Blood Rights hoc-1

by Kristen Painter

  But the nobility’s curse, the second one that had brought about the names on his skin and the voices in his head, would be almost powerless if not for the first. Whoever had placed that curse had known him well enough to know how effective it would be.

  ‘You still want my help?’ He watched her. She could feel it. Maybe he thought she might bolt. But running was pointless and not what she’d been trained for. This was one of those times in a person’s life when the hard choice was the only choice.

  She stared at the ring on her finger that hid the tiny blade. ‘I don’t think I can clear my name on my own. If I could stay alive long enough, maybe, but having a vampire on my side would be a big help. So, if you’ll help me, I’ll take it.’ Chances were good she’d die one way or the other. If Mal killed her, maybe she’d get to come back as a ghost like Fi.

  It took him a moment to respond, like he hadn’t expected to still be having this conversation. ‘Tell me about this ring you’ve been accused of taking.’

  Exhaling softly, she pressed her hip to the rail and ran her fingers over the peeling paint. Rust had turned it into snakeskin. She was glad for something else to focus on. ‘I don’t know much about it, except that two very ambitious vampires, Lord Ivan, whom I’m sure you know, and Lady Tatiana, believe it to be extremely powerful.’

  His face darkened. ‘I know who Ivan is.’

  ‘Well, I overhead them speaking about it. The female tried to persuade Algernon to give it to them for research.’ A partial smile lifted her mouth. ‘She’s one of those vampires who thinks all other creatures are beneath her. She barely notices comarré, forget acknowledging that our senses are nearly as good as our patrons’.’

  ‘Typical nobility.’ He spoke the words with such rancor, she wondered if his agreeing to help wasn’t partially motivated by his own hatred of the noble Families. Did he hope to somehow exact his revenge while helping her? If that’s what it took to get his help, so be it.

  ‘She claimed the ring was very old and very important and told Algernon he shouldn’t show it to anyone else or even speak of it. Lord Ivan told Algernon he was never to put the ring on. Tatiana told him doing so would mean death. I don’t know if she meant because of the ring’s power or because she’d kill him for doing it.’

  Chrysabelle flicked a curl of paint into the sea. It fluttered down to float on the black water. ‘Algernon laughed them off, but I don’t doubt he knew they were serious. Lord Ivan might be Dominus of the House of Tepes, but Tatiana isn’t someone you want to cross either.’

  ‘And yet you have the ring.’

  ‘Not because I wanted it, believe me.’ Her fingers worried the railing, nails digging into the rusty metal. ‘Remember how I told you Algernon put that horrible necklace on me at the Century Ball? Well, after I found him dead and went to gather the rest of my things from the Primoris Domus, I ripped the hideous thing off my neck and threw it against the wall in anger. It cracked open.’ A shower of chips drifted from her fingernails. ‘The ring was inside.’

  She laughed bitterly. ‘Just one possession guarding another.’

  He shifted uncomfortably. Did her past bother him? A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. ‘What power does this ring have?’

  ‘No idea. I started researching it after I overheard the conversation, but I didn’t get far before Algernon was murdered, and I ran. Now that I’ve had it in my hands, I can tell you it’s pure gold, sacred gold like what’s used for comarré signum, with script on the outside in a language I don’t recognize. Inside, it looks like … fish scales, sort of. Like interwoven pieces of gold. But it’s completely smooth on the outside, except for the writing.’ Brushing her hands off, she shrugged. ‘Whatever power it has, it’s got to be strong. Tatiana wouldn’t waste her time on it otherwise.’

  ‘How do you know it’s Tatiana and not Lord Ivan? He’s a vicious bastard; he could be the one hunting you.’

  ‘Because Lord Ivan hasn’t done so much as raise his voice since Tatiana came into the picture. He leaves all his dirty work to his pet.’

  ‘Which is why you think this Tatiana will do anything to get the ring back.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure the Nothos Dominic killed was one of hers. And with Algernon dead, her next step will be forcing herself into Algernon’s position of Elder. It’s no secret she wants to rule.’

