Blood Laws

by Lexi C. Foss

  Her room was still pitch black when she woke on a scream. She frantically pushed the invisible plants from her legs, her lungs working overtime to restore her depleted oxygen. None of it was real. On some level she knew that, but it felt real. The perspiration dotting her skin reminded her of water.

  Hands caressed her face, holding her on the bed when she would have rolled out of it. She grabbed the wrists and collapsed into the familiar warmth. Sandalwood caressed her senses as she inhaled, returning her to reality. She wasn’t alone.

  “Astasiya,” Issac murmured as he guided her backwards to her pillow. “Breathe.”

  She shuddered against him, her eyes wet with tears. Bits and pieces of the too-real dream flashed behind her lids. Her mother sitting still in a chair under Osiris’s directive. Him licking the blade. Water burning her lungs. The sensation of drowning. Her nightmares were where her emotions caught up with her, where she could no longer fight the reality.

  She clutched Issac’s bare chest on a silent sob. Some part of her hoped his presence would keep the nightmares at bay. It was a naive thought. She knew better. He rubbed circles against her back and pulled her closer, twining their legs together. His other hand was in her hair, gently massaging her scalp as she cried. Too terrified and hurt to be embarrassed, she didn’t hold back. The shock had finally worn off.

  “He wouldn’t let her move!” she cried, thinking of Sierra and her mother in the nightmare. She shuddered. “And that razor …” She broke on a sob, unable to say anything more.

  He whispered her name over and over, his hands working magic against her back and neck. Her breathing became less erratic over time, her heartbeat slowing. His skin was damp from her tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. It was a good thing because she couldn’t turn them off. They came slower now, but still steady.

  The nightmares started when she was seven and each one ended under water. Always with the seaweed weighing her down and drowning her. Except she never died. The lack of oxygen never killed her and neither did the years of living under water. Her body decayed, but her brain remained sharp. It was her worst fear.

  “I can’t remember the last time I had to wake someone the old fashioned way.” His deep voice rumbled against her ear. “Your immunity to my gift is tiresome, love.”

  “Your invisibility?” Those two words made her throat ache. She must have screamed harder than she realized.

  “My invisibility?” There was a frown in his voice that confused her.

  “Yeah, your gift, right?” She was going to need some water soon. Maybe a meal as well, except she needed more sleep. She was exhausted, even more so, thanks to the nightmare.

  His chuckle was warm and affectionate. “That’s cute. Invisibility isn’t my gift.” His fingers started working on a tense spot on her neck. It tingled all the way down her spine, releasing tension from various regions along her back.

  “I control vision,” he continued, still massaging. “The day we met I was hiding my presence from everyone in the building by controlling their sight. Except it didn’t work on you. I tried again tonight, and I mean I really tried, but your nightmare was locked up tight. Your mind is dark to me.”

  “You control vision in real time, like what I see right now, and dreams?”

  “My gift extends to the dream realm, yes. Vision is about what your eyes allow you to see and those sensors are connected to the brain. I manipulate the part of the mind that tells a person what he’s seeing, or how to interpret an image. That extends to the imagination as well, such as how someone might picture something. I can make a person think he’s sleeping when he’s not, based on the dream playing out inside his head. I tried to get inside your nightmare to stop it, but as I said, I can’t.”

  She blinked. The ability he described was far more terrifying than invisibility. He hid his presence in Owen’s building by manipulating everyone’s sight. How many people lived in that apartment complex, several hundred? How many of them did he control that morning? The notion was frightening, but fit the mold. It explained why Mike and Brutus feared him, why Osiris seemed to respect him despite being in charge. Vision was a powerful tool.

  “I’m immune?” She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Part relieved, part alien. What made her special?

  “Yes, to all power it seems.”

  She lifted her head to look at him, but his face was masked in the darkness. “Is that normal for a fledgling?”

  “No, not at all. You’re the first I’ve ever met, however, Aidan told me about someone he met a long time ago with a similar ability.”

  “He knows about me?”

  “Of course.”

  His quick, nonchalant answer made her shiver. Aidan reminded her too much of Osiris. They both had an air of age about them that lent to a disregard for humanity. His callous suggestion to auction off a mortal woman made him one of the last people she ever wanted to see again, but apparently he knew about her. That didn’t bode well for her future.

  She rolled away from him onto her back. It pulled her away from his magic hands, something she regretted, but she needed some space to gather her thoughts. The way she accepted his comfort scared her. She was too close to trusting a man she had no business trusting. He was using her. Their acquaintance nearly killed her, something he admitted might happen again. There was something very wrong with her.

  Lifting himself onto an elbow, he leaned over and cupped her cheek with the opposite hand. “You and I are going to have a very long talk tomorrow, but first we both need sleep.”

  She parted her lips, ready to remind him that she already tried that, when his mouth covered hers. He started slow, easing her into his kiss with gentle moves that went straight to her heart. It warmed with each nibble, paused with each inhale, then took off in an erratic rhythm when his tongue emboldened the kiss. He took advantage of his position by pressing more fully into her and aligning their bodies beneath the sheets. It sent warm, electric tingles to all the right areas.

