Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2)

by Painter, Kristen

  And like a fool, he’d let her affect him. Had he actually said, ‘Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?’ Chalk that up to another moment of his life he’d like to erase. Fool, fool, fool was the best the voices could do, subdued by ingesting so much blood in such a short amount of time.

  Her slippered feet halted a yard or so behind him. ‘Well? Talk.’

  Without turning around, he could picture her. Arms still crossed, one hip cocked out, that ‘I dare you’ look on her face. He closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest, and, so help him, he inhaled.

  His muscles tensed to steel wire, his nerves pinging shocks of pleasure and need through him faster than he could register. The desire to maintain his human face vanished in a shiver of angled bones and jagged fangs. He rolled his head to one side, mouth open to let the tangible scent of her slide over his tongue. The ache in his gums mirrored the ache piercing his gut. Holy hell. If she’d deliberately given her blood to Ronan, it might be enough to push Mal over the killing edge. Back to that blind hungry rage that had once owned him. Yessss … There was only so much betrayal one man could take. You’re not a man. You’re a monster.

  The soft tap, tap, tap of her fingers drumming on her arm broke through the sharp, white urgency surrounding him. ‘I’m waiting.’

  Yes, he was a monster. She would do well to remember it. He spun, knowing how he must look and not giving a damn. ‘I am aware, but considering the circumstances, patience might be a better option.’

  Surprisingly, she didn’t say a word. Instead she walked past him, not touching him but close enough to tighten the noose of desire around his throat. If she hadn’t done it deliberately, he’d be shocked. She walked to the chaise, sat, then lifted a glass of juice from the side table. Juice that had barely been touched. Had his arrival interrupted something? Another visitor? One glass didn’t mean she’d been alone. Vampires didn’t ingest human foods, except alcohol.

  She held it up to him in a mock salute, then took a long, slow sip. Her throat worked as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving his.

  Hades on a cracker. She was torturing him on purpose. And probably enjoying it. Maybe he deserved it. And maybe she deserved a little in return, except he had no idea how to torture a woman who clearly didn’t care if he continued to exist or not. ‘What were you doing at Seven?’

  She set the glass down. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  ‘I think it was pretty obvious what I was doing there.’

  ‘I meant besides making a spectacle of yourself.’

  Is that what she thought? ‘I don’t owe you an explanation.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ She swung her legs over the side of the chaise as if to leave.

  ‘I’m giving you one anyway. Katsumi promised me Dominic’s help in exchange for winning.’

  Her forehead crinkled. ‘His help for what?’

  ‘For removing this curse.’

  The muscles in her jaw tightened. She looked down at her wounded hand. Was she hiding shame or anger?

  ‘That was certainly a good reason to fight, then. Also a good reason to drink the blood I sent you.’

  ‘It was good enough for Ronan.’

  Her head jerked up. ‘What does that mean?’

  He saw no injuries on her that might indicate Ronan had taken her blood by force, which meant she’d either given it to him willingly – something he couldn’t imagine her doing – or she truly didn’t know he’d gotten his hands on it. But how would that have happened? ‘Ronan had your blood in his system when he entered the arena. I didn’t smell it on him until he started to bleed.’ The combination of her blood already ingested and the anticipation of the fight had refocused his senses to the purpose of winning. ‘I tasted his blood to be sure. It was heavily laced with yours.’

  The shock in her eyes told the truth. She hadn’t known.

  ‘How is that possible?’ The heels of her palms came down against the chaise’s frame as she pushed herself up. She flinched, pulled her wounded hand to her chest, then shook it off like it was nothing.

  That nothing drove a small, gold dagger into his shriveled heart. He hated that she hurt almost as much as he despised how pathetic she’d made him for caring.

  Hands cupped to her stomach like she felt ill, she paced a few steps toward the pool and stood there, facing away from him. Gleaming with that mesmerizing comarré glow. ‘Actually, I know how it was possible.’ Her hair spilled down her back like moonlit silk. ‘Dominic’s driver came by with a letter from Dominic requesting blood. I sent some.’

