Blood Reunited

by Amber Belldene

  A crack sounded above and Bel jerked toward the stairwell, his halfling heart beating vampire fast. But it was only Pedro resting his knuckles against the low rafter where he’d knocked to make a point.

  Message received. The wine could wait. Uta needed him now. Leo walked him upstairs with the lantern and closed the door behind him.

  Bel took stock of the situation. Bonds at her slender wrists and ankles would never work. He could scare up some rope and wrap it around both her and the bed in a tight coil from her armpits to her ankles, and maybe it would hold. It was a big maybe.

  When she awoke, he would have to get through to her fast, to convince her she had reasons to keep living. And he really only had one thing to offer. He took off his shoes and climbed onto the bed beside her, draping himself over her thin, muscular body, his only hope resting on the possibility his presence would bind her to life a little longer.

  On second thought…

  He knelt and unfastened his belt. Raising her arms over her head, he wrapped the leather band around her wrists in a figure eight and then hitched it to the headboard. If it bought him two seconds, it was better than nothing.

  Then he settled himself on top of her again, chest to chest, hip to hip, burying his face in the thick curtain of hair pooling beneath her neck. Her hyacinth scent passed over him like a time warp, carrying him back to one of those many nights on the beach. Uta had stood in the moonlit surf, her breeches rolled up to her knees, her hair loose and wild in the breeze. She could reach into the sea and grasp a fish in her lightning fast fingers, though when she tossed it to him, he missed half the time. When one slippery gray mullet had shot through his fingers and wriggled down his half open shirt, she’d laughed, pushing her red locks off her forehead. She was a goddess, the most beautiful thing he’d ever set eyes on.

  Stunned, he had frozen. “Uta,” he’d said. Then he’d closed his mouth, unable to find words for what he felt.

  But rather than teasing, she’d stared back at him with a look that mirrored his own awe, and in the light of her love, his little boy self had been whole. “Me too, Bel.” She flashed the unguarded smile she reserved just for him, before crouching to grab another flailing fish.

  Maybe it didn’t matter how such a thing came to be, only that it had been, once. And for the possibility of sharing it once again, he would offer himself to her, gladly.

  For the last day and a half, he’d expended nearly all his effort tamping down his desire, and as soon as he flipped the switch, it flared bright and hot, his cock roaring to life. Damn, he had no chance of sleep with a hard-on that could drill through the mattress if it weren’t pressed against her taut belly.

  She exhaled, and her breath, her presence cocooned him.

  Oh God yes. Who needed sleep?

  Lucas sat on the sofa. A fire burned in the parlor’s fireplace and its slithering flames mesmerized him.

  “How could this have happened?” Andre spoke without emotion, like a robot with a Croatian accent. He poured himself a glass of Blood Vine and held it two hands.

  “I checked the perimeter an hour ago.” Vania’s voice trembled. “And the satellite images again before he left. They came out of nowhere.”

  “He insisted on leaving early. I tried to stop him.” Again, Andre’s words held no inflection. He sounded worse than when his vineyards had burned.

  “Still, the car—it was armored and sun shielded,” Sadavir rasped. “He should have been—”

  “R.P.G.,” said Omar. “It goes off anywhere near the petrol tank, armor does you no good.”

  “Who else was in the car?” Lucas asked.

  “His blood slave—the blond woman,” Vania replied.

  Andre crossed to the hearth and rested his forehead on the high mantle. Zoey went to his side and stroked up and down his spine. He took a long swallow, and when he spoke again, he sounded more like himself.

  “Sadavir, are you next in line?”

  Sadavir cleared his throat. “That is a matter of some debate.” He searched the room until his gaze settled.

  Lucas turned to find the vampire had locked eyes with Nceba, who stood arm in arm with Derek.

  “Sadavir’s parents were untouchables in rural India,” she said. “They had no way of recording his birth date.”

  He stood stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back. “And Nceba’s were goatherds in Southern Africa, also without the means of date keeping. We know we were born within the same year, but not the month or even season.”

  “Am I correct in believing there are official means for settling this dispute?” Andre slumped against the wall. “Or must you fight to the death?”

