All That Bleeds

by Kimberly Frost

  A tear spilled over her cheek. “It’s so evil, so wrong to use the gift to hurt someone. I was sick about it for weeks afterward. I was also afraid he would tell the EC what I’d done and get me thrown out of the Etherlin forever. He didn’t. Looking back, I’m sure he knew the EC would’ve asked me why I’d done it and, with nothing to lose, I would’ve told the truth and destroyed us both.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to let the tension of the memories drain out of her. “I’ve never misused my gift that way again. I’ve also never let one of them seduce me again, though they try. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I learned it.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Why?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t confide in you so that you would do something to him. I’ve already had my revenge; it was more than I could stand.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Old enough that I should’ve known better.” She pressed her lids together.

  “That young, huh?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “And he was?”

  “Don’t expect me to give you a number.”

  “But significantly older?”

  “Naturally.”

  “You’re not what I expected.”

  “I’m sure,” she said with a rueful laugh. “You thought you were going to get to corrupt a snow-pure Etherlin princess. I bet it’s disappointing to learn I’ve already been completely corrupted.” Her voice sounded hollow, just the way her insides felt at times.

  “Completely corrupted? Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” His fingers stroked her hair. “I’ve read all your letters, remember? You take dreams of a better world and make them true. You reach out to redeem people who don’t deserve it and deal almost exclusively in hope and optimism. Are you really going to describe yourself as corrupted? I thought your vocabulary was better than that.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Sure, I do. Someone took your innocence, then tried to convince you it was your fault, that you should be ashamed for falling for his lies. That game’s as old as Lysander.

  “It’s easy to see the world as a great place when it’s never shown you anything but deference, Alissa. That’s how I assumed you came by your optimism. But the truth is you’ve been tested in ways I never realized. You’ve been betrayed. The ultimate trial by the fire. The pain couldn’t break you; it couldn’t bend you into something you weren’t meant to be. The past may still hurt, but it doesn’t own you. I respect that. So should you.”

  New tears formed. She blinked them away, realizing this was what she’d wanted from him all along. That he should know her true lapses in judgment and yet treat her as though she had never had them. The knots in her muscles, in her conscience, loosened. Here in the dark, with the most unlikely of confidantes, she was her true self. She exhaled her relief as a sigh and felt tenderness and also responsibility. Real friendship had to be reciprocated. It had to be guarded and protected.

  “Please be careful, James.” She laid a hand on his ribs and pressed for emphasis. “I think as a ventala you’re immune to the addictiveness of muse magic. I believe I could have you and let you go without destroying you, but I can’t be completely sure.”

  He smiled. “If destruction is the chaser to being had by you, pour me a glass and watch me drink it down.”

  She raised her head to look in his eyes. “I’m serious. It’s a warning that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

  “Maybe not, but fear overplayed its hand when I was a kid. At some point, I stopped caring whether I was living my last day. Since then I haven’t met many warnings that interested me. What does interest me though is what ‘being had by you’ entails. I’d like to hear about that in detail.”

  She smiled, wanting to put all her faith in the fact that he could handle whatever came, that she could flirt with him without reservation. She bent her head and bit his unwounded shoulder hard enough to leave a small red mark. “You are temptation’s fruit, James Merrick.”

  He stole a deep kiss, then let his head fall back onto the pillow as he glanced at the window. “Morning has the worst timing.”

  She smoothed a lock of hair back from his brow as dawn broke over the Etherlin. His eyes closed, and his breathing settled into an even rhythm. She kissed his lips softly and whispered, “Please be strong enough.”

  Chapter 18

  Alissa slept deeply, following a path of dreams that progressed darkly until she woke in a nightmare.

  “Oh,” she said with a gasp as her eyes adjusted. Her father stood over the bed. He’d taken an antique dagger from the library wall display and was holding it to Merrick’s throat. She’d missed what her father had said, but knew from Merrick’s reply that it was something to do with suspecting him of being Hades.

  “Where’s a helm of darkness when you need one?” Merrick said, his voice a low rumble.

  “I smell pomegranate. If you fed her a single seed of that blood fruit, I’ll spill the juice from your throat.”

  “Dad, everything is all right. This—”

  Merrick’s hand snaked up and caught her father’s around the wrist, holding it steady at the left side of his neck. “I’m not Hades, though that would’ve been a more interesting disguise than a security consultant from San Diego.”

  “I’m sorry. Don’t hurt him,” she said softly to Merrick, which seemed ironic since her father was the one standing over them with a knife.

  Her father’s free hand thrust forward and compressed Merrick’s windpipe. “The door is never locked. Never. Until today. Think I’d let you hold her prisoner in her own house?”

  Alissa put her hand on her father’s arm. “He isn’t holding me prisoner. He came to help me.” She squeezed tighter. “Please let go.”

  Merrick’s face was impassive as he studied her father. She was grateful that he didn’t fight to free himself.

  Her father let go of Merrick’s throat but didn’t withdraw the dagger. “Hades can disguise himself. All the gods can,” he said, then looked back at Merrick. “If you’re not Hades, prove it.”

