’s words weren’t relevant, but to Elena they were. We are creators of our own destiny. She closed her eyes and ran the words through her head several more times. Her father’s words. Wise choices. She had a choice. She didn’t have to become a monster. If she had to become one of these creatures, she could be like her father instead.
“I cannot manipulate the past,” Stefan said, returning to his chair. “I can only be an observer. You know that, Itzov.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
“I won’t.” Stefan sat. “It can produce disastrous effects. World-altering effects.”
“Just eliminating the cord?”
“Yes. We never know the full impact of a seemingly insignificant event.”
“Then I’ll approach the others of your kind to help me. They’re less…conservative.”
Stefan’s eyes narrowed. “That would be unwise.”
Nikolai leaned even closer to the Time Folder. “Is that a threat?”
“A statement of fact. Think. I know it’s hard for you, Slayer, but really think. If your soul hadn’t gone down that cord to claim her, would she be alive? Would your impression of her be different? Knowing she’s your mate had to impact you somehow. The result of eliminating it would have the exact effect you are trying to avoid. She’d be dead, and we both know it.”
Every red flag in the universe shot up and blew in the wind of Elena’s mind. “Whoa.” She held her hands up. “Stop. Back it up.” What else had Nikolai had lied about? “What’s this ‘mate’ business?”
Nikolai groaned and covered his face.
Stefan grinned. “You. Him. Destined to be together forever…literally. He’s known from the start.”
She wanted to scream. Instead, she kept her voice level. “Stop screwing with me, both of you. I deserve to know exactly what’s going on.” She yanked the cord to get Nikolai’s attention. “Tell me now. Tell me everything going on without edits or omissions.”
Nikolai crossed his arms over his chest, pulling her wrist when he did. “Or what?”
She yanked back. “Or I’ll find a freaking way to kill you in your sleep.”
To her chagrin, he smiled.
“You think I’m kidding?” she shouted.
His smile widened. “I hope not. It would be exciting to see you try it.”
Stefan laughed. “Logic is wasted on him. Threats? Now, you’re speaking his language.”
Elena was so angry she didn’t even know how to react. Nikolai was maddening. It was like her needs and feelings didn’t even matter at all. He had threatened her, insulted her, made her feel inferior, and now she was his mate for freaking ever? She wanted to cry, but there was no way she’d let this brute get to her. Never again. She gripped her knees and met his golden eyes. “Mate? Never. Screw you.”
His smile grew wider. “Now you’re really speaking my language.”
“Figuratively. Never ever literally.”
Nikolai jerked the cord so hard it yanked her body across his, noses almost touching. Her heart hammered as she flattened her palms over his warm, smooth, bare chest. It took every ounce of self-control to not run her hands over those muscles. Damned traitorous body. Whose side was it on anyway?
He jerked the cord again. “Now you listen to me, vampire. Your execution order came from the Slayer king himself. Your life was forfeit the moment the kill order was signed. It is by my grace alone you live at this moment.”
“Or the grace of this cord,” she said, shoving her bound wrist between their faces. “You would have already offed me if it weren’t for the fact it would kill your sorry ass as well.”
“I wonder…” Stefan cut in. “What about her caught the king’s eye?”
“Her father was Gregor Arcos.”
“And?”
“And…”
Stefan leaned closer. “There’s more to it than that. More to her.”
There was more to her. That was clear to Nikolai. Why would his uncle be so adamant she be destroyed? She was human and had been unaware what her father really was. It didn’t make sense.
She slid off him and covered her face with her hands. She’d been through a lot in the past two days. More than the average human could bear. But she wasn’t the average human, was she? She scratched her collarbone and then covered her face again. Nikolai wanted to help her—to free her from her grim fate. But he didn’t know how.
She scratched again and made a whimpering
sound.
“Is something in the fabric irritating you?” Darvaak asked.
“It feels like something crawling under my skin. Like ants.” She pulled the neckline of her shirt out and looked down. “Oh, wow.” She pulled the neckline down enough to reveal her neck and part of her chest just under her collarbone. “Look at this.”
But before Nikolai could get a closer look at what appeared to be a splotchy rash, shrill sirens broke out, causing her to jump to her feet and cover her ears. Nikolai grabbed his sword from the side table.
