by Scott, Helen
I knew the rules. Even if Cade thought I didn’t. You never got attached to the Sixths-in-the-making. It was like rule number one.
But Marcella?
Crap, there was just something about her that made me wish things were different. Like, that the Masters would have no say in who would become our Sixth. Who’d become the heart in the body that was our brotherhood.
Yeah, stupid shit like that.
“I was working out. And now I’m talking to you.” I cut her a look as I saw the color rise and fall in her cheeks. “What’s with the wall?”
She threw her hands in the air. “I can’t get over it.”
“You can’t?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. I was sure I’d seen her climb it, but. . . .
Well, hell, the way she was staring at it now made sense. It was like a bulldog eying a chicken carcass through a chain link fence. Under, over, or through—whatever it took to reach the other side.
“How do you get away with that?”
Her grimace told me before she lowered her voice and whispered, “My powers.”
“You’re strong enough to create such an illusion?” And when she was training hard, too?
Well, color me impressed.
She nodded. “I try and fucking try, but I can never seem to get my upper arms stronger.” She raised her arm and curled it. Her biceps were small, but perfectly formed.
I hid my grin at the thought of what else about her was perfectly formed.
The woman had a rack on her that would make a Hooters’ waitress jealous. I mean, I seriously didn’t know where it came from considering how skinny she was. Not even magic kept those bad boys strapped in—she had three sport bra straps on her shoulders to prove it, too.
“Want me to help you figure it out?”
Marcella blinked up at me. “Why would you do that?”
“Why not?” I shrugged.
“You’re not supposed to even be talking to me,” she stated, enunciating each word like I was from another country, and she was trying to make me understand her.
“I know. But . . .” I shrugged again, then grinned at her. “I like to live dangerously.”
“It’s not dangerous for you,” she grumbled. “But me. You must have noticed the Masters hate me.”
Yeah, I’d noticed. Noticed and frowned over it.
The Masters were all twatwaffles as a general rule. They were purebloods, and they weren’t particularly happy about having to educate salsangs, as they liked to call us—dirty bloods. I wasn’t unaccustomed to seeing Masters be brutal with their students, but Master Lee was particularly hard on Marcella. He treated her like the Masters had treated us at Eastbrook—not like a pureblood princess at Westbrook.
He was also unusually attentive with some of the other girls. But I knew why on that particular score. Raven had already told the brotherhood that the bastard was in relationships with some of them.
It stank.
But so much did about the Academies, and what stank the most was the fact we couldn’t change jack.
This was how it was. Would be for longer than we all lived. And, though we had the genetics to live a hella long time, it wasn’t likely that we’d see our sixtieth birthday—brotherhoods never did. So unless a miracle happened, we tended to be killed in the line of a duty we didn’t even believe in.
“Why don’t they like you?”
“They just never have,” Marcella admitted, then she bit her lip and peeked up at me through the fringe of her eyelashes. That insouciant move affected me more than her tits did—and I’d swear to the Maker that was no joke. “I don’t come from a very good family.”
I frowned at her. “Truthfully?”
She nodded.
The Sixths were unusual. They were purebloods, true, but they were considered some of the most powerful daughters. And power, according to our ways, came from the strongest of lines.
“Why not?”
“My mother was a thrall.”
“A thrall?” My eyes widened in confusion, and my tone had her back stiffening. She went to get up, but I grabbed her hand and tugged her back into place beside me. The sensation of our palms touching sent shockwaves down my spine.
Fuck.
She packed a punch.
“Come now, Marcella, you can’t expect me not to be surprised.”
Her mouth tightened—she agreed, but she didn’t like that I wasn’t wrong. “I guess not.”
“How did that happen?”
Thralls were blood servants. Vampires who were so poor, they loaned themselves out to their richer brethren to be fed from. They were the ones who had to go out and get fresh ‘meat,’ hunting it down from humans, so their owners didn’t have to dirty their hands or even leave the house.
Thralls were used for blood and sex. To become one was the height of shame.
“She didn’t have any money. Why else?” She glowered at me, but I could take the hit.
“You were a result?”
“Yes. A surprise.” Her mouth tightened. “A nasty one. Half powerful line, half impoverished one. Neither one nor the other, and hated for that, too.”
“I’m sorry, Marcella,” I whispered, truly feeling for her, because I could only imagine how awkward that was.
It wasn’t even a rags to riches story where her impoverished mother had married her rich and powerful father, who stemmed from a strong Vampire line.
Thralls were as poorly thought of as hookers were in the human world. Jesus, even a salsang like me garnered more respect from the Vampire purebloods.
“Don’t be. I don’t need your pity,” she snarled, and this time, she got to her feet, and I let her.
I wasn’t surprised by her attitude. I could tell it had developed over the years of abuse here, and who could blame her? She was in a place that thrived on pomp and lineage while she was the lowest of the low in our society.
But, her position at Westbrook meant she was either naturally gifted, or her father was on the council.
