Blood Veil

by Erickson, Megan

  He leaped into the air. I’d forgotten how fast and high these fuckers could jump. As I was fighting, I’d pushed forward, so now I turned around to realize Celia was still pressed against the building about ten yards away.

  The Quellen intended to jump over me to get to her. That motherfucker. With a roar, I sprang straight up, catching the Quellen around his waist midair. Celia screamed just as the Quellen shrieked. I swept my arm up with a grunt and slammed my knife right into the fucker’s heart.

  We crashed to the ground, me on my back, the Quellen bleeding all over me. The fall knocked the breath from my lungs and I gasped, my vision momentarily whiting out. When I focused back on the Quellen, he was scrambling to his feet, gaze on Celia. I rolled over and reached for his legs, but my hand came up empty.

  No.

  The Quellen had dropped the blade in midair, and it lay on the ground between Celia and the advancing Quellen. “The knife!” I yelled as I came to my feet and took after the Quellen. Celia didn’t hesitate. She ran to it, picked it up a second before the Quellen reached it, and plunged the tip into the Quellen’s eye.

  The sound that came out of the Quellen’s mouth sounded like a thousand children screaming. Celia shrank back, covering her ears, and I reached the Quellen in time to slit its throat, silencing the god-awful noise. Its body crumpled at my feet.

  My ears rang from the sound, and I staggered a step before finding my balance. One look at Celia and I could tell she was having another one of those panic attacks. Her eyes were huge, mouth gasping for breath, face pale.

  I grabbed her and tugged her to me, carrying her to a nearby metal door. I kicked it open and huddled in the corner of a deserted stairwell with Celia in my lap. Her body shook, and I tugged the layers off her. Her hands fumbled trying to help me, but I batted them away.

  Could these panic attacks kill her? When I placed my hand on her chest, her heartbeat didn’t sound normal. It was like a galloping horse rather than a steady drumbeat. “Celia.” I gripped her head, forcing her to look at me. “Breathe with me.”

  I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, and her eyes focused on my mouth. Her nostrils flared and her shoulders hitched, but slowly she began to breathe easier. I cupped her neck and rubbed my thumb along the artery where I could feel her pulse. “That’s it. You’re okay. You’re fine. I’m right here.”

  “H-h-his eye,” she stuttered out. “I-I-I st-stabbed—”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “Th-the s-s-sound!” she yelled in my face.

  “I know.”

  Her face fell and she shoved her head into my neck. I held her there, cradled against my body, my knees drawn up in an effort to cage her in, make her feel protected from all sides. I had no idea what humans did for panic attacks. Did some go through this alone? That sounded cruel.

  Her shoulders shook, and I rubbed her back just as I felt my shirt grow wet from her falling tears. She sniffed, her shoulders hitched, and then she fell still.

  When her heartbeat more closely matched mine, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry for losing it.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  “I was just…the knife in his eye. That sound. You slitting his throat.” She shuddered. “My brain didn’t know how to process all that and it shut down.”

  “Tell me more about these panic attacks,” I said.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What do you do when you’re alone and you get them?”

  She shifted in my lap and ran her finger over the wet patch on my shirt. “Well, mostly I just…wait it out.”

  “Wait it out?”

  “Yeah, in the moment it’s awful, and every time I think I’m going to die. But I…don’t. I don’t die. It’s just the few minutes where my brain feels like it’s disintegrating in my head and my heart is going to burst—that’s when I feel like I’m going to die.”

  I imagined her at home, having one of these attacks and no one there to hold her, to comfort her. “Is that…normal?”

  “To have panic attacks?”

  “Well, yes, but I meant is it normal to go through it alone?”

  Her smile was sad. “Well, normally I want to be alone. It’s embarrassing. I don’t like people seeing me like this.”

  “And me?”

  Her hand cupped my cheek. “I know it sounds strange, but now the thought of going through one without you sounds like a nightmare.”