Darvaak bolted to the room off the kitchen and the alarm stopped, and then he strode back in with his phone to his ear. “How many?” His gaze shot to Elena. “How much damage did they do?” He pulled the top off the crystal decanter at the bar and poured some Scotch in a glass and tossed it back. “Did you take any of them alive?” He poured another splash of Scotch. “We’ll meet you in the basement.”
Nikolai held his breath as the Time Folder set his phone down and swirled the gold liquid in the glass.
“It appears we have underestimated how badly your Uncle Fydor wants her dead. It’s hard to fathom he would send soldiers to invade my building. A huge risk, yes?”
Yes, it was. Slayers needed Time Folders. Without them, innocent people could be executed. Also, it was unclear just how much power these freaks of nature had. Time Folders were from a world other than this one, and little was known about them. There was a hands-off policy between the two species. Slayers would also never risk exposing the Underveil by marching on a building such as this, inhabited by humans. Even though humans couldn’t see them unless they desired it, they would see damage done to the structure or environment, since it was a human dwelling and not masked by the Veil. He knew Darvaak didn’t seek a response, and honestly, he didn’t have one.
Darvaak turned his pale eyes on Nikolai, abandoning his drink. “It is fortunate only two of your kind have ever been in my flat, or we would be in a far less advantageous situation. They got no farther than the parking garage. I’ll need to rethink my guest list in the future to keep Slayers from just popping into my suite.”
Darvaak had mentioned he had turned down a request from another Slayer only yesterday. “Who is the other?” Obviously, that Slayer hadn’t been with them, or they would’ve made it into this posh suite and not just into the parking garage.
“My business is always conducted in complete confidentiality.” He walked to the door and put his hand on the pad. The door clicked and swung wide. “Shall we?”
The elevator opened to a small alcove with metal double doors. A huge man in a security guard uniform, a bear shifter, no doubt, judging by the shape and size of him, opened the door, his beefy fingers wrapped around the throat of a Slayer female Nikolai didn’t recognize.
“Welcome to my home, Slayer,” Darvaak said, bowing as if she were not an invader.
The Time Folders had always been a mystery to Nikolai. In direct opposition to his own nature. So polished and slick it irked him. Based on the woman’s smirk, he wasn’t alone in his feelings.
“I’m sorry my hospitality does not extend to my suite. Blood in the carpet is a pet peeve of mine.”
Like all women of Nikolai’s species, she was tall and well muscled with dark hair and gold eyes. Blood coated her arms up to the elbows. Next to him, Elena flinched and turned away.
The Slayer held up her arms and wiggled her fingers. “Right in the middle of a blood bath. Care to join me, Elena Arcos?”
Elena shuddered.
“Who sent you?” Nikolai asked. “How did you find us?”
When she lowered her arms, blood dripped from her hands and splattered onto the perfectly polished concrete of the basement. She hadn’t dipped herself in an adversary’s blood; it was her own, running from long slices carved into her forearms.
“Aleksandra asked me to tell you something, Niki baby.” The guard’s fingers still around her neck, she motioned Nikolai closer with a finger. He approached and stopped a foot or so away. The woman grabbed him on either side of his face with her blood-soaked hands and pulled him to her, dragging his mouth to hers and planting a hard, openmouthed kiss. He kept his lips sealed tight, and she growled. He shoved her away right as the security guard yanked her back. And then he smelled it—the bitter, sickening smell of almonds: cyanide, mixed with the floral scent of an elven elixir. It was fatal for Slayers, but the concentration had to be strong. In fact, it took so much of it to kill a Slayer, it could never be ingested accidentally or slipped into a food without being noticed. It was taken by his kind deliberately to avoid capture. This woman’s blood flowed with poison, and she would die soon.
“Come on, Arcos,” she taunted as the guard snapped a collar around her neck that was attached by a chain to a ring in the wall. Good old-fashioned dungeon hardware. Nikolai’s estimation of the Time Folder went way up.
The woman strained against the chain, reaching for Elena. “You want it. It’s right here. Just waiting.” Drips splashed to the floor. “Yum!”
Slayers were never taken alive. This explained why she hadn’t destroyed herself instantly before capture. She was trying to poison Elena. Fury flooded Nikolai’s body.
“Come on, vampire. Do what you were designed to do.” The woman’s grin was maniacal. “Dinner time! Come and get it!”
