Blood Bound (Blood Ravengers Book 1)

by Traci Douglass

  “They are far beyond healing correctly as they are.” He took a deep breath then stumbled toward the bathroom, flicked on the light, then started the shower. “I am demon. I will heal my own way, eventually. I neither want nor need your help or your sympathy.”

  She trailed after him, too strung out to care anymore if she was provoking him or not. Most likely she wouldn’t live to see tomorrow, so why not hasten her own demise? With luck, Liz would be waiting for her when she arrived at heaven’s gates. “You really are a coldhearted freak.”

  “You know nothing about me. Nothing about what I have endured over the endless centuries, what I am prepared to do to see justice triumph. Do not burden me with your petty human judgments.”

  “Justice?” She gave a brittle laugh. “What does a demon know about justice?”

  Dante grabbed Anna’s arm and turned her forearm upward, exposing the fresh cuts. “I know that your sister will be glad to see you again, ofryd.”

  With that, he shut the door in her face.

  Several minutes passed before she could breathe again, move again.

  See me? When? When I cross over to the other fucking side?

  Her grief bubbled over into rage and she stormed into the bathroom after him, not caring that he was naked and in the shower, not caring about anything but the fact he’d killed Liz. She wanted to hurt him, hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her. The bottles on the vanity shook in time with the angry tremors running through her body.

  Fully clothed, Anna flung the shower curtain aside and stepped into the tub behind him, fists flying. She pummeled his back, his arms, anyplace on his body within striking distance—over and over until she was too exhausted to raise her hands anymore.

  Dante stood there, wet and nude and took it all, without a word.

  At last, covered in blood from his mutilated back, Anna did the very last thing she wanted to do—she broke down into fresh sobs.

  Why did things always end like this? Why?

  She didn’t even realize she’d said the words aloud, barely realized her knees no longer supported her, until she nearly collapsed to the bottom of the tub. But as she slid down the tile wall Dante’s strong arms caught her once more, saving her from crashing to earth for the third time.

  With all that had occurred, she was too tired to fight and she rested her head against his warm chest, crying—for all she’d lost and all that would never be again.

  All the while, he murmured soothing words into her hair, stroking her skin as carefully as one would an infant. She’d always imagined demons were hard, tough, brutal creatures. Beasts like Basher downstairs. She stared at the water swirling down the drain, streaked with crimson. Crimson like the glow in his eyes while they’d made love. The connection between them calmed to a golden cord, one that tightened around her heart and forced her to confront him about what had happened.

  She needed to know the truth.

  After what seemed like hours, Anna pulled back and looked up into his face. Dark circles ringed the skin beneath his dark eyes. “Was anything you told me the truth?”

  “Everything was the truth.”

  Dante placed a washcloth in Anna’s hands and knelt before her, offering her his back, his wounds. Dazed, she gently cleaned each one, noticing that already the flesh had begun to knit back together, new pearlescent scars forming over the old ones. This had been done to him before, more than once, if the overlapping zig-zag pattern was any indication. “Tell me who did this.”

  Silence.

  Her own welts still stung from their early session and her spine was stiff from the flogging, but that had been consensual. This couldn’t have been. No way in hell would anyone consent to these ragged, raw slashes—even a pain demon. This was brutal and sadistic and…

  The answer popped into her mind with sickening clarity. “Basher did this, didn’t he?”

  Dante’s shoulders bent a bit more and she knew it was true.

  Anna dropped the cloth and stepped out of the tub, soaking wet, while he remained behind to finish scrubbing down alone. Her hatred for Basher grew with each passing second. Neither of the twins had ever suffered fools or assholes lightly. Anna had a feeling Liz would’ve told Basher exactly where he could get off and how to get there.

  Could that have been why she’d been killed?

  As a punishment?

  The water shut off and Dante grabbed a nearby towel.

  If she’d been thinking clearly, Anna would’ve run while she had a chance. But something—the weird connection, the bar itself, the fact this was the last known location where her sister had been alive—kept her rooted in place.

  “Do not look at me like that,” Dante said as he stepped out of the shower.

  “Like what?”

  “Full of pity.”

  “Right now, it’s either pity or hatred.” Anna crossed her arms and waited while he stood in front of the vanity to brush his teeth. “Take your pick.”

  “If you hate me so much, why are you still here?” He spat out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. “Guilt?”

  “Guilt?” She yanked off her dripping wig and tossed it aside. Her wet blond hair tumbled down around her shoulders. “Just stop with the cryptic bullshit, okay? My sister is dead and you’re the one responsible.” She placed her hands on her hips, hoping he wouldn’t see how badly they were shaking. She had to know, needed to know, about her sister’s last moments on Earth. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what.” Dante swiveled to face her, his expression hard, a wet towel slung around his hips.

  “Tell me about Liz’s last moments.”

  “Anna.” Dante frowned, giving her a quick once-over. “Your clothes are soaking. Come with me.” He led her out of the bathroom, then stalked back to his dresser and pulled out a fresh T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Put these on. They are too large, but they are dry.”

