Fatal Harmony (The Vein Chronicles Book 1)

by Anne Malcom

  The air around Thorne seemed to ripple. “He’s the one who handled you while unconscious?” he growled, gripping his knife.

  Duncan grinned. “Possessive one, isn’t he?” he asked me playfully. “That means this isn’t just a fuck. I forgot how utterly exciting it is with you around, Isla. You make the French Revolution seem like a night at the library.” He focused on Thorne when I scowled at him. “Wasn’t me who tangled with her unconscious and bloodstained body, though I would have, given the chance. Not that the king would let me. He was too busy making sure she didn’t die.” He gave him a hard look. “Which I think is more important considering she came pretty fuckin’ close to it.”

  Thorne stiffened. It was at the sound of how close I was to death, I was sure, but I didn’t miss the way his body visibly flinched at the mention of the king.

  I guessed sleeping with one vampire was one thing when you’d dedicated your life to killing them. Sleeping with a vampire who let the king of the undead race see her naked must have been where he drew the line.

  “Let’s not bore him with the details, Dunc,” I gritted out.

  Duncan nodded. “Your wish is my command, my lady. Though I do approve of any form of rule breaking, and I’d follow you through the gates of heaven itself, I gotta ask, you sure about this?” He nodded to Thorne.

  I gave Duncan a look.

  He nodded. “So you know how forbidden this is?”

  Another look. “Why do you think I’m doing it?”

  He laughed, genuinely and long. “Let’s just make sure you don’t let anyone but me know about it.” His grin was gone as quickly as it came. “’Cause even with the king being intent on getting into the panties that you never seem to wear, he won’t hesitate to execute you once he finds out a slayer gets there first.”

  His words were a cool echo of my earlier thoughts. I didn’t worry about Duncan blabbing; I knew enough of his secrets to have him in a dungeon for the rest of his life. Plus, I trusted him with my life. Two of the three people who had that trust were in that room.

  I didn’t know where Sophie was, though I hoped she was safe.

  Thorne was gone from my side, his blade at Duncan’s neck.

  “You talk about having her executed again, it’ll be the last words you utter,” Thorne hissed.

  Duncan raised his arm to take another sip. The movement had the blade scoring his skin. He didn’t even blink.

  “Happy to see you care about her enough to be suicidal,” he said, his voice low but dangerous. “One thing you should learn about me is that I’ve known your girl here since before your grandfather fucked yer grandmammy, so you don’t get to defend her honor.” He grinned at me. “If she had any left, she’d be the one who did the protecting. She doesn’t need an overly sensitive slayer or a disgustingly attractive vampire doing either one. But I will protect her neck. Which is why I’m here, and why you’re not a pile of blood and guts on the floor. You’d do well to remember that.”

  The promise of death hung in the air as neither man moved. I regarded the blood under my fingernails in distaste.

  Thorne leaned back, lowering the knife and stepping back. Not back to me, though; I noted the distance he kept between us with his face blank.

  I straightened my shoulders, questioning why the sting of that small gesture hurt more than the flaying of my skin earlier that night.

  “You’re here for a reason, I presume?” I asked Duncan tightly.

  He nodded. “Mainly to get away from all the bureaucratic assholes descending on the mansion.” He gave me a calculated look. “The Sector was arriving just as I left.”

  I paced the room. “Yes, well, things are escalating. Of course the suits will get involved.”

  “As if they’re not already involved.”

  I stopped and stared at Duncan. “Three hours ago, you didn’t know the extent of the war. I think the word ‘mosquito’ was used. Now you’re insinuating that the Sector is involved in overthrowing the king?”

  He nodded and grinned. “I catch on quick.”

  I stared at him. “Not that quick.”

  He sighed. “Okay, so I may have visited an old bedmate of mine, and after being thoroughly satisfied, like I imagine you have been”—he winked at me and Thorne growled—“I managed to find out that the Sector has been having some regime changes implemented by our friend the king, who has them brassed off, to say the least.”

