by Rebecca Main
My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip.
“How did you lose the rings, Vrana? Why are we putting our lives on the line by spying and stealing for you? This game can only last so long before the members of the court begin to take note of how we bounce from one household to the next seeking their favor. Why should your wants exceed our own?”
Vrana flies at me once more, and again I dash away to counter. This time I aim for the door. The rounded doorknob is in my hand when he comes up behind me. The world flies around me, from hardwood to Vrana's hard chest. My back cracks against the timber door as pianist's fingers wrap around my throat to hold me in place. Vrana towers over me, yet he does little more than crowd closer to me. He does not squeeze or press his long fingers into my neck....
But the threat is there.
I tilt my gaze upward as he bows his head to mine and feel a painful lurch of my pulse at the flash of pain in his silver set eyes. The thin veneer of civility he wears so well washes away at that moment, only to be rebuilt into a brick wall. Hard eyes stare down into mine as his thumb strokes my rabbit’s heartbeat.
“The rings were lost because of me,” he says, voice toneless. “My first family is dead because of me. Reparations must be made.” A muscle works in his jaw, as if fighting off some intense emotion, but it is the only hint of his distress. The hand at my neck slips back to brush back the hair fallen over my shoulder.
“Right.” My voice trails off into something rather breathless as I watch his performance with apprehension and wonder. Vrana notices.
“We’ll find the rings,” he says, both of his hands now smoothing back my mussed hair, his eyes never leaving mine. “And we’ll find the vampyrés responsible for their deaths.”
The muscles in my gut lock tight. “I thought you said… you killed them.”
The vague impression of a smile crosses his lips. “No. Family first. Always. It’s the Vrana way. It was another who orchestrated their demise and stole our set of rings.”
“Including yours?”
Vrana rakes his eyes over me, searching for something. Though for what, I can’t fathom. I twist from his tentative hold, and he drops one hand to rest on the wood by my cheek.
“Including mine, which is why when we find them... I intend to kill them. Preferably slowly.”
There it is again—a flicker of pain in his stormy eyes. Such pain, and harbored for so long…. A shaky breath bursts past my lips, and the look is gone from his eyes to be replaced once more with a stone facade. Vrana drops his head until his lips brush the top of my ear.
“And if you get in the way or divert from the plan in any way, I’ll end you here.” I ready to defend myself, my mouth opened and primed with callous words at the back of my throat when a cool, long finger presses softly against my lips. “I’ll destroy you. I'll shatter your little ice queen persona and turn you into a true thrall. You’ll beg for the fang, night after night.”
“I won’t be anyone's chew toy,” I say, my voice molten with barely restrained rage. “Especially not some bloodsucking leech’s.”
Tension slides sinuously over my limbs. The thumping of my blood sounds loud in my ear as my muscles clench and my skin stretches taut. There is a trembling in the air around us. A thick need for action. Vrana’s edges his finger past my parted lips, eyes dilating as they cross over the full bottom one.
“They already think you are,” he says. “They all assume you’re still recovering from the bloodletting—and that Sebastian only takes from the femoral.”
His thigh slips between my own, and inch by inch the rest of his body falls flush against mine. A raspy gasp breaks free from me at the full force of his winter's touch. And then I catch the darkening of Vrana’s gaze.
“What are you doing?”
A pregnant pause thickens the air between us, and an ache so sudden throbs at my wrist—my soulmark. My eyes fall shut momentarily. Not now. At the cool breeze of his breath across my cheek, they startle back open.
Brought so close together and I can’t help but take in the firm line of his cheekbones or the way his nose lies only inches above my own. His lips, which I once found too thin, now seem perfectly... perfect. My heart quakes.
The soulmark starts to sting against my skin, as if in reprimand. We’ve kept our distance thus far with the help of the necklace shielding us from the soulmarks longing. But now….
“I have a right mind to prove the court wrong about that notion,” Vrana says. His fingers come swiftly to my neck again. They sweep over the juncture of where the neck meets shoulder with ample care, again and again. “Give them something to see.”
