The Vampires' Blood Mate: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance

by Lili Zander

  “Why?”

  “I’m not an idealist, Raven. I believe in violence as a tactical tool. But Lanthanum was stupid. Gregory considers anyone willing to work with vampires to be traitors to the cause, but he’s very much in the minority. That base was half-human, half-vampire. By targeting them, we lost a lot of public support. We put ourselves in the wrong with that one.” He takes a look at the expression on my face and grimaces. “Let me guess. You’re an idealist who believes violence is always wrong.”

  “I used to be, yes.” Then I handed Gerra Clay a syringe filled with my blood and watched her die in the most painful way imaginable. I pumped my blood into Marya Revit, making her a target, the same as me. I’d inadvertently caused the death of her foster father. If I run into Levitan, I would kill him without a second thought. My hands aren’t clean. “I’m less of an idealist nowadays. But I will never believe that killing civilians is justifiable.”

  “You might not believe me, but I don't either.”

  He’s right. I don’t believe him. I don't know what I think of Adam. He’s Zeke’s friend, but even Zeke finds it difficult to look past Equality Pact’s many misdeeds. But after almost a week of Kaleb's lessons, I can understand why Astrid wants to put him on the Ruling Council. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Adam isn't an enemy, per se, but Astrid can blunt much of Equality Pact’s demands by putting one of their leaders on the Council.

  I murmur something polite to Adam and drift away. Saber comes up to me, a smile on his face. “You look amazing.”

  “The boning is digging into my ribs, and I can’t really breathe.”

  He gives me a sympathetic look, and, ignoring everyone’s stare, presses a kiss on my lips. “Poor Raven.” He hands me a glass of slenti. “Maybe this will help. Katerina Seddon just told me how wonderful she thought you were.”

  I snort under my breath. “I somehow doubt she means it.”

  Saber laughs quietly. “She's taking your measure. Her next attempt to undermine you will be more subtle.”

  “Delightful,” I say sarcastically, and Saber chuckles. “Kaleb tells me you're enjoying the lessons.” He laces his fingers in mine. His touch is light, but I feel it in every nerve ending of my body. It’s been a few days since I’ve slept with my vampires—it was that time of the month, and, given that my blood can kill them, what would normally be an inconvenience had me in a full-blown panic. Thankfully, I’m done. My vampires have spoiled me; I can’t sleep alone anymore. “He thinks that in no time, you'll be a formidable weapon.”

  “You're telling me that you don't want to lock me up anymore?”

  “I always want to protect you,” he replies. “Every single day, I fight the urge to demand that you stop going to the Deeps. But Shadow tells me that you're getting quite good with the daggers.” He gives me a sly grin. “Not good enough to take me on, of course.”

  “No, of course not. How can I beat the great Saber Hafsson?”

  My sarcasm rolls off his back. “I hear you’re getting good enough to take care of yourself against petty criminals. You're probably fine in the Deeps.”

  I lean in. “Saber Hafsson admitting he was wrong about something.” I flutter my eyelashes. “Let me savor this moment.”

  “Brat,” he says indulgently. “Do you want to be dragged into a bedroom and spanked?”

  Heat rushes through me. I take a half-step closer to Saber. “Is that an option?” I whisper. “It will certainly make this party more interesting.” I wet my lip with my tongue, and Saber’s eyes follow the movement. “I desperately want to get out of this dress.”

  A vampire rings a gong, signaling that the Empress has arrived. Everyone falls into a bow as Astrid walks into the room, Ragnar a half-step behind her.

  Her dress is short, almost scandalously so. “She’s feeling the pressure,” Saber says quietly. “Astrid only rebels when the tension gets to be too much.”

  I’m not looking at Astrid; my eyes track Ragnar. I haven’t seen him in days, not since the Family Nedwa ball. He must be exhausted, but he hides it well. He says something to Bela Karinsky, his teeth flashing in a grin, and then he laughs, and I have to peel my eyes off him. “Sorry,” I murmur to Saber. “What were you saying?”

  “What’s going on with the two of you?”

  “Nothing.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Something happened that night you went to dinner, didn’t it? Ragnar's been avoiding you, and you've been avoiding him.”