  I frowned. “Regime changes?” It was fair to say I didn’t keep up with the rules; since I didn’t follow them, what was the point? And they hadn’t changed in thousands of years. Until now.

  “Ones that threaten the carte blanche vampires have had over human life, or more aptly human death,” Duncan explained. “They’ve been controversial.”

  “I bet they have,” I muttered.

  “It was the catalyst for an already unstable political climate. Some don’t like the idea of blood being the only thing that gives someone authority.”

  I scoffed. “Can they wake up and smell the O-neg? Blood is the foundation of everything. The religious ones believe the blood that runs through Rick’s veins is that of the original family, the first vampires. Of Ambrogio himself.”

  I didn’t add that I had firsthand experience. The king’s death threat echoed in my mind, but it was the threat of Thorne’s fury that I’d shared a human with the king that stopped me.

  “Veins can lie. And be drained.”

  I gave Duncan a look. “That they can.”

  Thorne’s aura glittered around him. It didn’t escape my notice that it seemed the stronger my feelings got for him the more I could see him, the twisting of his emotions becoming separate to the man himself.

  I didn’t need to be a witch to know that spelled danger.

  “I need to be filled in on this shit, now,” he growled.

  Duncan drained his glass. “No, I don’t think who you’re fucking dictates you knowing anything,” he replied, the harshness of his tone mingling with his brogue.

  Thorne stepped forward at the same time as I did. I put my hand on his chest. “I know I gouged your buddy’s eye out not an hour ago, but could I ask you to not try the same with Duncan?” I asked. “I’ve had about enough death matches in my living room.”

  Thorne glared at me, then Duncan. But he didn’t lunge. I was calling that a win.

  “You fought off an army of arseholes while seducing them at the same time, defeated death, disobeyed the king, de-eyed a slayer and then fucked one?” Duncan let out a low whistle. “I forgot just how magnificent you are, lassie. Good thing I’m stickin’ around. Won’t likely be bored.”

  “You’re sticking around?” My hands were still on Thorne’s chest, which had stiffened even more at Duncan’s words.

  Duncan nodded once. “The king himself is paying a pretty penny for my services.”

  I gaped at him. “You’re staying because you’re getting paid, not because of the war that may change the course of our race?”

  He grinned, then stood. “I’m a mercenary, darlin’. War’s when I make my fortune. I’d be an idiot not to capitalize on the biggest one this side of the millennia.” He straightened his bloodstained suit. “Though I’ll bet one lucky slayer is gettin’ his share of the riches from this one. I’m gonna be going now, procure myself a permanent residence for the foreseeable future. I’ll also get rid of any guards the king has seen fit to post after you lost them earlier.” His face lost a bit of the teasing glint, the seriousness of his features aging his attractive face and showing the horrors of centuries that he hid remarkably well. “I’m not likely to be tellin’ anyone ’bout this, you can trust that. But even someone as crazy as you wouldn’t break this particular rule if she didn’t think death was worth riskin’.” He gave Thorne a long stare. “Mortals take such things as risking death lightly because, for them, it’s a risk getting into an automobile. But listen to me now, lad. Immortals do not take on such things like feeble humans do. What she’s riskin’ for you is centuri
es lived and centuries yet to live. You best realize that.”

  And then he was gone.

  The weight of his words joined the already heavy room.

  My hand remained over Thorne’s heart, the steady thump chasing away the taste of death that still lingered. After a few beats, his own scarred hand lifted up to cover mine.

  “Just to be clear, I’m not plannin’ on letting you get anywhere fuckin’ near that grave. Ever.”

  I met his eyes. “Ditto.”

  The grave did not cater to such pious emotions as love, nor listen to promises whispered on the eve of the battle.

  The grave came for everyone.

  Even immortals.

  Especially immortals if they happened to be star-crossed lovers.

  Two Months later

  I WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR and stopped, tilting my head. “Well, that’s one way to greet a visitor,” I said to the men wielding knives and looking all murdery. I focused on one in particular. He wasn’t holding a knife and was standing slightly removed from the mob, arms crossed over his impressive chest. He didn’t much look like he’d be stepping in.