  I swallowed, guilt clawing up my throat, threatening to choke me. “I’m glad I have been able to be there for you.”

  “Me, too. And as far as whether panic attacks are normal…eh. Some humans get them, some don’t. Mine are more extreme but fortunately in my life, they are rare.” Her lips turned down. “Well, they used to be rare. I guess in this new life…not so much.”

  “I’m sorry.” I smoothed her damp hair off her forehead.

  She closed her eyes and leaned into my touch, not much, but enough that it made me pause. Fuck, she smelled good, and she was so warm on my lap, her perfect ass perched perfectly on my hardening dick. I had to get her off me. We had to keep going before I did some things I was going to regret. “All right, guess it’s time we go.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment I saw it all—attraction, lust—all for me. Then she blinked and it was gone. “Right,” she said softly. “Time to go.”

  I tugged her to her feet, and she came willingly. I opened up the door to the stairwell and sniffed. No Quellen. I pulled her to my side and walked out.

  Celia

  We didn’t head back the way we came. After the Quellen fight, I thought we were abandoning the trip to see Charlie. But Idris was walking in the direction of Charlie’s apartment. We were taking a roundabout way and sticking close to buildings. Maybe there was a portal close by?

  “Where are we going?” I asked softly.

  Idris’s head angled down to me, a frown on his face, before continuing to scan our surroundings. “To Charlie’s.”

  “Still?”

  His pace slowed. “Do you not want to?”

  “No, I do, I just thought…”

  “You wanted to go, so we’re still going.” His tone was final.

  I gripped his hand tighter and smiled at the ground. We were still going. Despite the four Quellen he killed, and my panic attack, we were still going to Charlie’s because Idris knew how much I wanted to go. Why did that make my stomach clench with want? I knew the reason—it was because Idris didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to keep me happy. He only had to keep me alive. This? Going to see Charlie? It wasn’t necessary and it was dangerous. Yet Idris was making it happen. And no one had ever done that for me before. No one in my life had ever been there for me, helped me, and Idris doing so meant a lot.

  Maybe he sensed my emotions, because he said gruffly, “Don’t make a thing of it. It gave me an excuse to kill some Quellen. Hope we run into more on the way back because I’m still in the mood.”

  I ignored his attempt to lessen how much it meant to me that he was doing this. “Sure, Idris.”

  He huffed, but didn’t say anything more.

  When we reached Charlie’s apartment building, I didn’t have to tell Idris which apartment was his. I also didn’t have to tell him that Charlie’s window was always left open a crack. Idris pulled me onto his back with a rough order to “hold tight,” and then he scrambled up the side of the building, using the cracked and missing bricks as hand- and footholds. I squeezed my eyes shut as we swayed and didn’t look below. I hated heights.

  When we reached Charlie’s window, Idris threw up the window the rest of the way, pushed me inside, then climbed in himself. He immediately melted into the darkness of the corner after pressing the ocelot into my hand.

  Charli
e was in bed, his head turned slightly toward the window, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. I hoped he was having a good dream, a brilliant one, where there was no pain and lots of candy and friendly ocelots.

  Using a pen off his desk, I dashed off a quick note on a piece of printer paper. I wanted him to know that the ocelot was from me, that I hadn’t forgotten about him, but I was going away for a while.

  I hadn’t realized I was crying until I glanced down at the paper and spotted a teardrop mark making the ink bleed. I sniffed and folded the paper, pressing my lips to it. I placed the note on his nightstand and set the ocelot on top. He’d see it in the morning. I turned to look at him one last time and found his eyes open, staring at me.

  I froze and stared back. Maybe he was dreaming and opened his eyes in his sleep. I didn’t want to be caught here in his room in the middle of the night. But then he blinked, and slowly tried to sit up. “Ceely,” he whispered.

  Shit. Well, I couldn’t run out now. And I didn’t want to. Getting to talk to him one last time was a gift. I sank down onto the bed and placed my hand on top of his. “Hey, buddy.”