  A hard surge of possessive anger shot down his spine. She had given another vampire her blood. This from the woman who had spouted the tenets of comarré law to him as the reasons for so many of her secrets and actions.

  Still overlooking the pool, she continued. ‘He just seemed so needy in his letter and after all he did to help with Maris … ’ She shrugged. ‘It seemed like the right thing to do.’

  He struggled to maintain a level of calm, quickly realizing he was not going to maintain it much longer. He clenched his hands until his knuckles popped. ‘What does comarré law say about a comarré giving her blood to a vampire who is not her patron?’

  ‘That it is not allowed … ’ Her voice faded into the night air and she turned. Her thumb stroked the side of her bandaged hand. ‘Yes, I see what you’re saying. You’re assuming you still own my blood rights, which you very well may. Comarré law doesn’t really cover blood rights reversion in a case where your patron gains your blood rights by stealing them, then gives your blood to a ghost who is actually haunting him, who then turns human again only to die for a second time.’ She stared at him, a small storm brewing in her eyes. ‘Yes, that is rather a gray area. One I’m surprised you’d even care about … Oh, I get it. You’re jealous.’ A false smile lifted the corners of her crimson mouth. ‘Isn’t that touching.’

  He moved toward her a step. ‘I am not jealous. I am simply tired of being betrayed.’

  Her smile disappeared. ‘I did not betray you.’

  ‘You promised help, got what you wanted, and withdrew.’

  The angry sparks returned. She jabbed a finger in the air. ‘Just because I haven’t helped you yet doesn’t mean I’m not going to. Besides, I sent you blood.’

  ‘Was that supposed to mollify me?’

  ‘You refused to speak to me, so I did what any comarré would do in that situation – the best I could.’

  ‘What you did was keep me at arm’s length. You could have come yourself, but then you would have had to face the fact that you’d lied to me. Yet again.’ She’d lied to him so much when they’d first met that he’d thought her incapable of the truth. Maybe he’d been right.

  ‘I didn’t lie about helping you.’ She shook her head, her mouth opening and closing as if the right words wouldn’t come. ‘You don’t understand.’

  He crossed his arms. ‘Then explain.’

  Anger and tension spun off her in waves. She tilted her face away from him, and he thought if not for her wounded palm, she would be wringing her hands. Blonde strands swung down to brush her cheek. ‘Contacting the Aurelian means a return trip to Corvinestri. I wasn’t ready to do that then. I thought you’d understand, give me time to get over Maris’s death.’ She turned her head just enough to make eye contact. ‘But you shut me out almost immediately.’

  ‘I didn’t shut you out.’ On the flight home, she’d sat alone, curled up and facing the wall. He’d let her be. He understood sorrow. ‘I gave you space to grieve. But you stayed silent.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, and you were the epitome of communication.’

  He shook his head and angled himself toward the house. ‘This is pointless.’

  ‘Do you know where I went before I ended up at Seven that night?’ She moved forward a step. ‘I went to the freighter.’ Then another. ‘To see you.’ One more put her within a foot of him. ‘To tell you I was ready to help. But you weren’t there.’

&
nbsp; She was too close. The needy ache throbbing in his belly again forced him back in her direction. ‘That’s convenient.’

  ‘It’s the truth.’ Her eyes dared him to call her a liar again.

  ‘So help.’ He spread his arms. ‘I’m right here.’

  ‘I will. Soon. I have to speak—’

  ‘Another delay.’ He threw his hands up and backed away. ‘How surprising.’

  She grabbed his arm with her injured hand. Heat seared his skin. The voices whined at the blood contact, always hungry but always hating her. Bite her, drink her, drain her. ‘Listen to me. I’ve found a way to get to the Aurelian without going back to Corvinestri, but it’s dangerous—’

  ‘To who?’

  ‘To me. Now shut up and let me finish.’

