Bonded by Blood

by Laurie London

  “Anything?”

  “A man named Paul Cook called in a missing person’s report this morning on a Martin Johanovich. They were supposed to meet last night for dinner but the guy never showed. He was also a no-show at work. He own this art school, too?”

  “Yes. He was teaching a class that my…that someone very special to me was supposed to teach. He left a message on her voice mail at 9:43 p.m. saying two men were after her. He sounded scared and out of breath, like he had been running. We believe this is connected to something that happened to her two nights ago. She was chased by a couple of Darkbloods but she got away.”

  “Think it could be the same guys?”

  “Uh, no. We took care of the first two assholes. These two must be their replacements.”

  “Wow, someone wants her in a bad way. Any idea why?”

  “Because she’s Sangre Dulce.”

  “Shit, man. And she’s your woman?” Johnny let out a low whistle when Dom nodded. “Let’s go in and see if we can find out what happened to Mr. Johanovich.”

  Johnny barely had the door open when an undeniable stench filled Dom’s nostrils.

  “Fuck. Darkbloods.”

  “Look at the blood over there. We got us a crime scene. Gotta step outside and call this one in.”

  On the sidewalk, Johnny pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, closed his eyes and sniffed it.

  “I thought you quit that,” Dom said as he stepped under an awning, attempting to shield himself further from the light.

  “I did. I just like the smell of ’em from time to time. Makes me feel more in control that way. Like I could light it but choose not to. Stupid, I know.” He rubbed a hand over his short-cropped dark hair. “So, tell me about your woman. Must be serious if you’re going out during the daytime for her. Can’t remember if I’ve ever even seen you before sundown. Thought you didn’t have time for anyone if it lasted past breakfast.”

  Dom shrugged. “I’m going to check around back in the alley.”

  Johnny chuckled at the brush-off. “Well then, let me know if you find anything.”

  Dom rounded the corner to the alley and there it was again. Although the smell had faded, he was positive the Darkbloods had come out this way. He detected the same blood scent from inside, but it was much more potent out here. With every step, it got stronger until he followed it to a nearby rusted-out green Dumpster.

  “Ah, hell.”

  A SHORT TIME later, Dom entered the loft and burst through the doors of the bedroom. Mackenzie looked up from her laptop, eyes wide. She’d pulled his overstuffed chair to the window where she sat with her feet tucked beneath her.

  He barely paused to hit the controls closing the automatic blinds and with three giant strides he was at her side, pulling her into his arms. With his nose buried in her hair, he held her tight, almost too tight, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to feel her close, to reassure himself she was all right. She was their intended target. It could’ve been her that he found, not Martin.

  “Dom, what is it? Where’s Martin? I’ve been trying to call him but—”

  He struggled to speak, his throat tight with the magnitude of what he had to tell her.

  “What happened? Where is he?”

  “He’s dead, Kenz. Attacked by Darkbloods at the art school.”

  She staggered and he held her close. “How do you know? Are you sure?”

  “Kenz, I was the one who found him.”

  Her legs went limp and he sank to the floor with her, wishing he could wash away her pain.

  “So what are you going to do? Meet Corey at the restaurant and say, ‘oh, by the way, your sister couldn’t come but it’s real nice to meet you?’” With her hands on her hips, Mackenzie stood in the foyer of the loft. Despite the fact that her whole body ached from all the crying, she was pissed at the stupid idea.

  “Things are way too dangerous for you to be out,” Dom said as he snapped the strap of his knife holster, securing a big-ass weapon to his torso, and shrugged into his wool peacoat. With two handguns strapped to his back that she did see—one of them she was pretty sure wasn’t even legal—how many other weapons did he have on him that she didn’t see? The man was a walking arsenal. “I’ll go to his house and check him out. I should be able to detect from outside if he’s got the sweetblood or not.”

