by Gaja J. Kos
She stashed the cell phone in the front pocket of her black shorts, swiped her pack of cigarettes off the windowsill, and prowled out into the hallway. Following the trail, she stalked downstairs, walked past the war room—the chamber Katja had set up as one massive murder board and strategic center thrown together—and emerged in the kitchen.
“Do you have a minute?” she said to the solitary figure leaning against the counter.
The Koldun lowered the pitcher of beer from his lips. The look in his eyes was distant, although there was a silent awareness lurking in their depths. He had allowed her to find him—as the solemn nod he gave her not a moment later confirmed.
Mindful of his presence at her back, Rose led Sander out on the patio, then threw herself in one of the recliner chairs soaking in the sun. The smell of barbecue remained, snaking around the house, but it was fading, its signature scent soured at the edges by the rough traces of the argument the pack had had.
She opened her pack of Camels and offered it to Sander when he sat down in the adjacent chair. “Want one?”
Bronze eyes met hers, the hostility still very much alive and burning in their almost kaleidoscopic color. But he accepted the cigarette without words and proceeded to light it with her golden Zippo.
“Look,” she started after the flickering ember touched the tip of her own cigarette, “I know there is no love lost between the Vedmaks and the Kolduny. It sickens me just to think they’re my kin.” She blew out the smoke through her nose. “So I really, really can’t pass judgment on you for hating me because of who I am.”
Sander watched her from behind rising swirls of gray, his face unreadable. “Who you are shouldn’t exist,” he said dryly.
“Fuck, you think I don’t know that?” A bitter laugh spilled from her lips. “But what can I do? My father was a Vedmak who, despite all odds, had the capability to love. He loved my mother so much he didn’t care about the rules he broke, didn’t care what the bastards would do to him, as long as he could keep her—keep us—safe. I think the streak of impossibilities started long before I was even born.”
Something shifted in Sander’s gaze then, some inexplicable ray that broke through the hostility coiling within the sun-touched flare of his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and took a long drag.
Rose supposed it was a miracle they were even talking without tearing at each other’s throats, but Sander’s sudden shift implied more than some fragile, temporary peace, just waiting to crumble to ashes. She wondered what it had been in her words that had cast the Koldun into this pensive state, but she knew better than to pry.
So, ensconced in silence, she turned her gaze on the green woods beyond instead, finding that the whispers of spring brushing against her weren’t quite as oppressive as moments before.
“I cannot celebrate or cheer your existence,” Sander finally said. “But I will support your cause. You have my word on that.”
Their gazes met, and Rose saw the offer of truce in his eyes—the truce she accepted with gratitude. She angled her head in acknowledgment, then sank into the chair once more to finish her cigarette enveloped in the serenity of nature. As did the Koldun.
Her thoughts, however, were far from the quiet atmosphere that lay upon the surrounding woods.
Like the first time she had laid eyes on Sander in the sacred circle, she couldn’t help but think of the magnitude of power he was hiding beneath that bronze skin, and was immensely thankful he wasn’t someone she would have to go up against.
At least not for the time being.
“May I steal your handsome company for a while?” A soft, melodic voice came from the house.
Rose spun around, angry with herself for letting go so completely, she had failed to keep her senses open. Sloppy.
But when she saw Morana walking barefoot across the heated tiles, the baby blue sundress dancing with her movement and emphasizing her lovely stature, Rose forgot all about her anger. The goddess was positively stunning.
She had pulled up the white and black strands of her hair into a loose, playful bun, and her long lashes were coated with a dash of mascara, completing the thoroughly adorable, innocent yet seductive look. A smile tugged at Rose’s lips.
It was hard to imagine Morana was Death incarnate with her bubbling personality and love for sunshine. She would sooner place her barefoot on a beach somewhere in California than on the throne of departing souls. But Rose knew better than to let appearances fool her.
The goddess was an ancient, a member of the pantheon long gone. It was only a matter of time before Morana regained her full strength. And when she did, the deity could quite possibly be more lethal than all the rest of them thrown together. Even now, her abilities were staggering, to say the least—although Rose was certain the goddess would humbly disagree.
“Morana.” Sander dipped his chin as she approached and flashed him a warm, even if slightly reserved smile. “A pleasure, as always.”
Crushing the cigarette against the ceramic ashtray, Rose lifted herself from the recliner and moved to give Morana room. The goddess placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Power hummed at the touch, hers and Morana’s alike, speaking of the bond the three deities of death shared, of the progress they had already made in trying to control—and harness—it.
“He’s waiting for you inside,” she said softly in answer to Rose’s questioning gaze, then turned her full attention on the Koldun, who helped himself to another of Rose’s cigarettes.
Rose gave them both a quick nod before she stashed the pack of Camels in her pocket and padded inside, her feet instinctively leading her to the one who was her heart. Her everything.
As soon as she stepped into the cool, shaded living room, she sank into Veles’s embrace, letting the faint olive fragrance of his power wash away the strain that bit into her neck and shoulders. It had been a long day, and there were still far too many hours to come. She could take this much, at least.
