Blood Rush: Book Two of the Demimonde

by Ash Krafton

  A whispered thank you and he was out the door, faster than I'd ever seen him move.

  I slid a hand up my side, feeling twin arcs of raised flesh, still wet from his tongue. Couldn't resist looking at my fingers to make sure it wasn't blood. Of course, it wasn't. Rodrian wouldn't waste a drop.

  I'd scar, I knew it. Even if no one would ever see the imprints of his teeth, this exchange was going to mark me forever.

  As my heart rate slowed and my bones solidified, I leaned, elbows on the bar, remembering the rush and avoiding the thought of inevitable consequences. Spying something on the counter, I picked it up.

  Oh, shit. Rodrian had forgotten his phone.

  I gave it two hours before I decided it was okay to worry.

  In the tri-suites, I watched the first act of a Bollywood epic. No popcorn, although I drank two Gatorades after experiencing a bit of light-headedness on the stairs. Blood loss, I thought. Need fluids. That in itself was a concern. Two hours since he'd left. Rodrian's phone was in my left back pocket; my phone was in the right. The house phone, which seldom rang anymore, was on the edge of the chair. Nothing was ringing.

  For a brief time after he left, I'd stretched my senses out, trying to detect the traces of my Sophia in him. It was a faint glow that diminished while he drove away. Of course, I'd never done clinical trials with that aspect, either. All I knew now was that I couldn't feel him. It didn't matter that I had no way of knowing if I should.

  And, not being able to feel him, I began to think the worst.

  Blood rush was dangerous, even under controlled circumstances. Didn't Pontian tell us that? And what was going on between me and Rodrian if it wasn't blood rush? I'd seen the high in his eyes, I felt it with my empathy. Rodrian took more this time than he had before. Could be because he thought he needed a bigger dose of my essence. Could be because he was growing tolerant to the rush and needed a bigger dose to get the same effect. Look at nicotine. One cigarette was all it took to hook someone and I was confident blood packed a bigger punch than a Newport.

  It was hard not to think in pharmaceutical terms right now, and definitely hard not to consider terms like tolerance, knowing dependence could follow close behind.

  And the terms abuse and addiction lurked nearby, waiting for their opportunity.

  How about it? Feeling guilty about helping Rodrian run off to certain death had a wonderful way of distracting me from worrying about Shiloh.

  A bang downstairs signaled Toby's return and I ran to his room. About time he got back. His cheeks were smacked pink from the cold air, and he smelled like dirt.

  It was a good, earthy smell that explained why I hadn't been able to reach him on the phone. He'd been playing outside in the woods, wanting some nature time before leaving the Stocks. I supposed the city Werekind didn't have the luxury of rabbit runs in their backyards.

  "You want me to go help?" He looked ready to run out the door, even though we had no idea where to start looking.

  I shook my head. "What good would it do? Besides, I don't want to be alone. You mind staying here? I mean, you don't have to hold my hand or anything. Just be in the house? In case?"

  "Aw, girl..." He hooked a long arm around my neck, treating me to the other scents that lingered in his clothing—crushed leaves and wintery chill. "I'll be right here, in case you need me. I have to pack, anyway. Not that it will take long to do that."

  "Pack?"

  "Oh." He looked sheepish and grinned. "I'm, uh, gonna stay at Dally's for a few days."

  "That's great!" I hugged him again. "Taking things to the next level?"

  "Maybe. For now, it's to give Mr. Rodrian less to worry about with Shiloh's thing coming up."

  I wanted to chuckle at his use of mister to refer to Rodrian but now really wasn't the time. "And Tanner's wolf?"

  He sighed. "Coming with me, like always."

  "Still haunting you, huh?"

  He shrugged. "One day, it'll get gone. I know it."

  Bethany appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray.

  "He'll get his chance, Sophia." She shook her head. "I daresay sooner rather than later, the way things are going around here."

  Great, I thought. Just what I always wanted: a harbinger.

  Once I got back to the den I pulled out Rodrian's phone. Checking his call history, I saw Marek's number. The duration was only a few seconds, too short for an actual conversation. Rodrian still looked for his brother to help. It proved he wasn't confident enough to do this on his own.

