Blood of Gods

by Scarlett Dawn

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  “Hush.” He rubbed my back gently, pulling me closer again. I didn’t mind. I wanted to be close to him, extremely close. King Belshazzar insisted softly, “You’re safe now.”

  I snuggled closer, a personal tug to be near him wrapping around my heart. I stared at his chest and rubbed at my own, my dark brows furrowing and hunger striking a beat inside my stomach. My jaw gradually started to drop as memories invaded.

  What I had done…

  Exactly why I wanted to be near him…

  “Oh my gods,” I moaned. I rubbed over my heart harder, that personal connection embedded deep inside my chest—the magical draw to be beside your soul mate. “What have I done?”

  Belshazzar’s entire body went rigid under mine, but he stated patiently and calmly, “Go back to sleep. We are getting closer to Short River. We’ll need to catch a train after that. Get your rest while you can, Gwen.”

  Other hoofbeats clapped softly next to our horse.

  My wide, blurry eyes scanned back and forth, looking for an exit to the predicament I had put myself in. Kimber, Rilen, Roran, Aiko, and Dorian rode their own horses next to ours. Their eyes were all carefully averted—except for Dorian, who pointedly looked at me, watching every move I made—pretending quite dreadfully that they weren’t hearing this conversation. There was nowhere to run, only trees nearby.

  “I hate fucking S’Kir,” I whispered under my breath, peering down at my wrist…where my soul mate mark was. One thin, black band now marring my flesh. I glared at the mark. “Give me your wrist, Bel.”

  King Belshazzar didn’t bother asking which one, releasing the reins of our horse from one hand, and pulling his free arm between us for my inspection. His chilling blue eyes stayed ahead on the trail we followed, not looking down as I hurriedly unsnapped the leather wristband around his wrist.

  And there it was beneath the leather.

  His own single, black, magical band.

  “Motherfucker,” I hissed. I tossed the leather band onto the trail’s ground without care…and started pelting his chest with my weakened fists. I shouted, “You bastard! You lied to me this entire time!”

  The others cleared their throats, uncomfortable.

  Dorian still stared—mute.

  King Belshazzar grabbed at my fists with his hand—the wrist with the damned soul mate mark—quickly swiping my hands together and holding them against his chest. His bicep flexed when I tried to jerk them free, but he held tight to my hands, keeping us from falling off the horse. His attention snapped down to mine, and his nostrils flared. With forced patience, he asserted, “I did not lie. Not ever. I let you fucking live and grow up.”

  I wheezed through my tired lungs. “You never fainted, you asshole. You tricked me.”

  “I did faint. The first time I had your blood,” Bel growled, tilting his head down to focus directly on my eyes. “Do you remember when you were seriously injured when you were just a child? There was a young boy with you at the time—who I now believe is Joshua. You almost died? I was the person who found you two and licked over your wound to seal it. And I fainted flat on my ass right next to you.”

  I stared with rounded eyes, utterly stunned to my core. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around that right now. I sucked in a harsh breath and spewed, “That’s even worse! And you still tricked me, goddammit! You never told me! In a thousand fucking years, you never told me.”

  How could he have done that to me?

  How could he have lived that way himself?

  “Dammit, Gwen. I let you live your life. I let you have a youth. I let you experience everything that you should have without being tied to me.” He shook his head hard, his hair flying out around his shoulders. “I gave you what you fucking needed to grow up!”

  I growled quietly, glaring into his own furious eyes—his tolerance flittering away. “I am upset, Bel. I think we should shut up now.”

  His mouth snapped shut, and he hissed between his teeth, “If that is what you wish, fine.”

  I think he wanted to punch me right then.

  We scowled into one another’s eyes, quiet.

  This was honestly too much to process with my addled mind, my gaze slowly lowering to his beating pulse. I unconsciously licked over my bottom lip. His sun-warmed skin would be perfect for pressing my mouth against and tasting that beautiful blood again.

  My stomach cramped painfully.

  I muttered pathetically, “I need blood.”