  “Well, that’s just crazy.” She wiped the heel of her hand across her swollen eyes. “What if he is Sangre Dulce? What then? Are you going to knock on the door and make him come with you when you’ve never even met? That’s so not going to fly.”

  And like hell was she going to sit back in the loft and wait again. She was tired of all the waiting, of letting things happen around her—she’d been doing it all her life, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for a hammer to fall.

  “I don’t care if you can massage his memory. I don’t want that done to my brother. I need to be there, whether you like it or not.”

  Dom pulled his pant leg down over his boot holster, which held another knife, and when he straightened, he leveled her with a hard stare.

  There was no way she was letting him leave without her. She grabbed his arms and wrapped them around her, pinning his wrists against the small of her back.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

  “It’s not as if I’m going out alone. You’ll be there. I’m safe with you.”

  His nostrils flared slightly, that tiny muscle in his jaw flexing. “Get your things,” he said finally. “We’re late.”

  The restaurant parking lot was half full when Mackenzie and Dom arrived an hour later. Through the large picture windows, the sun was still setting over Vashon Island, but she felt so numb she hardly noticed.

  “How are you holding up?” Dom asked, his arm cast protectively around her shoulders as they made their way to an empty table in the bar.

  “Barely.” Martin’s terrified voice kept replaying over and over in her mind. “But I can’t possibly wait to find out about Corey.”

  “You look as though you’ve been crying. What will you say to him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Trust me. He won’t notice. Besides, it’s dark enough in here that even if he wasn’t perpetually stoned, he still wouldn’t notice.”

  “He’s that much of a pothead?”

  “Family curses aside, you’d be a stoner, too, if you lived with someone like Vanessa. There he is now.” She waved him over. Please don’t let him be like me, she prayed silently. Perched on the edge of her chair, hardly daring to breathe, she chewed on the inside of her lip as her brother zigzagged through the tables.

  In true skater-boy fashion, his longish sandy-blond hair curled into his eyes and resembled a wild mop on the top of his head. He wore a gray T-shirt that was actually vintage—Mackenzie recognized it from his high school years and knew it probably still had that small hole under one of the arms—emo-tight jeans that hung from his lanky hips, and turquoise skater shoes that were unlaced. She managed to smile. He’d been dressed exactly the same the last time she’d seen him, down to the black shark’s tooth and small macramé cross worn on leather cords around his neck.

  She stood to hug him and noticed a raspberry scrape alongside his face, as well as an acrid smell like burning leaves on his clothes. He’d probably smoked out in the parking lot. Either that or he hadn’t washed this shirt since the last time he’d gotten high.

  “Kenzie!” Corey gave her a brotherly hug, almost yanking her off her feet, and when he clapped her on the back, her molars rattled. He held a hand out to Dom across the table. “Hey, I’m Corey.”

  Mackenzie kept her eyes on Dom as she introduced them. When Dom gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head, a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. He’s safe, thank God. “I’m sorry Vanessa couldn’t come. I hope that didn’t cause any trouble between you guys.”

  “Nah, I love last-minute stuff. Vanessa—not so much.”

  They ordered a round of drinks and appetizers
, and as they waited for their food, Corey talked about school, Dom told him the abbreviated version of what he did for a living, and Mackenzie filled him in on her website, trying to act excited. She decided not to tell Corey about Martin—at least not right now, not while the pain of losing him was so fresh. The server returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of Hefeweizen, teriyaki beef skewers and a huge plate of nachos for Corey, along with his always necessary side of Thousand Island dressing.

  “So how did you get that nasty-looking raspberry? Looks like it hurt.”

  “Skateboarding. Don’t worry.” He held up his hands, a chip clutched between his finger and thumb as he made a goofy okay sign. “Had a helmet on, so chill. A buddy opened up a new indoor skate facility in South Tacoma. One of the rails was slicker than I expected, and bam.”

  Dom gave her a dry look and she lifted one eyebrow in a silent question. With the hint of a smile, he shook his head and grabbed another skewer.

