The Blood Bride (Blood Secrets)

by Nix, Imogene

  He averted his eyes, dealing with some emotion that caused him pain. “Hope… In such a short time you have become…important to me.” He turned back to her. “I don’t understand how this has happened, but I need you as much as I need blood and oxygen. I will not lose you.” The words were forced out, and she saw that he hated admitting this weakness.

  Xavier’s gaze dropped and he plucked idly at the covers on the bed. Her chest tightened when she saw his discomfort.

  Emotions she had tried vainly to ignore reared their heads. “Xavier… I don’t know what is happening either. I’m kind of lost here too.” Her words were thoughtful and he leant forward.

  The touch of his lips upon hers was soft. Emotion swelled and she waited for him to move away, but he didn’t. “Stay with me?” The words were out before she could call them back.

  He nodded at her in the silence. “I’ll stay, but I need to have a quick shower soon. I haven’t had a chance yet.”

  She looked down, and noticed she was in a bra and briefs. The cute, sexy red set she had pulled on earlier. He smiled at her when she wordlessly asked him with her eyes. “I thought you would be more comfortable.” With that he winked then turned, soundlessly walking towards the bathroom, but she noted he left the door open.

  Sounds of running water lulled her back towards the call of sleep. She let herself go.

  * * * *

  The dream crept through the night, filling her with a cold sensation as the sepia-toned scene appeared before her. She watched the movements. The fire and a child removed from the house. She knew the child was her. Her stomach churned, as it changed to the room where Cressida had found her, cold on the cot in the empty room, still as a statue.

  Then Xavier. She saw him dressed in old-fashioned clothing, with laced ruff at his wrists. His speech so different, but his dear face the same. Another man. Tall and blond—a foil against the dark-haired man who’d caught her attention. There was something wrong with this man, though. Something in his eyes was cold—so cold.

  She needed to warn Xavier, but he looked through her. She put a hand out to touch him, but instead of solid muscle, she touched empty air and she heard a keening sound, knowing dimly that this was her voice.

  The scene changed again. A car then smoke. A face watching and laughing in the shadows. Blond hair again. He had orchestrated and viewed the action. Once more the scene changed, a building and a gun raised, but before a shot could be fired on the three forms, more came from within the grey mist.

  The building was tall. She knew without conscious thought that she had seen it before. A wisp of smoke escaping, an explosion and it was gone. It collapsed, billowing smoke filled the air, as the rain of paper and debris fell to the ground and she could see bodies strewn everywhere. The hideous, grisly sight made her feel sick. There on the ground, dead, was Xavier. Blood seeped onto the ground beneath him, and she ran to him. She wanted to scream her despair, but she couldn’t. Someone grabbed her. The laughing man held her, mocking her—and them.

  It was Estersham. She was sure. She turned—

  “Wake up, Hope. It’s just a dream.” She was held in a strong grip. Xavier restrained her gently, as she woke from the nightmare. Sobbing. Hope sucked deep desperate breaths in, filling her lungs. She shivered as the cold of the dream still held her in its awful grip.

  “Nooo…” She wrapped her hands around him, turning a little, awkwardly and painfully. “He won’t take you. I can’t let him.” Her broken words filled the quiet room.

  “Who, Hope? Who won’t take me?” She snuggled awkwardly, trying to exact more warmth for her chilled body. Xavier was her rock. Xavier was her anchor in this new world, where she was lost and alone.

  “Him. Estersham.” She snuffled and hiccupped in his arms. The bare skin of his chest under her head, as he rubbed gently, warmth flowing back into aching limbs. “He wants you dead. I saw it. Blood. On the ground. You were dead.” She felt the scalding tears again, rolling down her face, dripping onto his chest, where they pooled. She knew the words made no real sense. She needed to clear her mind, but the fear held her in its desperate grip.