  “You’re not a visitor,” the pimply faced one closest to me spat, shaking his knife at me. “You’re a monster.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Kid, you gonna wave that thing around, make sure you know how to use it.” I stepped forward so the tip of the steel pressed against my chest. “Oh, and that goes for the knife too,” I purred.

  He scuttled back so he hit his other friend’s knife, yelping as it pricked his skin.

  I smirked at the fiasco and my eyes met Thorne’s. I swear to Chanel, his eyes glistened with amusement, though he was doing his best to hide it in front of his little class, of course. They knew I was coming to train them so their deaths weren’t guaranteed in the coming battles, but they were yet to find out I was sleeping with their leader.

  That might make one of their little sparrow hearts give out. No one, save Thorne and perhaps his best friend Silver, knew our alliance was something more than a weary peace treaty.

  Not even the ominous council that I was yet to meet. Slayers operated in factions, each with their own leader. Thorne was in charge of the New York group and had commanded their silence over being trained by me. So far, the vampire had stayed in the bag, though I didn’t know how that would last with the latest group. I had trained with everyone in his unit first. Only broke a few bones, the rest were bruises. Most of them took their injuries fairly well—apart from Erik, of course, who refused to partake.

  Somehow, Thorne had managed to keep the eye incident from the council and had made it so only about a quarter of the slayers I’d trained looked at me with unbridled hatred, kind of like these. But that didn’t mean all was forgiven. It most likely meant Erik was biding his time. I warned Thorne that he was likely to betray him before the month was out.

  Thorne had given me an even look. “He’s an asshole, but he’s been with my unit for nigh on half a century.”

  I’d given him another look. “Vampires betray allies they’ve had for millennia. Time means nothing.”

  “We’re not vampires.”

  I’d let him have that one but was still wary about Erik.

  Thorne was part of some elite bloodline of slayers gifted with extended life spans in order to have some semblance of an even ground with vampires. Yet another thing he was loath to explain. It had been a sticking point but we didn’t exactly have time to hash it out, what with all the raids on enemy camps I’d been partaking in with Sophie tagging along for fun.

  It’d been quiet.

  Unnervingly quiet. The kind of quiet that followed a dragon sucking in a large breath before it breathed fire all over the place.

  Not good.

  But that was for another time. Now I had to worry about trying to train the latest and freshest batch of slayers.

  My eyes darted back to where Pizza Face was shaking and frantically dabbing at the tiny droplets of blood coming from his arm. His friend waved the knife at me. “Back, she-devil,” he cried.

  I gracefully dodged one of his swipes, checking my phone as I did. He did it a second time and I snatched his wrist, exerting enough pressure for him to let out a yelp similar to his friend’s. When he dropped the knife, I caught it in my other hand. “I’ll take this for now. We don’t want you cutting yourself, do we?”

  I glanced back at him. “Seriously? What is this, slayer preschool? No wonder you guys are going extinct.”

  He stepped forward, snatching the knife from Pizza Boy. In one lithe movement he had it against my neck. I grinned at him. “Touché.”

  In another, arguably lither movement, I had my own knife against his jugular. “Who do you think has a faster wrist? Fumbling human slayer barely out of diapers or kickass, beautiful and experienced vampire?”

  “Experienced is a nice euphemism for old,” he rasped.

  I exerted just a little more pressure, enough to give him a close shave. “You want to throw around dangerous words like that in front of the woman with a knife to your neck?” I asked, my voice sweet.

  His eyes were quicksilver. “I live on the edge.”

  I grinned at him, lowering my knife. “Good thing I’m feeling forgiving today.”

  He lowered his own. “Good thing.”

  We shared a quick look before he turned back to the group.

  “Isla is here to help us. Train you against attacks that you’ll be seeing in the field. I’ll be having words with anyone who tries to insult the fact that she’s here.” His voice was hard.