  Merrick smiled slowly. “How would I do that?” Merrick’s gaze flicked momentarily to the dagger. “By showing you that I’m not immortal? Like a witch trial where they tie you up and throw you in the water, and if you drown, you’re innocent?”

  “The doors are never locked. I come in every night through these doors to watch over her.”

  “You didn’t need to come in. Last night, I was watching over her.”

  “Who are you?” her dad demanded. The tip of the blade nicked Merrick’s skin, and Merrick pushed her father’s arm back and sat up in one continuous motion.

  “You tell me,” Merrick said. “After a long journey of many obstacles, destiny gave me the opportunity to rescue her from a titan. I’ve waited a long time for this chance.” Merrick’s eyes locked with her father’s. “He conquers who endures.”

  Her father’s expression shifted from serious to amused. He stepped back, pulling his wrist free and lowering the dagger. “You’ve mixed Perseus with Persius.” The unkempt eyebrows bobbed as if nodding. “Hades is a trickster, but he’s not possessed of wit, clever or otherwise. So you need not die to prove you’re innocent of the first charge. Congratulations.”

  How had Merrick known about her father’s love of quotes? Or exactly how to handle her dad?

  “Now, show me your teeth, because I suspect I know what manner of creature you are. Modern, I think,” her dad said.

  Alissa, who was now also sitting up, put a hand on Merrick’s shoulder, leaned near his ear, and whispered, “You don’t have to. Give me a moment with him.”

  “It’s all right,” Merrick said, drawing his lips back, letting his fangs show.

  “It’s against the law for you to be here,” her dad said.

  “Ius summum saepe summa est malitia,” Merrick said.

  “Extreme law is often extreme injustice,” Alissa translated.

  Her
father tipped his head to the side. “I know that quote…Terence the Roman playwright. I used it once in an essay.” He pointed the tip of the dagger. “Fifteen years ago.”

  “You warned of the danger of creating a new second-class citizen,” Merrick said.

  “The ventala were the new second-class citizen?” Alissa asked.

  “Yes, by virtue of having a special set of laws that pertain only to them,” her dad said.

  “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she said.

  “The counterargument was that blacks and women, who were granted equal rights, are not driven by genetics to hunt and prey on their fellow human beings. My suggestion was that any special laws for ventala should be confined to protecting humans in a very direct way. Laws restricting other things, like travel, I postulated were going to be considered oppressive, and oppression always leads to insurrection.” He flexed his wrist, making the dagger’s tip move up and down for emphasis. “That article was never published. I withdrew the rights to print it at the request of the EC. Where did you read it?”

  “A file.”

  “Why are you investigating me? Who’s helping you? Is it that damned Hermes? Or J. Edgar Hoover? He’s a problem. Keeps files on everyone.”

  Merrick stood and walked around her father, who turned to keep his eyes on Merrick.

  “Andromeda, Dimitri’s here for you,” her dad said.

  She snapped her head up. “What? Dimitri’s downstairs?”

  Her father nodded.

  She winced. “Did you talk to him, Dad?”

  “No, I was busy breaking in here,” he said, watching Merrick warily as Merrick dressed. “Why are you spying on me?”

  Merrick shook his head.

  “You deny it? I stand by my word choice,” her dad said. “Mining through manuscripts, quoting quoted quotes, superseding home security. You’ve invaded my privacy and catalogued my thoughts! That is spying.”

  Merrick pulled the dressing off his shoulder. The wound was dry and scabbed over. He strode to the bathroom and pitched the bandages into the trash. “The file wasn’t about you.”

  “What was it about?”

  “Her,” Merrick said with a nod at Alissa.

  She stared at him. Of course, she knew he’d taken an interest in her, but to have collected background information on her father…That was unsettling. How much did Merrick know and who were his sources?

  Merrick slid on a white shirt. It hung open, framing the incredible muscles of his torso. His cavalier attitude toward the dagger seemed almost natural since he looked thoroughly capable of defending himself with his bare hands against all but a nuclear attack. “The medallion goes under the shirt. Think he’ll take the change in stride?”

  She didn’t know how her dad would react to the sight of Merrick shifting appearances. “Hey, Dad, can you wait for me in the reading room?” Alissa asked gently.

  Her father gave Merrick an appraising look, then put the dagger in Alissa’s hand. “Don’t eat any seeds.”

  After her father left, Alissa turned to face Merrick. Lacking makeup and wearing rumpled flannel pajamas, he still found her beautiful enough to induce aching. She stood as straight and still as if she’d been carved of stone.

  “Now you’ve met the inspiration for my warning. After the muse magic was ripped from his life, he stopped being able to separate facts from fiction.”

  Despite the father being unhinged, Alissa clearly wanted to keep her dad with her. Merrick bet if Etherlin Security found out that the old man was prone to full-blown hallucinations and skulking around Alissa’s bedroom with daggers, he’d be relocated to an institution before she could say Hades.

