Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion)

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  “Sean Sr. wasn’t pleased. Too much attention or something.”

  Right. And with the history of Daddy-Dearest knocking the kid around, I bet that created some issues.

  “I don’t know the details, but I heard Nathan dropped out of university and virtually disappeared, apparently with the intent to remedy the situation.”

  “And?”

  “The campus was overrun with a couple hundred zombies as a result. I appreciate that he wasn’t willing to give up but...” Heaven sighed. “I can’t believe Mishka married that boy.”

  I can’t believe Mishka didn’t tell me. She had said Nate wasn’t very powerful...she had flat out lied, straight to my face. The guy could play with dimensions, summon hordes of demons, and raise the dead en masse. Had I been stuck in a fight with him, I could have seriously been hurt, regardless of the fact that he was out of practice. Christ, was I ever hating that girl more and more. I was honestly starting to wonder if one could hire an ethereal assassin to make her afterlife a complete hell.

  ****

  We didn’t see Nate for the rest of the day. Heaven disappeared into the upper levels of the hotel for a break, accompanied by the four members of her security team that weren’t currently keeping watch on the perimeter. Before heading off to sleep in a spare bedrooms offered to me by one of those bodyguards, I tore off the bandages and washed my skin clean of the poultice. The blistered bits of flesh were already flaking off. Another three or four days and I’d probably be as good as new. Well, perhaps scarred, but decent enough.

  Sleeping proved to be a chore. Not that I wasn’t tired—I was bloody exhausted—but my burns still ached. When I finally did rest, the hours were few and relaxation was minimal.

  Heaven and her bodyguards were still gone when I awoke. The clock on the nightstand told me it was only six, but I was pretty sure that was all the sleeping I’d be doing, so I got up.

  The lights in the small, windowless apartment were off, but for the one shining from the slightly ajar bathroom door. I stole through the main room, and paused outside the washroom to gaze in.

  Nate leaned over the sink. His shirt was off and he had pried loose the bandages on his arm to reveal his newest bullet wound. After pulling the bindings away completely, he checked the injury in the mirror and shook his head. Compared to wound on his other arm and one in his gut—both of which my blood had healed—he was likely unimpressed with the unaided healing process thus far.

  I reached for the door, about to walk in. But I paused.

  Hunger gnawed at me, deep and demanding. I could blame the sight and smell of blood, or the fact that he’d intercepted my snack on Sammy the night before. But it wasn’t merely a desire to feed.

  It was a desire to feed from him.

  He splashed some water on his face, raked his hands back through that thick, dark hair of his, and a chill of craving rushed through me. He really was a gorgeous guy, but truth be told, there were a number of damn fine men in the world...so what was it about Nate?

  Was it simply that he repeatedly rebuffed my advances? Was that really all that was bothering me? For someone who gave not a single suggestion that he had any regard for me whatsoever, he was still quick to help me when the need arose, as he had that morning. Perhaps it was my own professed reason for saving his life—taking allies in whatever form they came.

  But there was more to it. I had been sent originally to kill a weak, pretty boy son of some rich guy. But then he became a willing ally and almost reckless in his attempts to help me. Just when I thought I knew him, throw in the ability to command extraordinary magic, a few rebel-without-a-cause stories, and that stubborn need to grab something and hold on—be it his memory of his dead wife, the guard shot and bleeding out he insisted on saving, or sticking with me even when we were being shot at—and an entirely new Nate emerged. An irritable and broodier Nate, but a new one nonetheless.

  Of course, even as I mulled over the reasons why he was the cause of such desire, in the back of my head I knew the truth. Nate had been betrayed by a lover—his wife, no less. And that hurt. I felt it, squeezing my chest and twisting my gut, every time some new tale about Mishka’s treason was told. The look on his face as the pieces of the puzzle came into place reopened wounds in me I had thought were sealed and forgotten.

  I pushed open the door and entered the room, my steps smooth and confident.

