Out for Blood

by Kristen Painter

  “You have everything you need.” He slid the helmet over his Mohawk. “And I have family of my own to protect.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Fi was about to do one of the stupidest things she’d ever done, but it might be the only thing that kept her from losing Doc forever. And time was her enemy. If she didn’t do this now, while Doc was still at Chrysabelle’s, she might never have the chance again. Despite what she’d said, she loved Doc desperately. The thought of being without him made her sick. She was not about to let him go without a fight.

  Which was exactly what she intended to start.

  She floated outside the windows of Doc’s penthouse, hidden by the night as she peeked in to see if Heaven was home. Fi found her in the master bedroom, sitting on a long padded bench at the end of the bed, buckling on a pair of expensive stilettos. Her hair and makeup were flawless and her dress was on point. No question about it—Heaven was going out. Perfect, because for what Fi was about to do, she needed an audience.

  With the mayor’s curfew in place, there could be only one hot spot Heaven would be hitting. The one downstairs. Bar Nine.

  Trying to get into Bar Nine through the front door was pointless. The bouncers would never let her in and she’d lose the element of surprise. She might also lose track of Heaven, who undoubtedly would spend most of her night tucked away in the VIP lounge, which in Heaven’s case should stand for very irritating person.

  Heaven stood and took a long look in a mirrored door. She turned, admiring her figure and smiling. Fi rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah, you’re hot. We get it.

  Finally, Heaven made her way out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Fi floated through the walls and into the elevator shaft, following the car down to the nightclub level. When it stopped, she listened for the doors to open and close, then floated down and materialized inside the car. She hit the STOP button to keep the doors closed, then conjured up the best club gear she could. The dress was something she’d seen in last month’s Modiste magazine, sleek black leather with grommets that showed hints of skin and a distressed, uneven hem that hit the tops of her thighs. She added sheer black tights and the ultra-high laser-perforated booties from the magazine’s “What to Own Now” section.

  She did a little turn in the elevator, trying to see herself in the polished wood paneling. With the blink of an eye, she redid her face with smoky eyes and fixed her hair into an artfully teased mess. Sometimes being a ghost had major perks.

  Punching the STOP button again to release the doors, she took a deep breath. It wasn’t like her to plan things too much, but this was important. Everything had to go just right. Chances of getting to try this again were slim.

  The doors opened and she sauntered into the heavy Latin beat, doing her best to look like she belonged. The place was jumping. Good. Maybe the crowd would give her some coverage. She pushed through to the bar, searching for the VIP section as nonchalantly as she could. It wasn’t hard to spot.

  The club was two stories, but the second was mostly a wraparound balcony that overlooked the center dance floor. From what she could see, the upstairs was way plusher and the well-dressed people leaning against the railings looked expensive and snooty. And self-important.

  Heaven’s kind of crowd.

  Fi worked her way into a spot at the bar to see what she could find out. She hadn’t brought any money, which didn’t matter because she probably couldn’t afford the drinks here anyway, so when the bartender asked her what she wanted, she played it off. “Actually, I’m trying to find my friend Heaven. I came in with some girlfriends but we got separated. Do you know her? Petite, big boobs, likes high heels?”

  The bartender smiled. “Everybody knows Heaven. She’s married to the pride leader.”

  Not for long if Fi could help it.

  “She’s usually in the VIP lounge upstairs. If you’re with her group, your name should be on the list to get up there.” He pointed across the dance floor. “Elevator’s over there.”

  The music changed just in time. “Oh!” Fi said. “That’s our groove! Any way you could call her and tell her to come down and dance with me?”

  “Sure, what’s your name?”

  Fi squinted like she hadn’t quite heard him and started to back away. “Thanks! I owe you!” Then she turned and made her way toward the elevator he’d pointed at. The bouncer there didn’t look like he could be talked into anything. If Fi was getting up there, she was going to have to go ghost again.

