Out for Blood hoc-4

by Kristen Painter

  “What happens when they know I’m alive for sure?”

  His mouth hardened into a thin line and he stared straight ahead. “Shopping district is the best place to start. You know how she loves clothes.”

  “Not telling me isn’t going to make it go away.”

  He stayed silent a few seconds. “Mal’s life will be required.”

  She turned away, preferring the blur of the passing landscape to the harsh reality of his words. Her fingers knotted together the same way pain twisted around her heart. “I can’t let that happen.”

  “You think it’s what I want?” He slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. “Hell, no. Mal’s saved my life more times than I can count. I owe him.”

  She twisted to face him. “Tell the pride that. Explain what happened. They’ll understand, won’t they?”

  “Pride law is pride law. There are no exceptions.”

  “Not even on the word of the pride leader?”

  He pursed his mouth again. “I can try. I will try. You have my word.”

  “Thank you.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. She’d hate to make enemies of the entire Paradise City pride, but there was no way she’d let them sign Mal’s name to a death warrant for something she’d caused.

  Doc parked the car and turned off the engine. He faced her, his eyes earnest. “Look, if it takes me stepping down from my position, or whatever, I’m going to do everything in my power to keep Mal safe.”

  “I appreciate that.” She knew what going against the pride could mean for him. Like being thrown out again. She gave him the best smile she could manage, considering. “Let’s go find Fi. We have only a couple hours before the sun goes down.”

  He opened his door and got out as she did the same. “I plan on looking for her until I find her, sun or no sun.”

  “What about the mayor’s curfew?”

  “Screw that noise. I’m the pride leader. I’m not going to let something like that keep me from the woman I love.”

  “You think that’s the wisest attitude with everything going on?”

  He grinned and held his arms out. “Wisdom rarely plays a part in my decisions. Why start now?”

  She shrugged. It was his skin, but she wasn’t going to say it. Doc was a grown man. He could make his own choices.

  A couple hours later and there was still no sign of Fi. Chrysabelle glanced at the sky. “Doc, you should really get back to headquarters or wherever you’re staying. I’ll keep looking. In fact, I’ll go get Mal and—”

  “And let him violate the curfew? No, I’m good.”

  She’d forgotten Mal was an othernatural, too. How long had she been thinking of him as a man and not a vampire? She checked the sky again. The sun would be down soon and she had no idea how much grace period would be allowed between sundown and full dark. “Please. Go home. I’ll find Fi, I promise.”

  He took her arm and pulled her into a narrow alley between two buildings. “I appreciate your concern, but you’re forgetting that I can outrun any mortal alive. Even if some random patrol sees me, they won’t be able to catch me or track me.”

  The longer they argued, the longer they’d be vulnerable. The street solars had already flickered to life. “Fine. Let’s go back to my house and regroup. We can get Jerem. Technically, as my driver, he gets a pass.”

  Doc looked like he was going to say no, but he just shook his head and walked out of the alley. She followed, hoping his response meant he agreed with her plan.

  Across the street and down one block, two police officers were getting out of their car.

  She shoved Doc toward his little sports car. “Get us out of here, now.”

  With lightning speed, he whipped around. “I told you—”

  “You there!” One of the cops had eyes on Doc and was pointing with his nightstick.

  “Hell, no,” Doc snarled. He started toward the officers.

  She snagged his arm to hold him back. “Don’t, Doc. Let’s just go, please. Fi doesn’t need you in jail.”

  He hesitated and muttered, “Dammit,” under his breath. He backed up and pressed his thumb to the biometric lock on the car door. “Let’s get out of here.”

  A soft whistle came toward them. A split second later, a tiny orange-furred insect landed on Doc’s neck. Except it wasn’t an insect. He slapped at the tranquilizer dart, but it was too late. Whatever the cops had been equipped with, it worked fast. Doc slumped against the car, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Tell…”

  His mouth moved but no more sound came out. Chrysabelle grabbed his massive form as he slid toward the sidewalk, falling to her knees beside him. “Tell who? Who do you want me to tell?”