  Belshazzar straightened against me, studying my face—clearly still furious—but he growled, “Take what you need.”

  “I need a lot,” I slurred honestly, inching closer to his neck. “I’ve only had a few sips of blood in two weeks.”

  His head jerked back in fury. “What? That crazy bitch did that to you?”

  The others all stiffened where they sat, now peering in my direction, evaluating my features.

  “I didn’t go mad,” I mumbled, my eyes on the prize—a pumping vein of rainbows on a dark night. I licked my dry lips again, homed in, not a care in the world. “The stones from Ota’ano kept me safe in my cell. I need to drink now.”

  I struck fast, slicing my fangs into his throat.

  I moaned instantly and wrapped my arms around his neck, tugging him even closer. His blood was mine. I could truly say that now—a soul mate’s obsession in the making. Because…

  His powerful blood was so delicious.

  Bel grunted quietly at the fast strike, wrapping his free arm around my waist and pulling me tightly against him. He tipped his head farther to the side, a subtle groan of pleasure rumbling inside his muscular chest. His hair fanned down around my head, hiding my face from view—his damned hair even knowing this was private.

  Rilen cleared his throat, emphasizing quietly, “Let’s give them some space. We can ride ahead.”

  “Go on,” Dorian rumbled. “I’ll stay here and make sure she doesn’t take too much.”

  I gulped a mouthful down, my eyes sliding shut. I needed this blood on tap—holy fucking hormones.

  Hoofbeats trotted ahead on the trail, one horse staying close to us—Bel’s twin observing cautiously.

  Dorian did tap on my shoulder after a minute of my extremely greedy gulps. “That is enough.”

  I whimpered under my breath. More.

  “Leave her be,” Belshazzar whispered. “She is fine.”

  “Your face is turning white, you gods-damned dumbshit.” Dorian gripped my shoulder, wiggling it fiercely, his tone turning brutally dangerous. “Gwen, I said that is enough. Or I will stop you myself.”

  I rested my tongue against my soul mate’s skin, with my fangs still sliced deep. I sighed happily…and fell back asleep in the next blink, my stomach oh so happy with the most delectable blood I had ever tasted.

  27

  Kimber

  I brushed the pretty dun who had carried me through the rest of the Barren Mountains, through the Short River, to the town.

  She was part of the royal livery. All of the horses we had used were. We couldn’t take them on the train, and we weren’t going to need them where we were going.

  Someone needed to care for these animals, so I came up with an idea to gift them to a small stable. The addition of six horses would bring them more business.

  Was this horse mine to give away?

  Was this my horse as part of the royal livery?

  What was going to happen to East S’Kir now that both King Savion and Queen Niniane were dead?

  I swallowed hard, my thoughts swirling.

  As Savion’s only living child, I had a legitimate claim to the throne. I had the only claim to the thrones. From what I had been able to get from Gwen and Bel—wasn’t that a fun situation?—the vampires of Earth were chosen by contest, which was how it was done originally in S’Kir, how Niniane got the throne. But I saw so many things wrong with that.

  Would it be possible to set up a ruling council like we had in West S’Kir? It made m
ore sense, or it did to me.

  “Hello, Mistress Breaker.”

  Starting, I spun around to where the voice had come from, my sword half out of its scabbard. I settled quickly when I saw who was standing there.

  “Oz. What on S’Kir are you doing here?”

  “Still wandering the land, my lady.” He smiled. “And I could ask you the same question. What are you doing in Short River?”

  “Turning some horses over after my latest adventure,” I said.

  We’d agreed we would not say anything to anyone about Niniane’s death. Yet. Not until we had some idea of what had to happen now. The only person we were going to tell was Master Tymon, but Lord Knight Kane, who Aiko had sent for, was going to be the messenger. They were the only people Aiko and I felt we could trust with the information.

  But.

  Rumors were swirling. After the death of Reo Elkthorne, there was a firestorm of terrible rumors, which Yuuto, Aoi, and now the newly elected Ikue, Aiko’s aunt, could do little to stop. They were quickly spreading that Niniane either was dead, was dying, or would be renouncing the throne.