  “Thinking of using vamp blood in all your healing spells now?” I nodded at his upper arm, which was bleeding again. “Nothing fixes an injury quite as well, does it?”

  Nate looked up and met my eyes through the mirror, gaze chilly, intense, and nearly stopping me mid-step. He eyed the scarred flesh that spotted my cheeks and neck. “Yours are looking better.”

  “My, my, that almost sounds complimentary.” I offered an easy smile and walked around him. I ran the tip of my finger along his back as I went, gathering a drop of blood on my way past his arm. His stare followed me via the mirror until I came to the other side of the sink, hopped up on the edge of the counter to face him, and pressed my finger to my lips.

  I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the taste of the smidgen of blood, then looked at him again. “Very fine blood.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said dryly.

  “Please sir, can I have some more?” I affected my best British accent—which sucked—and offered him wide, puppy-dog eyes.

  He didn’t reply, and in honesty, the question was more to bug him than it was to obtain a snack.

  I groaned as he ran a cloth under some water and applied it to the wound. “You know, you’re wretchedly dull sometimes.”

  “My father disowned me,” he said.

  “Well, that was an obscure comment.”

  “What Heaven was telling you?” He raised a dark brow and I realized what he was referring to—he’d been listening in. “I’m assuming that’s why you’re here to annoy me.”

  “Good guess, but no, actually.” He didn’t take the bait when I offered a suggestive smile, and I let out a defeated sigh. “So was that before or after the zombies?”

  “Suggested before, enforced after.” He rinsed the blood from the cloth, set it aside, and dug out more first aid supplies.

  “Is that all he did?”

  “Gave me a sound beating with every hardback book in the library.”

  “Ah, I saw that trick. He also threw a chair at me, though. And a filing cabinet.”

  “The objects get bigger if you don’t stay down.”

  Poor kid. Once upon a time, when I helped the helpless, I got some child services records and went after people who beat their kids. It was great fun, but it wears out even a vampire when you realize you can’t save everyone and decapitation doesn’t, in fact, solve all the world’s problems. “So did you really kill like three hundred people?”

  “Probably more like half that, but when I tried to reverse it, I ended up reanimating nearly everyone in the cemetery, which was over five hundred.”

  I bit back a comment about zombie killing because I have some sympathy in me, but it really was my favourite past time. “So your pops disowned you over a bit of necromancy? How tragic, I’m sure. Since you obviously think he’s an asshole, why were you living with him again?”

  “After Sean died in the winter, I was his only heir.”

  And that mended things? Yeah, right. “Nothing like a little grief to bring father and son together?”

  Nothing resembling grief entered his expression; Nate shook his head. “God, no. I hated my brother.”

  “Sibling rivalry?”

  “Yes...that he always won. He was stronger. Better.”

  So he didn’t get hit as often. And probably didn’t defend his baby bro. Even I could read between the lines there.

  Since he was actually being talkative, I changed the subject. “What was the dealio with that crappy barrier spell the other night?”

  “I was out of practice. I’d committed to not using magic after the zombie prob
lem was taken care of.”

  “Feeling guilty?” I smiled for I found the concept amusing.

  He offered a shrug. “I don’t know. It just didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.”

  “Mishka knew all this?”

  Light seemed to fade in his eyes at the mere mention of her name. He nodded and returned his gaze to the mirror.

  “Look, we’ve both been betrayed.” I reached out and rested a hand on his muscled arm, his skin burning my icy fingers. Personally, even I wasn’t sure if the sudden wave of emotion over me was part of another seduction act or if some fraction of me actually felt it.

  His jaw tensed. “Have we really.” A glance at me showed rage simmering in his eyes, their depths going dark and hazy. “Mishka was my wife. Not just some friend or employer or whatever—my wife. I hardly think you’re qualified to understand.”

  Ah, so he thought I was referring to her. I honestly couldn’t give a damn what that kid did to me. Sure, I was pissed about her lying, but I knew I would get over that.