  Nceba clasped hands with Derek and her female blood servant, shaking her head. “I do not aspire—”

  “No, sister. I defer. Given what we have learned, and your alliance with young Williams here, you are best suited to lead us. You have my pledge.” He took two long strides and knelt at her feet.

  She blinked, running her hands through his hair. “Thank you, old friend.”

  As the Justicia and Derek made plans to depart, Lucas watched the fire, and for the first time, he believed his plan might actually work.

  Chapter 38

  ON THE BOTTOM SHELF, Pedro discovered Ayal’s sampling kit—a lightweight crowbar, a ladle, a small tin cup, and a sieve. He knew a little about how Georgians made wine in qvevris, enough to know a sludgy mess of stems and skins filled the terra-cotta jug. In taste, it would likely be drier than California wines, more like the Spanish blends his father had made. But with all that roughage in the fermentation process, would it taste harsh or just full-bodied?

  Leo interrupted his thoughts. “So, he’s locked himself in there with her. It seems like maybe we have a second alone.”

  Pedro ran the flat end around the rim of the qvevri. The lid held fast, sealed together with the beeswax lining the jar. He wedged the levered end, but couldn’t bring himself to press down. What if he damaged it?

  “Listen kid, I’m not hungry. Hand me the crowbar.”

  Leo’s yellow eyes moved up and down Pedro’s body. “You must be hungry by now. So what are you afraid of? It’s got to be either that I’ll get clingy, or I’ll try to squeeze between you and Lucas.”

  Pedro closed his eyes and let his head sag forward. “Kid, it’s not about you. It’s just Lucas being crazy jealous, like a character in one of his telenovelas.”

  “Yeah, right. Thing is, Lucas isn’t here, and you’re hungry. So what’s the problem?”

  The pleading in his voice demanded Pedro look up at him.

  “Leo, how many times have you been bitten? I count two—Kos last month, and me the other day. Did you see Derek and Nceba go all soul mate after one bite? This Hunter-vampire mojo freaks me out. If Lucas turns, we’ll both end up sucking on other guys’ necks. How is that not going to screw up our relationship?”

  “That’s it? That’s what you’re worried about?” Leo’s tone flipped like a pancake, becoming authoritative.

  Pedro bristled, gripping the rim of the qvevri. What did the kid know to start talking to Pedro like he was stupid?

  “Have you ever been bit? I’m no pro, but you’re a fang virgin, dude. Sure, it feels awesome, like sex feels awesome, but it doesn’t make you love somebody.”

  “Since when do you know what sex feels like?”

  Leo’s face drained of color.

  Oops. Pedro wasn’t supposed to know that. Leo had shared only with Lucas.

  “Hey, man, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  “Yeah, and it’s not true anymore either.” Leo raised his chin.

  Pedro tucked his chin, surprised. “No?”

  “Nope.”

  “Mierda, spill, kid. There are only so many people at Kaštel.” He ticked off the candidates on his fingers. “Not Andre, not Kos. Which leaves Bel’s crew. Not Henry, or Arden…”

  “It’s not my place to—”

  “Omar? No way!” Pedro hopped to his feet and
crossed the room to slap Leo’s back.

  His only answer was to turn the color of a wine-stained shirt.

  Which of course made Pedro lay it on harder. “Damn, boy. I’m impressed. That’s one fine dude. How on earth did you guys end up fucking?”

  Leo coughed. “We prefer to say dating.”

  Pedro snorted. “What, like going to the movies?”

  “We have, actually. Twice.”

  Pedro tried to imagine the giant African vampire with skin like the blackest night holding hands with little Leo, munching popcorn the next seat over. “Leo, he is ten times your age.” Pedro didn’t say size, but…damn.

  “He’s older, actually. I’ve always liked older guys.” The kid’s mouth spread into a big-ass grin.

  Okay, he’d underestimated Leo. Pedro knelt down, tracing his finger round and round the rim of the qvevri, thinking.