  He was her darkest addiction. She craved his touch more than air itself. Weeks of yearning culminated in that moment. Her brain could no longer distinguish between right and wrong. All that existed was him. Her hands were in his hair, holding him to her. She refused to think about what that meant and instead focused on the hand sliding down from her cheek to her breast and lower.

  “I’m going to give you what you need,” he whispered, his lips hot against hers. “What we both need.”

  His thigh was between hers and pressed to the most sensitive part of her. Instinct told her to move closer, trust him, and take what she needed, even as her brain told her this was getting dangerous. Part of her acknowledged the risk of going further while the other said she could use the distraction. He considered her a pawn. Maybe it was her turn to return the favor. Use him for her own needs. Except that didn’t feel right. There was a very fine edge between lust and other feelings, and she was walking it on a tightrope.

  “Let go, love.” His palm met her bare stomach. “Stop thinking.” She didn’t normally sleep in a bra, but she changed in a hurry earlier. He peeled off the strapless lace and tossed it to the floor. His fingers were like silk, light and smooth as they circled her aching nipples.

  “So soft and sensitive,” he murmured as her back bowed off the bed.

  “Issac,” she moaned. Tingles rippled over her skin, teasing her core. The dampness between her legs made friction a requirement. Her fingers curled in his hair as he palmed her chest. It only deepened the ache, making her writhe beneath him. She was on the verge of coming just from some light petting. It spoke to how long she’d gone without male company and how badly she wanted him. Every move put pressure against her clit and brought her closer to orgasm.

  Her hand drifted over his muscled back, down to his firm ass. He was only wearing boxer shorts. She explored the firmness of his backside before sliding her fingers around to the front.

  “Astasiya,” he hissed when she palmed him through the fabric. He was hot a
nd heavy against her hand. His cock pulsed as she stroked the long length of him. Impressive. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand and pulled it over her head, holding it there.

  She opened her mouth to complain, but he distracted her with a sharp nip against her lip. He followed it with a kiss that melted her inside. It was demanding, sending her over the precipice of desire. She was lost to him and his touch. In that moment, he owned her.

  “Come for me, love. Let me see you let go.”

  His clever fingers tweaked her nipple at the same time his thigh hit the juncture between her legs, sending her arching off the bed with a moan. All the anticipation culminated in an explosion, sending her crashing over the edge into an orgasm unlike anything she was prepared to feel. She cried out his name as a current raced through her heart, sending shockwaves to every limb. It left her reeling, her mind fracturing under the assault.

  Her body tingled as she fought to regain her breath. He gentled against her, his hand leaving her breast and tenderly cupping her face while he released her wrist. The thigh between her legs stretched out alongside her. She continued to shake, her body replete.

  “You’re amazing.” His praise warmed her. Here she was convulsing from one of the most intense orgasms of her life and he was praising her. It should be the other way around, but she was too winded to speak.

  His tongue traced her bottom lip before his mouth took hers in a softer kiss filled with emotions her heart wasn’t equipped to handle. When he was done, she felt wrecked both inside and out. His arousal was hot against her leg, a reminder of pleasure not returned. It seemed unfair. He caught her hand when she tried to touch him again and brought it to his lips.

  “Another time, love.” He murmured, tucking her against his body. His shoulder became her pillow as he wrapped his arm around her. Their legs intertwined like long lost lovers, leaving her inexplicably at ease. She yawned. If she was tired earlier, she was drained now.

  “Sleep well, my Aya.”

  Aya. Her lids were heavy with needed sleep, drooping despite the images she feared behind them. She would ask him what Aya meant in the morning.

  14

  Afternoon Ride

  Issac was snuggling her. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who cuddled, yet he was curled around her like a protective shield. It was her best night of sleep in weeks and she spent it wrapped in a demon’s arms. A girl could get used to this. Too bad it wasn’t real. Last night sure felt real. Her subconscious was turning into a hopeless romantic. Nothing a shower couldn’t fix.

  She pulled herself free of his arms. There was a hint of sunlight streaming in beside her curtains. It highlighted his bare chest and abdomen, making her want to crawl back in bed. The blankets were low, showcasing the band of his black boxers. From what she felt against her backside, his impressive bulge would be evident in those tight shorts. She forced herself to walk away instead of pulling down the sheet.

  The hot spray massaged her languid muscles, leaving her more content than she felt in a long time. Ridiculous, considering all she’d been through, but the breakdown last night helped. Among other, more delicious, things. She grinned, her skin heating in memory. I totally should have pulled down that blanket.

  She’d picked out a pair of jean shorts and a tank top from the closet prior to getting in the shower. Now she got dressed, and left her hair damp against her back. When she walked out of the bathroom, it was to find the bed made and no sign of Issac. Frowning, she walked into the hallway and followed the steady stream of voices coming from the kitchen. The aroma of chocolate was thick in the air, tasting sweet on her lips.

  “Are you recommending I not mention the cost?” Issac was asking. She paused in the hallway, just out of sight.

