Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6)

by Suzanne M. Sabol

  “You stupid asshole!” I shouted, searching for anything I could grasp onto to keep breathing, keep fighting.

  The zombie sneered at me and then dipped his head, clamping his teeth into my neck.

  “God damn it!” I screamed as the warmth of my own blood coated my neck and shoulder. I inched my feet up the wall until my knees were bent and my thighs were parallel to the ground. I shifted my weight and pushed off the side of the building. The zombie stumbled back at the reverse in momentum and I fell on top of him.

  The zombie’s arms flailed, reaching for me but it was already too late. I sunk the knife straight down into his neck and the crunch of bone snapping beneath the tip of the blade popped up my arm. As the zombie slumped to the ground, I sat back on the torso of the body and heaved a heavy sigh. I wiped my forehead across the shoulder of my blouse that was now soaked with sweat and stuck to my skin. Sliding the knife back into the sheath along my thigh, I got to my feet.

  Heaving the bodies and heads into the same Dumpster as the first, I turned toward the sunlight shining at the end of the alley. I shook the shiver of dark magic from my senses and started running. Maybe I could still win the race. Doubt it. I’d spent too much time with the big one. Dean was probably already waiting on me back at the office.

  Chapter 15

  I don’t care how many priests I made bless the basement or how many cleaning ladies scrubbed the floor, the lower level of Patrick’s mansion still creeped me the hell out. I guess that’s what happens when ritualistic sacrifices for your vampire Lord are performed on a regular basis. The dank, dungeon like feel of torture and bloodshed never quite goes away. Who knew?

  The ambiance didn’t help either. Lit torches lined the walls, casting shadows of flickering flames on the damp stone-walls. The damned basement had overhead lights, for fuck’s sakes. TURN ON THE FLUORESCENTS! And Ciro was a dramatic bastard . . . right.

  The pungent odor of moss seeping in-between the stones and water from the ground beyond the foundational walls had been overpowered by the scent of fire, fear, and anticipation. The fire was from the torches. The fear was mine. The anticipation was from every vampire clustered and ready to watch Patrick finally take me as his servant. Peachy.

  I was already Tiye, which was his consort, but I liked to think of it as advisor who he also got to sleep with. My version made Tiye sound like a bonus instead of a high-ranking whore. Something about that didn’t sit right with me. I was also his Anpu, or harbinger of death. But a servant was something much more than those titled positions. It was an extension, an actual part of Patrick. All of those other things, I could walk away. Nothing was permanent. This servant thingy, his Warda, I would be tied to him forever.

  Patrick and I stood several feet apart, facing each other in an awkward, silent standoff. His face was neutral but I felt all the warring emotions in him; excitement, trepidation, and pleasure. He was enjoying that I was finally his. I should’ve been mad, you know, feminist bullshit and all that jazz. But I killed people and battled monsters on a regular basis, I was pretty comfortable in my own skin. Even if the men I loved were old-school possessive and protective. I accepted it. I didn’t let them forget who I was however, but I accepted their chauvinistic nonsense and them. Men from certain eras were hard to change and since Patrick was more than half a century old and Dean more than a century, I cut them some slack. Very little slack, but some slack nonetheless.

  Alex stood to Patrick’s right. Nova and Miguel were on his left with what seemed like the entire colony ten deep surrounding us in a loose circle to act as witnesses. I smiled and waved at them like a damned idiot. Some of them waved back, some laughed, all of them smiled.

  Standing in a long white gown that Patrick had picked out for me, I shivered with anxiety. The silk of the dress felt smooth and soft against my skin, like I wasn’t wearing anything at all. It hugged my curves and flowed effortlessly with each movement I made. Spaghetti straps exposed my shoulders and arms to the chill in the air. I glanced down to make sure you couldn’t see my nipples through the fabric and my breath lodged like a hard lump in my throat. I hadn’t noticed before, I hadn’t really been paying attention. I was in white, a wedding dress. I was getting married, bonded to this man for eternity . . . literally. Oh fuck!

  I couldn’t keep the sadness from escaping beyond my emotional shields. It had hit me too quick, too hard. I wasn’t even sure what I was sad about. I loved Patrick and if he’d asked me to marry him, I would have said yes. I just never imagined getting married and if I had, a ceremony in a creepy basement wouldn’t be my first choice.

  Stepping forward to close the distance between us, Patrick cupped my face in his hands. “I’ll make this right after we’ve closed the gap and this whole nightmare is over.” He whispered the promise, caressing my lips with his in a sultry kiss filled with desire and love.

  “I’m just being silly,” I said, knowing in my gut what I said was true. I didn’t even know where all this shit was coming from. I wasn’t like this, not normally anyway.

  “No, you are not. Don’t think you’re ever being silly for wanting to be happy, for wanting what everyone else is permitted to have.”

  I wiped a tear from my cheek so no one would see it. He was right. I’d never been like everyone else and all the normal things humans do, I had discounted and abandoned for myself long ago. Looking down at the white dress and the man in front of me, I never thought I’d have them. and I didn’t know how to deal with the sudden reappearance, regardless of the form it had taken.

