Blood Laws

by Lexi C. Foss

  Lifting the hand holding hers, he twirled her and caught her around the waist again with his opposite arm. Her pulse raced at the fluidity of his movements.

  “Mmm, I daresay, Astasiya, you dance quite well.” He spun her around him again, this time dipping her close to the floor before righting her against him. “Amelia would approve.”

  He picked up the pace, causing her to shift her hips in time with his. Her breathing faltered with each sinuous brush.

  “I bought this estate for her.” He twirled her so her back was to his front, his warm breath fanning her ear. He slowed their pace as the jazzy tunes melted into sensual tones. “She wanted to be closer to me, but couldn’t stay in the city. So this was the best alternative. I thought it would keep her safe.” He rotated her back around to face him and gazed down at her. “I was wrong.”

  His voice thickened with emotion and pain, but he kept dancing, whirling her about the floor with an ease that spoke of years of training. Her pulse quickened with every twirl, her body trusting him to catch her. He never missed a beat, his tempo in line with the song. She wondered if this was his outlet, his way of moving through the pain.

  “What happened?” It was a soft question, one she wasn’t sure he would acknowledge, let alone answer.

  “Jonathan happened.” Lifting her hand, he propelled her into a twirl that was faster and harder than the others. She spun twice before he caught her against him, her heart fluttering at the intense contact. “He made it look like the Conclave did it. I’ve let him think I believe that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the best revenge takes time and careful planning. It requires the perfect pawn.” Another pivot ending in a dip that brought her dangerously close to the floor. Her chest heaved against his as he held her there, his body bent over hers as her hair brushed the polished wood.

  “Me.”

  “Yes.” He slowly pulled her up, her body flush with his. “But last night changed everything. You meeting Osiris was a consequence I never could have predicted.”

  “Meaning what? I’m no longer the perfect pawn?”

  “Oh, you’re still perfect for my plans.” The hand on her back drifted lower, sliding over her curves. His lips were a breath from hers. “But I’m rather fond of you being alive.” She shivered at the heat in his voice. They were no longer moving, just locked in an intimate embrace that left her craving more.

  Clapping broke their trance, making Issac stiffen. “Balthazar.”

  15

  A Crumpled Charade

  A low whistle echoed through the room as Issac pushed her behind him.

  “I give it a seven point eight out of ten on the seduction scale. Points deducted for a lack of disrobing and missed opportunities for light petting.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  “I’m only trying to be helpful, Wakefield. Shall I demonstrate the disrobing part while you take notes?” The low timbre of the newcomer’s voice was evocative of luxurious afternoons lost between the sheets, making her shiver with want.

  Except it was Issac she envisioned, his dark blue eyes gazing down at her as he took her slowly and thoroughly. Last night’s introduction only seemed to uncap her wanton desire. She wanted him with a fierceness she never before experienced. No other man, not even the one speaking in bedroom tones now, was going to satisfy her craving.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart. I’m always up for a good challenge.”

  Issac’s shoulders stiffened, tightening all the muscles beneath his tight grey shirt. Her gaze dropped to his delectable backside, firm in those should-be-illegal jeans. Her palms itched to stroke him. It seemed such a waste not to touch him.

  “What are you going on about now, Balthazar?” Issac asked.

  “Your little blonde vixen’s lascivious thoughts. You’ve unleashed quite the fancy in that one.”

  Issac glanced back at her, allowing for a brief glimpse of the tall, dark haired male near the door. From what she saw of him, he was built like a professional athlete. Tall, broad, and solid muscle.

  “Nice try, but she’s immune to immortal gifts.”

  “Sounds like a performance issue, Wakefield. Might want to get that checked out. I hear her loud and clear. She’s a fan of your ass, in case you were wondering.”

  Her gaze shot up to Issac’s shoulder blades. How could he know that?

  “You’re practically screaming it, sweetheart.” That bedroom note was back in Balthazar’s voice. Who is he talking to? Me or Issac?

  “That’s too easy and obvious.” The muscles of his back moved as Issac folded his arms. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  Was he implying that it was obvious she would ogle his ass? Arrogant much?

  Balthazar’s chuckle was warm against her senses. “Now she thinks you’re arrogant. Which, by the way, sweetheart, I’ve seen that ass and I can firmly say he’s well within his right to be arrogant about it.”

  She blanched. He couldn’t hear her thoughts. Issac said she was immune to Ichorian gifts.

  “A reasonable guess.” He looked over his shoulder again, studying her with those intense blue eyes. “Let’s go for something harder. What are the names of your birth parents, Astasiya? Their real names?”

  She thought of them on instinct before shutting down the memories. “Why?” She demanded, irritated by the onslaught of emotions that always came with thoughts of her parents. “What do they have to do with anything?”

  “Caroline and Seth,” the other man said. “And that wasn’t very nice, Wakefield.”

  She moved away from Issac. The muscular male was leaning against the wall, unperturbed. The complete opposite of what she was feeling inside.

  “How did you know that?” Her voice shook almost as much as her hands. No one knew her birth parents’ names. Not even Susan and Henry. She was the only one. Caroline and Seth were their real names, not the ones reported by the media after the fire or the ones on her birth records.

