by Rebecca Main
Ren’s hand fell to his arm and slipped down to the crook of his elbow and then just beyond. Jakob stiffened as her hand held still over the cursed mark on his body.
“You will heal from this heartache, Jakob Vrana. I was never meant for you anyway.”
She departed with a soft kiss to his palm, retracting herself from his hold with a lover’s ease. When the door shut behind her, Jakob collapsed against the wall before him. Whoever bore his match, he swore to himself, would never have his love.
++
“Do you like the picture, brother?” Cordelia asked, waving the monochrome sheet of metal in front of his face.
Jakob snatched it from her hand, sitting up from his slouched position in Jasper’s favorite leather chair. His heartache was difficult to disguise, and his family knew something troubled him. But Jakob knew all too well the consequences that would occur from his confession, so he could not share his pain.
“It’s quite… extraordinary,” he admitted, studying the metal sheet further. The study shelves as a backdrop proved amiable to the eye, and their figures and faces came out in exquisite detail. With its silver-mirror quality, the photograph was almost luminescent. Cordelia took the photo back with her vampyric speed.
“It is, isn’t it? Now”—Cordelia perched atop the arm of the chair—“shall we go watch the bracket of courtiers fighting in the Pits. I want to see Adrian’s face when his newest lamb is trounced by the Krovopuskov fellow. He’s quite the brute and puts on the most wonderful shows.”
“I will accompany you,” Jakob conceded, earning a pleased applause from Cordelia. Jakob’s lips twitched upward. “But you must promise not to provoke Adrian with your sideline commentary like last time… or the time before.”
“As long as you don't provoke the Delacroixs,” she said, placing the photograph on the table after standing. Jakob nodded his agreement. “Ever since the new Madame Roux took control, it’s been far easier to get under his skin. Besides, having taken years of his veiled insults regarding the quality of our family, I think it only fair to return the favor. Times are changing, brother,” she crowed and held out a hand. “Embrace it.”
Chapter 14
Present
Nova declines to enter the apartment with me, leaving me to stand alone before the apartment suite door. A pound of dread weighs uncomfortably in my stomach as the soulmark blares its grievances. Or, more aptly, Jakob does. He thunders through my mind like my own personal storm.
Struck with self-consciousness, I touch my fingers gently to my right cheek. It pulses with its pain, but at least the fracture in my jaw is mostly healed. Heart thumping uncontrollably in my chest, I enter.
He is there, of course, standing before the great fireplace as he is so want to do. I expect it, and yet this confirmation does nothing to ease my sudden anxiety. Shadows paint the walls, the candles and fire doing little in the way of providing meaningful light.
I catch a glimpse of my face as I walk down the small foyer. The silver-gilded mirror reflects back two brownish-red oblong shapes slowly being taken over by a pumice yellow color. My hair is frizzy, spiking at angles I’ve never seen courtesy of Briar’s mishandling. I smooth it down self-consciously, my hand extra gentle over where nails have scratched my scalp.
Stalling isn’t becoming... and yet my feet refuse to take me further.
The room smells of blood and wine. It is thick in the air and coils down my trachea in a choking fashion.
How long has he been here? Why didn't he come for me himself?
I take a step, passing the imaginary threshold of the foyer to the great room. To my right is the grandfather clock, its hands reaching past one. Sunrise is still hours away, but the strain of the past few nights catches me in its grasp so suddenly I wish for nothing more than my bed.
“Join me,” Vrana says. I narrow my eyes upon his back. Though his tone cocks neatly at the end to imply a suggestion, we both know his words to be an order. I take another step forward, eyeing the uninterrupted plane of his shoulders and width of his stance.
With a sharp intake of breath, I square my shoulders and stride forward, clenching my jaw as I steel my nerves. I instantly regret the action. My jaw might be mostly healed, but it’s still in pain. My stomach wrenches as I pass the kitchen, longing for sustenance to fuel my lycan healing.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
A soft exhalation breezes past my lips as I stop to lean against one of the cognac chairs. Again, I make a study of Jakob. His suit jacket, a marvelous and deep forest green, is tossed across the long black leather sofa. He stands only in black slacks and a white button-down.