  But he was out.

  The cops ran up. One held a tranq rifle. “We’ll take it from here, miss. Best you go home where it’s safe.”

  She stared at them, trying not to hate them for doing their jobs. “Do you report directly to the mayor?”

  The officer with the gun looked at his partner and smiled. “For taking down the first curfew violator? Absolutely.”

  “Give her a message for me. Tell her I said she’s an idiot.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mal knew Chrysabelle was on board before he heard her calling out his name. If not for the edge of fear in her voice, he would have met her with a kiss. He rushed to where she stood just inside the door off the aft deck. “What’s wrong?”

  She threw up her hands and paced past him. “Doc’s in jail. They’re going to chain him in the city square.”

  “What? That’s barbaric.” Just like you.

  “The mayor announced a curfew for othernaturals from sundown to sunup. Any othernaturals out during that period are subject to disciplinary action.” She stopped pacing long enough to scowl. “They shot him with a tranquilizer gun. Can you believe that?” She shook her head. “The mayor’s using him as an example to scare the rest into submission.”

  “Why wasn’t Doc at pride headquarters?”

  “He was, but Fi’s gone missing—he told her to get lost, but it was for her own safety, and now he can’t find her. I was helping him look, but the sun set and he wouldn’t go home. Stupid man,” she muttered. “I went to the police station to get information about how to bail him out when I overheard a couple officers talking about the mayor’s plans for the first othernatural caught.” Her hands tightened into fists. “This is a giant, bloody mess.” She stared toward the glittering line of the city.

  “You look like you want to punch something.” He came to stand beside her at the rail, resisting the urge to slip his arms around her. He knew her well enough to understand this mood would not be fixed with his strained attempt at comfort. “You know when it comes to Doc, I’m in for whatever needs doing.”

  She pushed back. “That’s just it. I don’t know what to do.” She went quiet, her brows furrowing. She turned, studying him. Unexpectedly, her hands came up to cup his jaw. “You’re bitter cold. You need blood.”

  “It can wait.” Never. But with her hands on his skin and her wrists so close to his mouth, he was helpless against her delicious perfume. His fangs dropped and his human face shifted away. Blood blood blood.

  “It can’t wait. You need to be strong for whatever happens next.” She took his hand and began leading him into the ship. “And as much as we need to help Doc, his decisions led him to where he’s at, so he can sit tight for a little while longer.”

  “Doc can be stubborn.”

  She laughed softly. “Pot, meet kettle.” He was about to respond when she turned a corner and stopped, then glanced back the way they’d come, her eyes questioning.

  “You don’t know which way to go, do you?”

  “Not a clue.”

  He smiled gently. “Where do you want to go?”

  “The kitchen, I guess.”

  He squeezed her hand. “The galley it is.” As they walked, she explained in more detail what had happened with Doc and Fi and the mayor’s curfew. He
shook his head. “Dominic’s going to have something to say about this. She’s basically shut down the bulk of his business. Fae and varcolai can come and go during daylight hours, but the fringe who come for his comarré, not so much. She’s bitten off more than she can chew.”

  “I agree, but Dominic can fight his own battles on this one. I have enough of my own problems to deal with.”

  “Then why not let Doc face the punishment that’s coming to him? A couple hours in the square isn’t the end of the world.”

  “Because Doc is our friend and—”

  “I agree with that reason completely.” You don’t have friends.

  “It won’t look good if the pride leader is put on display like, well, like an animal. Doc will be humiliated. He’ll be forced to retaliate. Or the pride will on his behalf. It’s just a bad situation all the way around.”

  Mal nodded. “All good points.”

  “And”—she took a deep breath—“if we can get Doc out of this, the pride will owe us. And we need them to owe us.” She came to a stop and faced Mal. “Pride law says a life for a life. Brutus killed me and you killed Brutus, but word is beginning to spread that I’m alive.” She grabbed his hand and held on. “They could demand your life. I’m not going to let that happen. Doc won’t either. But it would really help if the pride felt indebted to us.”