  “What else have you been up to?” Mackenzie asked as she ran a finger around the thick rim of her beer glass. Dom put a beef skewer on her plate, but she knew it’d sit there untouched. She wasn’t hungry. “Did you get that money I deposited in your account for books?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Corey dipped a cheese- and jalapeño-laden chip into the Thousand, crammed the whole thing into his mouth and started talking. “Visited Mom the other day and she looked pretty good. Said you and your—” Corey swallowed and laughed, took a swig of his beer. “Sorry, Mom thinks you guys are married.”

  Mackenzie glanced at Dom and saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

  “What’s Vanessa been up to?” Mackenzie asked, changing the subject. “I’m sorry she couldn’t make it tonight.” Not really, but she felt it was her duty to at least ask about his live-in girlfriend of the past year.

  “Same old. Her Seasonal Affective Disorder is giving her a lot of trouble ’cuz of the dark winter and dreary spring. Even with one of those light boxes, she says she’s not getting enough UVA or UVB. All she wants to do is lie around and watch TV.”

  Somehow, Mackenzie doubted Vanessa’s bad attitude could be blamed entirely on SAD. She was bitchy in the summer months, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  PAVLOS SNAPPED HIS cell phone shut and glided to the two-way mirror on the far side of the small room. One of his most capable lieutenants was preparing for an important pickup. He was to report back as soon as he made the capture, hopefully in the next few days.

  He watched through the glass as two Darkblood doctors, outfitted with personal oxygen masks, strapped a struggling woman to a laboratory table. Too bad she couldn’t be tranquilized for the tests, as he’d like to be in the room and personally oversee the whole procedure. But he just couldn’t tolerate a screaming human unless he had his teeth embedded in soft flesh, and then it would be sweet music when the sound vibrated against his lips. Without the vein, it was fingernails on a chalkboard.

  Considering her dyed hair and the faint wrinkles around her eyes, he guessed her age to be around forty-five. Rather remarkable she’d lived this long, he thought as her legs went into the stirrups. Sweetblood was compelling to all vampires, and even neophytes made mistakes.

  With a ring-laden hand, he wiped the corner of his mouth as he watched the action unfold. It had been at least three weeks since he’d drunk off the hoof from a sweetblood and he was so damned thirsty. And the weak energies in this god-awful place weren’t helping, either. Why the hell did any vampire choose to live up here?

  Although he couldn’t wait to get back home, he had been dreaming of this day forever. The day all vampires would look back on and recognize as a defining moment in their history. A history that he’d shaped and created. Would he have a day named in his honor? A statue erected? Euphoria lifted him off his feet and he ghosted closer to the window.

  Soon everyone would see him as the reformer he was, bringing glory back to their kind, elevating them to the top of the food chain again, where they rightly belonged. All those doubters, those weak Council followers, would bow down before him.

  He wiped his dripping hands on the folds of his black robe. Yes. Those who’d laughed him off as a feeble, ineffectual youthling would be forced to admit he was right. That their kind did become stronger on a diet consisting strictly of human blood.

  A heady scent poured off his skin and he inhaled. It was the scent of a leader.

  If things went as planned, in less than a year, when the first batch of sweetbloods was born, the lucky souls who chose to follow him would be granted unlimited Sweet. How much blood could they take from a human infant without killing it? They’d soon find out. If things progressed well up here, the other labs around the country were set to go online shortly, and then they’d have a plethora of test subjects. Many of his kind had never even tasted Sweet before and when they did, he had no doubt he’d have throngs of eager followers. No, he wasn’t about to let the momentous events of the next few days pass without witnessing every last detail himself.

  He tilted his head as the woman screamed, but he didn’t hear a thing. Thank God for soundproof glass. Maybe she wouldn’t pass the tests. Sweet from a vial didn’t compare to the energies one could get straight from the source. Forty-five was a bit old to bear children, so it was a definite possibility she’d fail to qualify for their little project. If so, he’d have her brought around to his quarters for disposal.