A deep red hunger consumes his eyes, and it kindles in me a want I’ve never felt before. The urge to submit crashes against me like a tidal wave, and the soulmark pulses its enthusiastic approval. Where did this sudden need come from? This want to feel the hard lines of his body pressed tightly against my form? To feel his bite and—
I squeeze my eyes shut and press a hand against his chest, never mind that I am trembling. This feeling isn’t real, I tell myself. A hollow sensation grows inside me at the brutal reminder, and I clutch the lapels of his jacket while I fight to regain control of my stirred emotions.
“Don’t,” I say.
“Why not?” Vrana rebuts, his voice low and rough. A nerve ticks as his jaw locks tight, waiting for my answer—an answer that doesn’t come. “You were friendly enough with Jax the other night,” he continues, a bitter note in his tone. “Touching. Whispering. Anyone watching would guess that you prefer the living over the dead to keep your bed. Or maybe they think you don’t care at all. Little do they know, these pretty little thighs haven’t parted for—”
With a snarl, I push him away. Like a blaze, my anger replaces all the kindled passions our nearness brought about. Vrana stumbles back, a trace of shock and embarrassment slipping over his features before disappearing.
“I’ll take my leave,” I say. I school my features into indifference to hide the hurt his words have caused. “The file, if you please.”
Vrana straightens and redirects his gaze to one of the bookshelves. “The file will remain in my care, and you shall continue to make a study of the court without their aid.”
My bottom lip trembles traitorously as my hands ball into fists at my side. “Fine,” I spit, my anger hardening when he refuses to meet my gaze. I turn sharply on the balls of my feet and exit his study without another word, slamming the door behind me with little satisfaction.
Anger and loathing lock up my throat, and I pant for air as I stride out of the apartment suite. The raven knocker jostles with the fury of my departure. I’m led solely by the emotions careening through me. The arched brows and sinister smiles tossed my way by courtiers drive me to the seldom-used corridors and hallways until I collapse against one of the walls.
All around me my sharp breath echoes in the empty corridor. I press my cheek to the balmy stone. What just happened? How had we gone from going at one another’s throats to going at each other like lust-struck teenagers, then back again? A stab of hurt drives into my stomach. His words shouldn’t hurt. They shouldn’t mean a thing to me, but for some reason, they have far more effect than they should.
I blame the soulmark entirely. Without the necklace's power to dilute its presence, I feel far too much. I feel him. A quick dart of my tongue relieves my parched lips, and I gather my nerves and straighten. Jax needs to fix the necklace ASAP.
A whisper of noise sounds from behind me—some kind of eerie melody that brings the hairs on the back of my neck to attention.
I glance behind me, the wolf and I attune in an instant to our surroundings. My senses are on the rise with the full moon's approach, but I see nothing in the long shadows. No hushed footsteps or voices. But something is amiss. I know it.
My surroundings aren’t as unfamiliar as I initially thought. A familiar presence haunts the air.
A shiver creeps down my sp
ine, sinking all the way to my toes as I walk forward with false purpose. I can't afford to let anyone see me as weak.
I turn right at the next intersection, my pace building with true confidence even though the shining emerald dress whips around my ankles and tests my balance. There it is again—some odd note dying off as it stretches along the winding corridors. The wolf stirs anxiously in my head, not liking one bit our vulnerable position. I shush its worrying, thrusting my shoulders back. Up ahead is the large arched entrance to the mammoth spiral stairwell.
A landmark I know well.
The scent of sex and sweat and blood is my only warning before two women in black are before me. They look remarkably similar with their pinched lips and icy white skin. Not to mention their eyes, the whole of which are black as pitch. Demons. The one with short cropped platinum hair gives me a crass smile. In her hand, she absently twirls a blade.
“You’re the wolf, then?” The blonde asks, voice overly sweet.
“Charmed, I’m sure.”
