Fatal Harmony (The Vein Chronicles Book 1)

by Anne Malcom

  His eyes blazed but he didn’t respond.

  I clicked my fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Buffy,” I snapped. “Can you let me know you won’t go blabbing like a sorority girl with a secret so I can make sure I don’t have to rip your tongue out in the near future?”

  “I won’t tell anyone, Isla,” he promised, though his eyes promised more than that.

  I stared into them for a fleeting amount of time that was still too long.

  Luckily the burning in my throat became too confronting to ignore. “Great. Now I’ve got to go. “

  Thorne clutched my arms the second the words left my mouth. My muscles screamed out in both protest and ecstasy with the grip. My brain idly puzzled over the inhuman strength behind it. “What the fuck, Isla? You’re not going anywhere. Not until you tell me exactly what the fuck is going on to make so many people try and take you from this earth,” he commanded.

  His heart was no longer a steady cadence as it had been before, as it was when he was battling off a horde of bloodthirsty abominations intent on ending him. No, it started to thunder the second he placed his hands on me.

  I met his eyes, though his neck tempted me to gaze upon the pulse. I didn’t. If I did, it was all over.

  “That’s just my life,” I said tightly. “Granted, it’s slightly more exciting than usual, but it’s my business. Not yours. And you’ll likely get dead if you continue to try and fight in a war that will swallow you in the abyss before it even starts.”

  His hands flexed. “So it is a war,” he murmured.

  I stayed silent.

  “Between vampires?” he probed.

  I eyed him. “Oh darling, it’s much bigger than that. Too big for you.”

  He moved so his body brushed mine. “And yet here I am. Because you’re in the middle of it, getting your throat ripped out and your blood boiled when you seem like the last person to be a soldier.”

  I jutted my chin up. “You’re right. I’m not a person. I’m a vampire. The soulless creature you’re destined to kill, remember?” I opened my mouth so my fangs elongated, the pull to his throat almost too hard to ignore. His eyes were my anchor.

  “This has nothing to do with you,” I continued coldly.

  His eyes darkened. “It has to do with you, which means it has everything to do with me.”

  I couldn’t handle it anymore. The thundering heartbeat, the overwhelming desire to commit what was tantamount to suicide just to get a taste of Thorne. Mostly I couldn’t handle what he was implying.

  Us.

  I found my strength and placed two hands on his chest before I pushed him savagely so he all but flew across the room, landing solidly on the wall across from us. Plaster rained down on him from the force of the impact but he stayed upright.

  I sauntered forward with a carefully blank look on my face as he wiped the blood from his forehead. All my strength went from remaining impassive and cold to fighting the inferno that his blood offered.

  He stared at me, fists at his sides.

  “You need to stay away from me,” I warned him. “From this war. Because I promise you, if vampires on the other side of this don’t kill you for getting involved, then I will.” My voice was firm. An outsider would have noted the strength in that promise.

  I wanted to believe it was true, yet I knew I’d likely sink my fangs into his neck and drink my death before I’d give him his.

  It was a long moment before he spoke. Long enough for me to leave and do the smart thing.

  The smartest thing would have been to kill him. Unable to do that, I should have left. I did neither. Merely waited while the sand in the hourglass trickled past.

  “You want to lose your humanity because it’s all getting just a little too real, fine.” His eyes seared into mine. “But I’ll hold onto it for you, until you’re ready to find it again,” he promised.

  “You’ll be clutching that until your echoing heart stops beating, then,” I snapped coldly. “Humanity is a frightful side effect of mortality. And I don’t plan on embracing mortality any time soon. Which is where you and I differ. Mortality is inevitable for you, so you have to deal with that pesky humanity. Me? I can avoid mortality altogether and the pain and horrors that come with it. And death. That’s the big one I’m going to avoid. To avoid it, I avoid human attachments. Therefore, this”—I waved my hands between us—“needs to come to a conclusion.”

  “A conclusion?” he repeated, voice gruff.

  I nodded.

  He surged forward, his hands framing my face in a grip that I guessed might break a fragile human’s jaw.

