Blood Rights (17 page)

A hand slapped her face, tugging her back to reality.
No
, she whispered to the fading numbness, but already it dissolved around the edges. She reached for the remains of her self-imposed oblivion, but it was too late. The pain sifted the haze out of reach. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Hungry tongues lapped it up. She gasped, desperate for the darkness. Clawed fingers dug into her flesh. Every slice registered with unnatural clarity.
Must … return … to the nothing.

Greedy mouths worked the cuts for more blood. A whimper built in her throat, but she refused to give it voice. They might bend her, but they would not break her. She would prove herself worthy of the power they had to bestow.

A body leaned into her, heavy, unrelenting, weighing on every sore spot. She pushed the pain away, sought the haze, opened herself up to it, and forced her way into the fog’s sweet relief.

The reward was all that mattered.

The door chimes sang out at dusk. Maris wheeled to the door ahead of Velimai and opened it, hoping for Chrysabelle, but knowing it wouldn’t be.

It wasn’t. She fought to keep her face steady.

‘Hello, Dominic. Punctual, as always.’

‘
Ciao,
Marissa. For you, would I be anything less?’ He stood outlined by the darkening sky and the landscape lighting, his hair just as black, his eyes just as mossy green. Her gut clenched from the scent of him. She fought against the tide of past memories sucking at her emotions, just as she did every time he came to visit. She would not give in, even if he was as beautiful as she’d remembered. Maybe more. And hopefully as willing to help her.

‘It’s Maris now, you know that.’ How many times must she correct him?

‘You will always be Marissa to me.’ His slight smile opened another chink in her armor. She missed him and hated herself for it. ‘May I come in?’

She leaned back and the iBot retreated a few paces accordingly. He knew better. But that didn’t stop him from asking. ‘You know the rules haven’t changed. Meet me on the patio.’

He clutched his dead heart, always the dramatic. ‘
Tesora
, you wound me.’

‘You’ll live.’ She shut the door and spun toward the rear of the house. The distance allowed her to breathe again. Velimai hung near the patio sliders, a disapproving look on her face.

Maris nodded. ‘I know how you feel. So noted.’ Dominic would never harm her. Not any more than he already had.

Velimai’s storm-colored eyes narrowed, and she signed that Maris wasn’t the only one living in the house.

‘He’s never so much as raised a finger in your direction. Now shoo.’

When Maris opened the sliders and rolled through, he was there, stretched out on one of the chaises and looking like a Roman god. She angled her iBot toward him.

He tucked his arms behind his head, careless with the suit that must have cost a mortal’s fortune. ‘You’ve cut your hair.’ He shrugged. ‘Still
bella
. Like the day you broke my heart.’

‘Your heart was broken long before me.’ She smiled indulgently, as she might with a child. ‘Dominic, I haven’t called you here for the usual reason.’ Although undoubtedly, it would lead to that. ‘I need a favor, and I know you owe me nothing, so … ’ This was far more difficult than she’d thought it would be, especially with him so close and so unchanged.

‘Well, that explains why you called me so soon after our last visit.’ One black, winged brow lifted. ‘Although I didn’t think your pretty mouth could form the words for help.’

‘I’m serious.’ What had she thought? That he’d age in the short time since she’d last seen him? That time would temper his addictive beauty into something easier to deny? That her body would forget everything that had happened between them?

‘So am I.’ He sat up. ‘You must need the help desperately.’

She powered the iBot down to a seated position, folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. Her lungs filled with his seductive aroma. She exhaled. ‘It’s not for me, it’s for my niece. Who is also … who is still comarré. And, I fear, in terrible danger.’ She shook her head, thinking of the note of warning
she’d received from Rennata.
Trouble comes your way.
This was not what she’d wanted for Chrysabelle. Not at all.

‘What do you need from me?’ He leaned forward. ‘Protection?’

‘No.’ She rested her hand on his, knowing how persuasive her touch could be to a vampire. Especially this one. ‘I have to find her.’

‘Do you think I need to be reminded of your allure?’ He pulled his hand away. ‘Why not send your wysper?’