  Finally, he understood the point of Leo’s speech. The kid had been schooling him. Pedro attempted to recite the lesson. “So Omar’s bitten you, he’s…um…dated you. But you’re casual. You’re not all ‘I want to adopt kids with you’ in love with him.”

  “Yep.” Leo’s baby face spread into another smile.

  “And so, if I fed from you, it might be hot, but it wouldn’t be earth shattering.”

  “Also yep. What’s between you and Lucas is bigger than a magical Hunter-vampire bond, dude. And I’m not going to change it. When he first mentioned you needed me, I inquired about the, uh, benefits. But now I’m not interested. You two are like a pair of girls with your drama. Threesomes, sure. Love triangles, no thanks.”

  Girls? Ouch. Pedro raked his fingers through his hair. “Point taken.”

  “So now, are you going to eat?” Leo tilted his head, his pulse a regular flicker under the pale skin of his neck.

  Pedro’s mouth watered. But if the wine proved to be like Blood Vine, he wouldn’t need a snack. “Soon, kid. Let’s crack this baby open, first.”

  He levered the stone cap off, and it opened with a pop. The acidic, mineral scent of the wine knocked Pedro back onto his ass. Oh yeah—good stuff, real good. Even the fumes coming off it made Pedro’s sinuses tingle. Not a sliver of worry that he’d wind up puking his guts out; this stuff was more than vampire-safe. It was golden. Literally.

  “Hmm.” Pedro shivered.

  “Smells good, huh?” Leo raised up the ladle like he’d won an Oscar.

  Pedro took it, scooping up enough to fill the tin cup and running it through the coarse sieve. Plenty of sediment passed through—this wine was meant to be drunk with chunks, which typically didn’t agree with a vampire.

  “Salud.” Pedro gripped the cup in shaking hands.

  Leo tapped his knuckles against it in a toast.

  Drawing the cup nearer to his face, Pedro inhaled deeply. Its powerful aroma sent more twitches and shudders through him, like an addict jonesing for a hit. Pedro’s brain swam inside his skull and he wobbled.

  “Whoa, big guy, maybe you should sit down.”

  Pedro slid along the rough wooden wall, acquiring a few sharp splinters through his shirt on the way, but his skin was already expelling them. Steadier with the solid floor beneath him, he raised the cup to his lips again and let a trickle of the deep purple liquid flow into his mouth. On one level, it tasted unremarkable. The kind of wine folks made in their cellars—simple and richly tanic. Its acids might not mellow in a hundred years. However, on the sensitive level of his tongue, the soft skin of his palate, and the insides of his cheeks, the wine coated his mouth like warm honey, not sweet, but sharply, intensely potent. And hot, very hot.

  He gazed upward and honed in on a knotty beam in the ceiling, focusing to steady himself. He took another sip; the beam vanished into darkness, and gravity went wonky.

  Power rushed through him, his hunger sated in an instant.

  Leo gripped his shoulders and righted him. “Whoa. Are you still with me? Your eyes rolled all the way up.” He unlatched Pedro’s fingers from around the cup.

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “So I have a question for you. If the Hunters and the vampires were all peace, love, and understanding before the war, why did they start making their magic wine?”

  Chapter 39

  UTA’S MIND CAME AWAKE in a bright flash of consciousness. Her body remained paralyzed, her limbs lifeless. Breaths required immense effort, as if a great weight lay atop her chest. Her nose filled with the rich salty smell of the Adriatic, a scent which somehow clung to Bel always.

  She opened her eyes, dry and gummy from sedation, and raised her head off the pillow. A single candle flickered across the room. His big head lay heavy on her breast. His hot breath blew over her chest, and his black curls nearly tickled her nose. She moved to run her fingers through them, but her hands were bound.

  Bound? What a sheep-brained idea—

  She could snap free in an instant, but instead she wriggled, testing her range of movement. Pulled overhead at an unnatural angle, her shoulders cried out with a stiff, but not entirely unpleasant ache.

  Maybe these bonds weren’t such a stupid plan after all.

  He shifted in his sleep, emitting a low groan, and pulled her closer with both arms encircling her ribcage. She became aware of his thick leg thrown over hers, his pelvis cradling her right hip, and against her thigh his cock pressed, half erect.

