“It’s not you feeding on me that worries me.”
“Then what does?”
She lay down beside him, giving him her back. In a faint voice he wouldn’t have heard if not for his heightened senses, she said, “What I might have to do to you.”
***
Maura paced her chamber, willing the chill in her limbs to warm—a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the caves she inhabited.
Her room was a cold, damp hole in the ground with walls constantly wet with earth’s tears. Small puddles formed at the base of the walls, and no amount of rugs or curtains seemed to warm the space.
She missed being aboveground. She missed being with creatures who walked in the sun and ate something other than raw meat and blood.
But most of all, she missed her sister, Sibyl.
They’d been apart for so long—a state that was unnatural to both of them.
She was good, kind and sweet, where Maura was not. Sibyl was eager to please and to serve the cause of the Sentinels—protecting humans and destroying Synestryn. Maura had been more interested in rebelling against her mother, who’d imprisoned her in a child’s body out of fear and selfishness.
But now Gilda and Angus were dead. Maura had killed them.
It hadn’t brought her satisfaction. It hadn’t brought her peace. Just or not, all her parents’ death had brought her was another empty, black spot in her soul.
She wanted to know what was going to happen to her sister. She ached to grab ahold of the power they shared, taking turns telling the future. She could feel its presence like a vibrating ball in the center of her mind. All she had to do was reach for it and force it to do her bidding.
Maura didn’t dare. Something dark and deadly was coming for the Sentinels, and if her sister saw it coming, the creature who ruled this territory would know Maura was a traitor.
Vazel was as powerful as he was ugly. He’d stepped up to take the place of the beautiful Synestryn queen who’d ruled before him. She was dead now, but her son lived on. When he was old enough, he’d take his mother’s throne—a throne Vazel was keeping warm for him.
He’d warned Maura that his protection came with strings. She might be a Theronai with powers of her own, but in a world filled with beasts who craved nothing more than her blood, she needed more than the ability to see the future when it was her turn to play with the gift she and Sibyl shared.
Even Maura’s ability to kill with a single touch did little good against monsters with no ability to reason. The things that lurked down here were often little more than animals with a thirst for blood. They didn’t understand what she could do, and once she’d showed them, it would be too late to save her from becoming a deadly feast.
She needed Vazel and this weeping stone chamber to keep her alive. At least for now.
Vazel entered her chamber without so much as announcing his presence. He was a large creature, that was only vaguely humanoid. He had gray, almost reptilian skin with mangy patches of fur here and there. His head was bald and bulbous, nearly too big for his frame. His joints were swollen and knobby with extra flesh that sagged when he was tired. He had thin lips that showed off pointed teeth where they weren’t simply missing. Every time he spoke, spittle flew, so she’d learned to keep her distance. And if the flying spit hadn’t taught her that, the dirty, barely-there loincloth he wore would have.
There were some things a lady could never un-see. Vazel’s genitals were firmly in that category.
Trailing behind the grotesque demon was a young boy who looked to be three or four years old, but had been born only a few weeks ago. Vazel called Mordecai his son, but the only thing they had in common was the loincloth.
Mordecai was a beautiful child, with thick, black hair and translucent black eyes. Rumor said that he was the offspring of the dead queen and a Slayer, but Maura had no idea. Nor did she care.
She didn’t dare make attachments down here, when there were so many creatures who wanted her dead, and even more she could kill with a touch. She really didn’t want Mordecai to be her next victim.
She squared her shoulders and channeled her mother’s best disappointed frown. “Where are your manners, Vazel? Don’t you know it’s rude to enter a lady’s chamber unannounced?”
“You think you’re a lady?” Vazel asked in a spray of spittle.
She ignored the insult and held her haughty stance. “Why are you here?”
Vazel put a too-long arm around the boy’s slender shoulders and pulled him close. “My son needs to go outside, into the sun. You will escort him.”
“Why?”
“Because you can go into the sun and I cannot. And because I demand it.”
“No, why does he need to go into the sun?”
The demon shared a look with the child he called his son, but clearly was not. Neither said a word, but some kind of communication seemed to have taken place.
“It’s time. Go now,” Vazel said.
She had nothing better to do than pace and fret and try not to play with the toy humming in the middle of her mind. “Fine.”
The child held out his hand to her. Maura was wearing gloves, but she didn’t risk touching the boy. She really didn’t want to watch him die, writhing in pain.
Vazel on the other hand…
“You must never touch her,” he told Mordecai with gentle patience. “She is unclean. Dangerous.”
Unclean? At least she changed her underwear on a regular basis. Vazel was still wearing the same grimy loincloth he’d had on for days. Maybe longer.
They wound their way through the complicated maze of tunnels and openings in the stone. The path led gradually upward until they reached a small hole in the side of a rocky hillside.
Sunlight streamed in from outside. Vazel held himself well back from the light and pushed the boy forward.
“If you let any harm come to him, I will eat you, starting with those pretty eyes.”
Maura ignored his threat, stepped into the light and followed the boy outside.