  Damn it. Saber’s doing his mind-reading-voodoo-magic again. I try to duck the issue. The vampires are used to being in a bô and sharing, but I’m not, and I don’t want them to ever think that they’re not enough for me. “I don't know if you've noticed, but between the lessons with Kaleb, and searching the Deeps for thousands of missing humans, I've been rather busy.”

  “Raven.” His glacier blue eyes snap to my face. “I can read you well enough to know when you're lying to me. What happened?”

  I sigh. He's not going to let this go. “We had dinner. He proposed a purely sexual relationship. I thought he wanted more than that, but I guess I was wrong. I declined. The end.” I squeeze Saber’s hand. “It isn't important,” I tell him. “I have the three of you. You guys make me so very happy, happier than I've ever been in my life.”

  “You wanted more than a sexual relationship.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question.

  I take a sip of the slenti and gather my thoughts. “You don't always get what you want. Besides, it's not important, not with everything else going on right now.”

  There's a stubborn glint in Saber’s eyes. “Your happiness is always important.” A smile curls his mouth. “Do you want me to beat him up?”

  My head jerks up. My mouth falls open. “Are you crazy?” I ask before I realize he’s joking. “I don't need protocol lessons from Kaleb to know that's a very bad idea.”

  “Kaleb raised his share of hell when he was younger,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “He might not think it’s a bad idea at all.” His expression turns serious. “It’s not a walk in the park being bonded to me.” He waves his hand at the room. “It comes with a certain amount of bullshit. Dealing with people like Katerina Seddon, having to make polite conversation with some of the stupidest people in the galaxy, people who are only in power because of what their ancestors did generations ago, being forced into dresses that won’t let you breathe.”

  “I could have told her to loosen the bodice, but Astrid’s tailor is very intimidating.”

  His gaze caresses said bodice. I might not be able to breathe, but it’s almost worth it seeing the look in Saber’s eyes. “But my bullshit pales in comparison to what anyone bonded to Ragnar would experience. Anyone they care about becomes a target. Ragnar’s known that for years. Why do you think he's never ever been in a bô?” Saber grimaces. “And then, when he was beginning to come around to the idea, Nasrim happened.”

  Saber thinks Ragnar wants to be in a relationship with me? “What do you want me to do? Give him time?”

  “Hell, no,” he replies immediately. “This is Ragnar, remember? We were estranged for almost twenty years over a petty misunderstanding. The last thing Ragnar needs is time.”

  “Why do you care?” I look up at him, confusion in my eyes. “Help me understand. Why does this matter to you?”

  Tenderness fills his face. “Because it would make you happy,” he says simply.

  I don't have anything to say to that.

  “Admit the truth, not to me, but to yourself. You like Ragnar. He can be both stubborn and arrogant.”

  I hold back my smile with difficulty. Every time Saber talks about how arrogant Ragnar is, I want to ask if he’s looked in a mirror lately. Every single time.

  Judging by his amused look, he notices my heroic restraint. “You don't have to wait for him to approach you,” he finishes. “You can approach him.” He pulls me close. “You’re glorious, kära. You are brighter than the brightest sun. More precious than a galaxy filled with moon
stones. If you want Ragnar, tell him.”

  He says that and he walks away, and at the same time, Ragnar turns to me. My pulse starts to race as he stalks toward me. “Purple suits you,” he says. “Dance with me?”

  I place my arms around his. My heart leaps in my chest. Ragnar and I have been circling each other for days, weeks, like a pair of wary s’kal cats. The last time we were alone, he had fed me from his fingers. He’d kissed me. He’d called me beautiful.

  And then he told me he just wanted sex, and he’d crushed my heart.

  Now, here he is, holding me in his arms. Despite Saber’s urging, I don’t know what to say to Ragnar. “Why is the room looking at you?”

  “Maybe they’re looking at you.”

  “No, they’re looking at you. When they look at me, they have a different expression on their faces.”

  His green-gray eyes rest on me. “What expression is that?”

  “Mostly they look like they’ve stepped into a pile of poop. And then they reminisce about the good old days when humans weren’t welcome to their banquets.”

