“She’s not. I’m afraid of losing you.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of the oversized jumpsuit she’d been issued. At least the boots they’d given her fit. Didn’t hurt that fashionista Heaven would have to wear one of these getups too. It was supposed to help even the playing field. “And you’re right.” She nodded. “I can do this.” But those words were for him. Inside, doubt raged. Would Heaven really let her cry mercy if something went wrong? Somehow she didn’t think so. “It’s going to be fine.”
His smile returned. “That’s the spirit.” He kissed her, too briefly. “I have to go. I gotta visit Heaven. Not supposed to even be here, actually.” He shrugged, looking embarrassed about what he’d just admitted. “That’ll all change soon enough.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
He backed toward the door. “One move and this is all behind us.”
She nodded. “One move.”
His smile broke down. “See you when it’s over.”
She just nodded again, unable to find words. He shut the door. She went back to the bench, bent her head into her hands, and began running through the training once again just in case her plan didn’t work.
The door opened a second time. Barasa slipped in, closing the door quickly behind him. “I just have a second; they’re coming to get you. Draw the fight out as long as you can. Understand?”
“I understand, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary.”
Barasa hesitated, then patted her arm. “I hope you’re right, but if not, tire her out. And remember what we showed you.” He turned toward the door like he’d heard something. “Best of luck. Must go.”
And then he was gone.
Odd, but she didn’t have time to think about his strangeness, because seconds later, two big varcolai showed up to take her to the arena. They walked her down the hall and when the doors opened before her, the noise of the crowd rolled over her like a tsunami.
The guards stopped her at the edge of the arena. “Whoever leaves the ring alive, leaves victorious.”
Fi twisted sharply. “This isn’t a death match. Death or mercy.” Unless something had changed. Wouldn’t Doc or Barasa have told her? Panic scratched at her throat. “Right?”
The guard shrugged, then grunted, “Forward.”
She didn’t move. “Not until you answer me.”
The second guard laughed. “It’s death or mercy. But a human against one of us? Death would be mercy.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he shoved her toward the arena. “Get in the ring or forfeit. Now.”
She stumbled forward, fear making her feet leaden and her muscles loose and rebellious. The varcolai stayed behind as she stepped over a raised lip that separated the grated metal from the sand. A light flared above her, trapping her in a blinding circle. The crowd exploded, chanting words she was glad she couldn’t understand. The impact of what was about to happen crushed her chest like a falling building. She focused on the only thing she could see, the sand, and tried to shut everything else out. The sand was soft and white as sugar. The tiny grains sparkled like little stars. Like diamonds.
Like Mal’s eyes when he was angry.
She closed her eyes. What would Mal do in this situation? He’d fight until he dropped. Until he had nothing left. Just like when he’d been in the Pits. She nodded to herself. That’s what she’d do, too, if her plan didn’t work. No one would be able to say she hadn’t given it her best shot.
And Doc would know that she’d died loving him enough to lay it all on the line.
With a fresh boom of noise, the crowd’s chanting broke through her thoughts. She looked up, peering through the light.
Heaven walked toward her from the far side of the arena. Even from a hundred feet away, Fi could see her jumpsuit fit like haute couture, her hair and makeup flawless, her combat boots shiny. As the spotlight above her came to life, she stopped, raised her hands, and waved to the crowd. They cheered back.
Fi felt like the girl who hadn’t made the pep squad all over again. Not that she’d ever really wanted to be a cheerleader. They were all so shallow. And slutty. Anger overtook fear. Why was she scared of this prissy little Brazilian chick? So what if she had the wardrobe that Fi had always wanted. That was all she was going to have because no way was Fi letting Heaven take her man. No girly-girl who’d had life handed to her on a silver platter was going to beat Fi; that was for damn sure.
Fi dug her feet into the sand, planted her hands on her hips, and lifted her chin to survey the crowd for Doc. Row after row of varcolai eyes met hers, some golden, some gleaming, all filled with anticipation. Except Doc’s. She found him in the pride leader’s box, the chair beside him empty. And waiting. Fi nodded. That was her chair and she’d take her place there, just as soon as she showed Heaven what she was made of.
She looked back at Heaven, still standing at the opposite end. Heaven made eye contact with her and a slow smile upended the corners of her mouth. She started forward again with a weird, loping gait.
Fi just watched, slightly puzzled. Talk about running like a girl. She hunkered down, digging her feet in a little more and lowering her center of gravity in preparation. She’d expected a bell to ring or someone to shout, “Go” or something to let her know the fight had started, but whatever. This was going to be so freakin’ easy—
Suddenly, Heaven leaped. Midair, she shifted into her jaguar form. She landed and kept running. Straight at Fi.
The crowd yowled in approval.
Fi held her ground. Only yards separated them now. Her heart pounded louder. This would work, wouldn’t it? It would. If she timed it right. If she didn’t—
With a snarl, Heaven leaped again.
Chapter Thirty-Four
When Luciano had told Lola he’d wanted to be satisfied before he’d turn her, this was not what she’d expected. For several hours they’d sat in his apartment, a beautifully decorated suite of rooms so deep within the bowels of the building that they physically shouldn’t exist, and done nothing but talk. Or rather she had.