The air was cold, but crisp and dry. The sky was clear, allowing sunlight to pour into her skin. It felt good. Clean.
Sometimes she forgot how much she missed the sun.
She moved a few feet away from the dank opening into the nest of demons and sat on a rock near a grassy patch.
Mordecai stood in the clearing, turned his face up to the sun, spread his chubby arms wide, and closed his eyes. Pure bliss poured out of him, like he’d been starving and was finally being fed a delicious meal. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. There was something otherworldly about his silence.
“Can you speak?” she asked.
He cracked open one eye and peered at her before going back to his sunbathing.
“I guess that’s a no.”
Then again, he was only a few weeks old. Maybe his voice needed time to catch up to his rapidly-aging body.
“I wouldn’t trust Vazel if I were you,” she said. “I know he acts all nice toward you, but he’s not a good…” Man? Creature? Demon? “…father. All he cares about is himself.”
Mordecai wore no clothing to keep the chill from his tiny body. The strip of fabric around his hips was little more than a dirty flag waving in the wind.
He lowered his chin and stared at her again, but this time, his eyes were no longer that translucent black, but a rich, golden brown. As she watched, plumes of black swirled within the depths of his gaze, hiding within the shade his thick lashes created.
He toddled to her on bare feet, faster and more nimble than he had any right to be. She half-expected him to backhand her for the insult to his father, which is something he could have learned from the demon on more than one occasion. Vazel ruled his little empire with violence and the threat of more.
Before she could skitter away, Mordecai touched her cheek.
Images flooded her mind of Vazel. He was smiling, his thin lips stretched grotesquely over pointy teeth. He cradled her in his arms. She
stared up at him, through eyes that weren’t her own as he sang her an off-tune lullaby and rocked her to sleep.
These things she was seeing were Mordecai’s memories. Somehow, he was sharing them with her.
Was he trying to prove her wrong—that Vazel wasn’t the monster she knew him to be? Or was he trying to change her mind?
Maura scrambled back off the stone and landed hard on her hip. “Don’t touch me,” she warned him. “Don’t ever touch me.”
Mordecai didn’t seem afraid. In fact, he showed no sign of emotion on his little face at all. It was as still and calm as it had always been.
It struck her then that she’d never seen him smile. Never heard him cry.
What kind of child did that? Then again, what kind of child could make you see what they wanted you to with a mere touch?
Maura rose to her feet and donned a protective layer of haughty irritation. “Touch me again and I’ll take off these gloves and show you why your father warned you to stay away.”
Mordecai simply toddled off and went back to soaking up the sunlight.
She thought briefly about leaving. She could wander off and find another home. One cave was as good as another. Her reputation among the Synestryn would gain her shelter almost anywhere. And if it didn’t, all she had to do was put on a little display, kill a few demons and make a show of it.
But what would that gain her? If she abandoned Mordecai, Vazel would hunt her down. Eventually, he’d find her and make good on his promise to eat her eyes first.
She could take Mordecai with her. He’d make a good hostage. Not only would a threat to him keep Vazel away, the child had to be useful to someone.
Maybe she could even go home, to Dabyr. Warn them of the danger speeding their way.
Maybe she could see Sibyl again and hug her one more time before the end.
Maura didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Mordecai’s gaze on her. A hint of sympathy shone in his golden eyes, and it was the first flicker of emotion she’d ever seen in him.
Maybe he was more demon than she suspected.
“Would you like to take a trip with me?” she asked. “Go someplace warm and sunny?”
Dabyr wasn’t far. They could make it there before nightfall. He’d be safe there, even if she wasn’t. No Sentinel would ever harm a small boy who looked human.
That was why the Synestryn had begun breeding offspring that looked human. They knew that their enemy would have trouble lopping off the heads of creatures who looked like those they were sworn to protect. And while the latest generation of demons had human faces, very few of them survived long enough to reproduce. The best they’d managed were the masses of gray-skinned creatures with plenty of loyalty, but not very many brains. But what they lacked in intelligence, they more than made up for in numbers.
Those creatures were going to be the downfall of Dabyr and every person it protected.
Unless she stopped it.
Mordecai turned his back, dismissing her offer to sweep him away from this place—the only home he’d ever known in his brief life.
Maura knew the attack on Dabyr was coming soon. Vazel didn’t tell her much, but she heard things. Knew things—things she’d seen in the future but had never shared with her protector.
She’d know a lot more if she allowed herself to glimpse the future, but she didn’t. If Maura passed the power of foresight to her sister, Sibyl would see what was coming. She’d see just how far Maura had fallen.
No, it was better to hold onto the power and hide from Sibyl what was coming. At least that way she’d die without knowing the monster Maura had become.
Chapter Six
Justice didn’t sleep.
She was tired. Her body felt heavy, as if she’d used up the last of her reserves. Still, sleep evaded her.
She’d met people who knew what she was—people with answers. It was possible they might even be able to help free her. All she had to do was rest and get strong enough for Ronan to try.