  Then I noticed the time of the call. He'd made it before Caen called. Before he drank from me. Could mean nothing, or everything. But it remained that it didn't occur to him to try Marek again before rushing out the door.

  Should I try Marek? What would I say to him? Marek had Brinked and, like Pontian, could detect thought. Would he suspect what happened with Rodrian earlier? Would he understand?

  I doubted it.

  The memory of Rodrian's mental touch, the dis-connected pleasure I felt when he urged me to unfeel the pain of his teeth—always, always left a wake of guilt and shame, and I didn't mean the simple Catholic kind. Being with Marek never caused me to doubt myself like this. Doing those things were wrong because Rodrian was not the man I should be with.

  Marek had been more than my lover. He was my soul mate. Just thinking the words made me sad because I truly meant them. I'd only ever loved with the surety of destiny backing me up, a submersing and encompassing complete love. When I was seventeen, it had been Jared—sweet, messed-up Jared who loved me back with a desperation not unlike someone clinging to a ledge, trying not to fall.

  Marek had loved me the same way, I realized, which was why he was so irreplaceable. Maybe the Sophia made me such a screwed-up case. I had been fortunate to find Marek, or to have been found by him. But it wasn't exactly as likely as hitting the Powerball. Fate doesn't keep tossing us second chances like that. Lightning, like Marek, wouldn't strike me again. He wouldn't let himself love me, ever again. Part of me felt the same way about him.

  But another part didn't.

  That's why the guilt, the shame. I didn't love Rodrian the way I loved Marek. I thought we could make a go of something less committed, but Rodrian didn't deserve that. I didn't give myself over to him, because I was holding back for another Marek. And Rodrian wasn't Marek, no matter how hard he tried to be.

  He wasn't doing it for my benefit—he was a Thurzo, dealing with the staggering loss of the head of his family. No one lived a hundred twenty years in his big brother's shadow without squinting in the bright light once the shadow dis-appeared.

  Rodrian had been having a hard enough time of it on his own without me screwing everything up for him. Holding everything together had been hard enough before he tasted my blood. I hung my head and rubbed my eyes, my guilt and shame nearly suffocating me.

  I'd known my blood did things to him. At first, I wanted to believe I was doing him a favor, but now I realized what had really happened. Blood rush had made him think he actually could be Marek and assume his position and his power. He shouldn't have gone after Shiloh alone but he did it anyway because it's what Marek would have done. And Rodrian honestly thought he could handle it.

  That had been Marek's downfall. Arrogance. Except where my blood had saved Marek, had held him back from a terrible Fall, Rodrian wouldn't be so fortunate. My blood and the power it gave him would only make a man like him reckless.

  My throat constricted. Someone needed to go after Rodrian. Sliding open his phone again, I thumbed down to Greco's number. My heart boomed in my ears.

  "Security." His voice was curt yet polite. He didn't waste words. The sooner he knew a problem, the sooner he could fix it.

  "Gian." It was all I got out before my voice threatened to break.

  "Where are you, Sophie?"

  "Home."

  "Where is Rodrian?"

  Shit. I didn't know why I still hoped he was with him. "You don't know?"

  "I'm coming out there."
/>
  "No! Find him. He went after Shiloh." I told him everything I knew, trying to be logical and sequential. Instead, the story flooded out in one huge um-filled run-on sentence. He had to interrupt me several times for clarification.

  "Stay home," he said. "Don't leave, don't let anyone in you don't know."

  "Okay."

  "We'll find him. It'll be all right."

  God, I wanted to believe him. I hung up and pressed Rodrian's phone to my mouth, wondering what doom awaited him. Blood rush rarely led to happy endings.

  I took out my own phone, intending to break my date with Eirene since I was home bound, and her intended chauffeur was on his way to God only knew what.

  Her phone went to voice mail, and I redialed. She answered on my third attempt. "Sophia. I didn't expect you to call so early."

  "I have to cancel." Hurriedly I explained Shiloh's dis-appearance and Rodrian's departure. I left out my concerns about Rodrian's addiction to my blood, and my role in his possible demise. She already suspected I was incompetent; no use removing all doubt now.