He’d wanted her to recount in detail her favorite sunny days. And so she had. Days spent at the beach, days with family, when Julia had been young and still her sweet little girl, busy spring days working in the garden, lazy fall days swinging in the hammock with a drink and a good book, stormy days that ended with rainbows and air that sparkled in the sun.
He’d sat in a dark corner far away from her, and although her eyesight and her hearing couldn’t compare to his, she was pretty sure he’d wept during her descriptions. If he’d meant to make her doubt her decision, he hadn’t. He’d only strengthened her convictions. Made her impatient for the change.
He rolled his hand through the air. “Tell me more.”
“I have nothing left to tell you.” She pushed to her feet. “Please. Time is running out.”
“Soon you’ll have nothing but time.” He stood and in an instant was in front of her. What would it feel like to move that fast? He held out his hand. “Come.”
She took it and he led her to the bed. At last, he was going to sleep with her as she’d originally thought. She was ready and willing. It wouldn’t be such a sacrifice. He was handsome and charming and possessed the same dark allure all vampires seemed to. Her body would welcome the use after the years she’d gone without. Not since her divorce if she counted the time. Being mayor made dating difficult. Few men wanted the scrutiny.
“Lie down,” he told her. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She did as he asked. “Do you want me to take my clothes off?”
“What?” His mouth opened quizzically. “Why would I want you to do that?”
“I thought… Don’t you want to sleep with me?”
His face stayed blank for a moment; then he burst into laughter. “Cara mia, you are human. Perhaps when you are turned, but now?” He shook his head. “You will understand soon enough. There are some of us who have sex with humans, but”—he raised his brows and tilt
ed his head as he lifted one shoulder—“they do not plan to let them live anyway. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes.” She swallowed the wave of fear. This was what she’d asked for. And once she was turned, nothing else would matter. “I also understand I have a lot to learn.”
He sat beside her on the bed, their hips touching. “And I will teach you.” He placed his hand on her rib cage, just beneath her breast. “Calm your breathing. Your heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings. The change will be easier if you relax.”
“As much as I want it, it’s still a hard thing to relax for.” She blew out a long slow breath and stared up at the intricately painted ceiling. The blue sky and darting birds seemed very unvampire-like. “How many others have you turned?”
“Sired,” he corrected her. “And I have sired… enough. When they were needed. My house—you understand what this means? All noble vampires come from one of five houses or families. I am House of Paole. It is a small one. Many think we are not so powerful, but we are.” He shrugged again. “We can be.”
“And because you’re my sire, I’ll be that house as well?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “You are quick.”
“You don’t get to be mayor by being slow.”
He laughed. “I suppose not.” He squeezed her side where his hand still rested. “And now you are more relaxed, yes?”
“Yes. I feel ready.” Or as ready as she was going to be.
“Good.” His face shifted into the jutting mask of bones she’d seen before on Malkolm and Dominic. The face she’d soon wear herself. He bent over her.
She flinched, then laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not afraid. I’m really not. I’m just… human.”
He leaned on his forearm, his upper body resting lightly on hers. With a gentle look that seemed misplaced on the monstrous face before her, he brushed his fingers down her cheek. “I understand.” He placed a kiss on her jaw.
His cool mouth on her skin sent a shiver through her, alighting every nerve that had been poised to snap at the first instance of pain. His mouth went lower, down her neck. Goose bumps rose across her body and she arched into him, tipping her head back to give him greater access. She closed her eyes and murmured her approval.
The bite came immediately. The pain blossomed out from where his teeth were buried in her neck. She swallowed and clung to him, forcing herself not to cry out or pull away. But a few moments later, the pain faded and pleasure verging on the edge of orgasmic spiraled through her. She was on the bed, but falling, spinning through blissful waves of heat and pressure.
Air shuddered through her lungs, catching in her throat. Faster and faster she plummeted downward. Shadows rose up to meet her, a silky drift of murky longing. The longing grew sharper, the pleasure dissipated, and alarm took its place.
Death had come for her.
The urge to fight pressed hard, heating the air in her throat to a blazing furnace. Her lungs burned, but relief was gone, lost in the sharp spines of pain that held her in place. She dug her fingers into Luciano, clawing at him but all the while willing herself to accept.
He clamped down harder and then… blackness.
The pain was gone, and along with it the need to breathe and the desire to live. A tiny pinpoint of light beckoned to her, so distant it could have been a star. She floated, no way to move toward it, no body to command. The light shifted into the shape of her abuela’s face. She reached out, tried to speak, but she was nothing.
Abuela’s face disappeared.
Bittersweet liquid coated her tongue. She turned away from the foul taste, but it clung to her. The wetness clogged her mouth and ran down her chin.
“Drink.” The command was hollow and distant, as if spoken through a tube miles away.
Her throat convulsed, but the convulsions didn’t stop there. They echoed through her, lighting an icy spark that fired a hunger unlike anything she’d ever felt. She sucked at the source of the liquid. Blood, her new brain told her. Blood that is now life.
Her body came back to her, weakly at first and hard to control, like a toddler’s. Shaking, her hands reached up for the limb that pressed against her mouth. Her eyes opened.