  “And I’ll be having more than words with that same person,” I promised on a wink.

  Thorne’s eyes stayed blank, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

  I rolled on my heels. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “You think we’ve got a chance?” Chace asked, sipping his beer.

  I glanced at him from my position on the sofa. “A chance at what? Winning American Idol?” I shook my head. “Sorry, you just can’t hit those high notes.”

  He grinned at me before his naturally carefree face turned serious. “To make a difference in this war.”

  I sipped my wine, glancing to Thorne who was at the other end of the sofa, watching me, hands around his own beer. I let myself slip into a slight daydream about what those hands might do to me later.

  I snapped out of it. “No, you don’t have a chance at making a difference. But you’ve got a chance at not dying. So that’s always good.”

  Thorne glared at me.

  “What? I’m just being honest with the kid,” I defended. “I’ve helped where I can, but even I’m not a miracle worker.”

  Though Thorne himself might be handy in a fight. He had the strength and speed of at least a half breed. Scott had helped out with sparring more than a couple of times, and Thorne bested him easily.

  But that was Scott. It didn’t count.

  We’d sparred in the comfort of this abandoned warehouse-turned-practice space, but every single time it turned to sex.

  Jury was out on who ‘won.’

  Another glance at Thorne and the way his veins pulsed in his forearms told me maybe I did.

  “Isn’t it hard?” Chace cut in.

  I grinned at him. “That’s what she said.”

  Thorne shook his head. “You have the maturity of a twelve-year-old,” he observed.

  I sipped my wine. “Thank you.” I looked to Chace, who was chuckling. “Apart from the obvious, is what hard?”

  He kept his eyes on me. “Having sex with Thorne and not… you know, biting him.”

  Thorne, who had at that moment been taking a sip of his beer, nearly choked on it.

  His spluttering filled the air until he steadied himself. I grinned. No one could take him by surprise, not even me.

  “What are you talking about?” Thorne rasped.

  Chace rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s totally obvious.” He waggled his eyes between the two of us like a schoolgirl.
>
  “Is it?” I asked, slightly disappointed. “There goes my Oscar nod. And I thought I’d been doing such a good job.”

  We had. Thorne had been all business around his slayer crew, the odd swirl in his eyes the only sign that there was something below the surface. I’d been the same. I had four hundred years of practice in my poker face. It upset me a child could see through it.

  Chace grinned at me. “Well, I doubt anyone else has noticed,” he relented. “Apart from Silver, obviously. But I’m observant.” He gave Thorne a look. “And can keep a secret, so don’t worry.”

  “Good,” I said cheerfully. “I’d hate to snap your neck if you decided to sell this one to the tabloids.”

  Thorne glared at me.

  I shrugged.

  “I’ll take it to the grave,” Chace promised.

  I sipped my wine. “We can only hope. And with the way this war is shaping up, that might not be too far away.”

  He didn’t seem perturbed by his upcoming death. “So?” he probed.

  “So what?”

  “Is it hard not to bite him during sex? ’Cause, you know, his blood will kill you and all.”

  Thorne bristled and growled in his throat.

  “Down, boy.” I waved my hand at him. “I am somewhat aware that slayer blood is fatal, Chace,” I told him dryly. “Let me ask you, considering someone’s popped your cherry and had the most magical fifteen seconds of their life. Do you crave a cheeseburger when you’re doing the horizontal tango?”

  His face stayed blank and he shook his head slowly. Amusement rolled off him in waves. As with Thorne, though it was liberally sprinkled with fury. And lust.

  I wasn’t being entirely truthful. Though I snacked on the regular with psychos Scott and Lewis found, I was never sated. In fact, as of late it had been harder to even dull the burn in my throat. My body had a permanent chill to it, different than what was natural, and that only subsided when I was with Thorne. It settled in my stomach, like the pull of the grave. Troubling. The broken ribs I’d sustained after Thorne had been deliciously rough the previous night had only just healed that morning, and during training with the baby slayers they had smarted.