  Ice rolls over his face. “Is that so? Who told you that you weren’t welcome?”

  Katerina Seddon is a stuck-up idiot, but all the same, I’m not going to sign her death warrant. “I can handle myself.” I look up at his face. Spirit, he’s gorgeous. He’s worn down, and he’s exhausted, and he still has the power to set my body alight with need. “You’re still ducking my question.”

  “Word of Gerra Clay’s death has finally hit Starra,” he replies. “Half the room is wondering if I’m coming for them next, and the other half is waiting for me to assassinate my sister so I can sit on the throne.”

  “Just now?” It’s been more than a week since Gerra died. “How did you keep her death a secret for so long?”

  “It wasn’t me. Gerra didn’t have an heir, and Family Clay was sorting out its succession problem. Three of Gerra’s cousins have been assassinated in the last seven days. Lachlan Clay won out. Even by Family Clay’s admittedly low standards, he’s a piece of shit.”

  I move an inch closer. He notices. His body goes still. “If I undo my braids,” I whisper, “will you kill him for me?”

  For a long second, he doesn’t reply. Finally, his eyes snap to my face. “You’re wearing your hair down tonight,” he notes, his voice low and dark. “Is that an invitation?”

  “It could be.” I wet my lips. My throat is dry with nerves. “Are you interested?”

  Desire ignites in the space between us. It blazes bright, engulfing us in its flames. “Be careful,” Ragnar whispers into my ear, his tone more promise than threat. His hand rests in the small of my back, holding me in place. “If you push me too hard tonight, you will end up in my bed.”

  I take a deep breath. His eyes are drawn to my cleavage. He can’t disguise the heat in his expression. “Is that supposed to be a threat?” I ask, breathless, aroused, slick with heat and want. “Look at me. Do I look afraid to you?”

  He growls, deep in his throat. “How quickly can you say your goodbyes?”

  Kaleb Nedwa will kill me if I leave Family Karinsky’s gala early. I’ll have to risk it. He shouldn’t have told me who I could afford to insult. “Give me thirty minutes.” I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I can’t comprehend why I waited this long.

  Ragnar’s body goes stiff. I look up to see Mazer Basaran thread his way through the crowds. His face is haggard, and his eyes are haunted. “I have bad news.”

  Unease crawls all over my body.

  “What is it?”

  He takes a deep breath. “We had guards on everyone close to you. Everyone was being watched.”

  Whatever it is, it’s bad. It’s not like Mazer to beat around the bush. My heart is beating so hard I’m afraid it’s going to explode out of my chest. “What has happened?” Ragnar repeats.

  “I received word from Zola Prime,” he says, his voice as flat as death. “Zeke Ulrich was estranged from his family. I didn't think…” His voice trails off. He looks like he's walking barefoot across hot coals. “Every single member of Family Leyva has been killed. Once again, it was the virus.”

  No. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. Mazer can’t be saying what I think he’s saying.

  Harek Levitan’s threat rings in my ears. I will destroy everyone you know and care for. Ask yourself how many lives you can lose. How many people you can sacrifice to your ego.

  Ragnar very carefully separates himself from me. I watch the walls crash in place around him.

  The man is gone. Only the prince of the realm remains.

  22

  Nero

  Of course, we fly to Zola Prime for the funeral. The galaxy is falling to pieces around us, but it doesn't matter. What matters right now is that we’re here for Zeke. I know it, Saber knows it, Raven knows it, hell, even Ragnar knows it.

  In fact, looking at the bleakness on the prince’s face as he surveys the bodies of Zeke’s family, I’d say he knows more than anyone else here how much we need to be here.

  Mazer must have got a team to Zola Prime before we landed because the bodies are cleaned up. No green pus, no carrion birds, no pervasive stench of death. The forty-two members of Family Leyva are laid out on biers in the courtyard of Castle Leyva.

  Men, women, and worse of all, three small children. All dead. Seeing their tiny bodies is like a punch in the gut.

  We landed five hours ago. Family Leyva is a powerful family on Zola Prime. Already, word has spread of the terrible tragedy. People are asking why there is no viewing of the bodies. Why they're not allowed to visit to pay their respects. Tongues wag. The citizens gossip.