  “I know that,” I said. “What I meant was—”

  “What you meant was that you think your emotions are so much greater than the rest of ours simply because they’re yours.”

  “Well, that goes without saying,” I agreed. “But—”

  “Or is it that you think I’ll believe Mish merely lying to you is equal to her setting me up from day one and then trying to kill me? Why—because you’re arrogant enough to suppose that anyone would believe you since you’re so beautiful?”

  “Ha—you admitted I’m beautiful!”

  He didn’t look amused. “No, I implied you think you are.”

  “Is this about my second degree burns?” I reached over and flipped off the light. “There—”

  He threw the light switch back on. “Mishka didn’t just use my money to hire you to kill me, she married me with this sacrifice in mind. She was supposed to be different—she was supposed to be everything... She lied to me, every day, for the past five months. Now how can you possibly understand what that’s like?”

  Words played on my lips but I couldn’t get them out. What was wrong with me? It would be so simple... Just tell him about Pavel, Zara, and he’ll be yours.

  The story stuck there in my throat. There it was, the one thing I could say to show him I understood...but for whatever reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to utter those words.

  “Exactly—you can’t.” He firmly took my hand and removed it from his arm, then strode out of the bathroom.

  I closed the door behind him, started running a bath, and slipped off the towel I was still wearing.

  So what was I at? Strike number fifty-seven? Or was it fifty-eight? Ah, something like that. Whatever the number, I was definitely out. Sure, I still longed to tell him about me. Not merely for the sake of talking about myself, but to simply share something with someone who could emphasize. Something that would make me more of a three dimensional being in his eyes. But I was already bored with pursing him. His refusals were still a turn on, but the chase itself was getting old.

  Let him brood over his bitch of a dead wife. I was done with it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Threesome

  Nate was gone when I finished my bath. Heaven said he had gone out to get something, but had no idea what.

  It was comforting to know she was on top of things.

  My clothes were clean and dry, so I discarded the towel and slipped on my still-warm-from-the-dryer tank top and thong, but forewent my jeans since I was still hurting from the last time I put them on. There was a TV in one of the rooms, so I tried to pass the next couple of hours flipping through stations and found nothing good On Demand to order as far as movies went. Monday night primetime line-ups sucked, though, so I switched off the set and decided to bug Heaven.

  “So, Heaven,” I said, strolling into the living room and slouching down onto a chair. “I was thinking...why don’t you just summon this Oblivion-dude again?”

  She nearly spit the coffee she was drinking straight back in the cup. “Zara, what in Her name do you—”

  “Well, if Mishka was his daughter, he’d be pissed, right? He’d want vengeance on whoever did it, and I imagine he’s got way better resources than we do.”

  She stared at me in absolute horror. “Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting? Are you mad?”

  I shrugged. I thought it made sense, but apparently summoning big, scary half-demon guys could only be done when she deemed it appropriate. Heaven wasn’t much of a team player.

  “Would Nate know how to do it then?”

  “How would I know?” she said wearily. Even the bazillion cups of coffee she’d had that day weren’t helping her to stay awake anymore.

  “So what did it cost you?”

  “What?”

  “Mishka. What did having her cost you? I mean, the father was like the antichrist, and her grandma’s kind of the devil, so it was probably major, right?”

  She ignored me.

  I sighed. If I had to spend much more time there, I was apt to go stark raving mad.

  Footsteps sounded from the staircase beyond the living room and a few moments later the door opened to reveal Nate.

  “Aw,” I said with an overly-sweet smile. “Isn’t that nice—you didn’t get yourself killed while you ran off on your own.”

  Without a word, he tossed me one of the two black duffle bags he carried. I yanked open the zipper and rifled through the clothes inside.

  Oh. My. Goddess. “Are these for me?” I pulled out a bluish-gray knit top with an asymmetrical neckline. Then checked the label—holy fuck, it would’ve been expensive. “This is cute. Did you pick them out yourself?”