As crystalline as if cut from glass, Luciano smiled down upon her. It was his wrist she clung to, his blood she swallowed. “That’s it.” He nodded. “Drink.”
She did, trying to ignore the sounds drilling into her head. The tick of the clock on the bedside table, the soft gurgle of water through pipes, the scurry of tiny feet somewhere very far away. She inhaled out of habit and a thousand scents filled her nose. Dust, fabric, cleaning chemicals, cosmetics, water, but above all… blood.
“That’s enough, cara mia.” Luciano pulled his wrist out of her fingers with a small struggle. He nodded. “Already your strength grows.” He licked clean the blood left behind, the twin puncture wounds healing before her eyes.
“I need more.” Need did not begin to describe the craving in her belly.
“I know. Your hunger will be overpowering for a few days.” He patted her leg. “I’ll get you some more right now. Stay in this room, understand?”
“Yes.”
“Bene. I shall return shortly.”
As soon as he left, she jumped off the bed. Literally. The small amount of effort she exerted landed her several feet away. She walked to an overstuffed club chair taking up a corner of the room, reached down, grasped one of its bun feet, and lifted. Single-handed, she brought it above her head.
Amazing.
She dropped the chair and her hands went to her face, feeling for the strange angles of her new nature. The hard ridges rose over her cheekbones and brow. A mirror. She tried the door on the right side of the room. It opened into a large bath.
She flicked the light switch and blinked as the illumination flooded the space. The grains of sand in the tile’s grout lines were visible. How was that even possible? She turned toward the gold-hued mirror.
The monstrous face she’d expected to see stared back at her with the same silvery gaze the rest of the nobles had. She ran her fingers over her skin, studying each new slope and rise. Peered closer at her luminous eyes. Not monstrous. Powerful. Intimidating. Noble.
Human face. But the thought only caused her human face to flicker over her skin. She concentrated and it came back. She leaned in. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth were gone, her forehead smooth. Not a strand of gray showed through the root line where her color was growing out. In fact, there was no root line anymore, just a head full of silky, bouncy brunette hair. And her eyes… her eyes had never been anything special, but their ordinary brown was gone, replaced by a hundred shades of the same color. Her eyes were spectacular.
The moment she stopped concentrating on her human face, it disappeared and her vampire one returned.
Curling her lips back, she turned her head side to side to see the fangs that now jutted from her upper jaw. Also intimidating. She growled at herself, then laughed at her childishness. Her tongue tested the fangs’ sharpness. The jagged tip of one pricked the surface and caused a small drop of blood to well up.
Saliva pooled in her mouth and her stomach clenched. She swallowed and looked back toward the door. If Luciano didn’t return soon, she’d have to head out on her own. She couldn’t go much longer without—
The suite door opened. “Lola? I’ve brought you a decent meal.”
She stepped out of the bathroom and a new emotion swelled alongside her hunger.
Luciano had brought one of Dominic’s comarré with him. The slim young man smiled at her, his eagerness spilling off him like a delicious perfume, but everything about him—his gold marks, his bleached blond hair, his age—reminded her of the last time she’d seen Julia.
“Bloody hell,” Mal snarled. “This isn’t a game.” He was fully aware that his anger came from fear. The fear that he’d hurt Chrysabelle. Or worse. The voices applauded.
Chrysabelle exhaled slowly. “So you acquiescing to my every
desire over the past few days was due to some fugue state born out of your joy at still being alive?”
“Life with me is never going to be easy. I told you that.”
She nodded. “Yes, you did.” She hesitated like she was looking for the right words. “I know this isn’t a game. It’s your life. It’s our life. For what we’re about to go up against, you need to be at your most powerful. Drinking my blood out of a plastic cup isn’t going to get you there.”
“I’ve made it through worse with less.” What you deserved.
“But you don’t have to this time.” She grabbed the hand he’d pulled away from her. “Stop fighting me. We’ve done this once already without Mortalis there to protect me. It’s going to be fine.”
He glared at her. “The last time we did this, I had chains the size of tree trunks holding me back. And they were starting to give.”
“But they didn’t.” Mortalis gave Mal a stare that had frustration written all over. “And she’s right. You need to go in strong. The numbers are not on our side this time.”
Mal leaned back, casting his gaze at the twin strips of overhead lighting. Chrysabelle’s fingers caressed the palm of his hand. He closed his fingers over hers. “You’re asking a lot of me.”
“I know,” she said. “But if I’m willing, you should be, too.”
He tipped his head to look at Mortalis. “You’re sure you can do this? Sure you can manage the beast if I can’t?”
Mortalis nodded. “If I can’t, Amery will step in to help, too.”
“Great,” Mal cracked. “Two shadeux inside me. Sounds like a freaking picnic.”
“Mal.” Chrysabelle’s voice went soft and breathy, and she leaned into him, her warm body pressed against his. The small contact was enough to amp up his hunger and spin the voices into an unbearable whine. She blinked, her blue eyes pleading. “Do this for us.”
He dropped his chin, and after a moment stared up at her from his lowered lids. “You and I are going to talk later.”
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