The last time he had tried to drink pig’s blood, he had ended up vomiting it all over the table.
It had been cold that time. Perhaps if she warmed it. The thought of warming blood in her microwave turned her stomach and she shoved it out of her mind as she shouldered the door to her apartment building open and worked her way up the stairs.
She looked down at the bag that contained the blood when she reached her apartment door. It had to work. Even if it only staved off the worst of the effects, buying Guillem more time.
Time she badly needed now that Marek had filled her head with doubts.
She had done her best to cling to hope, but it had been fading over the last two days, withering away just like her brother was.
She had tried to talk to Guillem about it, but every time she had found her voice or the right way to word things, she had ended up saying something else, anything else to avoid disappointing him. She needed to talk to him though, couldn’t let it go on any longer, because she didn’t only want to talk to him about what she had learned.
She also wanted to talk to him about Marek.
She needed her brother’s advice about what she had done.
Had it been wrong of her?
It hadn’t felt wrong. It didn’t feel wrong.
But Marek wasn’t human like her.
“Guillem.” She pushed the door open and frowned when he wasn’t in the living room.
He had been there when she had left an hour ago, watching one of his favourite TV programmes on Netflix. Maybe he was in the shower. He had talked about wanting one before she had left.
“Guillem?” she called again and listened. She couldn’t hear any water running.
She turned towards the kitchen, thoughts drifting to Marek and what she had done. It had been good at the time, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt as if she was getting in too deep into a world she knew little about.
Falling down that dreaded rabbit hole.
That feeling only intensified as she pushed the kitchen door open and found Guillem standing on the other side of the table they had squeezed into the limited space.
And he wasn’t alone.
A beautiful woman stood behind him, almost as tall as he was, her long fall of dark violet hair shimmering black beneath the harsh lights. Her quicksilver eyes lifted to meet Caterina’s gaze. The woman smiled, her black painted lips curling softly, and her irises shifted, the silver in them swirling.
Her slender pale hand gently gripped Guillem’s throat, her black nails a stark contrast against his ashen skin. He kept his chin tilted up as his dull hazel eyes fixed on Caterina.
“Guillem,” she whispered and slowly lowered her bags to the tiles, afraid that if she moved too fast that the woman would spook and hurt him. “Please, let him go.”
“She will not hurt him.” The deep male voice held a note of authority, a command that drew her focus to its owner.
He sat at her small square kitchen table, casually reclining in one of the wooden chairs, his feet resting on the oak surface and the scuffed soles of his black knee-high riding boots facing her.
His hands rested in his lap, as pale as the moon against tight onyx trousers, and the long coat he wore spilled from his hips to pool on the floor. She followed the trail of silver buttons up his chest to the tight collar and forced her gaze to keep moving as nerves began to rise, awakening the need to run.
Because she was more than getting in too deep.
She was already down the rabbit hole.
And at the bottom, a monster had been waiting.
His violet eyes held hers, rendering her immobile, stealing all her focus.
“I need you to do me a favour.” His regal accent sent a shiver tumbling down her spine, his calm tone setting her on edge for some reason.
She flicked a glance at the woman holding her brother. Not a vampire. She was something else.
Her eyes leaped back to the violet-eyed black-haired man. He was something else too.
Something dangerous.
Every instinct she had honed over the last decade screamed that at her.
They were both dangerous.
And they had her brother at their mercy.
“Guillem, are you all right?” She glanced at her brother again and he gave a strained nod, only able to move his head a few millimetres as the woman tightened her grip on his throat. Caterina’s gaze shot down to the man seated at her kitchen table. “You hurt him and I’ll…”
She trailed off when his eyes narrowed slightly, in a way that screamed he wanted her to finish that sentence with the impotent threat that had been on the tip of her tongue.
“And I won’t do anything for you.” She hated how weak and defeated she sounded as she uttered those words rather than the threat of violence she had wanted to throw at him.
She wanted to say that she wasn’t interested in doing them a favour, but she knew in her heart they weren’t giving her a choice. If she didn’t do what they wanted, they would hurt Guillem.
Or worse.
And then they would probably kill her.
Her eyes lifted back to Guillem, her heart aching with a need to set him free, to get him away from the woman and this man. Guillem’s eyes remained dull, his gaze distant, as if he wasn’t quite here in the room with them. A bad day. Her brother always looked like that when the hunger became too much for him, always withdrew and ended up passing days without uttering a word. It broke her heart. He had looked so well the other night that she had fooled herself into thinking he was getting better.
“We just need you to do something.” The man’s calm tone, each word spoken carefully, set her on edge.
Caterina locked gazes with him again. She hadn’t meant to, had only intended to glance at him, but something about those eyes made it impossible to look away from them. They brightened, holding her, and she struggled to keep her focus as she fell into them.
Her brother was in danger.
That sharpened her senses again, allowing her to claw back some control of herself.
“What will I get in return?” she said.
The man smiled, a spark of amusement igniting in his eyes. “To live?”