  He smiled at me, but his face was lined with pain. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” It was hard enough writing the note, but now I had to say the words? “I have to go away for a bit. But I didn’t want to leave without bringing you the ocelot I promised.” I gestured to it, and his eyes followed my hand. He smiled when he caught sight of the stuffed animal. “I love it. Thank you.” His gaze came right back to me, and his lip wobbled. “But where do you have to go?”

  “Away,” I said. “Adult stuff.”

  “That’s what my parents say when they think I won’t understand.”

  I sighed. “It’s a long story. And when I come back”—okay, white lie—“I’ll tell you all about it. Promise.”

  “Promise?”

  My heart cracked as I nodded. “Yep.”

  Charlie’s gaze drifted over my shoulder, and his little body stilled as he squinted. “Who’s that?”

  Oh, damnit. Had he spotted Idris?

  I slowly looked over my shoulder to see Idris take a small step forward, into the light. He raised a hand in a small wave, and his face…I’d never seen him with that expression. It was soft, younger, and so humanlike that my breath caught in my throat.

  “Is that your boyfriend, Ceely?” Charlie asked, drawing my attention.

  “Um…”

  “Yeah, kid,” Idris said, and even his voice was lighter. “I’m her boyfriend.”

  Charlie seemed to relax at that. “Oh, good. I heard Mom telling Dad that she worried about you being alone. She said you never had family and she wanted that for you—to have a family someday.”

  I couldn’t burst into tears in front of this kid, but everything he said tugged at my heart, like he’d sunk pulleys into it and was tugging until every last bit of emotion I had poured out into my veins to leak out my pores.

  His mom worried about me. Charlie worried about me. And now I was going to meet my father, a vampire king who wanted to enslave them all? The knowledge of my life, of my parentage, hit me like a sledgehammer. I’d been so focused on meeting my dad. I hadn’t dwelled on the consequences. Maybe I could convince him. If I meant as much to him as the Gregorie clan said I did, maybe I could have an influence. I could help negotiations. I glanced back at Idris, who watched me steadily. Yeah, I could do that.

  I looked back at Charlie and wiped away a bit of sleep crust from the corner of his eye. “I’m okay, Charlie. Don’t worry about me. I’m finding my family, okay?”

  He smiled. “I’m glad, Ceely. Can I hold my ocelot now?”

  I picked up the animal with trembling fingers and tucked it into the crook of his arm. His eyes were drooping, so I bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Stay strong, buddy, okay?”

  “Always, Ceely.” He yawned. “You, too. And take care of Ceely, mister.”

  Idris didn’t speak for a moment, and then he said softly, “Of course.”

  “Goodbye, Charlie,” I said.

  “Night, Ceely.” Then he rolled over and closed his eyes.

  I didn’t speak again until we had traveled through Mission and were safely through another portal, taking the stairs down to the subway tunnels. “Thank you, Idris,” I said. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”

  He didn’t say anything, nothing at all. He squeezed the back of my neck, fingers digging in, and brushed his lips across my temple. When we reached the apartment, he said, “I’ll be right back,” and left me alone inside the locked room.

  After stripping off my layers, I lay down, and was asleep in minutes.

  Chapter 7

  Idris

  I paced outside her door. Back and forth. Back and forth. Guilt warred with revenge in my blood, the two mixing to create a toxic sludge that filled me with rage.

  I’d never cursed my life. I was born what I was and that was it, no sense whining about it, because nothing was going to change. I was a Gregorie and proud. For the first time in my life, though, I felt rage over everything that had happened in my life that I’d had no control over, no choice. I hadn’t asked to be born a half vampire, or to be turned after I became an adult. I hadn’t asked to be groomed as the future king of my clan. And I certainly hadn’t asked for a father who had been happy to see me burn in his quest to place the Gregories under the Valarian king’s thumb. A thought struck me then—Celia and I had one thing in common. Fathers who didn’t care about us.