  He tapped his head. “Mind reader, sweetheart.”

  “Impossible,” she said at the same time as Issac. Her gaze met his. “You said I was immune to Ichorians and their psychic gifts.”

  “You are.”

  “Then explain him?” She pointed at the man smirking by the wall.

  “He’s not an Ichorian, but a Hydraian like Owen.” He stared down the other man. “Who else is here?”

  “Ash and Jay. Jacque went back to get Luc a few minutes ago. And yeah, I think you should run that theory by your leggy blonde before you test it.”

  “Get the fuck out of my head.”

  “I’m just sayin’, Wakefield. I have a few millennia more experience and most women don’t like men thinking for them.” Truer words had never been spoken. She could kiss the man for saying that. The twinkle in his chocolate gaze said he not only heard that thought but would be more than happy to accept.

  She ignored the flutter that sparked in her belly. He was a good looking man, but her sexual appetite was in the mood for a man with midnight blue eyes. “What theory, Issac?”

  He walked over to the panel and turned off the music before answering. “You’re immune to Ichorian gifts, but Balthazar’s ability to read your thoughts suggests you might not be immune to Hydraian gifts. The only way to test that theory would be to have other Hydraians use their respective talents on you.”

  “You want to make me a guinea pig?” That sounded like a terrible idea.

  “You could really use some work on your bedside manner, Wakefield.”

  “Oh, do shut up.” His midnight gaze narrowed at Balthazar. The muscular man stumbled while clutching his head and wheezed as he hit the wall. His face was contorted in a mixture of anger and disbelief as he muttered epithets at Issac.

  Her eyes rounded at Issac’s blatant display of power. No wonder those Ichorians were afraid of him last night. If he could do this to an irritating friend, what could he do to an enemy?

  “As for you,” his blu
e eyes locked on hers, “I thought you might want to test your immunity against psychic abilities in a safe environment. But what do I know?” He stalked out of the room.

  Okay, someone’s angry.

  Balthazar coughed out a curse. “Well, that was rude.” His dark eyes bounced about the room in an unfocused manner.

  “Why is he so pissed?” Despite his harsh words, there was an obvious fondness between the two men. And all she did was point out that being a guinea pig was not an appealing idea.

  “It’s my fault. I underestimated his fondness for you and pushed too far.” He shook his head and finger combed his luscious dark hair. “Not that I regret a minute of it.”

  His licentious gaze made her snort. She was starting to understand why Issac delivered the man a psychic punch and walked away. “You must get the biggest headache reading minds all the time.”

  “He loves it.” A tall man stated from the doorway. His wide shoulders were befitting of a linebacker. “B?”

  “She’s not a threat, but I would be happy to search her more thoroughly.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the linebacker replied. “Can you give us the room?”

  Both men were about the same height and stature, but the man in the doorway had an air of authority about him that Balthazar lacked. One was here for fun while the other was here for business. And by the way the linebacker studied her with those green eyes, she was the work assignment.

  “Be careful with this one, Luc.” Balthazar warned as he walked by him. “Issac has her all riled up.” Heat suffused her cheeks as he undressed her with those bedroom eyes. “I look forward to getting acquainted, Stas. Let me know when you’re ready for a real immortal.”

  The blond called Luc rolled his eyes heavenward before shutting the door. “That man will never learn,” he said, more to himself than to her. He took several purposeful steps towards her and held out a hand. It was twice the size of hers. Definitely a football player.

  “I’m Lucian, but call me Luc.”

  “Stas.”

  “Yes, I know.” He flashed her a devastating smile that had her taking a sharp breath. Were all of Issac’s friends gorgeous? First Balthazar, now this tall, muscular hunk of a man. Who was next? They should all get together for a photo shoot and do something that required them to be shirtless. A fireman calendar would be entertaining.

  “You can’t read minds, right?” she asked, realizing that her thoughts were going south fast.

  “No, my gift is more strategic. Some call me omniscient, but it’s not the correct term. My other talent is best used in the bedroom and involves emotion.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t tell if he meant that last part as an ego stroke or if he was serious. The lack of a salacious grin or insinuative glance told her he was serious. What could he do in the bedroom? Did Issac have a secondary talent too?

  “I hear you knew Owen. I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man.”

  “You knew him?”

  “I did. Although, I didn’t know he was in New York City. Any idea why he was there?”

  She hesitated. “For school? I didn’t know he was immortal, since I’m guessing that’s what you’re really wondering. But he was my friend.”

  “Yes, something I believe wasn’t a coincidence.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t elaborate. “Issac tells me you have a knack for persuasion.”

  She folded her arms. “Yeah? What else did he tell you?” Because he hasn’t told me shit.

  “That you’re immune to Ichorian talents and you work for the CRF, neither of which are important to me. I’m more interested in your psychic gift.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your future is with me.” Luc turned towards the door as it opened and spoke to the man entering. “I was just introducing myself to your beautiful Stas.”

  Issac started towards them, hands fisted at his sides. “I might kill your second before the night is over. Probably best you say goodbye to him now.”

  “You say that every time I bring B along for a visit.”