“Is there any particular reason why you continue to disobey me?”
Without a beat, I respond. “Why, for these lovely conversations.”
The muscles across his back ripple and bunch together at my tart reply. “Do you ever listen?” he all but growls, losing all sense of finesse and composure.
A tide of anxiety washes over me, but I ignore the instinct to back down. “When it suits me.”
Expectation pulses between us, but neither of us is willing to break. Jakob continues to keep his back to me, and I remain steadfast against the chair.
“Family first, that is the Vrana way. Whatever priorities your pack installed in you—”
A growl rises fast in my throat. A tightness encloses my lungs. “Do not bring up my pack.”
A silent and suffocating pause follows.
“Your selfishness and inability to follow direction will no longer be tolerated when it puts our entire family in jeopardy. Did you ever think, even for a second, that the rules I set in place are made for your safety?”
I bristle at the admonishment, shuffling my weight from foot to foot. Jakob pivots to face me. His features are tightly drawn. “My safety?” I scoff and turn my head to hide the fading bruise. “Safe would have been leaving me above ground instead of forcing me into this hellish court where I’m seen as nothing more than a dog, a pet for you and your family's pleasure.”
Jakob inches forward, the electric charge of his stare making my spine pin straight. He says nothing for a moment. He merely stares down the unmarked side of my face, willing me to face him head-on.
“You are safest at my side and where the others can easily come to your aid. Above ground, you are too vulnerable.” Translation: above ground, they can’t watch my every movement.
“'Safest is knowing beforehand all of the bad blood between your family and the Dark Court,” I seethe, finally facing him fully. His face draws carefully blank as he stares at the condemnation on my cheek. “Instead I’ve been forced to walk this path blindfolded, not knowing who to trust or—”
“Trust no one,” he says.
The omnipresent candlelight flickers about the column of his throat and jawline, then hoods his eyes as his chin drops. I wrap my arms around my middle, but indignation drops them back to my sides. My fingers curl into my palms.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” I say. My nails cut crescents into my hand, but still, Jakob imparts no outward emotion. He keeps his sights set strictly on my face. “After all, it was your dalliance with a Roux that got your family killed in the first place, wasn’t it?”
Gotcha.
Jakob swallows and smooths down his dark silver tie. “It seems you are quite capable of learning about this family's ‘bad blood’ by yourself.”
Color floods my cheeks. “Too little too late,” I respond, giving Jakob my left cheek to stare at as my eyes return to the far wall with its gloomy set of landscapes. “We both know that no matter how much I end up learning on my own, it won’t be enough. Because the only person who could possibly inform me of all the intricacies refuses to do so.”
I shift my gaze further from the sight of him. A sting of sadness prickles at my heart and at the corner of my eyes. He says nothing in return.
“You loved her?”
It is almost pain
ful, this reprieve. A wall of silence towers between us as each second passes.
“Yes.”
My eyes slip closed. Why does this hurt? I think, followed quickly by stark recognition. Oh, you foolish girl. I press my hands flat against my thighs and return my regard to him impassively.
“Was it the siren in her blood?” A cruel whim upturns my lips as Jakob reacts to the question. His lips pinch. His shoulders hunch. His brow sinks.
Jakob steps forward. “No.”
“And what about Sebastian? What if—” What if he is seduced by the Rouxs? What if Briar truly did betray him? What if—
“Their siren blood is muted by death’s transformation,” Jakob says, tilting his head up and standing straight once more. “Moreover, Sebastian is by far the most sensible vampyré I have ever met. He knows better than to allow any one of them to hold him at heel.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying more and train my gaze on Jakob’s green coat. What would Jakob do if he knew of Sebastian’s betrayal?