  "You shouldn't be alone." Her tone was compassionate but firm. "I can hear your distress. I will arrange my own ride and come out at once and we will wait together for their return."

  I could have cried. I really needed a friend and, for once, she was being what I needed. "Okay. Please hurry."

  "I will." I hung up and huddled on the couch, feeling completely alone for the first time since moving into the Stocks.

  After all I'd done, I deserved to be.

  Headlights swept the house like a search light, freezing like frost in the slender windows flanking the front door.

  "Eirene's here, Toby." I called down the hallway toward the guest suite.

  He poked his head through the door. "Okay. I'm going to get washed. Holler if you need me."

  The door closed with a staccato echo that tripped out into the foyer. I really needed to lay runner carpets down here.

  I wiped my hands on my pants and pulled open the door. Eirene and Dorcas stood motionless. They must have run up the steps.

  "Where's your car?" I leaned through the doorway, scanning the driveway, but didn't see the vehicle.

  "He parks out of the way, so as not to impede the arrival of others."

  "Oh." Plenty of room in the driveway. It wasn't like I had to set a folding chair outside to save a parking space. "Come in."

  Immediately Eirene's expression tightened, her nose wrinkling with discomfort. "Sophia. You must have a dog in here. The smell is overpowering."

  "I'll tell the housekeeper to change air freshener." I really didn't feel like entertaining her complaints, and I had no intention of letting her meet the "dog". "We can sit somewhere the dog doesn't go."

  I led her toward the dining room and its formal parlor but as we passed the den, she paused, pointing to the half-open door and fireplace beyond. "That room looks very inviting."

  Remembering the wards, I steered her away from the den and toward the open arches of the parlor. "Don't I know it. Barney's favorite pillow is in there. He's old, you know, and sleeps by the fire a lot. You'll just get covered in dog hair. We'll be more comfortable in here."

  "Dorcas, find the staff and let them know we'll have tea." Before I could protest, Dorcas disappeared into the for-bidden kitchen. Bethany would have my head tomorrow, I thought.

  Eirene raised a placating hand. "It is acceptable custom for servants to seek out servants of other households. Do not look alarmed. Once you select your personal servant, you will see how convenient is the practice."

  I silently disagreed.

  A short while later, Dorcas reappeared, carrying a laden silver service. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief; at least Bethany didn't come in herself, wearing the stern look that reminded me of hot water and harsh detergent. I'd be spared until morning light.

  I lost no time in telling Eirene everything I could about Shiloh's call for help.

  "So Rodrian went to look for her. I just don't have a good feeling." It was more than a not-good feeling; the entire time I was telling Eirene about what was going on, I was struggling to keep a clear head. Not groggy, but murky. Opaque. Kind of the opposite of tipsy, when your thoughts were clear but your mouth was incapable of producing clear speech.

  I had difficulty corralling my thoughts. It was like trying to scrape gravy together with my fingers. Could it be from the earlier blood loss? I couldn't ask Eirene and I couldn't risk dwelling on it. Anemia affected me in a strange way since the Sophia emerged and I only hoped it wouldn't impair whatever help I could offer now.

  "I'm sure he will find her in a place she frequents. Children run toward the familiar when they need comfort."

  "I don't know." I shook my head. "Shiloh has new friends lately and neither I nor Rodrian has met them. What if they are behind this?"

  My gut nagged my head, trying to spark the leap of intuition. Something was missing. Something that should have been apparent all along. Something that seemed to be clouded.

  I strained at the clues but it felt as if I couldn't think past a certain point. I just couldn't get to that conclusion. How much blood had Rodrian taken? My head swam, my thoughts were muddled. Sighing, I sank into the striped loveseat near her, feeling defeated. "I'm so worried I can't think straight. This déjà vu-ey feeling is keeping me from seeing things clearly."

  Her dark eyes glittered like obsidian, cold and hard and completely not matching the soothing tones of her voice. "You must relax now. You are not alone. I will help you see the truth. We will find the answers together."

  I nodded, breathing deeply and forcing my muscles to loosen, pushing my shoulders down.