  ‘A female Elder? That’s a stretch.’

  Chrysabelle flicked the switch on her ring back and forth, clicking the tiny blade in and out. ‘Puts her in place to become Dominus.’

  He raised his brows. ‘Dominus? She is ambitious.’

  ‘More than ambitious. She wants to break the covenant.’ The covenant protected humans, kept them from seeing the truth of the world around them. If humans knew their nightmares were based in reality, the fear alone could destroy them. Or, as in the days of old, rouse them to gather their torches and pitchforks. It protected both sides, really.

  His brows lifted another millimeter. ‘So she’s also insane.’

  ‘Quite literally if the rumors of her undergoing navitas are true.’

  ‘She voluntarily got resired?’

  ‘Or Lord Ivan forced her to. We can’t find the truth of the incident. But Tatiana definitely thinks the time is ripe for vampires to stop living in secret and start ruling the mortal world. She’s thought that since the days of the End War. Perhaps even before.’

  ‘The fae will think otherwise.’ He paused for a moment. ‘She’ll start a war.’

  ‘Which is why she wants to re-enslave the varcolai. They’ll be her army.’ Chrysabelle had overheard that part of the conversation too.

  Mal scratched his jaw. ‘She sounds bloodthirsty enough to have killed Algernon.’

  ‘With a hot blade? She couldn’t hold it long enough.’

  ‘Does she have a comar?’

  ‘Yes.’ That made Chrysabelle think. ‘He’s from the same house as I am, Primoris Domus, but a few years older.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know him well, but Damien doesn’t seem the type to even hurt a fly.’

  ‘If he’s had the same training as you, he’d not only hurt the fly, but fillet it like a side of beef while kicking it repeatedly.’

  She covered her half smile with her hand. His acknowledgment of her skills was a welcome thing. ‘You have a point.’

  ‘Would giving the ring back be enough for Tatiana?’

  ‘Hard to say with her. She’s not really the type to just let something go, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want anyone else to know about the ring.’ She sighed. ‘Plus, I don’t exactly have the ring with me.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Hidden.’ Why not tell him? Wasn’t like he could get to it anyway. ‘In my suite. At the Primoris Domus.’

  ‘You left it there?’

  ‘You think bringing it with me would have been a better idea? We’ll have to go there anyway to contact the Aurelian.’ She sneaked a look and caught him staring back. She shifted her gaze to the deck.

  ‘Am I that hard to look at?’

  ‘No, I … it’s just … ’

  A low, gravelly noise rumbled out of him. ‘You judge me while you have no idea what it’s like. My head is never quiet. Never. You try spending just twenty-four hours without a moment’s privacy and see if it doesn’t make you a little crazy. I live that every day and night.’ His hands, the only part of him she dared look at, squeezed the railing until the metal groaned.

  ‘How long have you carried these voices?’

  ‘Since I killed Fi. The second curse kicked in with her death.’ She nodded. ‘In my own way, I do understand.’

  ‘How could you? How could your pampered, privileged life even begin to compare?’

  She lifted her head, forcing herself to look into the murderous black depths of his eyes. ‘In my pampered, privileged life, comarré are never alone. Other comarré act as our handlers from the moment we’re born until we receive patronage. We live, study, and train in groups of fifty or more. When we
’re in our patron’s home, we’re on constant guard that every emotion and feeling we give off is proper and respectful. Our lives are lived not for ourselves, but for the good of our house and to serve your kind.’

  His eyes held a little more starlight and a little less anger. ‘They’re not my kind.’

  ‘Shades of gray.’ She rubbed at her shoulder. The muscles were balled into knots and had been for days.

  ‘Tell me about those.’ He nodded in her direction and she knew exactly what he referred to.

  Lifting her hair and turning slightly, she patted the sun gilded onto the nape of her neck. ‘There is only one signum required to be comarré, the phoebus.’

  He notched his head with what seemed like genuine interest. She took it as an indicator to go on.