I shift a foot back, eyeing the two with distrust as I prepare myself for their attack. The one next to the blonde, with a nose ring and dark brown hair, chortles in response and advances a step. She flashes a row of pointed teeth my way. “I’m going to enjoy this,” she tells me. Her husky voice and ensuing laughter masks the sound of the third's approach.
A fist bashes into my ear from behind, and I stumble sideways. The world tilts before my eyes as a shrill ringing sounds in my ear. And then they converge upon me. Fists and feet beat at me in a blur. The wolf howls its rage and seizes control. I lash back at the trio of demons, my lycan claws extended as far as possible and tearing into their flesh.
Two of the demons fall back with a hiss, but the blonde remains. Knife held firmly in the palm of her hand.
“I thought you were supposed to be on the rebound from your bloodletting,” she says, head tilting unnaturally to the side as she flicks the knife into her other hand.
“The full moon is on the rise,” I respond on the back of a slow snarl. My lips curl back to show off my own elongated canines.
Again, they fall upon me. Dark shadows mimicking their movements and striking out at me as well. I can barely keep up, but the wolf is determined. The knife slices across my abdomen, and a booted heel takes out my knee from behind.
A glance at one of their victorious smiles unleashes something desperate inside of me. With a resurgence of energy, I dive into my fall—and straight into the blonde’s waist. I jam my shoulder into her gut, and we tumble to the ground. We roll in a mess of fighting limbs until we are underneath the large arch... and I beneath her.
The demon's eyes are ablaze as they stare down at me, her split lip revealing blood as black as her eyes. “Lycan scum,” she spits, raising the knife above her with both hands. “You’ll never belong—” Her hate speech breaks off as my hand disappears inside her chest cavity.
My hand screams its protest as it scores past the breastbone and claws at her heart. I rip the dark mass from her chest with a scream and watch with bold satisfaction as the light fade from her eyes. With a shove, I push her aside, her body falling to a heap on the ground as black blood pours from her wound.
Nonchalantly, I pick up her discarded knife and face the other two.
“Who’s next?”
We hurtle ourselves into each other and meet with a clash. A rake of nails scores my cheek. A fist digs painfully into my abdominal wound. But my new knife finds purchase just below the brunette’s sternum and drives upward. The other smashes a fist across my face as I lose the blade to the demon's chest and fire back with one of my own. The sum of my lycan strength is poured into the hit, and the demon flies backward.
The wolf and I pounce as one. And then the demon’s head is in our hands, quickly snapped to one side in one last vicious assault. The world is a dizzying shade of gold as I step back with shaking knees. All I can hear is the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. All I can smell is the noxious fumes of their demon blood.
A slow clap sounds from behind, followed by an unmistakably pleased rumble of laughter. The adrenaline coursing through my veins spikes as I turn upon the interloper.
“Omar Mubark.” My brief greeting is lauded only further by the Arabian man.
“Bravo,” he croons. “So the bitch can bite. How entertaining.”
I force myself to calm, remembering our last encounter only too well. I can almost hear Ruby in my head, coaching me to hold my temper. Omar observes my reactions, his silver-stained eyes leaving me on edge.
“Lycans tend to,” I inform him, baring my teeth in some semblance of a smile.
He hums a soft agreement and steps closer. “There’s nothing quite like seeing a wolf fight so close to the full moon. All of that caged power on the cusp of release, and then”—he shares with me a cold smile and snaps a finger—“just like that, reduced back to a pathetic dog.”
His laughter ricochets off the walls as he circles me. I hold myself loose, in case of another attack. My wolf at the forefront of my mind.
“They say there's a cure,” I say, following his movements with hooded eyes. “A potion to set my kind free from this curse.”
Omar stands before me once more, his face full of callous amusement. “Unlikely, my dear, but have no fear. Your little dream will be the source of much amusement once I relay it to the others at court. Adrian will be most pleased to hear of your notions of grandeur.”
I can't help but cock a brow, all too aware of the way a drop of blood runs awry at the action and slips down the side of my face. Omar tracks the movement, his eyes transitioning to red.