  I was not a human. His touch was yet another reminder.

  “There is no fuckin’ conclusion to us,” he growled, his gaze tattooing my soul. “No end. Even death doesn’t signify the severing of this. Us. Nothing’s gonna do that, baby. Something as inconsequential as a visit from the grim reaper sure as shit isn’t gonna keep me from you. And we both know from living in this world that death is far from final.”

  I scowled at him, lifting my hand as if to caress his wrist holding mine, but instead exerting pressure to make him let go.

  “My death is far from final. Yours, on the other fang? Fatal.”

  On that, I finally found my sense and left.

  “Jeeves, never have I been happier to see you.” I gave him a blinding smile.

  He didn’t return it. “The body of the traitor?” he asked evenly, as if asking where I put the groceries.

  My grin didn’t flicker. I nodded to the trunk. “Careful not to dislodge his head from his shoulders. There’s only one tendon keeping it on. I may have got a little knife happy.” I winked at him. The liquid copper that Silver had injected in his system was technically enough to keep him paralyzed with gut-wrenching pain, but I was pissed at the time, so I took it out on him.

  I was generally more agreeable with a decent amount of blood in me. I’d had to spread out my breakfast across three different campers who’d stopped at a rest stop to consult a map. I’d quelled the burning in my throat and taken their map to find my way out to the city.

  I owed Silver a great big favor, considering he’d made it so that Earnshaw was in my trunk and I was able to leave Thorne’s isolated property in a whirl of dust. Though I did take a look around and deduced that the reason for the isolated location was because I was deep in slayer territory.

  I didn’t think on why the slayers hadn’t gone against my wishes and killed the vampire; that’s what they did, wasn’t it? I’d spent the entire hour-and-a-half drive back into the city managing not to think of Thorne. I wasn’t letting him invade my mind in the parking garage, in front of Jeeves no less.

  I worried he could scent my treasonous thoughts. He’d run directly to his king to let him know I’d bumped uglies with our one true enemy and I’d be dead before my head hit the ground.

  I kept my blinding smile. “I’m assuming Rick is upstairs, making himself at home?”

  Jeeves kept his even stare. “Your king gives you the privilege of his presence and something nearly unheard of, his patience,” he said, his voice the closest to a chastise that I’d ever heard.

  I couldn’t help but extend my smile. “What can I say, Jeeves? I’m worth waiting for.” I winked at him, then turned on my heel towards the elevator. The last thing I wanted to do was share an enclosed space with Jeeves, Earnshaw, and Jeeves’s disapproval of me.

  My prediction had been correct. Rick was in what I considered to be his normal spot as I walked into the apartment, splayed on my newest blood-red sofa—I figured it might not show blood stains as much—feet on my new coffee table, which was reinforced steel, not glass. He was clad in a suit that was no doubt tailored; the way it molded over every ridge of his body was nothing short of magic. There was a black shirt underneath, open at his throat. He was clean-shaven, making his scar all the more pronounced.

  “How’d you get that?” I greeted, feeling bold and suicidal, obviously.

  I’d done s
ome subtle digging, but no one knew about how the king got the scar.

  He quirked a brow. “My father,” he said without emotion. “Being a prince wasn’t what the idiotic masses of humans conceive it to be.”

  I nodded. “I don’t imagine it was.”

  Nothing else was said, though it didn’t need to be. The mere fact that he offered the information up so readily was gesture enough.

  “No need to dress up for little old me,” I said, changing the subject before walking to the bar. “You’re making me conscious of my state of undress.” I’d had little choice in what to wear, but luckily I kept a change of clothes in my car. Arriving reeking of a human slayer might not have been the best plan if I’d wanted to survive the night. Still, the only thing I could keep in my car and not have wrinkle was cashmere leggings and a white buttery cashmere jumper, which draped to midthigh. It was winter casual chic and contrasted with my milky skin and red hair, but not exactly what one wore to greet the king. Or anyone for that matter. I may have adapted to most of humanity’s changes, but this frightful trend of leaving the house in little more than loungewear had me murderous. Jeans made me positively homicidal.

