Bad Blood (Cora's Choice #3) (8 page)

I said, “None of this should be real.
That’s the problem. You shouldn’t be here.”

It was probably one of the dumbest things I’d ever said, but I
meant it. Nothing that had happened since I stepped foot in Dorian’s house should have been a part of my well-ordered world. I should have walked in, gotten a cure, and walked out, unaltered except for the cancer.

Instead, I’d be thrust into another
life and my own was stolen away.

“The world hasn’t changed, Cora.
It’s just much bigger and much more complicated than you ever imagined it to be.”

There was a quote that teased at the
edge of my mind, something that I’d read in high school English class.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy….
That wasn’t it, but it was close.

Of
course, Hamlet went crazy in the end, or pretended he was crazy until there really was no difference. Reassuring thought.

Impulsively,
I threaded my fingers through Dorian’s short hair. “I don’t want complicated. I want…happy.”

“You don’t imagine that I can make you happy?”

Oh, God, he was beautiful, beautiful and alien, and he wanted me. And all I wanted was for him to kiss me again and never stop.

But I said,
“Is it happiness when you don’t have a choice? I don’t love you. I know I don’t, because it’s just not possible. But without you, I’m afraid I might die.”

“You
won’t ever be without me,” he said, and the world seemed to slide sideways as he kissed me again.

He
moved toward my bedroom, but I didn’t want him there. I turned us back toward the living room.

“
We’d better make it fast,” I managed. “Or someone might come up to investigate.” I didn’t care, and I didn’t want it or anything to be fast, but I felt like I had an obligation to remind him, since I didn’t know what kind of personal or political fallout there would be if he left the others cooling their heels for too long.

“
Not
too
fast,” he said with a smile that could only be described as feral.

And then
his mouth met my neck, and nothing else mattered. I stopped thinking, let it all go, gave myself over to him. My skin came alive at his touch, demanding that there be nothing between us. His lips sent sharp, liquid heat driving down between my legs, craving him, needing him.

My
hands collided with his as we worked at our clothes—shirts, shoes, pants and underwear, and finally my bra, which ended up hooked over the sink faucet after my too-enthusiastic toss. The heat in my center was wound tight, as if I would break, pulling every nerve until it hummed with the tension. He urged me onto the institutional sofa, and I half-sat, half-tumbled onto it.

I lay back against the cushions and
burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. It was all too strange and confusing and far too real, more real than anything I had ever felt before. The upholstery rasped my over-sensitive skin, the smell of pine cleaner burning in my nostrils. Even the light in the room seemed brighter, everything picked out in harsh highlights and shadows. I was present, in this moment, as I’d never been present before, and it was bewildering.

How I wanted him—my bones hurt with it, my brain burned, my skin longed for the feeling of his body against mine.
I was helpless against it, but a part of me could recognize how absurd it all was. Dorian was something out of legend, and here I was, just…me. And he wanted me—the ageless vampire, the deathless demigod.

But
the ridiculousness of it didn’t change a thing.

I looked up at Dorian, standing over me, and m
y laughter died in my throat. His gaze was so keen I thought it could cut me, every contour of his perfect body picked out by the light that filtered in through the blinds. I could feel him pulsing with power, slow, steady beats like his heart.

My gaze was drawn irresistibly to the evidence of his arousal, then snapped back up again to his face as I realized that I was staring.
I remembered how he had been the night before, at the limit of his control, rough and demanding and just a hairbreadth from stepping over the edge and taking me with him, down into his darkness….

He said,
“I am patience itself, Cora. I do not rush in. I wait decades, centuries, until the time is right. But you—you make me forget myself. Yet I won’t hurt you today, Cora. Don’t be afraid.”

Forget myself.
I swallowed. What a perfect phrase for what I was afraid that was happening to me. I was forgetting myself, so that I would wake up one morning and be someone completely different.

He put one hand on the couch on either side of my head and bent to take my lips.
I thrilled at the touch, soft and hard at once, coaxing and demanding. With a quiet noise, I tilted my head up to meet his kiss, my hands reaching out to skim down across the hard planes of his chest to tighten on his hips, pulling him toward me. He came, and he eased down with me onto the sofa, his mouth moving across my body, teasing the curve of my neck and tracing the line of my collarbone.

Dorian’
s mouth was insistent on my skin, driving me deeper into the welter of sweet heat that poured over me. When he took my nipple, my entire body shuddered, and my hands tightened on his back. His hand moved down, sliding between my legs to find my clitoris, working in rhythm to his mouth until I was panting and arching against him, my thighs wet with my need.