  Her voice continued its soothing drone. "You have great power but anxiety restrains it. We will combine our strength. We will surpass this minor obstacle."

  I closed my eyes and drifted into the Sophia's core, lulled by the comfort Eirene exuded. I heard footsteps and a thump of swinging door as Dorcas came in from the kitchen and her power came up on my Sophia radar.

  Immediately I pulled barriers, instinct warning. Dorcas' power was gigantic, no longer the sphere I'd en-countered during the barrier practices. It loomed, mammoth like a storm front, uncontained. It was all wrong.

  I focused on maintaining an even breath and calm expression. I failed. Dipping my head I rubbed at the creases between my brows. My poker face sucked.

  "Sophie?" Eirene's voice held polite concern.

  "Just worried. Shiloh is so young, so scared. Who knows what trouble she might be in?" Real alarm spread through me, providing emotional clues I couldn't fake if I needed to. I permitted it to tremble my chin and waver my words, enforcing the impression I was deeply distressed over Shiloh.

  As I chattered, I added a thicker under-layer of barrier and used the Sophia-sight to explore the boundary of Dorcas' power. The rail-thin matron stood passively near the door, but her boundary extended far past her body, like the bloated abdomen of an engorged tick. It was darker than her usual dark, reddish black and toxic. It moved, stretching and receding.

  It wasn't right.

  Eirene fluttered her eyes and sipped at her tea, pausing her soothing stream of near-whispered comfort. As I watched her, I felt my alarm fade.

  Dorcas' power loomed as menacing as ever. I should still be alarmed.

  When Eirene smiled, she showed teeth, white and gleaming.

  Teeth. Threat. A flash of predator. Déjà vu smothered.

  Her comfort snapped like a string, connection broken, and common sense trickled in.

  "What are you doing, Sophia?" Eirene's voice held no comfort now. No tone, no expression. Her words were flat and empty.

  "I—I'm having a—a panic attack."

  "You are a poor liar."

  That elicited a genuine response. "Look, Eirene, if I knew you were going to be so cold, I wouldn't have asked you to come over."

  "Why didn't you call Marek?"

  I felt as if I'd been struck. Right now, he was the last one o
n my mind, even though he was perpetually the first. The blow she dealt with that one simple statement knocked me off center and I almost lost my shielding. "He's not on my list of emergency contacts."

  "I paid him a visit." She set her empty cup down on its saucer. Dorcas remained immobile. "Or rather, my associates did."

  Her empty tone disturbed me. She smiled again, as if sensing my discomfort and enjoying it like a sip of fine wine.

  "Why?" Warily, I glanced from Eirene to her servant and back. "Why the sudden interest in Marek?"

  "It's not sudden." Amusement colored Eirene's voice. "I've always been very concerned with him. It wasn't until very recently I learned of his brother's family. I must admit, the discovery was a delightful one."

  I stood, knowing I had to move without knowing why.

  "Sit down." Eirene's black eyes flashed with a glint of cold white light.

  I sat and forgot I'd risen. The impression of a clouded truth pressed at my gut sense, twisting my insides and manifesting physical pain. Helplessly, I endured it. Worry. Panic. Shiloh.

  "Pontian was ripe for the picking. His dislike for Marek was easily distilled into animosity. It drove the hunt."

  Not Shiloh! Danger here! My instincts screamed, a flood of liquid buzz. Fight or flight. Flight! "Hunt? What are you talking about?"

  "Sophie..." She said my name like a lover, let it fill her mouth and spill from her lips, tasting the sound of my name as if she held my essence in her mouth. Eirene slid over onto my seat, sharing the cushion and pressing close. "Who am I? Who am I, really?"

  I leaned back, away from her face. "You're Eirene. Sophia Eirene."

  "Am I?" Her smile was a seductive secret, an all-knowing spread of lush lip and smooth skin. And I—

  Sophie!

  A mental scream filled my head as I rocked backwards under the force of an empathic shove, a warning to run.

  Bethany!

  The signal had Bethany's power behind it but she herself was gone, nowhere on my radar and all I could think was run—run now!