  Except on Thorne.

  I could taste Rick’s hungry gaze as I poured my whiskey. My stomach fluttered, yet it didn’t respond as it had to—Nope, Isla. Shut up.

  Thorne didn’t exist for me. He couldn’t. Otherwise, he wouldn’t exist for anyone.

  I drained my glass without even turning.

  “I disagree. You do look rather fetching in all white,” he argued, his voice velvet. “Innocent and pure. Angelic.”

  I turned, quirking my brow at the practiced look of seduction on his face. “If I’m an angel, does that make you the devil?” I retorted.

  He was off the sofa and in front of me in mere seconds. “Oh no, Isla. I’m much more dangerous than that,” he promised.

  Why did that sound like a threat? He couldn’t read my mind, so I was safe.

  Plus, I had stopped by Sophie’s office on my way back into the city. Earnshaw’s memories of me and any slayers no longer existed.

  As did any lingering imprint of his scent on my skin. Sophie had raised more than a brow at that but luckily she read my face and didn’t offer any questions. Despite the magic that stole his scent, shadows of his touch lingered everywhere, tattooed on my mind. Sophie couldn’t get rid of that.

  Unfortunately.

  I’d just have to live with it. Or die with it, depending on how this all played out.

  I sipped my drink. “You certainly have as many enemies as the man downstairs,” I quipped, ignoring the threat and the liquid sex in his voice. “Though you’re down one vampire, a nasty witch and about a hundred humans they’d managed to turn into mindless vampires,” I added casually.

  His eyes turned glacial, all seduction gone from them. This was the king of all vampires in front of me, free of innuendo, and mercy. What remained was a coldhearted killer. You didn’t rule millions of monsters without becoming one yourself.

  It unnerved me, and though I was loath to admit it, scared me, as well. The wrath wasn’t even directed at me. All the more reason never to see Thorne again—certain death.

  Now why did pain knife through the cavity where my heart might be at that thought?

  “They succeeded in turning humans to vampires?” he asked, his voice low, yet it could have smashed the glass in my apartment if it weren’t shatterproof. I’d learned the hard way why that was necessary.

  I nodded in response. “They don’t have much brainpower apart from ‘attack’ and ‘serve thy sire’ modes,” I told him. “But strong enough to cause annoyance in a war, if it comes to that. Obviously they’d need serious numbers, which is a problem in itself.”

  A couple of humans going missing was one thing, but if they were intent on using them like I thought they were, it would amount to a small country. That wouldn’t exactly go unnoticed.

  “How did they do it?” he hissed. “Vampires have been trying and failing for centuries. Losing their heads for doing so.”

  I shrugged. “Sorry, above my pay grade.” I realized that Thorne hadn’t given me the lowdown on what Silver found with the ones he’d dissected and just hoped that vampire scientists could figure it out. If we couldn’t do what humans could, then we deserved to go extinct.

  As if on cue, Jeeves walked in with Earnshaw’s body hoisted over his shoulder. “But here is the person who can describe in great detail the process he used to create these abominations at the same time as committing treason.” I held out my hand. “I’m sure you and your minions have powers of persuasion. I’ll leave that up to you.” I held up my maroon nails. “Manicure means I have to give up torture for now, though it is one of my favorite pastimes.”

  Even in his fury, the corner of Rick’s mouth twitched.

  I moved my gaze. “Can you watch where you’re holding him?” I asked. “He’s dripping all over my favorite rug.” I glared at Rick. “Why is it that, since you’ve come into my life, bloodstains have appeared on all my favorite things?”

  Rick gave me a look. “Because the best things always come covered in blood.”

  I was going to just let that one fly right over my head.

  “What would you like me to do with him, sire?” Jeeves asked, pointedly ignoring me.

  He wouldn’t when I ripped his hands off for being such a twat.

  “Take him home, Sven,” Rick said. He glanced at me. “I don’t have minions to do the torturing. I do it all myself. Not only am I the best at inflicting pain, but it’s a deterrent for those who think of crossing me. Even the most callous of my men have mercy.” He gave me a pointed look. “I do not.”