  He continued to rub her back while she settled. “Do you want a drink? I can get you a bottle of water if that will help.” His quiet words calmed her. The storm inside her started to abate. She hadn’t had an episode this strong in so long. Usually, it was something less important.

  Her premonitions, though she shied from that label, usually warned of an accident that led to broken bones or a lost pet. Occasionally they were about more important aspects, such as the passing of an elder. Tonight, though, she knew it was a warning. That it could have been a premonition scared her.

  Different. This time she had seen the muted grey tones of times past then the future. She knew it instinctively.

  “Yeah, just water. Thanks.” She waited while he slipped out of the bed, his nude body dappled in the shaded light of the lamps. The muscles of his back rippled, and she lay back. Something about Xavier sang to her, on every level. She cared deeply already. She really didn’t want to, but she did.

  He returned, twisted the cap off the water and climbed into the bed before he handed it over. He watched as she drank deeply, sating the thirst that now raged within. The after-effects of the strong emotions left her wrung out like a dirty dishrag.

  “Now you need sleep. I’ll hold you and keep the nightmares at bay.” His words lulled her as he pulled the bottle from her hands, tucking her into the bedding comfortably. She wouldn’t sleep, she was sure. Even with the thought, the heat in the air sapped her energy as efficiently as the nightmare. Thank God for air conditioning. The last inane thought fled as she closed her eyes, trusting Xavier as sleep reclaimed her.

  He followed her with his eyes. Her bruised and battered face glowed white in the dim light, as she rested. The nightmare had exhausted her resources. Being brutally honest with himself, it had given him a fright too. Her thrashing had woken him, and when she’d cried out, he’d wished it was possible to fight the demons in her mind. But he wasn’t gifted with that sort of ability. When she had cried, he had wanted to crush the thing that caused her distress. Distress was almost too mild a word, though.

  The previous night had reminded him just how fragile a human was. It was only when the nest doctor had pronounced her broken leg the worst of her injuries that he had relaxed. Javed had been injured too, but his sleep would heal him when combined with his recent feeding.

  Christophe had been lost to the nest, as had the others from the vehicle detail. All up, the loss was five good guardians. It was a low point of his Mastership, but one they would avenge. In the coming evening they would hold a memorial for their lost warriors, but for the moment, his focus was firmly on Hope.

  He reached for the cellphone. Cressida had said to ring if she experienced nightmares. He’d thought it overkill. Now he realised they were precognitive events.

  He tapped on the screen, and it immediately went to voicemail. He left a short message, looked at the phone and turned it off. No sense having it ring and wake her. She would wake soon enough.

  Xavier reached over, placed the device on the bedside table and curled around Hope, noting that she no longer shivered. Her skin had been icy cold when she had woken, but he still pulled the covers more firmly over both their bodies. He lay still, listening to the quiet sound of her breathing and watching the ceiling. Then he let the silence eventually lull him back to sleep.

  * * * *

  The sound of voices woke her. Grogginess weighed her limbs and mind down as she fought through the layers of sleep. “Who is it?” Her slurred demand must have caught whoever it was, because they stopped.

  “You’re awake. Good.” Cressida’s voice filled the air. “How are you feeling?” The genuine concern in her voice filtered through the sleepiness that fogged her brain.

  Hope levered up on one arm, realising she was still in the bra and panties Xavier had left her in from the night before. She grabbed at the sheet, ha
uling it up over her chest, feeling awfully exposed. “I’ve seen better days, but I’ll live, thanks.”

  “That’s good.” Hope watched as Cressida walked around in a circle, as if unsure where to begin. Finally she stopped and looked squarely at Hope. “Xavier told me you had a dream. Can you tell me what happened in it?” Cressida’s face was kind, but it didn’t soften the blow.

  “Why?” The strangled word escaped tight lips. “No. I really don’t want to talk about it.” A bubble of fear grew in her chest. I don’t want to think about this. Please don’t make me relive it. But even as the thought grew, she knew she would have to tell.

