by Rebecca Main
“You’re not coming in?”
Sebastian reaches out and smooths my hair back, a patient expression is on his face. He slants his gaze toward the door, then back to me slowly. “Not at the moment. I have… business, to attend to.”
“Right,” I mumble, hearing a very faint crackling noise coming from inside. I set the weight of my hand on the door handle, pushing it open an inch before passing one last look to Sebastian. “Whatever business you have, you might consider washing up a bit before attending to it.”
A dark hunger flickers amid his pensive regard, and then it is gone. “Until later.”
Sebastian sprints away and out of sight before I have a chance to blink. With a sigh I enter, my eyes are drawn immediately to the figure of Vrana before the fireplace. The room is dark. The only cause for light the flames dancing in the fireplace, casting their long shadows around the room.
“Join me.”
I close the door. The soft click is deafening to my ears. I walk to the nearest chair, sinking into its plush cushions with care.
“You had an interesting evening, I presume.”
Vrana’s back straightens at my soft-spoken words. Though Sebastian and my ordeal remain at the forefront of my mind, I cannot easily forget what Vrana had gone through earlier. His pain had been my own for that brief stretch of time.
A sudden thought strikes me cold—does that mean my pleasure had been his?
Jakob turns to face me, his movements fluid. “Indeed. It has been a most interesting night. For you as well.”
“I wouldn’t call it interesting,” I reply, my voice betraying my anger and embarrassment. “More like the most degrading experience of my life.”
Jakob takes a sip of his drink. Scotch, by the smell of it, with only a touch of blood.
“That’s not the impression I received,” he murmurs.
I shift in my seat, curling my legs up beneath me with a slight wince. My throat tightens as I recall the slick heat that coursed through my body not fifteen minutes ago. I still feel weak from the blood loss, and my head is prone to a dizzying sensation when I move too quickly.
“It’s only a chemical reaction,” I explain, as if Jakob is all of two years old instead of over two hundred.
Jakob hums. The sound grates on my nerves. “I suppose you’ll say it meant nothing next?”
“It didn’t,” I snap, feeling my anger roused. “Why it matters to you is beyond me. I—”
“Because you are mine,” he seethes. The words bring a shiver across my skin. Distantly I recall the words spoken earlier by Adrian.
The Vranas are possessive of their belongings.
The quiet tinkling of glass scratching together draws the hair on my skin upward. I eye Vrana’s drink wearily. A flush of adrenaline hums through my veins as I stave off another shiver. I stand slowly, letting the wolf shine through my eyes.
Teeth bared, I speak. “You’ve clearly suffered a head injury. Good night—”
His drink crashes against the floor in a violent flourish. And then my neck is craning back to match his heated glare head-on as he stands directly before me. “This conversation isn’t over until I say it is,” he snaps, the steel band of his arm wrapping around my back and crushing me to his chest.
I release an indignant gasp, palm smacking against his chest to keep his assault at bay—to little success. And even though my indignation flares hot like the sun, another part of me craves the ice-hard touch of his body against mine.
“I am not one of your children,” I snarl back. “And I won’t be ordered around by the likes of you.”
“The likes of….” His eyes smolder down at me with such heat he could rival a firestorm. “The likes of me? A vampyré? Open your eyes, dear heart, you’ve been toeing the line since the moment I got my hands on you.”
Heat reigns on my cheeks. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” The moment fills with unbearable silence. Jakob’s face lowering with aching slowness.
“Is that so?”
I glare defiantly back, tilting my chin upward until our lips are mere inches apart. His hurricane eyes flare at the challenge.
“Do you think I don’t know you’ve been running around trying to find an escape? A way to contact the outside and call your pack of dogs?” With a sharp jerk, he pulls me up to my toes, his cool cheek brushing against my heated one. “Do you think I don’t know you’ve spoken to the Beast? That you aren’t trying to curry favor with the banshee?”