  The one fucking choice I wanted was to make the Valarian king pay. It was a promise I made myself as I stood on that roof, the pain indescribable as my finger burned. I’d watched the wind whisk the ashes away and vowed that if I made it out alive, I’d kill the Valarian king.

  And now…I was conflicted. I’m finding my family, okay? That yearning in Celia’s voice haunted me. I couldn’t stop hearing those words in my head. She wanted to meet her family, her father, and I planned to cut off his head. She’d hate me after that, and the thought of her turning to me with hatred in her eyes burned me from the inside out.

  What would happen to her once I killed the king? I hadn’t thought of that at the beginning, because she’d only been collateral to me, not a person. But now? She was Celia. She was beautiful and kind and lonely. The Valarians would take her and do what with her? Keep her in a room where she’d have a panic attack all alone? Turn her without her consent? Or worse, would they use her as a blood slave or a breeder? Without the protection of her father, the Valarians wouldn’t see her as valuable.

  If I killed the king, it would kick off a war. I knew that, and I was willing to lead the Gregorie soldiers into battle. But what would become of Celia?

  I stopped short in my pacing and stared at the apartment door. I could claim her. Once I fed from her, the Valarians wouldn’t want her at all. They’d let me keep her. I could keep her with me, safe. Except…she’d hate me. So I’d have her with me but every day she’d look at me and I’d be reminded that I betrayed her.

  So what was the right choice? Betray my promise to myself, or betray Celia?

  My fangs elongated as I imagined leaning into her soft body, sinking my teeth into the flesh of her neck, drinking her blood until I was full. Her expression would be filled with lust, and she’d beg me to take her, to ease the ache that coursed through her body. I’d do it. I’d turn her myself and make her mine.

  I reached for the doorknob and then stopped. No. That wouldn’t be giving her a choice, either. She hadn’t had one say in all of this, and binding her to me by turning her would only continue to take her choices away from her. I knew how that felt. We were both just players in this entire fucked up situation.

  With a growl, I turned away from the door. I was hungry, and although I could ha
ve just headed to a blood bar for a drink—we only needed fresh every couple of days—I decided to head to Bite. I’d find a female. I’d bite her and I’d fuck her and quit obsessing over Celia. I had to follow through with my plan. It was all I had, the only thing keeping me going. At least, that was what I told myself.

  I strode toward Bite, ignoring the few vampires I passed in the halls. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and most of them didn’t try. They took one look at my glower and shrank away. Good.

  I pushed open the door to Bite and made a beeline toward the private rooms. I passed a large area full of couches, but didn’t bother to look at the bodies writhing on them. I’d never been into this scene. I liked privacy when I ate, and the few times I indulged in sex.

  Tonight I didn’t want to dance or chitchat. I wanted blood and I wanted a warm body to fuck. Handfuls of ass in my hands, female whimpers below me as I pounded into her. I could picture it now, except every time that female looked over her shoulder, all I saw were Celia’s eyes. Her soft moans and whispered words. I need you, Idris.

  I cocked my fist back and punched a wall, the concrete crumbling beneath the force of my hit. Two females on a nearby couch shrieked and scrambled away from me, clutching clothes to their naked chests. I sneered at them and kept going. Shit, now I had drawn attention to myself, which meant Zeb or Dru was going to hunt me down. Stellar.

  I made it into the lobby, where private rooms stemmed out from the rounded edge of a semicircle. I approached the female vampire who sat behind the desk. “Female. Private room. One hour.” That was all the time I dared to be away from Celia.

  She glanced at me, but ever the professional, said, “Of course, Mr. Gregorie. Any other preferences?”

  I shook my head, and she handed me a key. “Room 125. She’s there waiting for you.”

  “Thanks,” I gritted out, snatching the key from her and heading right toward the room. I needed to calm down. If I went into that room like this, that human was going to be fucking terrified. Except my skin was tight, my mouth permanently clenched, and my teeth ached. My dick was already half-hard just from the vision of Celia on her hands and knees in front of me. Fuck.