Caterina tensed.
His smile widened, grew charming as he theatrically waved his hand towards Guillem where he stood behind him, still held by the beautiful woman. “You clearly love your brother. Do you need any other motivation? We have been watching you since we first saw you with him.”
She frowned. “With my brother?”
“No.” His smile turned cold. “The wretched god.”
“God?”
“Do not play dumb. You know who we are speaking about,” the woman snapped, each word lashing at Caterina, driving them deep into her mind.
Until a thought crystallised.
She did know who they were talking about.
She just hadn’t expected Marek to be a god.
“Your brother is sick,” the man continued, his shrewd gaze leaving Caterina in no doubt that he knew more about her than he was letting on, and that he knew she was aware the man she had slept with was no man at all. “Do this for us, and we can make him better.”
Her heart leaped at that before she could stop it and she feared he had seen it as his eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of his lips curling in response.
She told herself not to believe him, not to let him blind her with hope just as she had lost it. There would be a catch. There always was in this sort of situation. She had been losing hope and this man had appeared to offer her everything she had been fighting for this last decade. No way there wasn’t a catch, and it wouldn’t be a huge one. Life just wasn’t that kind to her.
“I see doubts in those eyes of yours.” He leaned back further and dropped his feet to the floor, sitting up and commanding all of her focus again. “I assure you, I can make Guillem better. You just need to do this one thing for me and then you can have what you want—your brother well again. You do wan
t that, do you not, Caterina?”
The silky persuasiveness of his voice made it hard to remember that he was holding her brother hostage, and that he wasn’t here out of the kindness of whatever black heart lurked beneath his tight coat.
It lulled her and had her falling into his eyes all over again.
She snapped herself out of it and looked at Guillem, seeking her strength there in his eyes, in the way he was still looking at her, trusting her to save him.
“More than anything,” she whispered, aching to go to him as he shook, his eyes glazing as hunger got the better of him.
Hunger she had hoped to assuage with damned pig’s blood when she knew that wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was help, and that was the one thing she couldn’t give him.
Hunting vampires wasn’t going to save him.
She could see that now.
All she had been doing was fooling herself, burying her head in the sand because she didn’t want to face facts.
She was going to lose the only family she had left.
“How do I know you can help him, though?” She looked back at the man, the desperation building inside her lacing her voice for him to hear. She was too tired to hold it back and hide it, too low in spirits to pretend she still had hope.
Marek had burst that dam and it was flooding out of her now.
“I know his breed better than anyone.” He parted his lips and revealed short canines that slowly extended, becoming white daggers. “I can save him, Caterina. You only need to do as I ask.”
“You’re a vampire.”
He shook his head. “No. I am not one of that breed, Caterina. I know it well enough though.”
Well enough to save Guillem?
“There’s no cure,” she whispered, testing the waters, determined to discover once and for all whether it was possible for Guillem to be freed of his curse. Marek had told her it might be possible. What would this man say? She studied him as she steadied her nerves. “He told me that much.”
His face darkened. “The wretched god does not know of your brother’s situation. If he did, Guillem would be dead. He does not know how you suffer, desperate to save him. I know, Caterina. I know and I can help him. I can free him of this curse. I have done it for others.”
The shattered fragments of her hope slowly pieced themselves back together in her heart as she listened to him, as she saw the conviction in his violet eyes, the belief that he could help Guillem.
She looked at her brother again.
She knew what the man wanted her to do. He wanted her to pick between her brother and Marek. She was attracted to Marek and had thought things between them could have grown into something given time, something more than explosive passion.
But if she had to choose between him and her brother, she would pick her brother every time.
She forced herself to nod, schooled her features and refused to let the man or the woman see how much this hurt her. Her stomach squirmed and she resisted the urge to touch it, to rub it and get it to settle as she waited for the man to speak. She silently apologised to Marek. She had no choice.
This was Guillem they were talking about.
Her brother.
“Lure the god under your spell and into a trap for me.” The man eased onto his feet, coming to tower over her brother and the woman. “We have tried this before, but the fool failed. With this brother, we will do it right. Find the wretch, cast your spell, and cast it well. I will tell you the next step once I am satisfied the hook is set.”
Caterina didn’t like the sound of being bait for Marek, not the way the man painted it, wanting her to continue growing closer to him. She wasn’t an actress. When she felt something, it showed ninety percent of the time. Her mother had always said she wore her heart on her sleeve when it came to her deeper feelings. Even when she was facing vampires, she found it hard to conceal her true feelings in order to deceive them and allow her to get the jump on them.
Could she pretend everything was fine between her and Marek?
Could she even be around him without risking falling for him?
If the man spoke true, then they had attempted this ploy with one of his brothers. Surely that meant Marek would be on alert, wary of women or people attempting to seduce him in case it was a trap.
Although, he hadn’t been at all wary of her on that rooftop in the dark.
