Blood Entwined (Blood Enchanted, Book 2): A Vampire Hunter Paranormal Romance Series

by Nicola Claire

  I’d killed it. Using the Iunctio’s power. It was part of the reason why my father had sent me away. That and Luc. I’d questioned whether I could trust Papa, he’d kept so much from me. But deep down I knew he was protecting me. The secrets, I was sure, were only part of the greater picture.

  The ribbons stilled once I’d seen all there was to see. Remembered all there was to remember.

  “I’ve seen the parasite,” I said to Aliath. “On a vampire and a fairy.”

  “Yes. The vampire was a tool. The fairy the puppet master.”

  He waited. I caved. I had to know.

  “Who was the fairy?” Aliath, King of Dökkálfa, smiled. It was dazzling.

  Hakan’s hand came down on my shoulder, grounding me. Allowing me to catch my breath.

  “The fairy was part of a powerful House,” Aliath said, ignoring his effect on me. “One now headed by a Ljósálfar called Kaleth.”

  Small world. Not.

  “I’ve met Kaleth,” I admitted.

  “Kaleth now holds the power. The parasite is his to command. He can use it at will. On anyone.”

  “This changes nothing,” I said. I still had to return to Earth. I still had to help my brother.

  “On the contrary, Éliane. Knowledge is power. And what lies ahead for you will require much power.”

  “I have power.” I had power in spades.

  “Your brother now has more.”

  Alain. I shook my head, looked down at my wrist, and noticed the bracelet was gone. My eyes flicked up to Aliath’s.

  “You will take my Hyrða.” Payment for the favour. “The answer to your question was given freely in honour of your mother.”

  I owed him no more, but I was stuck with Goran as an escort. Could have been worse. At least the Hyrða now called me Ellie.

  I smiled. Bowed low and fisted my hand over my chest. I didn't say the words of thanks. Thanking a fairy incurs debt as well.

  Fucking fairies.

  Aliath’s eyes shifted to Hakan’s. “I have asked my court to occupy themselves elsewhere.”

  What?

  “But I should like to stay,” the King said.

  “As you wish,” Hakan replied, bowing his head. He turned to me. My Light automatically flared. Thank the Goddess for that; I had a feeling I’d need all my assets to face whatever was coming.

  “You cannot return to Earth as you are without risking death,” Hakan said in a low rumble. He was right, but my body stiffened. “It is too close to your kindred cut-off.”

  I nodded my head. Thoughts of Lucien flashing through my mind. Had he made it? Hakan’s face softened.

  If you're reading my mind, Mhachkay, stop it! I mentally said. His lips twitched, but he remained telepathically silent.

  Aloud he said, “Two hearts. Two souls. And they have chosen.”

  The ribbons urged me to repeat his words.

  “Two hearts. Two souls,” I mumbled. “And they have chosen.” My heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

  Hakan nodded his head slowly. “The Mhachkay is appeased,” he said. “The Vampyre is not.”

  I raised an eyebrow. The ribbons remained silent. Great. Some form of guidance about now would have been good.

  “What do you need?” I asked.

  “Do you trust me?” he whispered.

  What a question. The ribbons unfurled.

  “Yes,” I found myself answering.

  Then Hakan Bahar lifted a hand to the back of my head, leaned his face into the side of my neck, and bit. Hard.

  I stifled a scream. My blood surged. The room around us started spinning.

  And then I was standing in the middle of the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, the moon glinting off blue-grey tiles, as an eight foot tall zilant looked down at me and laughed.

  Its wings unfurled, its fork-like tongue flicked out, its grey stone skin rattled and crunched as it shifted on four stubby legs.

  I stood still. I am Nosferatin; I don't run. I looked the monster in the eyes, curled my fingers in a come-here motion and snarled, “Let the battle begin.”

  The zilant struck.

  23

  I Would Never Beg

  I managed to spin out of the way before the zilant's razor sharp teeth connected, but I felt the swipe of its clawed front paw as it sliced off several strands of my dreads. I reached for my Svante, finding nothing. My hips were also bare. No stakes.

  “Well, that’s just peachy,” I muttered, spinning again as the zilant attacked.