  “It really is important. You know that. And if we know what you saw, we might be able to stop it before it occurs.” The pleading in Cressida’s voice confused Hope further. She wanted to tell Cressida, but the fear of revisiting it, of it actually coming to pass terrified her.

  She squared her shoulders. Cressida and Xavier needed her to be strong. It was time to act like an adult. She wasn’t a frightened little girl anymore.

  “He died. Xavier. And there was blood. And a blond vampire I’ve never seen before, yet I knew his name in the dream.” Her stomach cramped, but she looked directly at Cressida. “It happened when a building was blown up. The blond vampire had others there, and they were smiling. Many people died and there was blood and bodies. And Xavier. I couldn’t stop it and he laughed.”

  “Do you recognise the building or any of the others?” Cressida sat down on the edge of the bed, her fair features creased in thought.

  “No. But I think I am supposed to know the building. It is important for some reason… I just don’t know what it is, though. But being in my dream, I guess, makes it important. You know that is how it works, though. It’s rarely easy to understand the first time. Or even the second time…” The words trailed away as she watched Cressida.

  “Right. I will have Xavier run you through a gallery of known buildings, blood testing centres, main nest buildings and offices belonging to our allies as well as our own. In the meantime, the doctor tells me your leg is broken. But even with your fast healing, which is a by-product of your siren blood, we are going to require Xavier working from home here. We are working on some theories, things we can do to help us track down the perpetrators.” Cressida nodded, her face grim, working through the list she no doubt had in her mind.

  Hope waited in silence, watching the woman before her. “I need one of our scientists to come take a sample from you. I have an idea, but it may take us a couple of weeks to follow through. Are you happy for us to take some blood?”

  Hope nodded, wishing solving the altercation could be that simple, but knowing it would only answer a few of the questions they had. “Yeah. Just let me know and I can be there.”

  “They will come to you. At this time, we want to keep you as safe as possible.”

  Until now, while she knew they wanted her, she hadn’t worked out that the attack was motivated to get her. “Are you sure it was me they wanted?” she breathed.

  “Beyond a shadow of a doubt, child. You are their primary target right now.” The words fell like stones on her, crushing her as surely as boulders on her chest. Her eyes stung.

  “But why? I mean. How could this be?”

  “Well, you know that you are a blood siren? To hold you is the greatest power a vampire can have. You are the ultimate vampire weapon. He can create armies with your blood. And because we now know that vampirism is a virus, we have learned that he can un-create others with factors we have discovered in your blood.”

  For a moment Hope sat still, watching Cressida. Then Hope stirred restlessly, thinking over the words, acknowledging the unreality of the discussion.

  “Added to that is your ability to see things that could be. With that combination, you’re very attractive to Estersham.” She smiled at Hope, but that didn’t dispel the fear Hope felt, or the lump that lodged in her throat.

  “But I don’t want to be a weapon, Cressida, I just want a normal life. To find a lifetime partner of my own choosing. To have a job I chose. To have a family.” Her words broke at the end and she sniffled.

  “Hope, some of those were never on the cards for you. And I can’t undo the fact you have only just found that out. These are things you should have been made aware of years ago.” The words were sympathetic, and Hope knew she was doing her best to offer comfort.

  “But what we can do is find the threat and deal with it. The best way is for Xavier to protect you, and for my people to work on finding them, and making sure that the appropriate action is taken. A vampire war would destroy the relationship we have with the governments, so we want to avoid that at all costs. It means people would fear us, and forever affect our way of life, one that we have come to rely on.”

  Hope heard the words, but they didn’t ease the pain.

  “It would impact on every human that has been associated to a nest. We have oaths to fulfil to humans and nestlings. This is the only way.” Her tone was firm, as she laid a hand on Hope’s trembling one. “You are strong and we will protect you. That is the only comfort I can offer right now.” With that Cressida stood up and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

  Chapter Seven

  For Hope, the next few days passed slowly. Sitting in bed, with a computer on a hospital table, gave her things to do that involved her brain and hands—most of the time anyway. After the first few days, crutches arrived and she could hobble slowly between the rooms.