  Mal thought a moment. Solving this problem was easy enough, but Chrysabelle wasn’t going to like his solution. Better keep it to himself until the time came. “I said whatever you needed me to do, I would do. That hasn’t changed.”

  She smiled, leaned up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth to his for the briefest of seconds. “Thank you.” She tugged him forward again. “Let’s get you some blood.”

  Once Mal found a clean glass and they’d settled at the table, she flicked out the tiny blade on her ring and nicked a vein, filling the glass. He held it while the blood level rose, savoring the warmth seeping into his palm. He couldn’t stop staring at her, even though he knew it would get him into trouble.

  “Stop looking at me,” she whispered without making eye contact.

  “I like to look at you. You’re beautiful. And you know how I feel.” Fool.

  “So you’ve told me.” Her mouth bent in a poorly repressed grin. “It’s just strange.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “I’m a strange guy.”

  “That’s for sure.” She smiled as she pulled her arm up and pressed two fingers to the tiny cut. She tipped her head toward the glass. “Drink up.”

  “I get to kiss you afterward.”

  Her cheeks colored, causing her signum to flare brightly against the rising pink. “I know.”

  “And that embarrasses you?”

  “No. But you talking about it so plainly is going to take some getting used to.”

  “I’ll do my best to contain myself.” He lifted the glass. “Of course, my best isn’t very good, so you should probably just get used to it.” She rolled her eyes, making him chuckle. Torturing her was its own reward. He put the glass to his lips and drank, relishing every swallow of the sweet, rich liquid, but not nearly as much as he was about to enjoy kissing her.

  Glass emptied, he set it down, closed his eyes, and tipped his head back to await the rush of power only comarré blood provided. One… two… three… It hit with the force of a full-body blow, first searingly painful as his muscles and tendons tightened with the burst of renewed strength, but then the pain vanished, leaving wakes of heat behind, heat that spread through him and erased his normal chill. He relaxed and blew out a breath as his lungs began to work again and his heart pulsed.

  He lifted his head and opened his eyes to find Chrysabelle’s gaze fixed on him. He smiled.

  She smiled back. “It’s amazing to watch the life come back into you.”

  “Is that so?” He shoved the table out of the way, toppling the glass, and pulled her onto his lap. Damnation, but the weight of her body against his brought a maddening pleasure twice as intoxicating as the taste of her blood and the rush of power. “Feel for yourself.” He put her hand on his chest to feel its rise and fall as he breathed and the beating of his heart.

  “I’ve felt it before,” she protested, but her hand stayed a few beats longer. Then her fingers traveled to his jaw. She narrowed her eyes. Something was on her mind.

  That something, it seemed, was him.

  “Open your mouth,” she commanded.

  “Why?”

  “I want to see your teeth.”

  “I’m not a horse.”

  She traced his bottom lip with her index finger, setting fire to a thousand other parts of his body. “I want to see your fangs.”

  Tremors of pleasure running through him, he parted his lips and tilted his head to give her better access while still being able to watch her.

  Her finger moved from his lip to the edge of his front teeth. Slowly she mapped his right fang, stroking the length of it, testing the pad of her finger against the sharp tip. He held absolutely still for fear he’d cut her. Despite the blood in his system, despite the emotion he felt for her, the opportunity to drink directly from her might still overwhelm him. Deep inside, the beast reared its head in agreement.

  “They’re very sharp,” she whispered, pulling her hand away.

  Was she delaying the kiss for a reason? “You had a patron. You know how sharp fangs are.”

  “Yes, but not yours.” She stared straight into his eyes, which he knew must be completely silver with everything boiling inside him. She shifted a little and for a moment, he thought she was getting off his lap, but she only twisted to face him better. Then her hands came to his face again, this time to cup his jaw. She dragged him closer as her lids shuttered. Almost too late, he realized she was kissing him. Quickly, he forced his fangs away.