He slid up my body, between my knees.
My legs locked around him, urging him toward me, and he came to me. I hissed as he slid into me, filling me until I panted under his weight. He was moving, taking the same rhythm as before, his hand between us as I rocked with him, faint noises pulled from my throat with every stroke. The heat rose around me, crackling across my skin, rushing in my head, driving into my bones.

I pushed toward the peak, reaching for it with everything in my body until I hit it and I fell, hard, into the
swift madness that washed everything else away—everything but him, taking me, claiming me, plundering my body and piercing my soul.

Dorian
shuddered as I came back to earth again, speaking low and fervently in a language I didn’t understand until, slowly, he came to a rest. He held me against his body for a very long moment, his arms iron bands around me, and I realized with a sudden shock that I was running my fingers through his hair, over and over.

I forced my hand to still, and
after another minute, he pulled back. I lay stunned against the couch, watching the strong lines of his back and rear as he found his underwear—my personal vampire wore boxer-briefs, I discovered—and his pants.

He’
d kept his word. He hadn’t hurt me, not at all.

T
he slight edge of disappointment I felt at that thought sent a spiral of fear deep into my gut. I bit my lip. Slowly, I pushed up off the couch and gathered the clothes I’d been wearing. I made a brief stop in my bedroom to pick out a new outfit from my own wardrobe—instead of the one Dorian had bought for me—then grabbed the chartreuse purse and ducked into the bathroom.

Avoiding my reflection, I cleaned up and dressed quickly, pausing just long enough to down a pill from the pack in my purse
.

Better late than never, right?

I wasn’t ashamed of what I’d done. I was afraid of what I wanted to do. All my priorities had been knocked sideways. I was off-kilter, and I didn’t know how to right myself. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to, because the list of everything that had happened in the last week should make any sane person’s head explode.

When I stepped out, Dorian was lounging on my Gramma’s sofa in the living room, without even a ruffle of hair to betray what had
just passed between us. At the image of him there, sitting on the couch that had been so much a part of my childhood, my body clenched, and I had a sudden, panicked urge to order him away.

But
I said, “Just got to pack a few things.”

Back in my bedroom, I
pulled an empty duffel bag from the top of the closet. I threw in the clothes I’d been wearing and scooped some of my own clothes from the drawers and closet. I retrieved my toiletries from the freshly scrubbed bathroom, then grabbed my wallet, my laptop, and my graduation photo and shoved them on top. At the last minute, I snagged the tiny stuffed rabbit my roommate Lisette had given me for Christmas and added that, too.

I looked around.
There didn’t seem to be anything else to take. My childhood memories could stay in their boxes, and all the things I’d packed away for my graduate life were worthless in Dorian’s house.

Not that I was staying there long.

Dorian plucked the duffel out of my arms as I stepped back into the living area, slinging it over his shoulder as I put the sunglasses and my own coat on, hooking the one that Worth had given me that morning over my arm along with the purse.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

Ready to return to the vampire’s home.

C
larissa hopped out lightly as soon as the Escalade rolled to a stop.

“Tomorrow, Cora,” she said with a smile I didn’t care to interpret, and then she shut the door and disappeared.

The driver got out and moved to open the other door, but Dorian held up a hand, waving the man away. With a small bow, the driver retreated several paces, standing against the tall hollies with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

I gave Dor
ian a sideways look. What was that all about?

Dorian reached into a pocket of his coat, withdrawing a small, wrapped box.
“I was reminded that it has become customary for gifts to be exchanged on Christmas Day.”

“
But I didn’t get you anything,” I protested as I took it out of reflex.

Like what?
I wondered. Did vampires like cufflinks and tie clips? Expensive cologne? I couldn’t imagine that I could afford any sort of appropriate gift for him—even if I wanted to give him something. And I wasn’t sure that I did. You gave friends presents, or boyfriends. Dorian didn’t fit into any of those neat categories.

“I had no expectation that you would,”
he said.

My stomach tightened slightly.
Yet another debt I would owe him.

“Really, I don’t think it’s appropriate,” I sai
d, pressing it back toward him.

“Y
ou can at least open it before refusing it.” He spoke quietly, but I felt the will behind his words, and I couldn’t resist.

I wondered if he could hear it
, too—if he even knew what he was doing to me. Reluctantly, I popped the heavy wrapping paper open with my thumb where it was taped. Inside was a plain white box, and inside that was a velvet jewelry case.

Oh, damn.

What else would it be, really, following custom, as he said?