  Hope continued to work through the lists of nestlings, arrange for their moving and other tasks Xavier set for her. He had moved his main staff, Damon and Catriona, together with Emily into the house so they were safe, and he could continue to work without leaving the house.

  But it palled. Very quickly. The lounge had been cleared of furniture and temporary workstations set up, so she could participate and be involved. But she still hated the necessity of having to hide.

  No one talked about the attack. The night after, a memorial had been held. A chaise had been set up for Hope on the terrace and Xavier had carried her up, a team of vampire guards flanking them. Because Christophe had been a young vampire, a turned nestling, there had been his blood to give as an offering to the fire built on the gravel drive. The others were older, so blood offerings weren’t available. Instead, there were photos given as offerings for the dead.

  Many of the vampires wore Christophe’s favourite colour, bright purple, and even Hope had joined them with a loose purple tunic Xavier had ordered for her, that had been delivered just in time. The entire household mourned the loss of the five.

  The keening of those who knew them best had been hard to ignore. It was the first vampire memorial she could remember. Her parents had not wanted her to attend the one when she had been kidnapped, as there had been so many lost and she had been traumatised enough, in their minds.

  Life had to go on, as Xavier commented when addressing the house. The observance of death must be balanced with that of life. How she wished that were true, yet the most overwhelming memory of the memorial was her parents, her brother and sister-in-law…the representation of her old life. They had refused to acknowledge or even talk to her. She felt, in her own way, that it represented a kind of death—the loss of her family.

  They had stayed at the other side of the terrace, keeping their distance, talking among themselves and from time to time dropping cool looks on her. They’d made no move to join her, and that hurt beyond anything else. Hope knew Xavier was aware of her hurt, but he had said nothing either.

  After the memorial had ended, he’d carried her back downstairs to the secured area, ordered a meal and had given her one of the sedatives the doctor had ordered. Each night she’d slept in his arms and woken there too. He had been attentive, caring and understanding. Yet the pressure within her started to build.

  She didn’t have a quick temper, more of a slow boil, and, like a clock, the timer was ticking. She felt cooped up in the rooms, tho
ugh everything she wanted was available, delivered to her bedside and the lounge. Even her favourite foods were delivered.

  Nourishing broths and nibbles from carrot sticks to savoury tofu dishes and custards were delivered. But it irked her, being locked away, feeling like a prisoner, with no hint of parole.

  Bathing was handled by Lisi who remained behind to care for her personal needs. Yet the people she had thought would want to see her made no appearance or contact. She wanted to go outside, to breathe the air. To feel free of the constraints Xavier had instituted.

  For two weeks, Hope seethed, letting the emotions roil and grow inside her. Anger and frustration became her constant companions, as day segued into night. Her leg grew itchy in the cumbersome cast while she waited impatiently for its removal, unable to do some of the simplest things she had taken for granted previously.

  * * * *

  She woke, held tight in his arms, lying quietly until she opened her eyes. Looking up, she could see the ceiling. A ceiling she now knew very well and was quite sick of. “Xavier? What time is it?”

  “Early yet. Only about five o’clock. Why?” His tone was puzzled and still sleep fogged.

  “I want to see my parents.” The demand echoed through the quiet room. She could almost see them falling like bricks, as they registered in his mind and her petulant tone too.

  “I don’t think that would be a great idea right now. How about I go order you some breakfast? What would you like?” His face became shuttered, as it had done more often in the last few days.

  He pulled the cover away as if making to get up, and she could see the blue striped pyjama bottoms he had worn for the last few days.

  “I don’t want breakfast. I want to see my parents.” She knew the tone was childish, but it was time for something to give. She needed to know what had changed between them, and what she could do to bridge the chasm. “Ask them to come down here.”