‘And leave myself defenseless?’

Dominic laughed. ‘We both know you’re not defenseless. Does your sacre still hang above your bed?’

‘Yes.’ His remembering where she kept her weapon should not be reason enough for her cheeks to heat, but it was. The memory of when they’d shared a home nearly broke her. She bent her head to remove an imaginary piece of lint from her linen pants.

‘Please, Dominic,’ she whispered, bracing herself for the lie she hoped would sway him. ‘She is like a daughter to me. The child we … could never have.’

He went rigid at those words, then stood and strode to the edge of the pavers. A shard of light from the young moon filtered through the palms, tipping his hair silver. Beyond him, the patio curved around the infinity edge pool and down to the deep water slip holding her favorite way to escape, the
Heliotrope
. He stared at the yacht. Was he remembering the last time they’d been aboard her? The last time they’d made love? ‘Twenty years since you walked away from me, but I remember as though it were yesterday.’ When he turned, his eyes matched the moon glow. ‘Come back to me,
cara mia
. Not the way things are now, but the way they were.’

Of course he remembered. She focused on his tie. Looking there was easier than looking into his handsome face. Did she look older to him? She must. ‘Dominic, please. We’ve been down that road. I can’t. That life,’ she sighed, ‘it holds too many bad memories for me.’

He came and kneeled at her feet. ‘I can erase those memories, Marissa. Give you new ones. What we had—’

‘What we had was wonderful, but brought too much pain. Dominic, I’ve changed. You’ve changed.’ Although not physically. She cupped his cheek as the old feelings swirled through her. For her, he had willingly become anathema, accepting the banishment the nobility inflicted on those who fell out of favor for one reason or another. For Maris, Dominic had made it so much easier to walk away from everything she’d ever known all those years ago. He’d been her safety net. She had loved Dominic, once.

Now, the older she got, the further away she wanted to be from the past and the pain it held. And unfortunately, that included Dominic. They’d both gone too far in opposite directions to meet at any kind of middle now.

‘I had to change in order to survive. To take care of us.’ He pressed his cheek into her hand, then turned his face and kissed her palm before rising to his feet again. He smoothed his suit. The lines of sentimentality disappeared from his face as well. This was not a new conversation for them, but they’d not repeated it in several years. ‘Of course, we have moved beyond the past, you and me. What falls between us now is business. Duty. Nothing more.’

Cursing the bitterness of her own heart while praising the coldness of his, she nodded. ‘Yes, Dominic. That is the way of it.’

He put distance between them again and stared out to sea. ‘What is it you wish me to do?’

She held out a copy of the address Jonas had given her. ‘She went there, two days ago, and has not returned. Jonas is not returning my calls and I am tired of imagining what has happened. I want to know if … things have not gone well.’

He walked over, took the paper without looking at it, and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘I will find out tonight.’

‘
Grazie
, Dominic.’

‘And in return for this information?’

She’d known he’d expect payment. Prepared herself for it. After all, this was business now. She unbuttoned a few buttons, spread her shirt collar, and tilted her head back. At the edge of her vision, she spotted Velimai whirling like a hurricane behind the sheers. ‘I trust you will be gentle.’

His fangs gleamed. Her weak body betrayed her with its eager response, tightening in anticipation. He leaned in. ‘Ah,
bella mia
, as always.’

‘I own you?’ Fi almost bounced on her toes.

‘You don’t own
me
, only my blood rights,’ Chrysabelle explained for the third time. Why the ghost took such happiness in this, Chrysabelle didn’t understand. ‘And actually Mal owns them. Stole them, really.’

‘Enough with the stealing. We didn’t know.’ Mal ground his teeth and glared heavenward. ‘I need sleep.’ He shoved a hand through his black hair. ‘I should be getting up at sundown, not going to bed.’ His gaze shifted from Fi to Chrysabelle. ‘Try not to kill each other for the next four or five hours. Or do, I don’t care. Doc, you’re in charge.’ Shaking his head, he left.

‘Whatever that’s worth,’ Doc called after him from the kitchen, where he was fixing plates of something he optimistically termed dinner.