Only that would make sense.
Why else would she be at Westbrook when her mother had been a thrall?
A council member would be able to place his daughter here. Keep an eye on her, even if he didn’t want to interact with her.
While I knew I needed to share this information with my brothers, when I got to my feet, I didn’t head back to the quarters we’d been given. Instead, I strode over to Marcella who was staring at the wall as though it were Everest.
The bricks had hardly any nooks. And the lines of mortar were thin. I caught her eye, held my hands in front of her, and showed her the best way to place them on the wall.
“It’s about speed. You can’t think about it,” I directed her. “You don’t think about foot and hand placement. It’s about scrabbling over the wall, getting over it before gravity can catch up.”
And so saying, I showed her exactly what I meant.
* * *
Marcella
I couldn’t get the image of Barclay out of my head. Especially not when I’d watched him go up and over that wall.
By the Maker, that ass! It was enough to make a woman fan herself.
He’d been right, though, and for the first time, under his deliciously watchful eyes, I’d made it up and over that cursed apparatus without having to conjure an illusion.
I may have face-planted on the other side, but it was more progress than I’d had on that specific challenge in a while.
Tossing and turning in my bed was getting old, but my dreams were haunted by images of his long lean limbs propelling him over the wall. I’d tried to block it from my mind. I’d done everything from listing off the major bloodlines on each coast, to going over the various supernatural creatures and their weaknesses. Hell, I’d even begun going through the list of spells and herbs I knew. There was only so long a girl could hold out against the kind of temptation he represented, though, especially when my mind danced with visions of him all shirtless and sweaty.
If I was h
onest, it wasn’t just him, it was that whole damn brotherhood.
Every girl in the final year had spent most of their time with one eye glued their way.
Gideon, with those tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of his body, which only made me wonder if that was actually true. How tattooed was he exactly? Raven, with that moonlight-silver hair and de-fucking-licious blood he’d given me. Keiran, with those eyes that looked like they could see into my very soul. And Cade, oh, Cade, he might be a grumpy bastard for the most part—the way he snapped at his brothers was proof enough of that—but Maker, what I wouldn’t do to have him pin me down and tie me up.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. Yeah, it was three in the morning, so what? That didn’t mean a girl couldn’t go for a run. Especially me. Everyone already avoided me like the plague, so why not make it easy on them and get a long run in before training even started today? That way they could run all the laps in the gym they wanted without fear of my low social status accidentally rubbing off on them. Plus, I enjoyed running outside more, and maybe, just maybe, I could outrun this squirming feeling I had low in my belly.
After I’d changed into some running shorts, wrestled into my three sports bras, and found a lightweight tank to wear, I pulled on my beat-to-hell shoes and grabbed my phone and earbuds. The playlist I usually ran to didn’t feel right this morning, so I loaded up something a little different, with a little harder and faster beat to it, and headed out.
I was ten miles in, when I first noticed someone following me. I ignored whoever it was, because I didn’t want them to know that I knew they were there. I was also curious about how long they could keep up. Most of the other women in this place ran, but they kept it to a tame five miles, maybe stretching to seven on a day where they needed to get some extra cardio in, because that was the easiest track to follow, even with the small extension, which was just an optional detour.
The track I followed was different. It looped closer to the woods than most students were comfortable going. It even went so far as to disappear behind the tree line for a mile or so. I liked it back here because no one hassled me or tried to show me up or gave me a hard time for running too fast—as if that was my biggest problem.
When I upped my speed with the music, I knew that whoever it was increased their speed as well. It was a small test to see if they were following me, and they failed it with flying colors.
I burst back out through the other side of the tree line, and the path wove around some hills, coming to an odd dip which curved around an enormous, ancient boulder that was almost a megalith. It was a tricky piece of land to run because it was uneven. It didn’t help that it was so unused, plants had often taken over the path, making it hard to follow.
Instead of following the path, I looped around the gigantic stone, coming around the other side, so I would be behind whoever was following me.
I kept my feet light and stuck to the grasses instead of the stones, letting the rustle of the wind hide my pursuit. Soon enough I caught up with him and was stunned to see one of the brotherhood, Gideon to be precise, running in front of me.
A pair of black basketball shorts hung down what I knew were muscular legs from previous clothing he’d worn, not that I’d been paying close attention. Nope. Not me. I let my gaze refocus and realized, as we broke through a patch of shade into one glittering with moonlight, that he was shirtless.
The t-shirt he’d been wearing had been removed at some point and was tucked into the side of his shorts. It waved at me like a flag, one I wanted to capture.
Part of me longed for the familiarity to play with someone like that, to steal a piece of clothing and play chase, hopefully around a bedroom where the game ideally ended in bed.
I grunted and pushed the thoughts away. The whole reason I was out here was because I couldn’t get these men out of my head and now there was one running in front of me.
It was beyond frustrating.
The sweet scent of the breeze passing over me carried his scent, coffee but with spices, and something distinctly masculine.