  That last one was a little far-fetched when her head wasn’t on her body.

  “How true are the rumors?” Oz asked, taking a brush from the wall and helping me brush down the dun.

  “What rumors?” I laughed. “There are a lot of them.”

  “That the queen is dead?”

  I glanced at the bag in the corner that had her head in it. “I couldn’t say. I’ve heard that same rumor.”

  “It would be a bit ironic if she lost her head”—he chuckled—“seeing as how insane she was.”

  A spike of shock went through me. That guess was too close. I hoped the laugh I let out was not as strained and false as it felt.

  “What joyful conjecture that thought has, though,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s fun to play who gets the throne, don’t you think?”

  “Sir, as a Temple master, I don’t find much joy in that conjecture. It is my job to help govern, and choosing a new person to lead the vampire is…not an easy matter.”

  “Why not just have the old crowns come back?”

  I stared. “Old crowns?”

  He returned my gaze, “You saw the ceiling in the old temple. You saw the stained glass in the Stronghold. The gold and the red. The old crowns.”

  “The druids were never ruled by a crown on S’Kir, Oz. We have been governed by council for thousands of years.”

  He stopped and considered at me. The pools of dark amber swirled, concealing and revealing all manner of things. “Interesting,” he finally said. “No king at all?”

  “Not in all our history since the rise of the Spine.”

  A look of comprehension slid across his face. “Perhaps now that the Spine has fallen, it is time for the thrones again.”

  “You’ve seen what happens when we have a crown to compete for,” I said. “Greed created madness that led to fear, destruction, cruelty and even deaths that did not need to happen. Even my own Aiko was not immune to the lure of power.”

  “Not all rulers are power-mad.”

  I brushed the horse a few more times in silence, and then I finally looked up at the handsome, older man. The light shimmered on the long, silver mane he wore. His whiskey eyes shone from under that shock of silvery hair.

  “There is a saying, Mister Oz, and I’m sure you’ve heard it. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. A crown should never be the first and last voice of the land. A queen should have a congress to make sure her people are cared for. A king should have a council to bring balance to the laws.

  “I love the people of S’Kir. I wish to see them prosper, druid or vampire. I feel humbled that I am able to help. I don’t want to see this—the Spine, the Scar, the mad queen, the terrors of Savion—ever happen here again. I don’t know how to do that, but I am sure it doesn’t involve appointing a crown that has no limits imposed by the people they rule.”

  Oz cocked his head and smiled. “You should be queen.”

  I choked. “Excuse me?”

  “You seem to have this well in hand. You should be the queen.”

  I tried to laugh, but nothing came out.

  “Kimber!”

  We both turned to the door, and I found Dorian striding in. I smiled and motioned him over. “Here. Are we ready?”

  “We have a train to catch,” he answered. There was mischief in his voice.

  “Dorian, I’d like you to…” I turned, but Oz was gone. I glanced around the building, but he was nowhere to be found. “Huh. He was right here. Did you see him?”

  “There was no one here, Kimber.”

  I shrugged. “Oh, well. I would have introduced you. I guess he’s shy.”

  “Where’s the head?”

  I pointed to the corner, and Dorian picked up the sack. He wrapped the burlap around it and found a saddle bag large enough to hold it. He held out his hand to me after tossing it over his shoulder.

  Pulling me in close, he placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I am proud of you, Lady Stormbreaker. You’re stronger than I’d ever imagined.”

  I smirked and kissed his nose. “With four men in my bed, I should hope so.” He laughed and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leading us out of the stable.

  I swore I heard the tinkle of masculine laughter as we left.

  28

  GWYNNORE

  “This is the train?” I asked, squinting into the darkness. I stood on legs that didn’t shake, my belly full of scrumptious blood, and feeling refreshed after sleeping and drinking so much. Amazing what blood would do for the vampire body. I stretched left and right, bending at the waist, and evaluating our transportation toward the Gate at the south of S’Kir. “Are we sure this runs?”