“Is she the reason your family was killed?”
Jakob smirks. The expression is heartless. “Yes and no. They killed her too, after all.”
“But not you.” Another silence lingers on as my heart picks up its pace.
“No, not me,” he concurs. The smirk falls, and in his silver-streaked eyes brews a deadly storm. “They killed her because she was deemed an unfit sire—or so the court records state. Though, I'm sure someone became privy to our affair and used it against her.”
“Why did they kill your family? Why did they blame it on you?”
“For as long as my family has been a part of the Dark Court, we have been the source of the Royal Households’ consternation. My relationship with Ren was merely a catalyst—the tipping point to a far larger quarrel.”
My arms cross over my chest as I level Jakob with a pointed glare.
He smiles faintly, stepping ever closer. “Dear heart,” he says with aching patience, “the Vrana Household is the reason the Dark Court opened their doors to the noble families of vampyrés. If it were not for my head of household, the Dark Court would be a far different place. For too long it reigned with ancients and their old ways. With our arrival… everything changed. Henceforth, those who dared to prove their worth fought for it. Just as my family did.”
Slow recognition comes over me. “Did your family start the Pits?”
“In a sense. It took many, many years for Max, my head of household, to convince the Royal Households to give him an opportunity to join their ranks. To be a part of this,” Jakob gestures to the room as he stops before me, only an arm’s length away. “He offered them a deal they could not refuse. A fledgling vampyré to face off against their best fighter. To the death….”
“And by the fang,” I finish.
Jakob’s smile hesitates, then falls to the prowess of his glower. He reaches out, knuckles grazing the green and yellow smear marring my cheek.
“He was an intelligent man. He knew how they cherished their traditions and beliefs, and so, in a very charismatic way, he opposed them. Playing the devil’s advocate was a bold move, and yet it earned him their favor. The old heads of the Royal Households were firm believers in the extinction of rogue vampyrés. They’d go on about the dangers of them and their untamable bloodlust in their first half century.
“They were too wild, and far too much trouble for what they were worth, they said. They could never survive. And so Max planted the seed of his opinion, which was that a rogue could be tamed and brought to heel. That they could be a force to be reckoned with.”
I hold my breath as his fingers expand the length of my jaw, delicately cradling the side of my face. His eyes take on a somber quality as they study my bruise. With a sigh, I lean into the palm of his hand—just for a moment—and savor the cooling relief of his skin.
Then I take his hand in mine and place it between us, my fingers lingering around his own.
“You were his rogue.” Jakob nods. “You were the one who fought for them?” Another nod.
“If I won, the Vrana family would be granted official entrance into the Dark Court and a new title bestowed upon us as a ‘Greater’ household. If we lost, the whole of us would forfeit our lives.”
The moment stretches around us as Jakob concludes his tale. The pieces of the puzzle pulling together one by one.
I swallow nervously. “Why was your family killed?”
“Because to some, we ruined their perfect, idealistic court. We pushed too hard for change, and so we were punished.”
“You think it was one of the Royal Households, don’t you?” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly as I wait for his answer.
“I think it was the world telling me I couldn’t have what I wanted most,” he says, the low pitch of his voice caressing my skin.
I should pull away. I should step back and make my way back to my room. Except something draws me closer. The air sizzles between us the longer I stare into his eyes… the longer he stares at me, waiting for me to ask. I lick my bottom lip, stalling a moment longer while the room shrinks around us.
“What did you want?”
“A family. The sun. Someone to spend the rest of eternity with. Someone I could call mine alone.”
Jakob’s hand tightens around my own, and I startle and stare down at our hands. My heart beats an angry tempo as I attempt to tug my hand away. Jakob doesn’t let go.
“Jakob—”
“Why did you disobey me, Irina? What did you think you would achieve?”
My breath stalls and I avert my eyes. I can’t tell Jakob the real reason I was gone. Exhaling, I thin my lips into two straight lines and direct my gaze steadfast to the point above his shoulder. My fingers squeeze together in Jakob’s hold.