  His heartbeat revved and he pulled her nearer so that their heat mingled. Too much time had passed since this had last happened. Her mouth was a revelation, a reminder of everything that was right in his world. Of how much he loved her and, even though she hadn’t said it, of how much she loved him back.

  He was lost to her. Utterly and completely and he’d never been happier.

  No matter what else happened in his miserable existence, he would remember the joy of this feeling and bask in the knowledge that it would remain his until the day he turned to ash.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tatiana woke an hour before sunset, the urge to check on Lilith overwhelming. After watching her child face down the sun and live, she was ecstatic, but not without worry. She just needed to see Lilith again, to make sure the sun’s wicked rays hadn’t marred her petal-fine skin, to check her once more for burns or blisters.

  The hunger of waking curled at the edge of her consciousness, but she ignored it. There would be time to feed later. She dressed in silence, not wanting to wake Octavian. With the imminent arrival of the Dominus and their Elders, he’d been working so hard getting things ready, always disappearing to handle one chore or another.

  Bringing her mouth to his cheek, she kissed him, then slipped next door to the nursery. Oana sat in the rocker near the crib, Lilith on one shoulder, patting her back gently. “Good evening, my lady.” She nodded her head in deference. “Lilith woke about half an hour ago. I’ve just finished feeding her. Would you like to take her?”

  “Just for a moment.” She lifted Lilith from Oana’s grasp. Lilith smiled and reached for Tatiana’s face. “Hello, my darling. How are you?”

  Lilith’s tiny fingers patted Tatiana’s cheek. There wasn’t a blemish on her. Not a centimeter of skin that showed she’d been touched by the sun. Remarkable. “She slept well?”

  “Yes, my lady.” Oana stood and straightened the crib linens. “Slept as sound as could be. Not a cry, not a whimper.”

  Nothing to indicate Lilith’s sun exposure had even registered. Tatiana kissed Lilith’s forehead. The scent of blood and milk lingered from her daughter’s breakfast. Her own stomach growled. She held Lilith ou
t to Oana. “Make sure she has her bath.”

  “Of course, my lady.” Oana planted Lilith back over her shoulder. “Any particular outfit you’d like her in tonight?”

  The entire household knew the nobility would be arriving throughout the evening. Tatiana shook her head. “Anything is fine until dinner. Then she’s to wear the dress that was made.”

  “Very good, my lady.” Oana curtseyed, then turned her face toward Lilith. “Time for a bath, little one.” Lilith clapped her hands against Oana’s back. “Anything else, my lady?”

  “No, you’re dismissed.” Tatiana left as Oana carried Lilith in to the tub. Her hunger was now almost a palpable thing.

  And a reminder that unfinished business remained. She shut the nursery door and strode down the hall. Servants scurried about, deep in last-minute preparations for her guests. One walked by with a mass of black cherry roses in her arms, no doubt on her way to Lord Syler’s suites. Lord Timotheius’s suite would get a fragrant mix of lilies. Lord Grigor despised flowers, but Svetla favored white orchids.

  Each suite would be supplied with enough personal touches to impress. It was a game the Dominus played with each other, to see who could know more about the others without appearing to care. She’d spent enough time watching Algernon aid Lord Ivan. She hadn’t forgotten a thing, right down to Grigor’s disgusting combination of blood and vodka.

  Deeper into the bowels of the estate, away from the guest suites and common areas, she traversed the corridors of the west wing. She’d kept Daciana confined in a suite here while her late husband, Laurent, and Tatiana had gone to Paradise City.

  Now Octavian had secured Damian in this same wing until he could be dealt with. She reached for the door handle, then stopped. Her anger at him would solve nothing. If Daci had gone to the comarré’s under the pretense of asylum and ended up captive with Damian as a guard, that meant the comarré trusted Damian, that she’d taken him into her confidence, at least in some small way. What might he now be able to share with Tatiana? What new information could she glean?