  Dust swirled up around my feet as we danced. Mortar from fallen masonry, grime accumulated over the years. My mother had always said that when she met my father’s dancing dragon, it was in another realm inside my father’s head. Bizarre didn't even cover it, but I got the impression the courtyard they met in was beautiful and well kept.

  This was an exact replica of today’s Sultan Ahmed Mosque, battered in the human uprising after the vampires publicly emerged. The zilant, I realised, was not my like my father’s vampire-within. Mama always said Papa’s dragon was majestic, scary for its imposing presence alone.

  She didn’t know what scary really was. Papa’s dragon gave her a heavenly spot to meet with him. Caressed her with gentle claw-tipped wings, bit her with carefully placed sharp teeth. Welcomed her into his home.

  The zilant did no such thing.

  And all that did was make me smile.

  I danced and spun, the zilant silently tracked me. Turning on surprisingly nimble legs, those too-small wings lifting the massive body up off the ground a foot at a time, enough for the creature to move like a shadow.

  Or a particularly ugly butterfly.

  I bared my teeth in a vampire-like snarl. “Come on, beautiful,” I coaxed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  It shot fire out of its nose.

  I yelped and spun away, but not before I caught a whiff of burned hair. Reaching down I turned the ends of one of my dreads up for inspection, noting the blackened and melted nub on the tip of the strands.

  “That was uncalled for,” I ground out, coming to a stop in the centre of the mosque. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to make one of these?”

  The zilant snorted, puffs of smoke coming out of its elongated nose as it laughed.

  It took a slow step toward me. Its tongue flicked out as if tasting the air.

  There was nothing really attractive about Hakan’s vampire-within. It was all hard edges and sharp claws. Even its wings were leathery and skeletal looking. The red of its tongue and the vibrant blue of its eyes were the only colours visible on an otherwise greyscale monster.

  It made both stand out a little too much for my liking.

  The zilant stared at me out of malevolent eyes, the forked tongue flickering ever longer until I thought it might just reach me.

  “You’re a handsome chap, aren’t you?” I murmured. “Does Hakan know?” I wondered aloud. “Such a good-looking man and this on inside.” I laughed. “Perfect.” I never had trusted what my eyes had shown me. All my life, I constantly looked for the Darkness that hid beneath the Light. “Are all Mhachkay like you?” I asked. The zilant remained silent. “Or am I just lucky?”

  Even the owl had been prettier than this.

  The zilant lifted a wicked claw-tipped paw and thumped it down on the tiles. The Mosque rattled, I steadied myself with spread arms. Any minute now and it would charge.

  This was it. This was the moment I accepted the truth. Hakan, for all his deceptions, had helped me from the start. Reaching Luc before he fell into even Darker hands. Chasing after him as soon as he realised my brother had bolted. Leaving his Erbörü familiar behind in Turkey to protect me when he had to have known he was entering dangerous lands.

  There might have been some mystical Mhachkay mumbo-jumbo that woke him up, called him to me, but Hakan had proven his worth by trying to protect my brother. Again and again and again.

  Nothing spoke more of a person’s character to me than that.

  The Mhachkay didn�
�t join with Enchanted for a reason. I’d seen that reason when Alain had joined with Luc. Hakan offered me an alternative.

  I stared the zilant down. Entwined, Hakan had said. The owl had pecked my fingers, drawn blood. The zilant, in its own way, was attempting to do the same. If I had a knife, I could simply cut myself. Shed blood in its realm and be done.

  But that was a coward’s way out. And I am no coward. I fight for my wins. I fight for my living. I fight for what I believe in. And I believe in myself.

  I smiled, tipped my chin down, stared the zilant in those creepy blue eyes, and spun.

  I didn't have my Svante. I didn’t even have Hakan’s Kilij. No stakes, no knife. Nothing but me.

  I am Nosferatin. I am full of Light.

  I danced toward my destiny, the zilant rising up on its back legs, front paws held wide in welcome. But this welcome would involve sharp teeth and a flickering tongue and baleful eyes and stone hard scales.

  I lifted my hands before me, pictured a sword of Light in my palms, then swung the blade toward the creature’s head.