I opened th
e case cautiously. Even in the dimmed light coming through the tinted windows, the faceted ruby glittered darkly, a single perfect pear nestled into a curving gold teardrop pendant that perfectly matched the mark on the inside of my wrist. I wasn’t sure how many carats it was—way too many, was all I knew, and I was certain that it was real.

The message was inescapable.
It was a declaration of our bond, that I now belonged to him, and an unsubtle reminder of his wealth and all of the material comfort he could offer me.

A necklace might be an appropriate gift,
maybe, considering that we did have a relationship, however unconventional. But this was simply too much, too soon, too expensive. And yet it was so clearly mine, made for no one but me, so obviously personal that the extravagance of it was less significant than the intimate intention.

It wasn’t an intimacy that I wanted.
I thought of everything that had passed between us, and I shivered. How much more intimate could two people be?

“
I can’t accept this,” I said.

“Everything I have is now yours,” he said.

I looked at him askance and realized that he meant it. I shook my head. “Except that it’s not. It’s
really
not. It’s mine as far as you want to share it—and not one bit farther. No matter what you give me, it’s only mine as far as I’m yours. And I don’t want that.” I pressed the box back into his hands, careful not to touch his skin.

He didn’t take it.
“Then don’t keep it for yourself. Keep it as something to wear at your introduction. Something to keep in the jewelry box in the room at my house—that is also not yours, if you wish to see it that way.”

Crap.
The introduction. I hadn’t thought about it in hours. It was another one of those things that didn’t seem quite real.

He opened the vehicle door and offered me his arm.
My mind churning, I took it and slid out, the shiver of attraction at our contact muddling my head even more. The driver jumped over to the rear hatch and got my duffle bag. The cheap, rumpled canvas looked ridiculous in his white-gloved hands.

“What, exactly, is this introduction?” I asked
, shifting the purse on my shoulder. “I mean, I know it introduces me into your vampire society and everything. But I don’t know what any of that
means
.”

He arched an eyebrow
, guiding the way up the stone walk to the house. “You should know that vampire is a human word, not the one that we prefer. It is considered by some to be a pejorative.”

The thought of vampires getting offended at the name that
humans used for them struck me as absurd.

“Well, vampires don’t exactly have an excellent reputation,” I said acidly.
“Maybe it’s the whole killing people thing that’s caused all the irrational stereotypes. That kind of behavior does tend to upset people.”

“Indeed,” Dorian said
, pressing his lips together as if he were suppressing a smile.

Eating people shouldn’t be funny.
It really shouldn’t. But I was tired and stressed, and my head was beginning to hurt, and I couldn’t help the thin thread of a giggle that emerged. I relaxed fractionally despite myself. Despite everything.

“The introduction is just a brief ceremony,” Dorian said
, serious again. “It formalizes your place as my cognate, offering you certain protections and privileges.”

“What am I supposed to wear?” I asked.
My hand tightened for a moment around the jewelry box. If he expected me to wear that, it must be pretty damn formal. “I’ve still got my prom dress,” I offered, somewhat weakly.

I thought about the kind of clothes the impeccable Dorian and glamorous Clarissa would wear to a formal event.
Yeah, my prom dress, which changed from a shimmering tangerine to a bright pink, depending on the angle, wouldn’t look totally ridiculous next to them.

Sure.

“Worth has already taken care of that,” Dorian said.

I wanted to protest.
I’d already been forced by necessity to wear his clothes once. I didn’t really want to make a habit of it. It made my protests about his gifts seem pretty stupid when I was constantly using the things I said I didn’t want.

But on the other hand…it was his party, set up for his benefit in his society.
Why should I have to look absurd or spend money I really didn’t have? Forget my student loans—I didn’t even know how I was going to pay for my apartment through the next semester with the out-of-pocket medical expenses that I owed.

“Fine,” I said
, stopping at the top of the stairs in front of the great double doors. “I’ll wear whatever Worth comes up with. And I’ll wear the necklace, too—just this once. And after that, no one is going to try to kill me anymore, right? That’s the deal. I go out, I smile at people, and they stop sending interdimensional killers after me.”

This time, Dorian did smile.
“That sums it up nicely. And now I’m going to wish you a good evening. I should not have spent so much time with you these past two days, but I needed—” He broke off, and I saw a fleeting expression, something I couldn’t name in a brief crack in his impassive façade before it closed over again. “It has been a very long time.”

“Are you going back to Baltimore?” I asked with a pang I didn’t care to examine.

“It will be for the last night,” he said.