  ‘Signum are extraordinarily painful. We are taught to meditate into a trancelike state, but nothing keeps the bite of the signumist’s needle from getting through. The sacred gold is heated to a threadlike consistency so it can be stitched into the skin.’

  A grimace twisted his mouth. ‘Why not just numb yourself with drugs or booze?’

  She slanted her eyes at him. ‘Because we must keep our blood pure for your kin – for the nobility.’

  If her slip upset him, he didn’t show it. ‘Do any comarré get just one? You’re covered with them.’

  This time he looked away, but not before silver sparked in his eyes. Was he remembering her blood-drunk nakedness when he’d seen exactly how many signum she had? Her nails stung her palms. She relaxed the fists she’d made. ‘There are seven sets, but they’re not all required. Most comarré get as many as they can handle.’

  ‘Because they make your blood more desirable.’

  ‘In part, yes. The more signum, the purer our blood, the higher our blood price. But we continue to get them after we receive patronage.’

  ‘Why?’

  The water lapped gently at the ship’s hull, soothing her memories. ‘Because for the time it takes to recover, we are left alone. For those few days, we meditate and heal. Only a skeleton staff attend us and then only when we require it. In pain, we find a fleeting peace.’ Confessing such things was wrong but powerful. The comarré did not even speak this way among themselves. If Mal ever revealed what he knew, she would be ostracized for sure, but sharing made the burden – and her mood – lighter.

  She laughed softly. ‘I am the worst comarré to ever draw breath.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ His expression held genuine disbelief.

  ‘I reveal too much. They say the comarré’s mystery is a great part of our beauty. I must seem rather ordinary to you right now, hmm, vampire?’

  Before she drew a second breath, he was in front of her, so close only moonlight separated them. ‘There is nothing ordinary about you. Knowing the pain you’ve endured for those marks only makes them that much more impressive, because pain is one thing I most definitely understand.’

  When he was this close, it was nearly impossible to deny her training. Her instinct took over, bowing her head, dropping her gaze. She fought to keep from calling him master, finally raising her face to his again after she squelched her inbred impulses.

  He lifted a strand of her hair and held it to his nose, closing his eyes on the inhale. His lips parted enough to give her a glimpse of fangs. ‘Everything about you reminds me of the sun. The way you smell, the color of your hair, the glow that surrounds you, the warmth of your skin … ’

  It’s the gold, she wanted to say, and that is our purpose, but his nearness muted her tongue. Her heart was as restless in her chest as a feral cat. Her body’s want and her mind’s fear made her tremble. Such a reaction was weakness and she willed it from her body.

  ‘It’s no wonder I want to devour you,’ he growled softly. He twisted the hair around his finger. ‘Aren’t you afraid of me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. Afraid she might have to kill him. Afraid she might not be able to.

  ‘Wise,’ he whispered back, dropping the strand to coast his cool fingers down the curve of her neck. ‘I’m not a champion. I don’t know any other way to be but this thing I’ve become.’ His hand stopped, his thumb pressing lightly over her jugular, perhaps to absorb her quivering pulse. ‘And yet, you scare me too.’

  His admission calmed her. ‘I scare you?’

  He nodded, barely moving his head. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m afraid I will.’ The words seemed spoken to himself more than to her.

  ‘You won’t.’ But no faith backed the words she desperately wanted to believe.

  A breeze blew the loose strand across her face. His hand moved from her throat to tuck it behind her ear, then he stroked his palm down the length of her hair to her hip. His hand stayed there, fingers firm against the flimsy pajama pants she still wore. She shivered.

  Eyes as silver as the reflected moonlight took her in. ‘I’m scaring you now.’

  It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can tell. Your scent changes.’ He stepped back, his nostrils flaring, hands flexing. Everything about him said he was losing the battle with his self-control. ‘That first night, in the alley, you truly believe you could have killed me?’

  ‘Yes.’ At least she had then.

  ‘Would you, had you felt it necessary?’

  She tensed but replied, hoping the affirmation would convince her too. ‘Yes.’