  She hung on the edge of the dance floor while she waited to see if Heaven would come down. The longer she waited, the more she thought. Why hadn’t Heaven just gotten off on the VIP floor? There was no way there wasn’t an exit for the pride leader and his friends.

  Fi gave in to the beat a little more, letting it move through her. She knew why Heaven had done what she’d done. Because getting off on the second floor meant all the little people without VIP access wouldn’t get to see her. It was the same reason she wouldn’t let go of Doc. It meant losing the spotlight.

  Doc was just one more trophy she’d won. And Heaven was used to winning. But she was also used to things coming easy to her. She had an important father, all the material things she wanted, and a husband who gave her status.

  A hard realization struck Fi, bringing her to standstill. Her approach was all wrong. The panic of time slipping away got her moving again, this time to the ladies’ room. She slipped into a stall and from there went ghost and glided through the wall until she was outside. Everything had to change. She pictured it in her head—beat-up kicks, ripped jeans, a favorite rock band tee and a tattered camo jacket. The outfit had been one of her staples during her college days. Then she imagined herself without makeup, her hair stick straight and just the slightest bit dirty.

  She had to look beatable. She had to play into Heaven’s need to feel superior. She had to give Heaven a way to show off.

  She materialized briefly, long enough to glance down to make sure it all looked right. Satisfied, she went back to her ghost form, calculated the spot on the wall above her, then floated up and in.

  When she left the VIP ladies’ room, those who stared didn’t look away except to comment to the person next to them. She needed to find Heaven fast before security came after her.

  “Heaven,” she shouted. More VIPs stopped to stare.

  Then the soon-to-be-ex–Mrs. Maddoc Mays walked out from a secluded alcove, a few girlfriends trailing behind her. Green-gold shimmered in her irises.

  Good, Fi thought. Let her get angry. I can work with that. “Hello, Heaven.”

  “Look at the filthy little girl who thinks she deserves my husband.” Heaven sneered while her friends laughed. “You are a joke. He cannot love you.” She walked close enough that Fi could smell her perfume. “Why have you come here?”

  “To tell you Doc’s going to leave you for me and that you should prepare yourself. As in, start packing to go home.”

  Heaven smiled and glanced back at her friends. “You hear this?” She shook her head at Fi. “You are sick in the head, ghost girl. Too bad you didn’t stay dead. Maybe you could join your vampire now that he’s dead, too, eh?”

  Something inside Fi came close to snapping. “You know what’s too bad? That you’re too scared of me to settle this once and for all.” She balled her fists. “See which one of us really is the better woman. Which one is his rightful mate.”

  Heaven’s eyes went full-on green-gold and her pupils thinned to vertical slits. She leaned in and smiled, showing a set of fangs that would leave pinkie-sized holes in whatever they pierced, but her words held zero trace of humor. “I could never be scared of you.”

  “Prove it. You win, I’ll walk away from him forever. You’ll never see me again.”

  Seconds ticked by. The crowd that had gathered around them stood listening, waiting right along with Fi. She could practically smell the smoke coming out of Heaven’s brain.

  Then Heaven straightened and a slow, calculated grin lift
ed the corners of her mouth. Her eyes went back to human and she tipped her head slightly to one side. “This is going to be easier than finding the right shoes for my latest couture gown.” She raised one hand like she needed to get the attention of those around her. “Tomorrow night, here in the arena, I will fight this”—she waggled her fingers at Fi—“ human to see which one of us is the rightful mate to our pride leader, Maddoc Mays.”

  The crowd gasped. Numb nuts. Like they hadn’t been listening.

  Heaven held up her hand to silence them. “We fight to death or surrender.” She laughed like she’d just told an inside joke. “Whichever the ghost girl chooses first.”

  “We’re packed, my lady, if you’d like to do a final inspection.” Kosmina stood, hands clasped, before Tatiana.

  This trip to achtice was becoming a monumental undertaking, one Tatiana wished she could throw off in favor of hunting the comarré in New Florida. But that would have to wait. The ball was being held in her honor. Not attending would cause more of a scandal than even she was willing to face. “Everything from the list packed?” she asked. “All of Lilith’s things? Her toys? Extra changes of clothes? Her gown for the ball?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I did her packing myself.”