  The entire colony had already heard our conversation. It’s hard to keep secrets when everyone around you can hear a pin drop at a hundred yards. So what’s a tear or two? What does it matter? In the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t let them see me cry. I wouldn’t be weak in front of them—any of them—not ever again. They needed to believe in me, in us, too much to show weakness. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin as high in the air as I could without breaking my neck.

  “Let’s do this,” I said.

  Nodding, he backed away but only a step. Somehow, the distance was too much to bear and he was too far away for my comfort.

  Drawing an ornate silver knife from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, Patrick held the blade with a light grip. In the low torchlight, the silver glinted along the slender blade with deep intricate symbols etched in the surface. I couldn’t take my eyes off the dull glimmer and dark patina of the etchings as magic made them move and swirl across the blade. The silver didn’t particularly hum with the same magic as Gladi did but the pulse in my throat pounded more fiercely and the tingle in my fingers was more pronounced than if the blade was merely metal with no magic at all.

  “Give me your arm.” Patrick growled in the back of his throat as if he, too, could feel the magic pulsing through the blade. The sound of his voice was filled with anxious, excited energy that sparked down my spine and straight to my groin. I glanced down to the erection pressed against his thigh and tenting his pants. I couldn’t help but lick my lips in anticipation of tasting him.

  Taking my wrist in his hand, he squeezed, keeping my arm straight and giving me just the slightest hint of reassurance. With a quick flick of his hand, Patrick sliced down the underside of my forearm.

  I winced as the silver sunk into my flesh. It was only a small, shallow cut but it hurt like hell just the same. Bending forward, Patrick ran his tongue up the length of the cut, lapping at the blood pooling on my arm. His dark eyes turned up, meeting my gaze with the twinkle of a smile across his blood-stained lips. The feel of his tongue on my skin made me shiver as the sultry caress of his cool peppermint breath countered the heat of my body. My toes curled and my heart raced, flooding his mouth with my blood. Low in my belly, heat raged as desire tightened every muscle I had.

  With a smirk of delight curling his lips, he stood up straight and peered do
wn at me with heat making his obsidian eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. He handed me the knife and extended his arm, ready for the matching wound I had to inflict. Clasping his wrist in my hand, I cut an even smaller slice across his perfect alabaster skin. The silver would scar him and take longer to heal. I was apprehensive about scarring the man I loved but it was necessary to complete the ceremony. I was used to the scars on me, but I would never get used to the scars on him. Especially not the scars now littering his body from his time in Faerie. Those I would never get used to.

  He hissed as the silver burned through his flesh. Matching his movements, I bent down and licked a long line up the wound. The sweet metallic taste of iron-rich blood coated my tongue and as disgusted as I thought I would be, I found that I wasn’t.

  Patrick’s body was taut with caged passion. The muscles in his arms flexed and jumped as my tongue glided over his skin. His blood coated the inside of my mouth and a cool wash of power seeped into my body, attaching to my bones until I couldn’t tell it from me. Drenching me from the inside out, magic as slow and thick as molasses covered every inch of my being. My body cooled and then warmed again as places low and deep within me reacted to Patrick’s power. My thighs quaked and I was wet instantly in reaction to the invasion of his magic.

  Patrick groaned, his eyelids fluttering as the same pleasure flowed through him that had flowed through me. Yanking me to him, Patrick pressed his firm, lean body against mine. Hard and ready to go, his cock ground against my lower belly and through the flimsy silk fabric of my dress. He pressed our open wounds together, entangling our blood in a mix of life and death.

  “Blood to Blood,” Patrick forced through clenched teeth, fighting to finish the ceremony. Fighting to stay in control.

  The naked power and passion burned through me, all-consuming as my mind descended into something primal and almost desperate. I couldn’t hold my shields up any longer and she growled through my mind to drop them.

  Patrick’s arctic wind of power blew through me, touching ever cell in my body with magic, with him. I could almost feel his arctic wind through her fur and I shivered at how good it felt as if she . . . we . . . were made for his cold.

  “Death to life.”

  I’d almost missed his words as the wind of magic whipped through me, sounding like a hurricane in my mind.

  “Blood to blood,” I whispered, forcing the words out even though I couldn’t hear them. “Life to death.” I knew in my head I shouldn’t be able to feel our blood mixing together but I swear I could, dancing together and entangling as one. His blood, my blood, our blood flowed back through my veins.

  “We are bound together. Wardum to Warda, Forever,” he said in a strong clear voice, filling the vast space of the mansion’s basement with his command.

  “Patrick!” Alex shouted beside him, breaking through the thunder in my ears. Her soft chocolate-brown eyes were wide with fear and shock.

  I couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t the verbiage we’d discussed.

  “Are you sure?” I mouthed to him.

  Instead of binding me to him, he’d changed the wording and bound us to each other. And just that quickly, his emotions rushed over me in an overwhelming wash of certainty.

  “Our blood is one,” he continued without hesitating. “Our power is one. Our lives and our death are one.”