  Again the unspoken threat had me uneasy. Did I have a ‘I let a slayer fuck me senseless and we have an unnatural connection’ sign plastered on my head?

  “Well my work here is done,” I said instead. “I’ll be taking my retirement now. Do I get a gold watch and a pension?”

  I’d have to find another way to get my parents in the ground; this little assignment was more than likely going to get me tasting the grave if I didn’t stop. I couldn’t even decide to take an extended holiday since I knew my parents would be waiting for that.

  Rick glanced at me. “You’re not done,” he told me.

  I stared at him. “I’m not done?” I repeated. “I found you a solid lead about how this faction is gaining traction, and almost died—” I paused to mentally calculate. “—three times in the process. I’m done.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve proved gifted, getting results not even my most trusted soldiers have been able to boast.”

  “It’s all just dumb luck,” I argued. “It’s only a matter of time before one of the many, many attempts on my life is successful. Your health benefits suck too.”

  “You can handle it,” he countered.

  “The witch who almost killed me would beg to differ,” I shot back, folding my arms.

  His face changed, only slightly but it was palpable. “Witch?”

  I nodded. “A nasty one too. Why didn’t the idiots at Salem catch her?” I screwed up my nose. “Beetlejuice or something was her name.”

  Ice filled the room. “Belladonna?” he corrected in a rough voice.

  I pointed at him. “Yep. That’s it. What is that? The name of a cheap bottle of wine?”

  He didn’t find me funny. “No,” he murmured eyes faraway. “The name of a witch in an ancient sect thought to be banished from this world. Locked away in the last of the wars.”

  I raised my brow. “There’s more of her?” I asked, not relishing the thought of meeting any other witches like her.

  He nodded once. “She is but the weakest of them.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “She was powerful enough to give me a permanent dislike for the bitches with pointy hats.” That didn’t include Sophie, obviously. She had much better taste in headwear. But it was better for the king not to know I had a witch on my side.


  Whatever side that was.

  He was pensive for a long while, considering my words as I considered his. It didn’t bode well that some witches banished by their own kind in alliance with vampires had broken out of their cage. Not well at all.

  Rick emerged from his own head around the same time I did.

  His expression stayed the same, yet his eyes traveled down my body with concern. “That’s why you haven’t been in contact for a week?” he deduced.

  I nodded. “Required a small catnap to recharge the batteries.”

  His eyes searched my face. “Yet you did not engage in laevisomnus here,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Too much foot traffic.”

  His emerald eyes glistened. “May I enquire as to the location of your slumber?”

  I quirked my brow. “Not on your undeath.”

  Another shadow of a grin. “I would offer my quarters for guaranteed safety. If you so wished.”

  I walked to the bar. “Safety is an illusion. And I’m guessing residing anywhere near the king the mad vampires and witches are plotting to overthrow is the furthest thing from that.”

  His hand gripped my wrist before I could pour my drink. “I can protect you, Isla,” he promised, his voice thick.

  I glanced up to him. “I don’t need a male to protect me. In fact, it seems of late that I’ve been the protector.” I gave him a pointed look to remind him of the Majestic and all the behind-the-scenes work I’d been doing. I didn’t mention the behind-the-scenes work saving slayers, though this double-agent business was getting exhausting. Furthermore, I didn’t even know which side I was loyal to anymore. “I’ll take a pass,” I said finally, ripping myself from his grasp.

  “I realize this task has become somewhat of an annoyance,” he began.

  I raised my brow at him. “Annoyance? No, an annoyance is my hair getting stuck in my lip gloss on a windy day. This”—I waved my hand around the room—“is a fucking catastrophe. A tsunami you’ve brought into my life, set about destroying everything, and then trying to convince me it’s just a little wave. You’re delusional if you think I’m going to do any more of this shit. Delusional in the bad way, not the hot kind of crazy that makes me all tingly with the hotness of unbridled, carnal insanity. No, the kind that requires medication or euthanasia,” I ranted.