  “Very good. You’re dismissed. I’ll expect my suite prepared when I arrive.”

  Kosmina bowed. “It will be my first priority, my lady.” With that, she left.

  Octavian sat near the cold fireplace, bouncing a giggling Lilith on his knee. Tatiana joined them. “What of the comar?”

  Octavian kept his eyes on Lilith. “He’s healed enough to travel. I don’t anticipate him giving us any more trouble, and you won’t have to worry about a blood source for yourself or Lilith while we’re away from home.”

  “Keep him away from your comarré. I don’t want him attempting another escape with her.”

  Octavian laughed. “That girl wouldn’t leave if you paid her, I assure you.”

  “I wish mine was as docile.” Damian had become the one scar on her otherwise perfect life. If the opportunity came to replace him, she would take it, no matter how it might erode her funds. She smiled. What was she thinking? Her funds were unlimited now that she was Dominus. She nodded to herself. Maybe she would visit the Primoris Domus in achtice and see what that house had to offer. Surely for the right amount, they would keep quiet about her difficulties with Damian? With a contemplative sigh, she sat across from Octavian and rested her elbow on the sofa’s arm, then tipped her head into her hand.

  He arched his brows. “Nervous about the ball?”

  She smirked. “I don’t get nervous.”

  Lilith reached for the floor, so he set her down to crawl. “Maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. It’s just that it’s the first time the nobility will meet Lilith. There will be such a crowd there. I can see that it might be… daunting.”

  “Daunting? You think anything daunts me? You seem to have forgotten who I am.” She peered at him curiously for a moment.

  “I didn’t mean to imply…” He shifted nervously. “Forgive me and my poor choice of words.”

  She reached down to tousle Lilith’s dark curls. “I merely want everything to go off perfectly.”

  “I’m sure it will. Lord Syler knows what’s at stake for the House of Bathory as the host. He will not disappoint you.”

  “No, he won’t. Very few people are willing to risk that.” She stared at him pointedly, then shifted her gaze to Lilith, who’d stopped crawling to pet the rug’s fringe. “Things worked out rather well with Svetla, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Orchestrated genius.” His smile faltered a bit. “The ancient ones are damn scary, if I dare say so. I don’t know how you’ve dealt with them for so long. You’re a brave woman, my love.”

  Her own smile faltered as she remembered all she’d been through at the hands of the Castus. “But now I have Lilith. I wouldn’t change anything that’s happened, nor will I let anything or anyone take away all that I’ve worked for. I’ve earned this life and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it be stripped from me without a fight.”

  “After the incident with Svetla, I doubt there’s anyone brave enough to try.” He chuckled softly. “You really have become queen of the vampire nation, haven’t you?”

  “I said I would and I did.” She lifted her gaze to him. “Did you ever doubt me?”

  “No, never.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “There’s no one more powerful than you. Except for the ancients. No wonder they chose you to be their principal.” He frowned. “Do you think… No, I shouldn’t even say such a thing.” He leaned back. “I suppose we should make our way to the plane, hmm?”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “It’s blasphemous. I shouldn’t even think it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Octavian, tell me this instant or I’ll bite you.”

  “That’s not a threat, my love. That’s foreplay.”

  “Tell me,” she demanded.

  He paused, hints of silver in his eyes. He was aroused, no question. She knew because the talk of power had done the same to her. “I was going to say, do you think a time might come when you’ll be as powerful or perhaps more so than the ancients?” He laughed nervously. “See? I told you, blasphemous.”

  She stood and put her hands on her hips, the very idea of such power coursing through her with an erotic heat that demanded assuaging. “Oana,” she called. “Come take Lilith now.”

  The wet nurse ran in from the other room. “Yes, my lady.” She scooped Lilith up and took her out, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  Tatiana stalked across the rug to stand before Octavian. “You should be punished for even thinking such thoughts.” The need for him was so thick in her blood she could barely get the words out. “Wicked creature.”