Chrysabelle sank into one of the chairs surrounding the worn table. She rested her head on her hands and stared at the scarred surface. This really wasn’t the new life she’d envisioned for herself. In that life, she wasn’t wearing a black T-shirt and baggy pajama pants that reeked of male vampire. A male who had not only stolen her blood rights, but didn’t seem to care one way or the other what that meant. She glanced at Fi. ‘Why are you so excited about this anyway?’

Fi cocked an eyebrow. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ She leaned in. ‘Those voices in Mal’s head? I’m one of them, or at least I was until I got your blood in me. Since he killed me, I’ve had to listen to that chaos just like him.’

‘Why do you stay?’

‘Like I have a choice?’ Fi’s gaze strayed to Doc. ‘Mal’s not so bad. Not since he stopped killing. And look, being a ghost is better than being dead altogether.’ She glanced at Doc again, a slight smile on her face. What a strange pairing, the varcolai and the ghost. ‘Things aren’t so awful here.’

Chrysabelle kept her voice low. ‘You love him?’

‘Yes, she does, and I can hear you, you know,’ Doc called out from the kitchen.

Fi laughed as she turned back. ‘I can’t leave anyway, so might as well make the best of it. I tried once. Went corporeal and started walking. Six blocks and I got snapped back, like some big metaphysical rubber band attached us.’ She sat back. ‘So now, with your blood in me, I can’t hear the chaos anymore.’ She grinned. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. I guess.’ Chrysabelle studied the girl,
feeling a sense of sympathy she hadn’t before. What a strange existence.

Doc put plates of pasta in front of her and Fi. ‘Eat up. You must be jonesin’ for food big-time.’

‘I am, but’ – Chrysabelle poked at it with a fork – ‘where’s the meat?’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Fi said.

‘I am not a beggar.’ She wanted to add
you little thief
, but it was Mal’s fault, not Fi’s, that this had happened. ‘I need protein. It’s kind of important for someone like me.’

He squeezed Fi’s shoulder but spoke to Chrysabelle. ‘Meat’s spendy, especially when there are three of us now.’

‘Varcolai need meat, too.’

He shrugged and took the chair beside Fi. ‘I eat it every few days.’

Chrysabelle raised her brows. ‘Please tell me this ship is just naturally rat-free.’

‘I
buy
the meat,’ Doc said, stabbing his pasta. Clearly, she’d hit a nerve.

‘Every few days isn’t really enough, is it? Just because Malachi chooses to starve himself doesn’t mean you have to.’

Fi’s expression wrinkled. ‘Malachi?’

Doc shot the ghost a look. ‘We call him Mal. That’s what he likes.’

Fi shot the look back but stayed silent. Something wasn’t right.

‘Regardless,’ Chrysabelle continued. ‘I … we don’t need to suffer too. If money is a concern, I’m willing to help out.’

Fi laughed. ‘With what?’

‘Where’s the bag I brought with me?’ Chrysabelle asked Doc.

‘Should still be in Mal’s office,’ Doc answered.

‘All right, I’ll just be a moment.’ She pushed her chair back.

‘Where do you think you’re going? We’re supposed to watch you.’ Fi’s indignant look made Chrysabelle stifle a laugh. She had to give Fi points for trying.

‘What are you? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?’ She slanted her eyes at Doc. ‘You’re not much older, are you? I don’t need children minding me.’ She strolled toward the door, hiding her slight limp as much as possible. Her broken foot already felt better than it had when she’d woken up.

‘Children?’ Fi scoffed. ‘Pot meet kettle.’

Chrysabelle paused. ‘I am one hundred fifteen years old.’ She flicked a glanced at Doc and tried not to smile. ‘That’s in human years.’

Doc jumped up and grabbed her arm. ‘I’ll get your bag. Wouldn’t want you wearing out those old bones.’

She tugged her arm out of his grasp and forced down the surge of fighting instinct that had arisen at his touch. She had to stop reacting like that. Humans touched each other. She had to get used to it. ‘That would be nice of you.’