She didn’t want to think about that moment. Not only because it stirred heat in her, had the attraction she felt towards Marek rising to the fore again to fill her head with a need to see him, but because she feared the man before her had witnessed it all.
That was the reason he was here now.
He had seen what she had done with Marek and felt sure she could carry out this task for him. Could she?
Whenever she thought about luring Marek into a trap, the churning in her stomach worsened and war erupted inside her, a battle between what she felt for Marek and her love for her brother.
Guillem suddenly bowed forwards and struggled against the woman’s hold. She was quick to subdue him again, wrestling him back under control as Caterina’s gaze leaped to him.
His eyes were bright and wild as he stared at her, his chest heaving with each hard breath he sucked down.
“Why are you hesitating?” he spat in Catalan, the venom in his voice shocking her. “I’m your brother. He’s nothing to you… nothing. You love me. You can do this for me… for us, Caterina.”
His breaths came faster, his nostrils flaring as he strained towards her, fighting the woman as she gripped his chest and throat. If he didn’t calm down soon, he would pass out.
She took a step towards him.
The violet-eyed man held a hand up, a warning she found difficult to heed as Guillem clawed at his dark hair and gritted his teeth, snarling through them.
“I’m sick of this,” Guillem muttered and as quickly as his strength had returned, it faded. He sagged against the woman, his breaths shallow and uneven. “Sick of it.”
“Guillem.” Caterina reached for him, her brow furrowing, chest tightening as his eyes dulled again. Her gaze darted to the man and then the woman, her pulse racing in her ears as fear got the better of her. “He needs to rest. Please.”
“Lisabeta, take the young man to rest.” The black-haired man regally waved his hand and the beautiful silver-eyed woman nodded gracefully, and led Guillem away, ushering him towards Caterina.
When he neared her, Caterina reached out and brushed his hand with hers, met his gaze and hoped he saw in her eyes that it would all work out. Everything would be fine. She would save him, just as she had promised all those years ago.
Although she wasn’t sure she would be able to live with herself.
Marek had done nothing wrong in her eyes, he had done nothing to deserve what she was going to do to him for the sake of her brother. She tamped down her rebellious feelings and focused on Guillem, on fulfilling that promise. She had to do this.
The man withdrew a slender wooden box from his coat pocket and opened it.
Her pulse jacked up as he carefully lifted a syringe from its bed of black velvet. The dark liquid it contained was thick and syrupy as the man turned it so the needle was pointing towards the ceiling, and rested his thumb against the bottom of the syringe.
“What is that? The cure?” She found herself leaning forwards as that thought struck her, the hope he had pieced back together growing stronger as she convinced herself that it was.
Saving her brother was there within her reach.
The man disappeared in a plume of violet and black smoke that sparked with purple lightning, and she gasped as he reappeared behind her, his free hand closing over the front of her throat before she could move.
“No,” he purred into her ear. “An insurance policy.”
She flinched as he stabbed her with the needle, the world going silent for a moment as her ears rang, and then panic flared, adrenaline crashing through her as her mind caught up and screamed a
t her to get away.
She struggled against his hold, elbowing him in the ribs with her left arm, but he tightened his grip on her throat. She choked and gasped for air, her eyes watering as her throat burned and a strange cold ran outwards from the point where the needle had pierced her arm.
“This is just in case the feelings you have for the god grow stronger than the love you have for your brother… or you develop a conscience.” He eased his grip on her throat as she gave up fighting him, his voice as smooth as honey, sweet enough to soothe the edges of her fear as he withdrew the needle. “Only I can cure this infection.”
Her pulse spiked right back up, her eyes shooting wide. “Infection?”
The man stroked her throat, slowly, gently, and the cold that had been rolling through her turned to warmth. She tried to pull away from him but he caged her against him, and she was glad for his hold on her when her legs buckled, suddenly giving out beneath her.
“In my experience, people tend to care more about themselves than anyone else.” He banded one arm around her waist and manoeuvred her onto a wooden chair at the table. When she was settled on it, he crouched before her and looked deep into her eyes, his leaping between them. He touched her forehead and she shivered, the cool touch against her burning flesh sheer bliss. “This way, you will do as I want.”
“I was going to do what you wanted anyway!” She shoved at him, knocking him back a step, and regretted it when the delicious cool of his hand left her skin and she burned up all over again.
“The male is resting.” Lisabeta stepped into the kitchen, looked between her and the man, and frowned. “It is done?”
He nodded.
Her face blackened. “You said you would not do it alone. Did you lay hands upon her?”
He smiled, a mixture of amusement and irritation in it. “Dear Lisabeta, you know my heart belongs to you. I only did what I had to for the cause.”
Caterina wasn’t interested in their lover’s spat. She stared at the empty syringe on the table, panic mounting again as she thought about the dark liquid that had been in it and was now in her. Sweat dotted her brow, and she swore someone had turned the temperature up. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead and swallowed, unsuccessfully attempting to wet her parched throat.
Marek: Guardians of Hades Series Book 4 Page 12