  “He’s been getting better,” she said. “This is just a temporary setback.” She paused. When he didn’t respond, she set the knife on the dresser and touched her fingers to a spot on her neck that mirrored where he’d been pricked. “I’m sorry about the dagger.”

  “I’ve nicked myself worse shaving,” Merrick said.

  Her shoulders relaxed. Her smile was tentative, but grateful. He’d never expected that his chaotic and violent childhood would become advantageous, but Merrick was sure he was unique in Alissa’s life with his unfazed reaction to her dad’s behavior.

  “I didn’t know he was checking on me at night. I would’ve warned you—or better arranged things—if I’d realized.”

  Better arranged things by not sleeping in the same bed with him? He’d have suffered a lot worse violence than a nick before he’d have given up the feel of her hair against his chest and her body pressed to his.

  “So, you’ve been investigating me and keeping a file? I don’t know how to feel about that.”

  “Feel flattered.”

  She raised a brow.

  He smiled. “I thought you were looking for a suggestion.”

  “About last night,” she said, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  “Yes?” Merrick said, picking up the medallion.

  “I got a little carried away last night.”

  They were bound to disagree on that point. He set the medallion down again, blinking against the light seeping in from behind the curtains. Midday, he thought.

  It was probably natural for her to have second thoughts, but he wouldn’t make it easy for her to back away from him.

  She glanced at the door. “Dimitri is president of the Etherlin Council. I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

  The Etherlin calling, pulling her away from him. The impulse to block the door or pull her into bed was strong. Everything in him wanted to reestablish the intimacy of the previous night. “Think this is a good strategy?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I have to change and go down to see Dimitri. It’s two days before the Wreath Muse vote, so I need to be particularly careful in my behavior.”

  He stared at her. She held her hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “But you’re right. It’s impolite to say I’m having second thoughts about something and then not elaborate. I apologize. I’ll explain later.”

  He didn’t need an explanation and wouldn’t waste their time together listening to one. “Good luck with that.” He raised the medallion.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What did you mean by strategy?”

  His blood quickened at the challenge in her aquamarine gaze. “The prey runs; the predator chases. It’s instinct. If you actually want to get away, are uncertainty and retreat your best strategy?”

  “I am not your prey.”

  She might object to the terms, but they were clearly engaged in a ritual as old as time. He quirked a brow.

  “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.

  He studied her. She was angrier than he’d expected.

  “I can change my mind. That doesn’t absolve you of civilized behavior. Human beings are capable of ignoring their instincts. And before you say that ventala are not human, save your breath. You have more control than anyone I know. People shove blades and gun barrels against your skin, and you don’t even react. That completely defies instinct.”

  “I never said I wasn’t capable of ignoring my instincts when I want to.”

  “Meaning what? That if I tried to run away, you’d enjoy hunting me?”

  “Well, it’s not my favorite of the proposed scenarios. I liked it better when you were going to have and destroy me. But if you lose your nerve and play hard to get, I’ll pursue you. Genetically, that’s my job.”

  “As a man or as a vampire?”

  “Pick one.”

  “I don’t like being called prey.”

  “Noted.”

  “Do you understand why I hate it? Real predators kill their prey. I’ve been hunted by men I would characterize as predators. Stalkers who were so driven by their impulses, they would rather have killed me than be denied what they wanted. The intensity of their obsession made them feel entitled to me, whether I wanted them or not.”

  He frowned, finally understanding why his word choice had been a miscalculation. Most women he
flirted with wanted him to chase them. Uncovering his predatory nature was part of the thrill. But none of them were muses who’d been the victims of stalkers.

  “Do you want me to go?” he asked. He kept his tone even, but his body tensed. This opportunity for them to spend time together might never come again. When it was over, he at least wanted his memories of it. He wasn’t ready to be cast out yet.

  “If I wanted you to go, would you?” she asked.

  Knowing the right answer, he nodded. She wanted to play with fire, but she wanted reassurance that she wouldn’t be burned.

  She stared into his eyes, weighing his sincerity. He doubted it was a thing she could assess, since he didn’t know himself whether he told the truth. Of course, he wouldn’t hurt her, but would he leave if she asked him to? If she really wanted that, he probably would. He thought about how he’d let Tobin go so he could keep his promise to her. She had the kind of influence over him that no one else ever had. He needed to be careful of that. Their interests might not always run parallel.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, exhaling, “for implying that I can’t trust you. If you’d wanted to hurt me, you could have already. It’s only that I hear the council’s warnings in my head. I also wonder if I can really trust myself to be a good enough judge of character, given that I’ve made mistakes in the past. That reference to being stalked like prey dredged up memories. None of that is your fault, though, so I’m sorry.”

  “You have cause to be suspicious of any man who goes to extraordinary lengths to get near you, especially one who’s half vampire.”

  She stepped forward and laid her palm against his cheek. “I don’t want you to go. Although if you stay, I’m still not sure what I’m going to do with you. Maybe you’ll get fed up and leave before I figure it out.”

  He shook his head.

  “Then again, maybe not,” she said with a small smile. “He conquers who endures.”