“Enough,” Darvaak said, pushing the elevator button. The doors slid open, and he stepped inside.
Nikolai wanted to question this woman before she died and find out why she had mentioned Aleksandra. Surely Aleksi wasn’t part of this. He’d left her at the Fortress where she’d be safe. He leaned close to Elena’s ear, and she flinched. It pained him that she feared him. “Can you stand it a moment more? Her blood is poisoned. Does it tempt you? We can leave if it does.”
She shook her head. She was so strong. Stronger than most immortals he knew.
Darvaak rolled his eyes and stepped out of the elevator. “She won’t talk. She is a tool and nothing more. They used her to get to Elena. She has no value.”
“Where is Aleksandra?” Nikolai asked her.
She leaned against the metal wall and grinned. “In Fydor’s bed.”
Rage flared like a match had hit kerosene in his veins. Nikolai grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head back against the wall. “Liar!”
Elena cried out and moved away to the extent the cord would allow. Shit. He’d pulled her too close to the Slayer’s blood. He backed up several feet, and Elena scooted with him.
The woman laughed, eyes unfocused. “You idiot. She’s sacrificing herself to buy you more time. Just like your mother did.” A shudder passed through her. “Destroy the girl now before he kills Aleksandra. Before he kills us all…” Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slipped to the floor.
Aleksandra.
Nikolai’s breaths came in quick gulps. His mother had married Fydor to buy him time? Time for what?
She had to have been lying. He needed to return home. Now.
Chapter Nine
Elena’s skin burned and itched. She reached up and scratched her collarbone for the billionth time while Nikolai scrubbed the woman’s blood from his face in Stefan’s bathroom sink. The dead woman’s blood. She shuddered.
He hadn’t said a word since the woman slumped in a heap on the concrete floor at his feet. He’d acted like he didn’t know her, but he certainly knew the woman she had mentioned: Aleksandra. That was the name of the doctor at the hospital—well, the woman pretending to be a doctor. The one who kissed him and called him Niki… His lover, obviously.
She rubbed her burning chest. Images of the dark-haired, supermodel-gorgeous woman clouded her brain. Compared to Aleksandra, Elena knew that she was exactly what he had called her repeatedly: weak and pathetic.
“Hey.” His wet, warm hand stilled hers. “What’s going on?”
She stopped scratching and dropped her hands. “Nothing.” But something was going on. She was upset because he preferred some Slayer woman to he
r. That should thrill her. Make her the happiest human—well, mostly human—on the planet. They’d get out of this cord, and she’d be free of this bossy, lying, miserable man.
But somehow that wasn’t as appealing as she’d like it to be. Something in her sought his approval. Longed to be with him. Wanted to help him… A freaking sick part, and it had to be tied to ingesting his blood. No. Just, no. She must rein in her hormones or libido or whatever this was until he removed the cord.
“What’s wrong with you? You keep scratching and rubbing your chest.”
Oh, that. Yeah. There had been strange splotches on her skin. She’d barely glimpsed them before they’d gone down to interrogate the woman. “It’s nothing.”
He picked up a hand towel and dried his face. “We need to leave here as soon as possible. You should eat again first.”
“And we should find out which one of you is carrying the transmitter,” Stefan said from the door of the bathroom.
“Do you ever knock?” Nikolai asked.
“It’s my house, my rules.”
Nikolai picked up the shirt the tailor had left. “What transmitter?”
“The one that brought your people down on me. My affairs and location are all but invisible to the Underveil since my energy trail is different. Only you and one other even know where I live because I chose foolishly to allow it.” He held up an electronic device. “And we found this on one of the dead Slayer males in the parking garage. It appears to operate like a tracking device.”
Nikolai stilled partway through pulling the shirt up from where he had stepped into it. Like Elena’s, the shoulder over the arm with the cord buttoned, so it had to be pulled on from below, rather than over the head. “The vampires that attacked us had one, too.” He nodded to his discarded, blood-splattered pants still lying where he had abandoned them for his bath. He pulled the shirt up the rest of the way. “It’s in the back left pocket.”
Stefan eyed the pants in a heap on the floor, face placid. “I’ll take your word for it. The transmitter is most likely inside one of your cell phones.”
“Elena doesn’t have a phone with her. My phone is in the pants.”
Love Me to Death (Underveil) Page 8