Her mind wouldn’t cooperate. As tired as she was, her head kept spinning through everything that had happened over the last few hours.
She wasn’t alone anymore—at least not right now.
Ronan’s body was behind hers, pressing against her in spots. His sleep was deep, unnatural. He barely even breathed.
After an hour of hoping sleep would find her, she finally turned over and looked at him to make sure he was okay.
His complexion was pale, almost dusty. With his eyes closed he looked more like a marble statue of a man than he did flesh and blood. There was an artistic perfection in his features, as if they’d been carved by a master hand. His dark brows and hair gave him more life than if he’d been all stone, but even those strands seemed unnaturally still.
One arm was curled under his head to serve as a pillow. The other hand was tucked under his ribs as if to keep his fingers from straying.
His chest expanded as he breathed, but the act was so slow, it was almost hard to see. Even the pulse beating in his neck was spaced out so that she held her breath waiting for the next fleeting proof of life to show.
He was too beautiful for his own good. All the Sanguinar she’d met were. They all possessed an unearthly perfection that made them untouchable.
Justice wondered why, if she was what they thought she was, she didn’t have the same trait. She was pretty enough, but nowhere near the level of Ronan or Hope.
The need to touch him raged through her. Would he be as smooth as he looked? As hard and cold as the marble statue he resembled?
With delicate care, she glided the tip of one finger along his cheekbone. He was smooth, his flesh firm, but not hard. His skin was cool to the touch, but not cold.
The need to snuggle close and warm him once again filled her thoughts.
What was it like to live without the warmth of the sun? She had always enjoyed her time in her convertible, driving with the top down during the summer, the wind in her hair and the sun turning her skin darker. That ball of fire was like an unblinking eye, staring down on her without judgment or blame. He blazed through the sky, doing his job, the way she tore through the country, doing hers. Neither of them had any choice—they went where the powers that be demanded they go. Her trajectory driven by the fates, his by physics.
She wondered if the sun hated his job as much as she hated hers.
Ronan shifted slightly in his sleep. It was more a deeper breath than a movement, but her hand was on his chest now—without permission—and she felt it all the same.
He had several blankets in his apartment, indicating he often got cold. Was he cold now? The heat of the van had faded, and the warehouse heaters were only running enough to keep the water from freezing. Even she was a bit chilly.
She scooted closer and pressed herself firmly against him. Then she held her breath, waiting for him to react.
He didn’t seem to notice from the depths of his sleep, which made her even bolder.
She wrapped her arms around his lean body and snuggled her head against his chest. His pulse was slow, but soothing. The hard press of his muscles against her softer contours was pleasant. She wasn’t sure why, but she liked the feel of all that male flesh pressed up against hers.
A coil of need unfurled low in her belly, slow and languid. It stretched as if waking up from a long slumber and pulled in a deep breath.
Heat began to pour out of her, caressing every nerve ending as it went. Her skin seemed to hum wherever it touched his, and the feeling was so addictive, she found herself shoving his shirt up so she could feel more of him.
There were things a man could do to a woman to make her swoon. Justice knew this, even if she’d never felt it. She knew about sex and had even watched some online porn out of sheer curiosity.
Those naked bodies posing for the camera hadn’t done much for her, but she finally saw in them what it was to want. She knew why people did the stupidest things in the hopes of getting laid.
Sex was a compu
lsion all its own, with incoherent demands that made people do things they didn’t understand for an outcome they couldn’t predict. As much as Justice might want to feel where all this shimmering heat would lead her, she had enough forces tugging on her to add one more.
She pulled her hands away and balled them into fists so she wouldn’t touch him. Now was not the time to give into her fascination for Ronan. And that was all it was. She couldn’t allow anything more than that—for his sake as well as hers.
She must have drifted off to sleep, because when she opened her eyes, she was stiff and needed to pee. There was no natural light in here to tell her how long she’d been out, but she was grateful for even a few minutes.
She slipped slowly from the mattress so she wouldn’t disturb Ronan, then eased past the closed curtains to get out through the front. The van’s clock said she’d gotten a solid six hours, which was more than she’d had at one time in the past year.
After washing up, she went into the little office she kept here, fired up the laptop and checked the usual sites. Several of the black-market dealers she knew were offering up interesting trinkets, but as she scanned the lists, only one item caught the interest of the fates.
She made an aggressive bid, then switched over to a different site to check what job offers had come in.
There were only three, and the fates didn’t find any of them interesting. She had plenty of cash, so the only jobs she took now were the ones demanded of her. The less she worked with the scumbags, the better.
She checked her email, but since she had no friends and no life other than her work, that didn’t take long.
It was past lunch time, so she microwaved a frozen meal and forced herself to eat to keep up her strength. Ronan had said she was healing, but she didn’t feel like it. She felt fine since she’d slept. Good, actually, especially considering she’d taken two rounds only yesterday.
He was handy to have around. Not that she was going to get used to it.
With nothing else to do to kill the hours until it was time to move again, she decided to go outside and catch a rare dose of fresh air.
Blood Bond Page 10