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, mouth opening and closing to form words I cannot grasp. The flat of his palm rides up my back. His fingers fan the small expanse of my shoulder blades as his breath curls the hair at my ear.
“I have been planning my return for over a century. Did you think I would be so unprepared as to not have my spies set in place before my arrival? Watching—always watching. Even you.” His voice grows thicker with each word spoken. “You above all else.”
“Don’t,” I croak.
My eyes flutter open to stare in desperation at the ceiling. With my heart hammering in my throat as his lips whisper against my jaw, I press against the wall of his chest and shrink back against the pressure of his hand to no avail. I am trapped in his hold.
“This bond between us is a curious thing, is it not? To find one’s self underneath another's skin so irrevocably. To feel the ebb and flow of another's emotion so keenly.” His nose trails up to my hair, and he inhales deeply. “One must be a masochist to enjoy its suffocating effects. Without a single way to relinquish its hold and knowing the lethal aftermath of severing such a tie.”
“Let me go,” I tell him harshly, turning my head. My panting breath against his ear only riles him further.
His thigh slides between my legs, and a familiar heat spirals in my core at the bold contact. “And yet, somehow, even when two people are entwined such as we, they can betray that bond.”
I suck in a breath and jerk my head back from his nipping teeth. Our glares clash, but it is only my resounding breath that keeps the small distance between us. “There was no betrayal. There couldn’t have been—there is nothing between us, Vrana.”
“Only a mark that would see us bound for life.”
“What are you saying?” Panic itches at the back of my throat at his fevered look and the all-consuming hunger swirling within the depths of his eyes. “Why are you saying this? It was only a month ago you wanted me dead. To drain me dry and laugh over my corpse. If Jax could just finish the necklace—”
Vrana’s growl cuts off my rant. “Enough. There will be no more talk of the necklace. There will be no more sneaking around behind my back, trying to find an escape. And there will be no more bloodletting from anyone but me.” Vrana’s thigh presses snugly against my core, tearing a deep gasp from my mouth. His other hand grips my hip and draws it forward with a rough pull. “Is that understood?”
His eyes are focused intently on my lips, and I find my breath caught short in my breast, my words lost once more. The soulmark answers for me, coming to life so suddenly against my flesh that I quake in Vrana’s hold. I sink into his embrace.
“Is that understood?” he demands, his words even tighter than before.
I stand on the cusp of surrender. And Vrana sees it. A victorious gleam in his eye—his prey within reach. The soulmark lashed out once more—an electric current in my blood that bends my back and thrusts my breasts into Vrana's chest.
The world ceases to move as I watch Vrana’s eyes dilate. The lust I see is undeniable, and I’m sure, a mirror image of my own.
“Understood,” I whisper. The cool fabric of my dress becomes bunched in his fist at my hip, and I draw in a ragged breath. This can’t happen. It’s wrong. It goes against everything I’ve been taught.
Yet it feels right.
Vrana angles his lips toward mine, his intentions clear as his eyes remain vigilant upon my parted lips. My hand grasps his white button-down, the fabric wrinkli
ng in my desperate hold. Alongside my growing want—the palpable heat between my thighs—is a frenzied panic. What am I doing? He's my enemy…
... and also my soulmark.
I incline my head a fraction to the side, my breath coming in sharp pants as I unfurl my hand. “Jakob.” His name cracks upon departure from my lips, and he halts. I feel his muscles tense beneath me. Around me. They are strung with unspent energy, just as mine are.
Jakob releases me. The process is achingly slow. And by the look of retribution painted across his face in the firm set of his brow and lips, I know it’s only one piece of the punishment he means to dish out in the front of my rejection. As my heels rest once more upon the ground, he drags his thigh from between my own. Jakob steps back, at last, the picture of serene if not for his mussed shirt and the violent look in his eyes.
“My apologies,” he murmurs, cool affliction painting his words. “The nights’ events have put me in a rare mood, or so it would seem.”
I swallow harshly, smoothing my dress with shallow breaths. “Of course,” I demure.