  The zilant laughed; a hissing sound that crackled with hidden fire. And then flames engulfed me, and sharp teeth snapped within an inch of my face, and thick forelegs wrapped around my body, threatening to crush.

  We rolled across the broken floor of the mosque, dust and debris flying, and then hit the far wall, making a column tumble, shattering one of the few remaining arches. I wondered if this damage would show up on Earth. Then I wondered if I’d live to see it.

  I pushed my hands against superheated stone scales and forced as much Light as I could call on into the beast’s heart.

  Its head fell back, and it roared to the heavens, the building rattling, the ground rolling, an earthquake-sized tremor tearing the mosque apart.

  And then with one claw extended, the zilant reached out and nicked my arm. Right above my Sigillum. A move that seemed controlled. Careful even. Almost gentle if not for the blood that welled as iridescent colours swirled and brightened. The zilant watched for a second and then a flickering tongue extended.

  I stopped fighting; the ribbons told me it was time.

  I watched as Hakan Bahar’s vampire-within licked across my mark, tasting dust and sweat and power and blood.

  The air shimmered. The zilant transformed. And before me stood Hakan. Dressed as I had never seen him dressed before. Ceremonial warrior clothing befitting a warlord of the Ottoman Empire.

  Oh, dear Goddess.

  “You are worthy,” he said, my heart stilling. He raised a leather strapped arm up between us and cupped my cheek. “My hanımefendi,” he whispered. “My kafinefendi.” That one was new. “Teşekkür ederim, kan büyülü.”

  “That was intense,” I muttered, my eyes unable to stray from his face. He was as stunning as the zilant was ghastly. Dressed as he was, ready for battle, so large and determined and proud. A savage warrior with unsurpassed beauty and the heart and soul of a killer wyvern.

  Hakan smiled. “Our blood is entwined.” I raised my brow. I never touched his blood, how was it entwined? “Magic,” he said, reading my fucking mind. I scowled at him. He laughed. Deep and amused and spellbinding. “The Mhachkay hold the power, Éliane. We entwine your blood with ours; we hold it dear.” The Light will capture the Dark and hold it dear. My mother’s Prophecy. It seemed a sign somehow.

  Or just a freaky coincidence.

  “So,” I said. “Magic, huh?”

  “Mhachkay magic,” Hakan said in a low purr. His hand had slipped around the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing familiarly across my nape. My body shuddered at the delicious contact. He smiled. He knew damn well what he was doing to me. “It is safe for you to return to Earth now,” he said, instead of shutting up and doing what my body was dying for him to do right then.

  I stepped back. Broke contact. I would never beg.

  “The kindred cut-off is null?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Hakan didn’t chase me. He would hunt instead.

  “And if you die?”

  “You shall die with me.” No surprises there. Kindred joinings were similar. Symbiotic in nature.

  “And if I die?” I asked. It had to be checked.

  Hakan held my gaze and said, “You cannot die as long as I live.”

  Well, point one for Mhachkay magic.

  I let out a huff of breath. “Better keep you alive then, hadn’t I, Mhachkay?”

  Hakan threw back his head and laughed.

  “Oh, Éliane,” he said between chuckles, “you do delight.”

  24

  I’m Coming For You, Luc

  We returned to the Dökkálfa Court, but not the throne room. Instead, we appeared in a sleeping chamber, complete with bed, gauzy curtains, low light from a plethora of candles and sweet smelling incense on the air.

  I snorted. “Do you think he could be any more obvious?” I asked, looking around the romantic setting with derision.

  Hakan chuckled; he seemed to be doing a lot of that. “Perhaps the King is all knowing.”

  “All knowing?”

  “He knows what it is you want.”

  “I don’t want this.”

  “Hayatim,” he said, “your body betrays you.”

  “Oh, don't get all cocky on me, Mhachkay. Last time we tangoed I put a sword to your balls.”

  “Last time we tangoed,” he replied silkily, “I tasted your blood.”

  “Nice,” I said, sneering. “Way to turn a Nosferatin off.”

  Hakan merely chuckled, enjoying himself a little too much.