  “No, I went to a friend’s store and told her to fill the bag with whatever,” he said. “Besides, I thought you might need them since all your things were burned.”

  My head shot up and I met his eyes. “They burned down my apartment?”

  He nodded.

  “Those goddamn, stupid, fucking, cockbite bastards!” I tossed the top back in the bag and stomped my foot. I loved that place! I was about to rant some more when there were several shouts upstairs. Heaven froze and stared at the open door while I put the duffle bag down and stood.

  “No—I’m with him!” a familiar voice said.

  Nate shook his head with irritation. “Guess who I ran into.”

  After several heavy footfalls of someone thumping down the steps, Jamie burst into the room. He paused in the doorway, and when his eyes fixed on me, he raced across the room and swept me into his arms before I could protest.

  “Those looks like burns,” he murmured into my ear. “Are you all right?”

  In answer, I kicked his shin. “Put me down, goddamn it!”

  Though my feet touched down again, he still held me tightly. “Love, when I saw what they did to your apartment...” His voice trailed off as he lifted my face into his hands and kissed me deeply. Though I wanted to pretend the sudden interest was an annoyance, I couldn’t help but take delight in it.

  At least someone liked me. I resisted an urge to glare at Nate.

  Our lips parted, and Jamie pulled back to look at me. There was a mischievous glint in his dark eyes and I knew whatever worries he professed to have had gone. “Why don’t we go celebrate your miraculous safety privately?”

  “Why don’t you go celebrate privately?” I disentangled myself from his embrace to turn to Nate. “Who said you’re allowed to pick up strays?”

  “Ouch, darling, that hurts.” Jamie sat in the chair I had occupied and grabbed my hand, yanked me back so I was sitting on his lap. “So, this place is...boring. Why are we here?”

  “Is everyone going to be living here now?” Heaven asked, exasperated. “Who is this?”

  “Stray dog,” I said in a bored tone.

  “I think you can do better than that.” Jamie looked Heaven’s way with his most charming smile. “My name is Jamie, ma’am. I’m Zara’s boyfrie
nd.”

  “No, you’re not,” I snapped.

  “And you are?” he asked her, ignoring me.

  “Heaven Thiering.” She eyed him suspiciously. “So, another vampire?”

  “Indeed I am, Ms. Thiering. And you would presumably be the same lovely woman who heads the Thiering coven?”

  She nodded. “I’ll go talk to someone about making up an extra room here for you three.” She went upstairs without another word.

  “Why did you bring him here?” I asked Nate, ignoring the hurt look Jamie pretended to give me.

  “He was lurking around the remains of your building.” Nate sat down on the couch across from us.

  “I wasn’t lurking,” Jamie corrected him. “I was...hanging around.”

  “Also known as lurking,” I said.

  “You told me to come back,” Jamie reminded me. “Couldn’t make it last night, so I came today. When I did, I saw the place was still smoking, and I honestly thought you were done for, honey. Luckily I spotted Junior, and he told me you were very much alive and eager to see me.”

  “I didn’t—” Nate began, but Jamie cut him off.

  “And I insisted on joining him.” He stopped speaking for a moment and even his smile faded as he brushed some strands of my long black hair aside to study my face. He swept my tresses up to inspect my neck, then dropped them to trace the burns around my shoulder.

  “They hurt you,” he said quietly.

  “I suppose it’s my own fault for having skylights,” I said, somewhat embarrassed at the attention he was suddenly giving me.

  “I’m glad you were there to save our lovely Zara,” Jamie said to Nate.

  “Whoa—wait a second, nobody ‘saved’ me!”

  “Right, because while you were trapped under the bed you had them right where you wanted them,” Nate said.

  “Hey, maybe we should be glad I saved you the other night so you could ‘assist’ in my escape this morning,” I said.

  “Okay, I’m very glad you saved the kid, Zara-Dear,” Jamie said, running a hand back through my hair.