  No, not a stupid plan at all. She smiled down at the crown of his head with pride, understanding his intentions. His arms and legs held her, and his desire manacled her, but his willingness was the ultimate restraint. He offered himself as an incentive for her to live.

  She’d begged him for freedom, and promised his own.

  But he chose her instead.

  Her arms stung with the need to embrace him. But the elegance of the position had too much potential. If he needed to be her equal, to trust she would not try to dominate him, she could play along with the bonds. She attempted to slide her heels on the bedspread. They responded sluggishly. The sedative’s effects were wearing off.

  Gently, she jutted her hip into that flat plane between his navel and his cock. “Bel,” she whispered.

  “Hmm?” he grunted.

  The raw, unguarded syllable pierced her heart. It had been so long since she’d lain alongside a male, and even longer since one had slept in her arms. She’d forgotten the way sleep turned them into big children.

  “Bel, thank you.”

  The black fringe of his lashes fluttered. She expected him to pull away, either in confusion or maybe even revulsion at the choice he’d made to save her. Instead, he rolled fully atop her, pushing up on his palms so his face hovered inches above hers.

  “I’m ready now, to try.” His green eyes shone with emotions, and she sensed them across their bond so clearly she could taste them. Love and longing and fear and lingering reservations, but all offered to her in good faith, which made her intentions all the more cruel.

  She would take what he was offering just the once. How could she refuse, after so long? But they were doomed to fail, just like everything she attempted. From the days she allowed the Romans to colonize her people, to Loki’s death today, it was clear she could not be trusted to protect what belonged to her, and so she had to set Bel free.

  His handsome black brow furrowed, warning her he sensed her ambivalence. So she boxed up her grief and slammed the lid.

  “My love, I have waited so long for you.” She lifted her head and pressed their lips together in a bruising kiss.

  “Ah, ah,” he scolded, backing off. “We will do this slow, and right.”

  His words, his command melted her—with him, for now, she did not have to be queen, warrior, protector. She would just be his. He pulled his shirt over his head without artifice, as if he didn’t know what the sight of his body would do to her.

  She bit her lip. Of all the males she’d seen in her thousands of years, he was the perfect specimen. The hulking rounds of his shoulders, tapering into thick biceps, the broad an
d powerful chest, dusted with dark hair. Olive skin, slightly fairer than his father’s, as if he’d been born immune to sunlight. So much the image of Andre, and yet Bel was the only one she desired.

  He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off along with whatever he wore underneath, exposing his full, naked beauty to her. He stood fully erect, but frozen, seeming to wait for her. A niggle of his doubt slithered inside of her—a youthful self-consciousness. Though he’d enjoyed the attention of countless women, this glorious male feared she might find him wanting.

  “Bel. You are perfect. The most desirable male I have ever seen. I knew you would be, and I have long feared the power you would have over me.”

  His chin lifted and his mouth spread into a rare, wide smile. He shook his head. “A female as old as you would know how to flatter.”

  “True. I know the words males like to hear, but all you must do is open yourself to my feelings, and you will know I speak the truth.”

  He rested his big hands on his lean hips, affecting a playful posture—hiding behind it, she knew—while he tested their connection. His splendid chest rose and fell, and she drank him in, the trail of black hair tempting her gaze from his chest to his erection, a proud, dusky thing, both thick and long. Her mouth watered at the memory of tasting it.

  He groaned. “Shite, Uta, it’s the same for me.” He rubbed his palms over his head, one after the other, making his chest even wider as his muscles flexed. “But doesn’t it bother you that you didn’t choose me, or this?”

  She had to tell him the truth. In the days that followed, these words might make him hate her even more, but she owed them to him, and maybe, in a thousand years, they would ring sweet in his ears.

  “Everything about you pleases me, Bel. Your mind, your brave heart, your companionability. To me, every female who is not fighting to win you is a fool. Maybe it would have been otherwise, without this bond. We cannot know. But you are the one I want, and I cannot find a single flaw with you, even when you drive me insane with your stubbornness.”