“So stubborn,” he murmurs, inching forward. “I do wonder if the power of the marking would keep you in line.”
The wolf stiffens in alertness at the threat, and my blood runs hot. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I respond with forced calm. “That’s not how it works. Where did you get such a ridiculous idea?”
Jakob lifts a brow in mockery. But there is nothing funny about this joke.
“Isn’t it? I’ve consulted with Jax on the matter. He’s become quite the expert in soulmarks. The second act of the soul binding process comes with a measure of influence over the one on the receiving end of the bite. In what I’ve interpreted as a measure of control.”
A flush stains my cheeks painfully. “That’s not….” My head moves to and fro, inky black tendrils of hair slipping forward past my shoulders. “It doesn’t work that way. The marking ties us more closely together. There’s a deeper, more inherent want to do what will please the other, but that want goes both ways.”
Jakob’s brow lowers, but only to make way for an arrogant, slow curling smile. His hurricane eyes appraise me, knowledge and triumph beaming through them, and my heart gives an erratic thump.
“Ah, but supernatural creatures react different to the marking process,” he says, his voice honeyed. “Take lycans for example. The soulmark doesn’t just tie one closer to their beloved, it deepens their connection to the pack. In their deeper connection to the pack, they are more susceptible to the influence of their alpha, are they not?”
“Yes,” I say, jaw working to keep back a snarl and snapping my canines. “But you aren’t part of my pack. We aren’t a pack—”
“You’re right,” he says, his voice softening. “I am not your pack, but as I’ve said a hundred times before, you are a part of this family, Irina. You are the... light to my dark, as it were.”
A tremor travels down my body like a snake making its way across an uninterrupted plane. “This won’t solve anything,” I try to reason. “The only thing the marking will do is tie us closer together, and not just our souls. The soulmark will push us to be nearer to one another, and if we ignore it, we’ll suffer the consequences. Using the marking to keep me lock
ed up will only cause harm to both of us, Jakob.”
Something about my impassioned plea must resonate with him, for his posturing relents, and his Slavic features rearrange into a pensive frown.
“I believe the only harm you’ve encountered has been outside these walls,” he says in a quiet voice. The gravity of his stare falls once more to my bruised face. “Who did this?”
My lashes lower over my eyes to rest on the high slope of my cheekbones. “Does it really matter?” I ask. My eyes open just in time to watch the torrent of emotion flicker past his gaze. Shock and anger followed swiftly by firm determination… and a streak of possessiveness. It is the last that steals my breath.
“Who?”
Another tremor strikes me, traveling from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “Iris.”
Jakob lets out a vicious snarl, fangs bared. But he quickly collects himself and smooths his features into marble.
“Never again,” he promises, and I believe him. For although his face is kept impeccably calm, the heat and resolve in his eyes is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. He looks at me as if I am the sun, his sun.
I have trouble swallowing past the knot in my throat, staring back at him in awed silence. It’s the soulmark, I try telling myself, but my heart won’t listen. And neither will my blood. It rages through my veins, winding me up to a tipping point until I feel I can’t breathe.
“I should never have taken off the necklace,” I whisper.
Jakob’s eyes narrow. “It was always only a temporary solution,” he responds, unable to tear his eyes away from my face.
A small gasp escapes me, as fate thickens the air. My gaze flits to his lips, which are parted in anticipation. Unexpectedly, I careen into Jakob’s chest. My captured hand guided in a sharp movement around his back, effectively forcing me forward.
“Jak—”
He takes advantage of my surprise and laces his fingers through my hair to tilt my head back and press his lips to mine. I draw in a sharp breath, unprepared for the onslaught of his mouth to take further advantage and sweep his tongue recklessly over my bottom lip. I whimper in response, and partly in pain. Yet I drag a hand up to his chest where I mean to push him away... but I cannot.