  Much as she wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his clothes, the adrenaline rush from earlier had slowly faded, leaving behind a trail of cold sorrow in its wake. She shivered, grabbing the bundle of garments he tossed her. “After I change, you’ll tell me what I want to know?”

  “We will talk, yes.”

  “Fine.” She shuffled back into the bathroom.

  The sweats were enormous and refused to stay up, which turned out not to be a problem because his T-shirt fell to well below her knees anyway. She hung her wet clothes over the shower rod to dry then emerged to find Dante in the living room, sitting on one end of the couch. He’d clicked on the small flat-screen TV, but the volume was off. Not that it mattered. His attention seemed to be focused on the wall across from him, his gaze distant, haunted.

  Anna took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, tucking her feet beneath her and tugging the long shirt down to cover her calves. His smoky-clove scent surrounded her and the feeling was more comforting than she cared to admit. “Will you tell me now?”

  “I will not, Anna.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because these things could get you killed.”

  “Did they get Liz killed, too?”

  He ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “We will not discuss that, no matter how much I may want to.”

  He’s a cold-blooded killer. Cold-blooded killers didn’t feel bad about their victims. Cold-blooded killers didn’t care about anyone but themselves. Never mind how gently he’d held her in the shower. Now wasn’t the time to go all soft toward him. She wanted the truth. She deserved the truth. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Your sister’s sacrifice will save countless lives.”

  “Sacrifice? Are you saying Liz wanted to die? I don’t believe it. She loved life. She would never throw it away on scumbags like you. Never.” Anna bit back a fresh sob. “God, I miss her so much.”

  “I know.” Dante took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.

  She tried to pull free, but his hold was too strong. “Did she cry, like Basher said?”

  “No.” Da
nte faced her now, his black gaze burning with indignation. “Liz stared me right in the face and told me goodbye.”

  Anna snorted through her tears. “That sounds like Liz.” She squinted at the TV screen, the ticker at the bottom of the all-night news network. It was well past midnight now. “Why did Basher do that to your back?”

  “It is my punishment.”

  “Punishment? For what?”

  “Disobeying him. I broke gang rules.”

  “When?”

  “At the bar. You came downstairs and I staked my claim. I could not leave you unprotected. I could not let the others have you.”

  The odd possession in his words bounced around inside her like a trapped hummingbird. Her overtaxed mind, however, insisted she focus on the facts of the current situation. “Why didn’t your scales heal as quickly as the bullet wound?”

  “Basher cursed them.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He wants me to remember. To scar.” He looked away. “So I will not disobey him again.”

  “Why do you stay here?” Her stomach clenched with disgust. “Knowing what a sick bastard he is?”

  Dante compressed his lips to a thin white line. “I need to stay close.”

  “To Basher?” She couldn’t imagine staying within a hundred-foot radius of that psycho. “Why?”

  “I am not what I pretend to be, Anna.” He pushed to his feet and returned to the kitchen, offering her a beer, which she accepted. Dante twisted off the lids on both bottles then handed her one on the way back to his seat. “I have lived a long time and have many secrets.”

  “At least five-hundred years of them, right?’

  He gave her a pointed stare. “I’m serious, Anna.”

  “So am I. How did you meet Liz?”

  “She came to town with a tour group to see the medicine wheel on the mountain.” Dante took a swig of his beer. “Afterward, she stayed.”

  Anna shook her head. “Damn. I knew that stupid medicine wheel had something to do with all this.”

  “The medicine wheel is not stupid,” Dante said, frowning. “It is an ancient and sacred marker for a very powerful energy vortex.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve chased Liz from one corner of this country to the other. Always on some weird quest for the next magical elixir or divine amulet or some other occult nonsense that turned out to be nothing but a boatload of crap.”

  “Your sister sought the truth of who she was, what she was.”

  “Yeah, and a lot of good it did her.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and inhaled sharply, as if reaching a decision. “You are a twin.”

  “Was. Was a twin.”

  “What of your bond?”

  “Bond?”

  “Yes. The psychic bond.” He leaned forward. “Do not deny you felt this. Liz told me.”

  His words from earlier rang through her head.

  I have never lied to you Anna Frost…

  She shifted in her seat and looked away. “I’m sure all siblings have those feelings when something is wrong with the other one.”

  “No.” Dante rested his forearms on his knees and let his hands hang loose between them, his beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “Not like this. I want you to try something for me, Anna. Please.”

  She gave him a dubious look. “What?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  Dante waited. “Close your eyes, ofryd. Please.”

  Anna hesitated, then set her beer on the table in front of her. Didn’t seem like there was much left to lose. “Fine.” She did as he asked. “Okay.”

  “Good. Now think of Liz.”

  “No.” She opened her eyes again. “I can’t. It hurts too badly.”

  “It will not hurt anymore after you finish, I promise.” He narrowed his dark gaze. “Please. Close your eyes.”

  After a moment, she did, then pictured Liz the last time she’d seen her several months prior.

  “Good, ofryd.” Dante’s calm voice lulled Anna to relax. “Now open yourself up to the love you feel for your sister, open yourself up to the connection you share. Feel her here with you, inside you, around you. Do you feel her?”