  Keeping this quiet is going to be next to impossible, but numb in our shock and our grief, we’re insulated from all of that. Mazer’s team is handling it.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  Ragnar's hands ball into fists. “I did this,” he says, his voice flat. “I didn't walk in and contaminate their blood supply, but make no mistake, this happened because of me.” He turns to me. “You should have all walked away at the start. You didn’t, and Zeke’s family lies dead because you allied with me.” His expression hardens. “I’ll talk to Saber. I don’t want any of you coming back to Starra. I’ll handle this on my own.”

  I give him a sidelong look. Ragnar cares about his people. He’s badly wounded. He feels responsible, and it’s wrecking him.

  I’ve been there. I hadn’t been able to prevent Dawlish Gratvar from enslaving my mother. For years, I hadn’t been able to find out where she’d been taken. Guilt had corroded me from the inside out.

  But Ragnar didn’t do this. Harek Levitan did. “With all due respect, that’s not your decision to make.”

  “It’s not a request,” he snaps. “It’s a fucking order, Captain.”

  I've never seen Ragnar lose his cool. This isn’t the man I know. I've seen him in situations that would shatter a normal person, but the prince just holds it together and does what's needed. But this is too much.

  I follow his gaze to the three small biers where Zeke's two nieces and nephew are laid out. “Your mother is still at risk,” he says quietly. “Walk away, Nero. This is my battle, not yours.”

  Levitan could have spared the children, but he didn’t. Anger burns through me. “I’ve served with Zeke for seven years. He rescued my mother from slavery. Tell me again how this isn’t my battle. Tell me how this isn’t my problem.”

  “You should walk away,” he repeats bleakly.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” I snarl. I give him a hard look. “You think I’ve been taking the Deeps apart in my search because you outrank me? Look at this.” I gesture to the corpses in front of me. “When you’re faced with this kind of evil, you can cringe away into the shadows and hide. Or you can do what's necessary. You can stand up and fight. You don't have a monopoly on doing the right thing, Prince Ragnar.”

  Zeke is standing on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. Raven’s at his side, her h
and on his shoulder, her face somber. She says something to him, and he nods. Even from this distance, I can see her eyes blazed with determination.

  Ragnar follows my gaze. “You have something to lose.”

  “Raven is no more likely to walk away from this than I am.” I give him a sidelong glance. “You didn't do this. You didn't kill this family. You didn’t order the murder of those children. Harek Levitan did that. I know who my enemies are, Ragnar, and you’re not one of them.”

  “The pressure will break her.”

  “You’re joking, right?” I stare at him. “You think Raven will fall to pieces?” I rummage through my pockets for the data stick I’ve had with me ever since we left Boarus 4 and hold it out to Ragnar.

  “What is this?”

  “They kept records at the re-education camps on Boarus 4. This is Raven’s file. Vids, photos, logs. Everything they put her through, it's in here.” Zeke had given it to me on the Valiant. I’d made myself watch it one night. I grew up on the streets; I thought I had it tough. It was nothing compared to what Raven’s survived. I’d needed a bottle of slenti to get through everything, and the memory of what I saw will never be scoured from my mind.

  Saber saw them too. There's a reason that Raven’s walking the Deeps, and it's not because we’re suddenly less protective about her, or less worried about her safety. It is because she has, in every way that matters, earned her place.

  He stares at my outstretched hand. “I know what she had to go through on Boarus 4,” he says stiffly.

  “You think you do. But I don’t think you really understand how much she had to survive, because you're doing what Saber and Zeke and I did when we first met her. We knew she was strong, and yet we still thought we needed to shield her.” I give Ragnar a hard look. “How old were you when someone tried to assassinate you for the first time?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Raven was ten when the authorities killed her parents. She was torn out of a warm and loving home, and thrown into one of the bleakest, most miserable places in the Empire.” I look up at Raven again. She's got an arm wrapped around Zeke's waist, her head against his shoulder. “You are doing what we did. You're underestimating her. You're making decisions for her because you don't think she's strong enough to make them for herself. And that's where you're wrong.”