  He went to his knees before her, his hands snaking up her skirt to wrap around the backs of her thighs. He leaned his head against her leg. “Perhaps you should teach me how to behave, my lady.”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice husky with the weight of desire. “That is exactly what I’m about to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  We have to leave now,” Chrysabelle said a third time. Mal hated seeing her like this, and nothing he said made things any better. Did you expect it to? “I understand, but we can’t go without a plan. It’s a suicide mission otherwise.”

  She paced the length of the living room, turned, and started back. “You’re right, I know, but I feel like every moment here is a moment wasted.”

  Being told he was right, now that was something new. It won’t last. He slanted his eyes at Mortalis, but the fae just shrugged. Clearly, this was Mal’s show.

  She twisted her hands together and stopped abruptly in front of him. “Holy mother, what if Tatiana kills Damian before I get to him? What if he never finds out I’m his sister?”

  Mal took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Sweetheart, that’s not going to happen. We’re the ones with the information this time. We have the advantage. But we have to do this right or we’ll lose it.”

  She nodded. “You’re right.” He raised his brows. Right twice in the space of a few minutes? He could get used to this. Don’t. She sighed. “So what do we do?”

  “Come, sit down.” He guided her to the sofa where they sat. “To start with, we need a way there.”

  “Go see Dominic,” Mortalis offered. “He can supply you with whatever you need.”

  “What we need is an idea.” Chrysabelle rubbed at the signum on the back of her hand. “And I don’t want to ask him for his plane again.” She sat a little straighter. “I should have my own. I certainly have the money.” She looked at Mortalis, eyes hopeful. “Is that something you could help me with? Buying a plane and finding me a pilot?”

  “How soon do you want it? With Luciano here, Dominic isn’t in the club as much, so my hours have been lighter.”

  “Two days?”

  He shook his hea
d. “Not enough time to buy a plane, but I know one you can charter and a pilot you can trust.”

  “Excellent. Get them here as fast as you can.”

  Doc came in the front door. He’d taken over keeping watch from Mortalis since they’d started discussing the mission to recover Damian. “Heads up. Dominic’s coming through the gate and I’m out of here before I get into it with him and ruin the happy vibe going on. I should probably get back anyway, seeing as how I have a pride to run and all.”

  Mal stood. “Keep us posted on Fi.”

  Doc nodded. “Will do. Good luck with Damian. You know I’d go if I could.”

  “I know,” Mal said. “And I appreciate it.”

  Doc grinned. “Bro, love has made you all soft and squishy.”

  And stupid. Mal wanted to punch Doc in the arm for that. Instead, he shook his head. “I learned everything I know from you.”

  Chrysabelle got up and gave Doc a hug. “If there’s anything I can do to help with Fi, just say the word. Thanks for being here.”

  “Sure.” With a nod, he left.

  Mortalis went to the door, pausing to catch Mal’s gaze before heading out. “Do you want Dominic to know you’re alive?”

  “If he’s going to help us, he needs to.”

  “I agree,” Chrysabelle said. She reached for Mal’s hand as Mortalis left to escort Dominic in. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Is anything we do?” She was right—it wouldn’t be easy—but he had a peace about what needed to be done unlike anything he’d felt before. Peace. The last thing you deserve. How odd for him to even use that word, but then everything about his life was odd lately.

  Moments after they heard a car door shut, Dominic entered, Mortalis behind him. Dominic was dressed completely in black: suit, shirt, and tie.

  Mal raised his brows. “You weren’t in mourning for me, were you?”

  “Mamma Mia, you are alive!” Dominic raised his hands, palms together like he was praying. “Now I am only in mourning for my city, my business, and my way of life. This pazzo mayor, she is destroying us all!” He went to Chrysabelle first, kissing her on each cheek. “I came to see you in your time of sorrow, but I am happy to know that time is past, bella. I was worried for you.”