“I will bid you good evening, then, Irina.”
My hand is cupped in his before I can form a protest. His lips press to the inside of my wrist, across the slew of veins that reside there.
“Good evening,” I say, tugging back my hand. He turns his back to me, readying no doubt to speed off using his vampyric speed when a thought gives me pause. “Jakob, before you go there's something you need to know. I think tonight was orchestrated by Omar.”
He stills. Frozen like a statue, waiting for me to continue. “You’re sure?”
I pause, heart still hammering decidedly against the inside of my chest. “Yes.” His smug look. The insulting salute of his glass. My words, spoken to him in private, thrown in my face. It all adds up. Jakob nods and, as predicted, flits off in a blur of a moment, leaving me to sink back down into my chair in a wave of exhaustion.
The Dark Court | 1841
The Dark Court was rich with hidden aims. As time passed, Jakob understood and saw this more. Agendas were squared away over the passing of priceless artifacts. Power plays conducted under the guise of fighting in the Pits. Not to mention, those brave enough to contend for a title of Greater Household—a more challenging feat as the years continued to pass.
Jakob learned to appreciate the exchanges, having himself partaken in clandestine meetings of his own. The vampyré smiled at the thought. Such clandestine meetings had only begun these past few months and had proved quite… satisfactory.
“Don’t look so smug,” Ren purred, dragging a sharp nail down his bare chest.
Jakob smiled wider, which only proved to make it more devilish in nature when paired with the lazy appraisal of his companion. Jakob turned on his side to face the red-haired woman.
“I was only wondering how I managed to catch such a beauty’s attention.”
Ren took her time to mirror his closed-lip smile. “Don’t forget intelligent, darling.”
“Never,” he declared. "The warm embrace of the sun could never compare to you," he whispered in afterthought.
Ren laughed softly. "Aren’t you the poet?"
They grinned at one another, but the smile ebbed from the elder vampyré’s lips. A troubled look overcast her once loving gaze. “I should never have looked at you as I did that first night. I should never have begun this game.”
Jakob swallowed thickly and searched for the right response. His arms came to wrap around Ren’s body, tucking her into his chest. “Don’t say that,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“We walk a dangerous line if we continue our affair, Jakob,” she whispered back. “We could be killed. And our households.” His grip tightened.
The room contained little more than a large bed at its center, a towering mirror, and chair to hold one's possessions. The floor was littered with candles, all weeping their pale wax upon the stone floor to cast an iridescent glow from below.
“Since I was turned, all I’ve desired is to have a family. To have my home be a home and not some prison from the sun. To have someone to love and call my own.” The ache in his voice drew a sad note from the other vampyré's throat. “Though I have succeeded in obtaining these things, having to hide my relationship with you… it is torture of the worst kind.”
“It is the only way for us to be together.”
The muscles in Jakob’s body locked, and Ren looked at him with her eyebrows slightly raised. “It isn’t the only way for us to be together. We could leave. We could take our rings and start our own family, outside of the restrictions of the Dark Court.”
Ren tipped her chin down and drew her hands back to her chest. “Jakob, I am a sire now. I cannot leave my children to fend for themselves among my household. Already I neglect them by being here with you,” she sighed, her heart full of failing hope.
“They forced you to sire those girls,” Jakob argued back heatedly. “You told me yourself.”
“Regardless, I cannot leave my family, Jakob.”
They remained silent for a time, listening to the hiss and flicker of the candlelight and the draft of air pulsing laboriously from the room’s entrance. The sound of one particularly loud gust drew them back to their conversation, time’s ever-ticking hand ushering their clandestine meeting to an end.
“Then we shall stay. We shall take all the necessary precautions, and more. The girls will learn their place eventually and find their footing. But do not say you wish to end this,” Jakob pleaded.
The Roux pressed a kiss to the Vrana’s unseating heart. “Nobody can know.”