Gideon upped his pace, and I knew he must have heard me, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him out of my sight. I was enjoying the show too much for that. When he spun around and started running backward, I had to jerk my eyes up from where they had been lingering.
The grin on his face said everything. He knew he was giving me a show, and he most certainly knew exactly what he looked like without his shirt on.
His tattoos weren’t one collective piece—there were different symbols and images all over his body, and as I tried to catalog them, he spun back around and began sprinting.
He wanted to race?
Bring it.
A genuine smile spread over my own face, and the muscles felt strange being in that position, letting me know how little I’d smiled of late. Hopefully, that would all change soon, though, if I could win and get on this brotherhood as their Sixth.
Fuck Lily!
I cranked up my speed, so I would go flying past him.
“On your left,” I called, still unable to wipe off my grin.
As soon as he heard my voice, he upped the ante and increased his speed. We ran neck and neck for a little while, laughter bubbling out of me as I felt free to use everything I had for the first time without having someone criticize me for showing off or trying to upstage the other purebloods, the princesses.
“I give, I give,” he called out when I put on another burst of speed.
I turned and jogged backward slowly like he’d done earlier.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked, planting my hands on my hips, feeling cocky.
“I was hoping to spar, so I’d like to save some energy for that, if you don’t mind.” His low, gravelly voice seemed to wrap around me and pull me closer to him, even though I’d meant to keep running.
“You want to spar with me?” I asked, surprised.
“No blades or magic, just hand-to-hand,” he said, spreading his arms wide, his breathing already returning to normal, which told me exactly why he’d stopped. He didn’t want to spar in the gym.
“Here?”
“Fights rarely take place in gyms, I prefer finding different areas to practice that might lend me some real-world experience later.”
The man made a good point. “Okay,” I said as I set my phone and earbuds on a nearby tree stump.
“You aren’t worried I’m going to take advantage of the situation?” Gideon asked, his head cocked to one side.
“No. I know plenty of ways to disable and retreat, or attack, to get myself out of most situations. I’m not concerned.” I shrugged.
Faster than I could track with my eyes, Gideon surged toward me. It was only instinct that kept me out of his reach.
My arms flew into a protective stance as his hands came within striking distance, with my quick moves saving me from what would otherwise be a vicious, no-holds-barred attack.
Everything in me flared to life, and I became hyper-focused on Gideon, wanting to prove to him that I was good enough to be part of their team. I wanted him to know I could take him, and that nothing could distract me from my goal once it was set, and my goal in that moment, was to take him down.
We exchanged blow for blow, knees connecting here and there, fists barely missing me as I moved out of the way. My blood sang with the adrenaline of the fight, and when I jumped up onto the fallen tree trunk nearby, it gave me just enough advantage to tackle him, riding him to the ground as we fell.
Before we could land, he kicked out and flipped us over so he was on top of me as my back smacked into the grassy floor.
My breath rushed out of my lungs. I gasped as I felt his full weight on me, the brows above his sage-green eyes were drawn together for a moment, and I sensed a flash of concern, not only that but something deeper and darker as well. I barely resisted the impulse to writhe under him as he stared down at me. When my lips parted of their own volition, I saw his gaze drop and his head move
fractionally toward me.
His eyes tracked me as his lips were about to brush against my own, as though he was waiting for me to move away, to deny him this opportunity. But I didn’t want to. Every fiber of my being wanted to stay put and see exactly what those pillowy rose-colored lips felt like against my own, but we were in the middle of a fight, and I didn’t want to lose thanks to my libido.
That was when I punched him in the kidney.
It was just enough of a distraction for me to get out from under him and move to my feet. When he stood, I could swear for a moment I saw confusion in his gaze, but I knew that had to be wishful thinking. Before he could strike again, someone grabbed me around my upper arms and held me tight.
Gideon smiled then, and it was stunning. I’d seen him grin and smirk, but never a full-on smile. Dimples popped out on each side of his mouth, and the skin around his eyes crinkled in a way that let me know this man knew how to laugh and enjoy life. A wave of jealousy ripped through me before I could stop it, but I shoved it down. This wasn’t the time to have a pity party.
Without another thought, I allowed my instincts to take over. Even though I had very little room, I jabbed my elbow back into my captor’s solar plexus with as much force as I could before forcing my hand between their arms and my chest, then I stomped on their instep for good measure. It loosened their hold enough for me to pry their arms apart. I kicked back as I jumped away and connected with one of my attacker’s knees.
A crunch sounded and brought us all to a standstill.
I turned and found Cade doubled over, cursing up a storm as he shoved his kneecap back into place. Before I could think better of it, I was biting my own wrist, tearing the skin open, so I could offer him what he needed to heal the injury.
4
Cade
Safe to say, the offer of blood?
It came as a fucking surprise.
I didn’t even need to see her bite her wrist to know that’s what she’d done. The air was literally perfumed with the scent of her lifeblood, and, Maker mine, it smelled like. . . .