“I’m pleased to hear I’ll amuse a man with such power,” I say, words dripping in honey. My eyes narrow as he leans in, Omar's nostrils flaring like some horse after a race.
“Oh yes,” he murmurs. “He’ll be quite pleased to hear of this. Especially regarding how amiable you are to accede to your betters. And here I believed the talk floating around of your sudden cold behavior. How you riveted the crowds at the Pit with your icy demeanor, yet you’re full of fire, aren’t you?”
I tilt my chin up. “Lycans run hotter than the average human.”
“Yes, yes,” he agrees in a rasping voice as the red in his eyes become more prevalent. Omar stands but a foot away from me, the scent of his cologne full of exotic spices. Cardamom and jasmine, with an underlying current of cedar. Omar tilts his hooked nose into the air in a mimic of my movement. “I’m well aware. My family used to hunt and dine on wolves from Morocco all the way to Tunisia. We keep some of their furs in our apartments.”
A growl surfaces from my throat unwittingly, and Omar lights up as if it’s Christmas morning.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of dining on your kind in decades,” he says before I can interject. “Perhaps…?”
His hand reaches out to the drop of blood sliding down my cheek. I catch his hand before he can reach the blood, my touch deceptively light even though my claws beg to test the skin of his wrist.
“I’m no one’s dinner,” I say with a sneer. “No one’s.”
I take a step back, dropping his hand with unconcealed disgust. A bout of laughter chimes from above, footsteps echoing down the spiral staircase and spoiling our privacy. Thank God.
“I see your frigid behavior is no act at all,” he says with a nasal tone to his voice. The red recedes from his gaze as he gives a mocking bow. “Do remember your place, Vrana: beneath us. You won’t last much longer here. You're doomed for ruin.” Omar departs with vampyric speed, and I limp back to our apartments.
++
Nova intercepts me on my way back and acts as my bodyguard. She throws vicious glares at anyone who dares come too close, and we arrive at the apartment suite unbothered. So much for not showing the Dark Court any weakness.
“Lie down,” Nova commands, pointing at the larger of the two sofas. I do so without complaint, hissing as I lower myself onto the black leather c
ouch. She returns with a slew of medical supplies, dumping them onto the coffee table and kneeling by my side.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
She gives a curt nod. “All Wardens of Starlight are trained in advanced first aid and are well equipped to deal with injuries caused by supernaturals.”
“This was caused by a knife,” I tell her through gritted teeth. I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling as I take deep settling breathes through my nose, but point an accusing finger at my abdomen.
“And the scratches on your face were caused by demons. Demons who could very well carry venom in their system. They might have put something on the blade as well.” Nova tears my dress, clearing a path for her care with ruthless efficiency. “I need to get some water, give me a second.”
She rushes away, and I take a second to glance down at my most grievous wound. There is blood everywhere. On my dress... along my arms... on my hands. I close my eyes and take a deep, shaking breath. My body runs cold as the shock begins to settle in, all my bravado and adrenaline fleeing at the sight of the garish cut.
“If they’ve done something to the knife, Jax might have something,” I offer hoarsely.
Nova returns with a large bowl and several cloths. “His room is locked magically. I can’t get in.”
“You’ve tried?” I ask, mildly surprised. “It’s where they’re keeping Vogart’s Blade.” I watch Nova’s actions with mild trepidation. Her eyes are a stark red against her soft taupe skin and full cheeks. With her hair pulled back in a strict braid, she undoubtedly meant to fight tonight. So how did she find me? Our paths should not have met.
Nova feels my gaze and passes me something in likeness to a glare. “What?” Her fingers tread over the edges of the laceration with deliberate care.
“You found me,” I say.
“Obviously,” she responds and leans in closer to inspect the wound. Or… my body locks at her nearness, the wolf letting out a threatening growl in my mind. Nova pauses. “I’m not going to hurt you, Irina. Okay?” The words are spoken with the same care as her ministrations. Soft, yet firm.