  “I’m just saying she might not be as appreciative as your other more, uh, money savvy dates. She’s not ignorant or anything, just not …”

  “Shallow?” he offered.

  “Right. That’s a good word, or materialistic. She’s not a fashion person, if that makes sense.”

  “Duly noted.” There was a pause. Did he sense her beyond the door? Did he have superhuman hearing too? “Astasiya hasn’t told me what you are doing post graduation?”

  “Oh. I’m working with a kids’ shelter in lower Manhattan and I volunteer with one in Harlem too. That’s where I was last night, but I work for the other full time.”

  “Teaching the underprivileged?”

  “Yeah, I lead their reading and writing programs.”

  “Very commendable. How do George and Lillian feel about it?”

  And that was her cue to join them. Lizzie’s father didn’t care about her chosen career, but Lillian still had high hopes of their daughter going back into the pageant circuit. Both were sore subjects.

  “Yeah,” Lizzie was replying, nose scrunching, “they don’t like it much. Oh, hey, Stas.”

  Issac was sitting at the breakfast nook wearing last night’s attire, a fork in his hand and a wicked spark in his dark blue eyes.

  Okay, so I listened in the hallway for a minute. Sue me. Fighting the heat his knowing gaze inspired, she walked over to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee to go with what looked like croissants. “What did you make, Liz?”

  “Raspberry chocolate scones and a quiche.” She was sitting across from him at the table, her manicured fingers wrapped around a glass of water. “Issac approves.”

  “Yes, you live with quite the master chef, Astasiya.”

  She knew without turning that Lizzie was painted red. Compliments made her uncomfortable. A consequence of a childhood filled only with criticism. Walking around to give her roommate a half hug, she took the chair beside her. There was a plate made up for her already.

  “Yeah, I sort of love her.”

  Lizzie’s cheeks deepened in color, but she flashed her a grin. “Sort of? You adore me.”

  “It’s true,” she agreed around a bite of the scone. It melted on her tongue, making her groan. “And this is amazing.”

  “My sister would have liked you a great deal,” Issac said after polishing off his plate. She was still working through her scone, but paused at his use of past tense. He mentioned his sister Amelia the other day, but didn’t say much about her. “She loved cooking and baking.”

  “You have a sister?” Lizzie asked, brow furrowing. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I had a sister, yes. It’s not well known.”

  The mouthful of quiche she swallowed lodged in her throat. There was more to that story than met the eye. The way he spoke about her was with a deep fondness long buried.

  Lizzie openly cringed, her heart forever worn on her sleeve. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  He settled back in his chair, his expression blank. “It’s quite okay. She passed a long while ago.” Easy words that didn’t match the somber timbre of his voice. He was hiding something. He changed the subject. “Stas, I want to take you somewhere today. Interested?”

  That sinful glint in those blue eyes made it hard to breathe. It said he knew intimate things about her and planned to expand upon that knowledge in delicious ways.

  Did she want to take him up on that offer? Yes, please. There were so many things he could have done to her last night in her vulnerable state, but he refrained. It spoke volumes about the kind of person he was, the type who held her after a nightmare and used his sexual prowess to exhaust her without pushing her too far. That was the man who could capture her heart and destroy her. She would have to be careful with him.

  She swallowed. “That depends on where we’re going.”

  “It’s a surprise.” His smile was devastating. He looked excited. She wasn’t sure whether to be intrigued or terrified. Was this part of their business arrangement?

  “Okay,” she murmured, curiosity getting the better of her. They both knew she wasn’t in a position to say no, anyway. He said they were talking today. It would either be at his surprise location or in her bedroom. She preferred the former. Too many other th
ings could happen in her bedroom that didn’t involve talking.

  “Brilliant.” He had the most adorable dimples when he smiled. They softened his features, making him look younger.

  “Will you be back for dinner tonight?” Lizzie asked, her brown eyes going back and forth between them.

  It was the third weekend of the month. “Watkins, Fitzgerald monthly dinner.” She told Issac. “Don’t we get a reprieve? We just ate with them last weekend.”

  “That’s what I said, but my mom said it’s mandatory. For me, anyway, not you.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be up for it tonight.” She wasn’t ready to face Tom, not after what he’d done to her. Thinking about last night made her stomach turn over. Whatever Tom’s goal was, he failed because Issac saved her life. Again. She doubted that was her friend’s objective. He wanted her to learn more about Issac, something she more than accomplished during the Conclave.

  Her fingers curled into a fist. When she got her hands on Tom, she would throttle the much taller man. Former special forces or not, she would kick his ass. And he would explain, but only when she was ready to hear it.

  “I don’t know when we’ll be back,” Issac added. “Although I will say, I’m disappointed by the missed opportunity. It’s been an age since George and I had a proper chat.” There was a note of sarcasm in his voice. She was starting to understand his little inflections. An indication they were spending far too much time together. “I also have a few choice things I would like to say to Thomas.”

  She nearly spit out her coffee. If anyone was going to talk to Tom about anything, it was her. She conveyed that with a look, but the resolve in his eyes remained. A conversation for later, then. One she would win.