  “We are bound together. Warda to Wardum, Forever,” I recited back to him. “Our blood is one, our power is one. Our lives and our death are one.” By the end, my voice was just as strong as his and just as certain.

  Once the last word fell from my lips, magic surged around us and our powers fused together. An unearthly wind swept us up and a rush of energy invaded my body like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind from me as everything got swept up in the whirlwind of magic. My hair whipped around my face, tangling and twisting in the flare.

  Just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind was gone and the magic had settled to a lovely low-pitched hum around us.

  I breathed in, filling my lungs with the cold chill of Patrick’s power, now my power. I didn’t feel any different than before we’d begun but I knew in my bones that I was. I couldn’t feel Patrick’s power tingle along my skin anymore, it was part of me.

  Glancing up into his eyes, my mind filled with emotions that weren't mine as if they were colors sprayed across a canvas. Hurt, pain, and joy from decades of living filled my being. As he stared down at me I understood. We'd hurt each other, pushed the other’s limits to the point of breaking but we were still here, still fighting, still in love with each other.

  His emotions flooded my system so easily that I barely felt a twinge in the pit of my stomach like I once had. Everything we had been was gone, we were something else now.

  I knew the same thing was happening to him. There were things I didn’t want him to see or feel, especially my fear. I was afraid I wouldn’t live up to everyone’s expectations—to his expectations, that I would let all of the people I loved down.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I understand better now, why you left,” he added, squeezing my hand.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” I said, still trying to make him understand, to make it right between us.

  “I know and understand that now. But know this, I can’t live through that again. If something ever happens to you, I—” he started but didn’t finish. His dark eyes were bleak and I knew then why he’d changed the wording in the incantation. I understood better why he’d bound us together instead of me to him. Loneliness was a bitch.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, tilting my head back to gaze up at him.

  Before I knew what was happening, Patrick’s full, cool mouth crashed down on mine. He licked across the seam of my lips, begging to be inside me. Gasping, I fell into the sweet addiction of his kiss. With one hand, he held our wrists together as they healed. With the other, he grazed his fingers up the soft silk fabric covering my thigh. Sliding his hand between my legs, he cupped my sex, soaking the silk with my slick arousal.

  Breaking our kiss and ripping his mouth from mine, he gazed down at me, surprised. “You’re not wearing anything underneath,” he groaned in the back of his throat.

  “You could see the line through the fabric,” I smiled suggestively up at him.

  “Get out,” Patrick bellowed to the colony, at least those still standing ready for his orders. Like good little soldiers, they filed out. Alex was the last.

  The door clicked shut at the top of the stairs and before I could catch my breath, Patrick’s lips crushed mine. His hands gripped at my ass, tugging my groin to his in a forceful jerk against the hard edge of his cock.

  He’s so hard for us, she growled through my mind. He wants us, needs us. Make him ours.

  I plunged my hand down the front of his pants and wrapped my fingers around his thick hardness.

  Groaning into my mouth, he tugged at the dress. Cool air grazed my calves and then my thighs as he gathered my dress in his hands. The silk fabric skimmed over my skin like a feather, sending tendrils of pleasure through me with each inch of flesh exposed. I unzipped his slacks and shoved them over his hips, exposing the long, hard line of his shaft as he sprang free.

  I placed my hands on his shoulders and hopped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his slender waist. He tugged at my dress, pooling it around my hips as his erection dug against the inside of my thigh. So close to where I wanted him, so close to being home.

  “Don’t play with me,” I demanded, panting.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” His gaze was predatory, hungry, and I loved it. Reaching beneath my hips, he fisted his cock in his hand, dragging the tip against my wet center. Teasing bastard!

  “Patrick,” I moaned, “please.” I sucked my bottom lip in between my teeth and b
it down. It was a dirty trick to get him to hurry the hell up. I knew he loved my plump lip between my teeth and I used it to get what I wanted.

  He thrust up, piercing me as I slid home over him. Brushing my mouth across his, I tasted the last remnants of my blood on his lips. I smiled, suddenly feeling very content. “You can’t get rid of me now,” I joked. “You’re stuck with me, FOR-EV-ER,” I moaned as he moved inside of me.

  “Months were too long without you. I couldn’t face years alone,” he whispered. Clutching my hips in his strong hands, he lifted me up then slid me down over him again. I ground my hips, rocking my pelvis in time with his deep thrusts. Winding my fingers through his thick, coarse hair, I took hold and prepared for the ride.

  Patrick sank his head between my breasts and licked a hot line up my chest and neck. Dragging me up and down his shaft, the friction of his cock inside of me was excruciating. Again and again, he plunged deep into me. Pressure built, contracting my womb in anticipation of the much needed release. I turned my head, exposing the thin translucent scars that marked me as his, the marks that burned with anticipation of him to penetrate me again and in every way possible.

  Patrick scrapped his fangs over my skin, sending a painful tingle across my flesh. He wanted to sink every part of himself deep within, I could feel his desire vibrating through him and then me. “I want all of you,” he hissed against my throat, vibrating those little translucent scars with tendrils of pleasure that went straight to my womb.