  King Belshazzar stood directly next to me, only an inch away, staying mute with his arms crossed—brooding in his silence. We still weren’t speaking, and we were both fine with that right now. Too much anger and frustration would be shared otherwise.

  Still, he stood close by.

  Maybe he knew I wanted him there.

  He might be used to this magical tug for nearness that a soul mate has for their other half, but I sure as hell was not used to it. I was glad he didn’t venture far.

  Aiko claimed studiously, “This is a fine train, I assure you, Your Royal Highness.”

  I didn’t feel so royal right now. I was filthy.

  Like, I should not be seen in public this way.

  No one should. I was a hazard walking.

  I looked at the bag—my bag—that Belshazzar had been carting all over S’Kir in his search for me. I had plenty of clothes in there to change into. I probed, “Does the train have someplace I can clean up?”

  Dorian snorted hard, holding his hand in front of his nose. “I pray to gods it does.”

  King Belshazzar reached over and smacked his brother upside the head. “She’s been a captive for two fucking weeks. Shut your mouth, asshole.”

  “Don’t take your anger out on me. I’m not the one who’s pissed off at you, brother. That would be your soul mate you lied to for a thousand years.” Dorian smirked and lifted his arms to ward off his twin, backing away from us, chuckling as he did so. “I’m going to find Kimber. She’s tended to her horse long enough.”

  “Run, bitch.” Bel bared his fangs, violent in the extreme, ready to pummel his twin for bringing up our personal issues. I didn’t blame him one bit. I wouldn't mind smacking Dorian, too, except in his balls.

  Dorian turned on his heel to find his mate and walked away with enough swagger to be on a runway.

  Roran cleared his throat. “To answer your question, there is a small washroom in the train with a washbasin. That should…help.”

  I snorted. “Nothing but a week’s worth of scrubbing is going to help this, but I’ll make do.”

  Kimber and Dorian returned quickly, and Dorian held up a small bag wrapped in burlap. He tilted his head to the side�
��to a lone man standing in the shadows and watching us quietly—and Dorian stated candidly, “Go ahead and board the train. I need to meet with Lord Knight Kane for a moment—pass on the bitch’s head and all. Master Tymon will need the proof while we’re away to handle everyone.”

  I studied the burlap. “Queen Niniane’s head’s in there?” I blinked hard. “Her head on the table was real?”

  I genuinely thought that had been an illusion.

  Dorian’s eyes narrowed on my person. “Yes, it was very real. How did you kill her? How did everyone die there?”

  So Mr. Delusion was real. Interesting.

  Who the fuck was he?

  Belshazzar growled softly in his throat. “We agreed we wouldn’t interrogate her.”

  “This isn’t interrogating, and you know it,” Dorian droned. His blue eyes turned to me again, narrowing, but his voice softened. “Do you know what happened there?”

  “There was a man.” I puckered my eyebrows, trying to remember all that I could in my hazy memories. “He snuck into my cell. He gave me a little bit of blood. I remember the blood was odd but good. He’s the one who killed everyone. I thought he wasn’t real, though, at the time.”

  Dorian lifted his blond eyebrows high on his forehead. “A single man did all that?”

  “Maybe?” I shook my head, confused. “I didn’t see anyone else.”

  Didn’t he say he was from Ota’ano?

  Fuck…I couldn’t remember.

  Maybe? I sighed.

  “Did he have a name?” Kimber asked kindly.

  “Perhaps?” My brows stayed low over my eyes, the name he’d given on the tip of my tongue. I shook my head hard, fighting for the memory. “I called him Mr. Delusion, but he did give me a name. I have no clue why, but I keep thinking about flying monkeys when I try to remember it.”

  Every. Single. Person. Stared.

  I lifted my chin and peered down my nose, regaining composure in the face of their incredulity. “I was starved of blood for two weeks. I’m doing fairly good, considering.”

  “Yes, you are.” Kimber glanced at her men, reining in their disbelieving looks. “If you do remember it, let us know. I’m sure there is a reason for…flying monkeys.”