The god’s inviting lips brushed against her forehead, the touch light, fluttering, yet so heated that desire spread through her veins in a surge of hunger only he could sate. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t give in to the impulse yet.
With a silent breath, her midnight blue gaze met the green of his, and she uttered the words she hadn’t wanted to admit even to herself.
“Ileana was attacked by Vedmaks yesterday.” Veles stirred, but she placed the palm of her hand on his chest, stopping his words. “The higher-ups know of my ascension, and, as you can imagine, not all of them are pleased. I think—I think one of them sold her out to the fuckers.”
“Srček…”
She shook her head, biting back the tears being wrapped in his embrace only seemed to fuel further. “The vampires. The Upirs. The Keepers. And now the higher circles, too.”
Her teeth grazed her lower lip, and she swallowed a weak cry. She hated feeling this helpless—this hopeless. But she had been trying to suppress her emotions for far too long. She looked up at the god, finding in him the strength she failed to grasp herself.
“This is really it, isn’t it?” she whispered. “It’s war.”
Chapter 7
Darkness engulfed her whole, sweeping the world from under her feet and casting her into a world where time and space didn’t exist. But Zarja was used to Veles’s means of travel by now. She embraced the sensation, let it hone her mind, her instincts, so that her entire body was on alert the instant the narrow, although not entirely abandoned, back alley of Pri Sojenicah took form.
The rest of the pack followed in her footsteps, their readiness and will to fight a living thing as it flowed through the bond, transforming them into an unbreakable whole.
Before their scents managed to spread through the air, Zarja scanned her surroundings, only confirming what she already knew.
It was overkill for all of them to have come here.
Frank made it clear he only needed one or two weres at the most for backup, but that was a truth the pack chose
to ignore. They told themselves it was best to seek safety in numbers, just in case more of the bastards decided to show. A solid argument, yet one that they had given up on believing even before the god’s power had swirled around their flesh, ripping them from the residence.
They were all itching for action. In fact, Zarja believed the craving for a hunt had sunk its talons into their hearts long before they had set up base at Veles’s home. The isolated, in a way almost claustrophobic, choice of location had only made their needs that much more pronounced. And with every passing day, marked by nothing but dry preparations, by waiting to gain enough intelligence to make their move, their restlessness had grown worse.
Denying it was useless. Utterly useless.
Much to her surprise, Zarja had managed to keep the worst of it contained. Sadly, that wasn’t nearly enough.
She was well aware that the time when she would be neck-deep in blood would come all too soon, yet the impulse to do something still gnawed at her. She needed to unleash herself. Needed to feel the strain in her muscles, the iron focus that took over her mind whenever she faced an opponent.
Slaughtering Barle and his cronies in their lair hadn’t been nearly enough to erase the weight of Mrs. Barle’s death that Zarja carried in her heart. Or the fury that rolled through her each time she thought of Pia’s demise at the hands of the Keeper.
A low growl vibrated in her chest as she prowled down the alley.
No, strategic maneuvers were far too mellow, far too slow to dampen her craving for vengeance, or her desire to put an end to the shit the world had turned into.
Today, she could finally take a step towards that goal.
With a cold smile on her face, Zarja released the lock she had placed on her emotions and snarled at the three rogue twentyfourhourlies trying to break down the back door.
The pulse of their hearts and the rush of blood flowing through their veins created a far more accurate reading of her targets than appearances ever could. They conveyed all she needed to know. Where to strike first. Who was the weakest link.
And it made every cell in her body come alive with predatory instinct of the most lethal, preternatural kind.
As Jürgen appeared by her side, his twin’s words carried through the bond to the both of them. Have fun. The rest of us will take the front.
Zarja growled her agreement, but her sights, her mind, was already set on the beefiest of the three vamps—the one who smelled like old death and wore a cloak of human fear. She flashed him her canine teeth.
See you inside, she snarled, then shut down the ethereal link, leaving open only the vine that connected her to Jürgen.
He chuckled lightly as the vamps finally turned their attention from the door and bared their fangs. I’ll take the one on the right, send the middle one straight into your arms. Judging by the look in your eyes, I think you need the kill more than I do. He hesitated, his mental tones carrying a hint of mischief. At least I have Katja at the residence with me to take the edge off, if you know what I mean.
Asshole. Zarja laughed inwardly, the sound as sharp as the claws curving on her fingers. But thanks.
As Jürgen’s presence retreated into the background, Zarja threw herself at the muscular vamp at precisely the same time the bastard lunged at her. He was fast, she had to give him that, but the crazed fuel in his veins was nothing but a shadow compared to all the pent-up anger and frustration she carried inside. Claws out, she swiped at his neck. When the vamp leaned back to evade her attack, she dragged the lethal tips across his stomach.
The vamp hesitated just for a moment as four crimson mouths gaped on his skin, the scent of blood spilling into the air, but it was enough. Zarja sank her claws into his neck, warmth engulfing the tips of her fingers as she shoved them deeper, using small, precise movements to maximize the damage.
Fury blazed in the vampire’s storm-blue eyes, but the gurgling sound stuck in his throat was all the confirmation Zarja needed. She retracted her hand from the wound, pulling out muscle and sinew, then whirled around just in time to see Jürgen work on fulfilling his promise.