  He cocked a brow. Someone was shedding their sweet comarré image. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I just need to speak to someone who’s been part of the process before. Maris left some details in her journal, but not enough to make me comfortable.’ She scooped up a leather-bound volume from the table and began flipping through it. She stopped and tapped a finger on one of the pages. ‘This could be clearer.’

  He glanced over her shoulder and snorted. ‘I don’t know what kind of trick you’re pulling, but that page is blank.’

  Her face screwed into a questioning frown. ‘Are you blind?’ She lifted the journal. ‘This page isn’t blank. Granted, Maris’s handwriting is cramped, but it’s not impossible to read.’

  ‘The page is blank. You understand the meaning of that word, don’t you?’

  A short, strangled sound emanated from her throat. She turned the page. ‘How about this one?’

  ‘Blank.’

  She thumbed through a few more. ‘Anything?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Well, what do you know?’ A slow, impressed smile spread across Chrysabelle’s face. ‘Maris warded her journals against vampires.’

  He tried to refocus her. ‘Who is this person you need to speak to?’

  ‘Just someone who knows how this works.’

  ‘Who?’

  She stared at him, petulant sparks flying off her as if she were flint and he were steel, challenging him with her eyes to say something smart. ‘Dominic.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Don’t even begin to try to tell me what to do. The way I see it’ – she poked him in the chest – ‘you need me. I don’t need you.’ She swept past him and walked toward the house, muttering as she went. ‘This is the most unbalanced relationship I’ve ever had the misfortune to be a part of.’

  Unbalanced? Clarity smacked him in the face. She was mad because he’d drunk her blood, but she hadn’t gotten her half of the exchange. That was easy to fix. No. Unpleasant. Yes. But easy. Carefully avoiding her injury, he looped his fingers around her wrist – noting that her wrist blades weren’t strapped on – and brought her to a stop.

  ‘What on earth are you—’

  His mouth ended her sentence and started the voices howling. He slipped his hands around her forearms and pulled her against him, savoring the velvet warmth that seeped into his skin from hers. He told himself he was kissing her because he owed it to her, but that became a lie the moment his lips touched her carmine mouth. He kissed her because he wanted to.

  Because he could.

  The voices ratcheted down to a tolerable hum.

  He deepened the kiss, careful to keep his fangs from nicking her. She was sweeter and more pliant than he remembered, or maybe her scent intoxicated him, making recollection impossible. Her temperature rose in time with her heartbeat, and she went boneless in his grasp.

  She was pleasure in the flesh, heat and softness and every womanly delight he’d done without these past centuries. All he could wonder was why he hadn’t done this sooner, why he’d thought this a task worth avoiding. Never again would he—

  She stiffened and his bliss-addled brain refused to react in time to keep her from jerking out of his clutches. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Her left fist cocked back.

  ‘I’m making up for—’ He ducked as she swung. ‘Drinking your blood. Your half of the deal, right? Power for power. I thought that would make us even.’

  ‘Even?’ She growled the word, swiping the back of her trembling bandaged hand over her mouth. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. She shook her head, clearly provoked, if the flush across her face and neck was any indication. ‘That only works right after you ingest the blood, when your heart is beating. That kiss was … pointless.’ She spun and stomped off toward the house.

  Pointless? He thought not. If nothing else, it proved she was a woman who clearly did care if he continued to exist or not. With a smile that would probably earn him another left hook, he sauntered after his comarré. Maybe life wasn’t so bad after all.

  Fool, fool, fool.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Varcolai?’ Tatiana grimaced as she stepped over the creature’s hindquarters and circled around to see the face of the female Nasir had brought her. A shifter. Gah. They were such lowly beings, meant to be servants or watchdogs. Couldn’t he have found a fringe? At least they were still vampire. She sighed. The girl would have to do. Tatiana didn’t want to waste time sending Nasir back to the club Octavian had found. ‘How long before the silver wears off?’