  I searched the room and came up with a fresh set of clothing. Leathers and sheaths for my swords, hip holsters for my stakes. The weapons, however, were tellingly missing.

  “No sword to the balls?” Hakan asked from where he lounged on the bed.

  Still dressed in that infuriatingly sexy warrior garb.

  I gritted my teeth and slipped off the blood splattered blouse, realising I was more than just a little dirt smeared.

  “A bath has been drawn in the attached room,” Hakan offered mildly.

  “We don't have time,” I argued, starting to dress.

  “This is Álfheimr, and we are in the Dökkálfa Court. The King of all Fairies wills it.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Time here passes disparate to Earth.”

  “Doesn’t mean Luc and Alain haven’t been back for weeks already.”

  Hakan shrugged. “There is always a chance, but currently Álfheimr is in their Strengja.”

  Strengja meaning ‘fast.’ Time here, right now, would be passing faster than anywhere else.

  Still… “How do you know?”

  Hakan shifted forward, prowling off the bed like a lazy jungle cat. He glided across the room until he stood directly before me, then slipped the leathers out of my hands and tossed them onto the bed.

  “It is obvious,” he said. “Nothing assuaged my hunger until you arrived here. Nothing settled my Mhachkay soul until you crossed into Álfheimr. The moment you did, our hearts aligned. The beat of yours was slow.”

  “Slower than yours,” I guessed.

  “Beautifully so.”

  “Why me?” I asked, looking up into swirling cyan and silver.

  Hakan didn’t pretend to not understand. “I woke to the sound of your heart beating. But still, I did not rise. Your blood spilt, I tasted it on my tongue. But still, I did not rise. And then your Light swelled, and the wards that kept your enchantment contained broke, and nothing could keep me from hunting you. From claiming you. From entwining your blood with mine.”

  He spoke of my twenty-fifth birthday. The night I came into my kindred powers, and the concealment Papa had placed on me was destroyed. But Luc had come into his kindred powers as well, his own enchanted blood revealed that night, so it wasn't as simple as that.

  “Why me?” I repeated. “Why not my brother?”

  “Hayatim,” Hakan murmured, “is it not obvious? You alone are my match in this an
d all worlds.”

  He crossed the remaining distance between us and sealed his lips against mine. I stood stock still for as long as my body allowed me and then melted into his arms. Not breaking the kiss, Hakan swept me up in his arms and carried me to the attached bathroom.

  Steam rose as candles flickered and the damp air settled on my skin making it shine. Hakan lowered me gently into the bathtub, and then stood up and started to strip off his leathers.

  I decided there was nothing more sexy than watching a man unwind protective leather straps and unbuckle gold etched armour while revealing a glorious fighter’s physique inch by stunning inch in flickering candlelight.

  I licked my lips when the last piece of armour was removed and watched as Hakan lowered himself into the opposite end of the bathtub.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

  I shook my head. He growled, then shifted to all fours and prowled through the water toward me.

  The tub was large, but there was nowhere to hide. Not that I would have. I don't hide. But I wouldn't make it easy for him either.

  I ducked under the water as soon as he reached me and swam through his legs and out the other side. I came up spluttering water, laughter making me snort out bubbles.

  Hakan smirked, then slowly sunk beneath the surface, drawing out the moment, suspending the anticipatory delight. We swam around each other, slick skin rubbing against hard muscles. Fingers brushed. Legs tangled. Heat unfurled. And when I was sure I couldn’t hold my breath a second longer, Hakan wrapped his arms around my waist, shifted my body so my legs hung either side of his thighs, and rose us up out of the water together.

  He smelled of whatever the fairies had placed in the water; rose petals and fairy dust and Goddess alone knows what, but it was nice. Not as beautiful as his signature scent, but it complemented it. Spicy and sweet, salty and mint fresh. I settled onto his lap, feeling his erection pressed hard against my stomach.

  “Hayatim,” he whispered, laying kisses across my jaw, down my neck.

  “I don’t know any soft words to call you in your language,” I said, stroking his dark hair off his forehead, and running my fingers greedily through it. “But I don’t think soft words are right for the type of vampire you are.”