  He scrubbed a hand across his face. ‘Good. You may have to yet.’

  Her jaw opened slightly. That wasn’t the direction she’d thought he’d been headed in. There seemed to be no correct response, so she just watched him, waiting for whatever interesting thing he might say next. She was not disappointed.

  ‘There are enough hours of night left to visit your aunt. You need something more appropriate to wear though. Maybe Doc has something.’

  This time, she had words and a little bit of fear. ‘Why do you want to see my aunt?’

  ‘She was comarré, wasn’t she? She may know something that might help you.’ He paused, and his mouth bent. ‘That might help us.’

  Those two small letters, that one tiny pronoun, changed everything. It redefined her relationship with the vampire. It made them a unit. A team. A couple. Sweet heaven, she did not like the sound of that, but she imagined she’d get used to it. She’d gotten used to much harder things in her life.

  ‘And then … we … do what?’ Despite her misgivings, she was thrilled to have his help. To be an us. A we. However she looked at it, it meant she was no longer alone in this fight.

  ‘Then we go to Corvinestri.’

  ‘Corvinestri?’

  ‘That’s where you’re from isn’t it? The seat of the House of Tepes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The bend of his mouth increased. Obviously, that was one city he didn’t relish visiting. ‘We go to return this ring and see about proving your innocence.’

  ‘You’re anathema. You won’t be able to get past the city wards.’

  ‘I can take you as far as the wards then.’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘And when this is over, blood rights or not, we go our separate ways, understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but he was already gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Insistent knocking woke Maris. Where was Velimai? Maris glanced at the bedside clock. Not quite 3 a.m. Not that she was really sleeping anyway. Not with Rennata’s vague warning note and Dominic’s disappointing report swirling around in her brain. How Chrysabelle could place her trust in that vampire was beyond her. The creature was anathema. More knocking. She chided herself as she sat up and swung her legs around. So was Dominic, and look how long she’d stayed with him.

  She picked up the journal she’d been writing in before bed and tucked it into her nightstand drawer. There was much Chrysabelle needed to know about Maris’s past, but now was not the time. Not yet.

  Velimai floated in and solidified. She held the handles of the iBot to keep it steady, a completely un
necessary gesture for several reasons, one being the iBot was as stable as a rock.

  ‘Who’s at the door?’ Maris lifted herself onto the seat.

  Velimai moved back into Maris’s field of vision and shimmered into a ghostly replica of Chrysabelle. It was like Chrysabelle was an old-fashioned movie and Velimai was the screen, still visible behind the image.

  ‘Why haven’t you let her in? Why hasn’t she let herself in?’

  Velimai tapped two V’ed fingers against her chest, the sign for vampire, then her image changed again into the visage of a male vampire.

  Maris wanted to spit. ‘She’s brought him here? No wonder she hasn’t come inside. She knows better than to bring a vampire into my home.’ No vampire, friend or foe, had ever been given an invitation to cross her threshold. If she hadn’t made an exception for the one vampire she’d been sleeping with, she wasn’t about to make an exception for the one Chrysabelle had deemed her new protector.

  Maris wheeled out of the room and down the hall. ‘If she thinks I’m letting him in, she’s mistaken. I don’t care if he is helping her.’

  Velimai, gliding ahead and back in her own skin, shook her head furiously. She opened her mouth, her lips peeling back in a wide snarl.

  ‘No, you can’t kill him. As much as I dislike the idea of Chrysabelle aligning herself with this creature, it’s her decision.’

  Velimai crossed her arms as the iBot maneuvered down the stairs.

  ‘Go back to bed, Velimai. I can handle this.’ She prayed silently that her niece had not done something so foolish as turn over her blood rights. Maris would know soon enough. If this vampire had drunk from Chrysabelle, Maris would smell it on him. A cold thought shuddered through her. What a stupid old woman she’d become. No doubt Chrysabelle had recognized the blood scent surrounding Dominic as her aunt’s. And now she was here for an explanation. Who could blame her?