  Nasir had followed the girl from the club, then injected her with enough colloidal silver to shut her system down. The result was a return to her true animal state.

  ‘Another few minutes.’ Nasir crossed his arms and leaned against the room’s arched doorway. ‘She is a bartender in the club. That should give you fair access.’

  Tatiana nudged the she-wolf with her boot. ‘I need her awake so she can shift. I can’t do this without seeing her human face.’

  Through trial and error, she’d learned the limits of her powers of mimicry. She couldn’t create an original image, nor could she take on the likeness of anyone deceased. She’d found that out one painful, lonely night after Mikkel’s death. All she’d wanted was to see him one last time. Instead of his beautiful face looking back at her in the mirror, she’d seen … something she never wanted to see again.

  Death.

  The wolf whimpered, stretching her legs against the plastic zip ties binding her. Those wouldn’t hold if the creature regained consciousness.

  ‘Octavian, get ready with the restraints,’ Tatiana called, then nodded to Nasir. ‘Get them on her before she wakes up completely.’

  ‘Of course, my love.’ Nasir grabbed the wolf’s bound legs and dragged her across the cement floor to where Octavian stood waiting.

  The mansion her head of staff had obtained was more than Tatiana had expected. It was shockingly suited to her needs. The kine owners, delicious as they had been while alive, had enjoyed a wide variety of kinks, evidenced by the windowless dungeon in the center of their house. A room they’d obviously used based on the equipment’s wear marks and the lingering fragrances of blood and other less-appealing fluids. She’d known mortals engaged in such things but never realized some took it to such an extent. How lucky for her.

  The click and scrape of metal against concrete filled the room as Nasir fixed the largest shackle around the wolf’s throat. He tugged on the chain, testing where it was set into the wall. Octavian attached two more sets to the wolf’s legs. The creature’s thin joints barely filled the heavy metal fetters, but the one around the neck would hopefully be enough until the shifter was in human form. After that, Nasir had a drug that would prevent her from shifting again and escaping.

  The creature’s lids opened, her startlingly blue eyes instantly fixed on Nasir. Her lip curled back and with a snarl, she leaped, grazing his calf before the chain snapped her to a halt.

  Nasir spun, his fist raised in anger. Through the tear in his trousers, red oozed from the already mending gash. The bitter spice of vampire blood mixed with the already present scents of leather, sweat, and sex.

  ‘No, Nasir.’ Tatiana couldn�
��t have the girl bruised yet. She needed to see her human face as unadulterated as possible.

  He relaxed and dropped his hand. ‘Filthy creature.’

  ‘Yes, I agree.’ Tatiana shot him a look of displeasure. ‘And yet you chose her for me to mimic.’

  Realization flared across his face. ‘I never meant any disrespect. I only thought no one would suspect that such a powerful noble would masquerade as one so lowly.’

  Octavian snickered. Tatiana raised a finger in his direction. The small gesture silenced him. He turned away and busied himself as she moved toward Nasir. ‘Do I assume to know how your potions and brews should be mixed?’

  ‘No, of course not—’

  ‘Do I tell you what metals to transform?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then don’t do any thinking for me. Understood?’

  He bristled at her words but said nothing. Time was running out to appease the ire of the ancient ones. Possessing the ring was paramount. Nothing else mattered.

  A shiver of magic unsettled the air. Behind Nasir, the shifter had become human.

  Tatiana walked around him to face the creature she was to become. ‘She’s a lot smaller in her human form. Interesting.’

  ‘You’re about the same size, I believe,’ Nasir said.

  She glared at him.

  The girl shook, her brown eyes large and liquid. ‘Where am I? What do you want with me?’

  Tatiana leaned down, careful to stay beyond the girl’s reach. Instantly, the shifter lunged. Her eyes snapped wolfen blue, and her canines jutted longer and sharper. Tatiana didn’t flinch. Instead, she shed her human face and snarled back. To the girl’s credit, she didn’t retreat.