  Anna nodded, her chest constricting with sadness.

  “Tell me what you see.”

  “I see Liz, sitting across the table from me at the little French bistro we went to in Atlanta. We’re laughing about the cute waiter who tried to pick her up.” She smiled at the memory.

  They’d been so happy. Except as Anna stared at her sister, she noticed new streaks of pink and purple in Liz’s hair. Her sister’s clothes were different, too. That day at the bistro they’d both worn black by accident. They never went for the whole twins-wearing-matching-outfits deal because it was too silly and their styles were so different anyway. Regardless, they usually still managed to somehow show up wearing the same colors. Now though, Liz wore a gypsy-style boho top in white and some Native American turquoise jewelry.

  Anna wrinkled her nose. Her sister bent to pick up something off the floor, the scent of patchouli and lavender heavy in the air. The bistro back then had smelled of roses and fresh baked croissants, not perfume.

  “I wondered when you’d show up.” Liz straightened and stared across the table.

  “What are you talking about? We had lunch here two months ago.” Anna scowled. The beer Dante had given her must’ve been stronger than usual if she was hallucinating this badly. “Why are you wearing different clothes?”

  “What?” Liz frowned down at herself. “This is the same outfit I had on this morning. Speaking of different, where’d that bruise on your cheek come from?”

  “You can see that?” Anna raised a hand to her face. “Dante—”

  “So, you met him. Hot stuff, right?” Liz chuckled, waggling her brows. “Too brooding for my taste, but he’s just your type.”

  “Stop it!” Anna stood fast and backed away. “This isn’t real. None of this is real.”

  “I’m as real as you, sis. This place, though? It’s an apparition.”

  “An apparition?”

  “Yes, conjured by you and I. We’re stronger together, but I had no idea it would be this awesome. How cool is this?”

  “You. Are. Not. Real.” Anna inched farther away with each word. “You’re dead.”

  “Dead?” Liz pinched her own arm. “Nope. Don’t think so.”

  “Y-yes. You’re dead. Dante killed you. Basher said so.”

  Liz harrumphed. “First off, Basher is a lying ass. Second of all, I am not dead. Trust me. If I was dead, I would’ve started haunting you by now. Dante told you he killed me?”

  “No. But it was implied.”

  “Implied, huh?” Liz stood too and stepped toward Anna. “Seriously. Do I look dead?”

  “No. But this place, Seven, is weird. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  Another step forward for Liz, another step backward for Anna. “Seven is a world unto itself, believe me. Did Dante tell you what he is?”

  “A pain demon. Yeah, he told me. Right before he shot himself.”

  “Nice. Did he heal okay?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t mention the new wounds on his back. “But I still don’t know what to think. About any of this.”

  “Yes, you do.” Liz stepped closer still and took Anna by the arm. The touch felt warm, solid, real. “You’ve always known. You just kept it buried.”

  “You know why I did that.”

  “All these years you’ve blamed yourself for that kid dying, but it was never your fault. Listen to me, sis. All those stories Nonna told us when we were girls, about our powers. All of it is real. You and I and what we can do, it’s all real.”

  Liz pulled Anna into a hug and everything—all the jumbled pieces in her mind and heart—seemed to click into place. Liz was alive and well and somehow everything would be okay. Anna buried her face into her sister’s strawberry-scented hair and in
haled deep.

  My sister’s alive. But how?

  “No.” Anna wrenched free and backed toward the door as the scene around them faded.

  She wanted to leave, she wanted to stay.

  She wanted to hug her sister just one more time before it all disappeared forever. “Where are you?”

  “I’m so glad you found me,” Liz called from the murky fog now surrounding them. “We’ll talk again soon, sis.”

  “Anna?” Dante’s voice called to her. “Anna, open your eyes.”

  She squinted into the light surrounding her and blinked hard. Dante was crouched in front of her now. It took Anna a moment to reorient herself to her surroundings.

  Her throat felt dry, so dry.

  As if anticipating her needs, Dante handed Anna a glass of water then steadied her trembling hands as she raised it to her lips.

  “Okay, ofryd?” He took a seat beside her on the sofa, close enough for her to feel his heat, his strength, his kindness…

  Liz was still alive, which meant Dante wasn’t a brutal killer. Several seconds lapsed before Anna could force words past her constricted throat. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  Dante smoothed the damp hair back from her forehead. “Some things you must discover for yourself.”

  “What about the man from tonight?”

  “Swifty is alive as well.”

  “You didn’t kill them?”

  “No.” He gave her a crooked little half smile.

  “What about the gunshot earlier?”

  “Nothing but an illusion. A necessary show to appease Basher.”

  “Wow.” Anna placed the empty water glass on the table. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. What’s real and what’s not.”

  Dante squeezed her hand tighter, and there was the connection between them again, blazing stronger and brighter than ever. Liz had said he was just her type, and she was right. Even if this could never be more than a temporary fling. An illicit affair before they both had to return to their real lives, their real worlds.

  He watched her closely, giving her all sorts of naughty ideas. She was still too sore from the beating earlier to engage in that sort of foreplay again so soon, but some plain old-fashioned sex might do them both some good.