The were lashed out with his foot as he threw himself at the vampire on the right, kicking sideways and sending the vamp’s buddy flying straight into Zarja’s arms. The bastard stumbled as the soles of his sneakers touched the ever-growing pool of crimson, and without waiting a single moment, Zarja impaled him on her claws.
The brown-haired would-be-thirty-year-old sack of blood and dishonorable intentions thrashed in her grip, tearing his own flesh and skin in a desperate attempt to free himself. But Zarja only curled her fingers, transforming them into hooks the vampire would sooner die than rid himself of. A cruel smile played on her face.
Frank said he would keep one alive for questioning. They certainly didn’t need another.
With elongated teeth, Zarja clamped down on the vampire’s neck, the metallic tang of blood on her tongue fueling the warrior inside.
This was what she was born to do. And she wouldn’t rest until every last one of the scum ceased to draw breath.
“I could still go,” Rose said as Veles led the way up the elegant, wide stairwell, his gait graceful, yet controlled. As if there were oceans of battle crashing and rolling beneath his dark clothes and sun-kissed skin.
A hint of a smile touched his lips, but his gaze didn’t move from the hallway that slowly came into view. Dark and decadent, it ran down the length of the house, reminding Rose of when Veles had cornered her against it, the cool surface behind her back, the heat of his body lapping at her chest.
The lord of the underworld, seeking out another one of Mokoš’s descendants for a night of pleasure.
Only it had never been as simple as that.
Consorts.
She hated what the world had turned into, hated the distressed reality that often struck her as so absurd, so harrowing, she wondered if it wasn’t all just some bad dream. But for this, for having Veles in her life, she was nothing but grateful.
Much like everything lately, their path hadn’t been an easy one, but they had both taken those old wounds not as a means to harbor resentment, but a way to come out on the other side stronger than before.
She looked up at him, drinking in every fine line of his face, every strand of black hair that brushed so invitingly against his cheeks and jaw, tempting her to caress those chiseled features. For a moment, the impulse to be with him the way fate had intended became almost too much to bear, but she forced herself to remember the world around her. And why she was here.
“If you transport me now,” she said, voice huskier than she had expected, “I could catch up.”
“Trust me, Rosalind”—his voice slid over her like silk—“your merry band of wolves would sooner snarl at you for the intervention than accept your aid.”
She winced at the truth of his words and stepped onto the landing. “Is it that obvious?”
Veles’s hearty laugh bounced off the walls. “Srček, they’re so wound up, it’s a miracle they haven’t chewed up the furniture yet. Or clawed my eyes out for keeping them cooped up here.”
Rose wrapped her hand around his wrist and spun him around with a gentle tug. The god’s black-rimmed eyes fell on her, and it took every ounce of her concentration to escape the allure of their depths.
“It was our decision to stay here as much as yours, Veles,” she managed to say, her mind clearing with each word that left her lips. “And you know we’re grateful for everything you’ve done for us. For all that you’re still doing.”
“I know,” the god replied softly, the crinkled corners of his eyes carrying a hint of mirth. “But it is nice to have you all to myself for a little while,” he purred. “So deliciously grateful, too…”
Olive embers flickered and danced as his gaze traveled down to her mouth, then up again. Rose felt her cheeks grow hot.
“But we aren’t alo—”
He brushed his thumb against her lips. “Morana is outside with Sander, undoubtedly c
harming your bronze beefcake until he won’t know left from right. Nathaniel, Katja, and Serafina are briefing our dragon chatterbox downstairs. I believe it’s fair to say that you are all mine, srček.” He smiled, leaning just a little closer. “And I have absolutely no intention of letting this opportunity slip between my fingers. However”—his breath caressed her skin—“I would gladly slip them into you.”
Rose’s heart pounded, her body turning into a tight ache. She wanted to continue their little verbal dance, wanted to point out that she doubted anybody would be able to charm Sander, not after she had witnessed the way the Koldun had looked at Evelin—but no words came.
Instead, her world narrowed down to the call of her body, to the overpowering desire to be ravished senseless by the god.
She brushed her lips against Veles’s thumb, gently grazing his skin with the tips of her teeth. A barely audible groan rumbled in his chest, but the hunger rolling off his body was an entirely different matter. It pulsed and coiled, a beast waiting to break free from the confines of its cage.
She shuddered, then cocked her head to the side. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Veles’s eyebrows rose as satisfaction slid across his features, made even more inviting by the dash of surprise lining his full lips. The glimpse of his fangs threatened to unravel Rose’s very being, and yet the god did nothing.
Not immediately, at least.
Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to hold on for even a moment longer, she sensed the familiar sweep of wind falling upon her body.
Rose glanced down at her nonexistent clothes and swore.
Had she really expected anything else?
Veles’s laughter replaced the garments, rubbing against her skin with unnerving, teasing intimacy. But before she could as much as groan in frustration, the god wrapped his arms around her and swept them through the darkness of his own creation. For a second, there were only the essences of their beings, suspended in the embrace of the never-ending black, then the silken kiss of Veles’s sheets touched her naked back, the high, ornate ceiling of the bedroom looming above.