  “Yes, I distinctly recall requesting you not bring him.”

  “Which only encouraged him more, of course.”

  He came to stand in front of Luc, arms folded over his chest and legs spread. He was a hair shorter than the blond and leaner. Luc’s physique resembled a football player, a wall of solid muscle. She preferred Issac’s swimmer build, but both men would look fantastic naked. Not that she was thinking about it. That would be inappropriate.

  “Lucian is the leader of the Hydraian race. I thought it time you two met.” His directness pulled her from her lewd thoughts.

  “Doesn’t this break another blood law?”

  “Oh, it breaks several,” Issac murmured. “Hydraians are the mortal enemies of my kind.”

  Luc grinned. “And as their king, I’m enemy number one.”

  “Which is why I have four of your Guardians in my kitchen.”

  “Nah, they just miss you.” Luc cast a glance about the room. “They miss this place and the memories made here too.”

  “Hold on.” She raised a hand to stop the male bonding. “I saw what happened to Sierra last night, and that was for not announcing Owen’s presence in the city. You invited a Hydraian, or several, apparently, into your home and you’re all old friends? How the hell does that work?”

  Luc laughed while Issac bit his lip to keep from smiling. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Not everything is black and white, darling. I told you, I don’t much care for archaic laws. It’s why I didn’t kill you when we met. My interests are my own, and my race can go hang.”

  “That’s his British way of saying he chooses family over the rules of his kind,” Luc translated. Not that it made much sense.

  “Family?” she repeated.

  “We’re brothers of a sort,” Luc explained. “I assume you’ve mentioned Amelia?”

  “Yes, but not that detail.”

  “Hmm, well, we’ll get to that, then.” His emerald gaze met hers. “First I want to talk about your options.”

  “My options?” She was starting to feel like a parrot.

  “Yes. You met Osiris last night, which puts you in a very dangerous position as a fledgling.”

  “But he doesn’t know what I am.” If he did, she would already be dead.

  “He doesn’t know yet.” Issac corrected. “He’s intrigued by you, though. He never acknowledges humans, but he talked to you twice. And I have to tell him when I turn you, which I can’t do.”

  “Because you don’t want to?” Why was that the part that bothered her the most in his statement? She didn’t want him to turn her. Joining Ichorian society was the last thing she desired.

  “That, and I physically can’t. You’re already of immortal blood, love. You’ll wake a Hydraian.”

  Issac told her that after the gala, but the reality of what it meant didn’t hit her until now. Luc’s comments about her future lying with him made sense. He said he was the king of the Hydraians and she was a future Hydraian. The mortal enemy of Ichorians. And last night she attended a Conclave filled with demons who wanted to kill her kind. She was lucky to be alive.

  She swayed, but a sturdy arm caught her shoulders as her forehead met a wall of male. Sandalwood and peppermint soothed her senses. She buried her nose into his chest, refusing to continue this discussion. She wasn’t naive. She knew what options meant. His other arm wrapped around her, cocooning her in familiar male warmth. His lips touched her hair, followed by his cheek as he hugged her close.

  Conversation flowed over her head, the two men talking about something pertaining to her. She ignored them.

  The fledgling thing she could handle. For years she knew she was different. Her parents weren’t human. She understood that even as a child. Not what they were, just that they could do things other people couldn’t. Her dad was like her, able to persuade through voice. Her mom could do other things. Weird
things. Like disappear into mist. She used to call her an angel. A childlike understanding of her mom’s ability and light features, some of which Stas inherited herself. Like her blonde hair and pale skin. Her green eyes were her dad’s.

  How she wished they were here to explain. If she died a mortal death, she would become immortal. Okay. If Osiris found out who she was, he would slaughter her. Not great. So that left her with one viable choice, but deep down that choice felt wrong.

  She took a deep shuddering breath, enjoying the way his natural scent warmed her inside. This constant need to touch him was overwhelming. Why he allowed it confused her more. The way he was rubbing her back while his chin rested on her head felt natural, like they did this all the time. She realized with a pang that he was one of the reasons becoming a Hydraian didn’t appeal to her. That would make her his enemy. Lovers couldn’t be enemies. Not that they were in a real relationship. It was all a business arrangement, except he no longer planned to use her. She was still perfect for his plans, but he valued her life more. What did he mean by that?

  “Let’s have dinner,” Issac said, his lips brushing her ear. “We can discuss more later.”

  She was about to say she wasn’t hungry when her stomach rumbled. Lizzie’s brunch was hours ago. Eating was a good idea. After dinner she would confront Issac about the elephant in the room: His plans. She wanted to know what he intended her to do before last night screwed up his plans. It involved getting revenge on Jonathan for killing his sister, but she didn’t know anyone by that name. She suspected his plot involved her persuasive skills somehow, but that couldn’t be all that made her the perfect pawn.

  There was something more to this that she was missing. Something obvious.

  Luc and Issac led the way, their easy camaraderie indicative of an old friendship. They laughed at some inside joke about rugby along the way. Her last experience with Issac’s supernatural friends didn’t paint his world in a positive light. Seeing him with the Hydraians soothed her opinion.