  One of the doctors, holding a metal instrument, stepped between her spread legs. The woman twisted, tried to buck her hips up from the gurney. Was that glitter polish on her toenails? With narrowed eyes, the Overlord noticed her white-tipped fingernails, too. She was a woman who took care of herself.

  He pressed the intercom button. “Remove the sheet.”

  The woman’s head cranked around in the direction of the speaker and someone whipped off the hospital-blue cloth.

  As the Overlord eyeballed her heavy breasts, curvy hips, and shapely calves, his erection tented the fabric of his robe. On second thought, maybe he’d have a little fun first. Licking his lips, he watched as the testing began.

  “SO WHAT DID you need this for again?” Mackenzie put her driver’s license back into the slot in her wallet.

  “I want to be able to take you into the field office and you needed clearance. Here’s your key card.”

  She slung the lanyard around her neck and followed Dom out the door of the loft. “I’m a little nervous. Won’t they all want to…ah, you know. Bite me?”

  “As a Guardian, part of our training involves becoming desensitized to attractive nuisances. You should be fine, although you shouldn’t sneak up behind someone. In fact, that cat bell idea you joked about earlier isn’t a half-bad idea.” She glared at him as he pressed the elevator button. “I wish I were kidding, but I’m not. Chuck has a theory that— Never mind. I’ll be with you at all times. I’ll never let you out of my sight when we’re around other vampires. Except for Lily. You’ll be safe with her. And Cordell. Changelings don’t seem to be as affected by Sweet as the rest of us.”

  “Why is Lily okay?”

  “She’s been around several sweetbloods. I think one of her last human boyfriends was Sangre Dulce. Oh, and Kenz, just so you don’t think I’m keeping secrets from you, she and I have slept together.”

  Mackenzie bristled. “Were you in love with her?”

  “Hell, no. And she doesn’t and hasn’t ever loved me. She’s just a very dear friend. Remember when I told you about our sexual drives? For us, it’s a relatively common occurrence among unmated couples. It really was quite casual, but I know it must be hard to comprehend.” He gave a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder. “But in a committed relationship, we’re completely monogamous. Much more so than most humans are.”

  Mackenzie relaxed somewhat, although she was prepared to hate this Lily chick. “What is Chuck’s theory?”

  The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Dom flashed her a naughty smile—the same smile he’d given her
back at the resort—inserted his I.D. card in a slot on the panel and pressed the button for the lower level.

  “He thinks that when we’re together—when we’ve made love—it alters your scent slightly to make you less…how shall I put it? Less potent-smelling to other vampires.”

  She almost choked. “You mean the more sex we have, the safer I am around them?”

  “I think so. Chuck said it was…ah…very obvious when we left.”

  With a clunk, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. She followed Dom into a dimly lit corridor. The lights must’ve been on a motion sensor because every time they were about to step out of the ring illuminated on the cobblestone floor, the next overhead bulb clicked on. Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic as the tunnel seemed to stretch out endlessly in the dark. The air had a stale, dry smell to it, as if it didn’t get aerated much.

  Ten minutes later, Dom inserted his key card into a slot near another heavy door. It slid open and they stepped into a gold-carpeted foyer. A huge bouquet of fresh flowers stood on an ornately carved Queen Anne table between two elevator doors.

  “Geez, with all this walking, a girl wouldn’t need to work out.”

  Another hallway, another door. When Dom grabbed the handles and pulled the door open, she heard the sound of country music coming from inside. She followed him into a mammoth workout facility. A gym at the field office? The high, open-beam ceilings had to stretch at least three stories tall. State-of-the-art cardio equipment was clustered together on the right side of the room, while free weights and weight machines were on the other side. Just beyond what she thought was a juice bar, a boxing ring sat in one far corner, a fenced-off trampoline in another, and thick mats lined the floors. She smelled chlorine. There must be a pool somewhere down here, too.