Gladness warred with fear—once he no longer felt like he must limit his contact with me, would he ever let me go home again?
And if he didn’t, what would become of me?

He reached out and
brushed my cheek. Instinctively, I leaned into his touch.

“I will be back before th
e introduction,” he said. “I promise.”

The butler opened the doors then, and Dorian pressed a brief kiss on my cheek and was gone
.

***

Worth was waiting for me in the bedroom—my bedroom, I finally allowed myself to admit. She put aside her tablet and eyed my outfit with obvious displeasure, her frown deepening when she took in my duffel bag, as well. I had taken it very firmly from the driver in the foyer instead of allowing the butler to order a footman to get it—Seriously, a footman! Who besides Cinderella has actual footmen?—and had taken it upstairs myself.

And immediately regretted it, because it had been
instantly obvious that I had offended all three. Now, from Worth’s expression, I could make it four.

Awesome start, Cora.
Let’s see if you can piss off all the rest of Dorian’s employees.

“I’
m sorry that the wardrobe is not to your tastes, m—Cora,” she said in a voice that managed to be haughty and subservient at the same time. I was beginning to suspect that her accidents with my name were nothing of the sort.

I dropped t
he duffel on the bed with a sigh. “The clothes are gorgeous, Worth.” I shook my head. “Gah, I can’t keep calling you that. What’s your first name?”

“Jane,” she said frostily.

“Jane,” I repeated. “Everything you picked out is amazing. I don’t even know how you could find things that fit so well, considering that I didn’t even try them on. But they’re not mine. I know my clothes are boring and not really fashionable—”

Jane
Worth made a noise that implied that this was the understatement of the century.

“—
But
they are mine. Target and Forever 21 and Old Navy. That’s what I have, okay? I don’t want to wear what Dorian’s paid for.” I remembered about the introduction the next day. “Well, at least not if I can help it,” I finished lamely.

“Mr. Thorne wants you to have the best,” she said, an accusation in her voice, as if it were a personal failing to want something other than what Dorian desired.

To her, it probably was.

“I know, Jane,” I said.
“And I know that you probably spent hours putting together a wardrobe that could cover every possible clothing need.” From her flinch, I knew I was right. “And I appreciate it. I really do. But it’s not really mine. Can’t you see that?”

“Yes, Cora,” she said.

It didn’t sound convincing.

Great,
I thought.
Now my lady’s maid hates me. And I don’t even want a lady’s maid.

“Would m—you care for dinner?” the woman asked.

“That sounds wonderful,” I said, glad I could do something that she would approve of. “But the chef doesn’t need to go all-out or anything, like he has been. Really. I mostly eat ramen and mac cheese and spaghetti when I don’t eat dorm food, so I don’t need to be pampered.”

“You don’t like what he’s been serving?”
I could have gotten frostbite from her tone.

Crap
. How the hell did I walk into that?

I backtracked desperately.
“No, no! I love it. It’s the best food anyone has ever made for me. I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“It is our job to see that you have the best of everything,”
Jane said. “Our job is not a
bother
.”

“Of course not.
Have him send up whatever he wants,” I agreed hastily.

“Indeed, madam,” she said, the honorific sliding out
almost like an insult to my overly sensitized ears.

Jane
tapped for a moment on her phone, then took my duffel bag into the closet. I flopped onto an upholstered chair and stared out the window over the roof and into the back garden, wondering how I would even be able to eat around the foot in my mouth.

I felt sorry for myself.
I wasn’t proud of it, but all I wanted was to hide away in the room by myself and have a private little pity-party. Instead, I was painfully reminded of how many other people were affected by my new position.

It wasn’t a comfortable thought.
All my life, there had only been me and Gramma, and in the past year, just me. Sure, I had friends, but they didn’t really depend on me for anything. Whether I did great or screwed up, I was the only one it really mattered to. My friends were sympathetic, but their lives weren’t enmeshed with mine.

It was different here.
As Dorian’s cognate, my very existence had a meaning so great that someone wanted me dead. And Dorian’s household was set up to revolve around two points, the lesser one very clearly being me.

I was more important that I’d ever imagined being…but at the same time,
my own identity was completely irrelevant to that importance. Any other female who bonded to Dorian would be in the exact same role.

I didn’t owe
Jane anything. How could I? But just the same, she’d been working for years toward the eventual goal of working for Dorian’s cognate. Who happened to be me. So when I showed up, it should have been the fulfillment of all her ambitions. It should have been a justification for her taking a job that might never have had a real purpose.

Instead,
I was messing with all her expectations, refusing all the things that she saw as the point of her career.