Chapter 11
Present
I’m sequestered to our apartment suite again, while I recover from Sebastian’s bloodletting. The real experience takes the better part of a night and a half for me to heal, but the court believes otherwise, and so I will stay an extra night inside, much to Ruby's disappointment
“But tomorrow is the Delacroixs’ 'Nuit de Culte,'” she laments for the hundredth time. “Surely an exception can be made.”
Her short black bob holds stiff as she whips her head from one end of the table to the other, to Vrana and Sebastian. It is plastered to the sides of her head, with finger waves and pin curls frozen in place by various hair products. She’s dressed in full 20s regalia, in a black slip dress embellished with gold beading. The length of which falls conservatively to the knee. Pearls are stacked four high in a choker around her neck, paired with a delicate headband of matching black and gold embellishment. Her fingernails tap with mild agitation against the table.
“I’ve already found the perfect gown for Irina to wear for tomorrow’s midnight ball. It’s red silk, with the most beautiful Point d’Angleterre lace to accompany it. Oh, and the plans I have for those gorgeous raven locks—”
“She’ll remain here,” Vrana says. “The night will be full of opportunities for us to search for the rings, and I do not wish to squander the chance with having to babysit.”
My nose crinkles at the insult. “I’m quite certain I can manage to stay away from trouble,” I reply, calling up a polite smile with saccharine edges.
Vrana pins me in place with his glare, and I find myself holding my next breath. Since our last standoff, our encounters, while fewer in-between, have been full of… expectations. A lingering look in my direction from the ice-cold man and my heart either skitters to a stop or doubles its cadence. I let the captured breath out in a measured stream, forcing my eyes away from him.
“Ah, but, dear heart, I’m quite certain trouble won’t be able to stay away from you.” The low purr of his voice is not lost on the rest of the table. A flush steals up my neck as Sebastian awkwardly clears his throat, and Ruby grins madly. “I doubt the ball’s many activities would suit your chaste disposition.”
“You mean the fact that I’m a virgin,” I respond. My grip tightens around the fork in my hand, and I stab with vicious force at the rare piece of fi
let on my plate.
“Precisely.”
His clipped response carries a deep smugness. I bite down a growl and keep my eyes forward, glaring at the muted yellow and green wallpaper as a tingling sensation erupts upon my inner wrist. The multiple cuff bracelets I wear give a pretty tinkle as I twist my wrist this way and that to appease the sudden sensation along the infinity symbol. Yet, it only worsens. I shudder a sigh, my glare lessening as a phantom-like touch traces the slender figure eight.
Vrana’s invisible actions rattle my nerves. Over the past two days, he has become bolder in his manipulation of the bond. Testing its strength and power. Testing my reactions.
Almost mechanically, I feed myself, focusing my thoughts instead on closing our bond to a trickle. Vrana fights my defense at first, the sound of his spoon hitting the table with a touch more force than necessary and bringing frowns to Ruby and Sebastian’s faces. But not Nova and Jax.
Nova eyes our silent interactions with a mildly curious look, her arms folded over her chest. Her blut suppe long since finished. Jax wears a warier expression, the slight downward tilt of his lips speaking of deeper worries. Whether it be for my safety or that of another nature, I can’t be sure. The pressure through the bond lessens, and my shoulders relax from their stern hold. Still, my eyes remain forward, even with the weight of Vrana’s gaze resting along my neck.
“Well,” Ruby says, breaking the tense silence, “I think it’s all the more reason for her to attend. She really does need the practice in that kind of setting.”
“It’s all right, Ruby,” I say before Vrana or Sebastian can shoot her down again. “I’m not fond of the idea of going anyway, and I agree with Sebastian and Vrana on the matter.”
Ruby’s almond eyes widen comically, her spoon stopping halfway to her mouth. “You agree?”
I nod. “While I know I can handle myself, Vrana is right. Others can’t be trusted. You don’t need the distraction of worrying over me, especially since Jax has finished creating the third spectacle device.”