Bloodline (17 page)

When Micah’s grip on him eased, he pulled his cock free and flopped onto his back. His heart couldn’t pound or hammer, but he felt as though it was. For the first time in a long while, Inigo wished he wasn’t a vampire, wished he was like Micah.

After he’d been turned, it had taken a long while before he’d accepted what he’d become. Even though he’d had to feed and sleep in the daytime, he resisted calling himself a vampire. For years he hated what he was, but gradually he’d grown to accept it, even like it at times. He’d accepted the futility of longing for the impossible, and made the most of the life he had.

He jolted when a warm towel swept over his groin. He opened his eyes and watched as the faerie carefully cleaned him. For some reason, the act touched him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. His throat filled, and he tousled Micah’s hair.

“I’m drunk,” Inigo said. “On sex and faerie blood. If we were standing at the top of a mountain, I might have been tempted to do something stupid. Like yodel.”

Micah grinned.

“You are…” Inigo blinked. “Amazing. Perfect. Sexy. Gorgeous.” He gave a heavy sigh when he looked at Micah’s cock. “With an impressive recovery speed. Just like me.”

He grunted as Micah landed on top of him.

“You have sharper elbows though.” Inigo smiled, and his eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re not allowed to sleep,” Micah said. “Wake up.”

I can’t.

HE THOUGHT INIGO was pretending, but the vampire was spark out. Micah laughed. He knew Inigo couldn’t help it. Before Micah settled down beside him, he slipped the DO NOT DISTURB sign over the handle outside the door and checked that the drapes covered every part of the window. He suspected now that Inigo was back on this side, his immunity from the sun would have vanished. He’d have to leave Inigo in the room while he went to see his boss.

Pulling the duvet over both of them, he snuggled up behind Inigo. It had been a long while since he’d been in bed with another guy. That the last guy had also been a vampire was a little disturbing. He’d sworn off them after his experience with Philip. Stupidly, Micah had thought he meant something to the bloodsucker, and he had, but not in the way Micah had hoped.

He shuddered when he thought of that night and what Philip and his friends had done to him. In a way, he’d understood when Philip had said he couldn’t help it, that vampires were so driven by their need to feed, it made them dangerous, but that didn’t mean Micah could forgive him.

But Inigo had stopped feeding when he’d said that was enough. Micah felt…right with him. Could he be happy with a vampire? Wasn’t he happy already?

* * * *

When he woke, the clock said 7:20 and Inigo lay motionless at his side. He should have been in the same position—after all, he slept the sleep of the dead—but the vampire had turned over. Strange, but Micah didn’t think he was anywhere near as cool to the touch as Philip. In fact, Inigo seemed almost toasty warm this morning, although that was probably because Micah had spent several hours spooned against him.

He slipped out of bed, took his clothes into the bathroom, and showered. His back ached, but he refused to think about the state of his wings. He had no idea whether they’d heal. If he hadn’t been able to retract them, he’d have had to ask Inigo to cut off what remained. He didn’t know whether they’d grow back, but if the ache didn’t subside, maybe that was the only route.
Forget them.

He’d leave a note telling the vampire roughly when he’d be back, but he didn’t expect Inigo to wake until dusk. Inigo shouldn’t have fallen asleep until dawn, but Micah assumed the sojourn in Faerieland had pushed his system out of sync. He put on his clothes, sans briefs, and smiled when he had to be careful not to catch his cock on the zipper. Standing in front of the mirror, he dragged his fingers through his hair. Stress and pain had paled his skin, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

“Er…Micah?” Inigo called.

He’s awake already?

“You might like to emerge from the bathroom dressed, with your submachine gun and machete in your hands. There’s a strange guy in here.”

Micah burst out of the bathroom to see his boss, Roman, sprawled on the chair with his legs crossed at the ankle. He’d known the credit card could be traced, but he hadn’t thought Roman would come in person.

“What do you want?” Micah snapped.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

Micah pulled it from his pants. Four missed calls.
Shit
. “Is everything okay?”

Roman uncrossed his legs and sat up. “Hardly.”

“Ahem,” Indigo coughed.

“This is Roman. My boss,” Micah said. “This is—”

Roman interrupted. “Inigo Rafael Cavendish Fitzwilliam McIntosh. Born in 1787. Turned at his request in 1815 by William Hargreaves.”

Inigo threw back the duvet and got out of the bed. “I’m going to take a shower.” He slammed the bathroom door, and Micah frowned.
At his request?

“The wolf is back with her parents, under the protection of the pack,” Roman said.

“She was being kept as a pet.”

His boss shrugged. “The price paid for foolish acts of love.”

Micah found it hard to imagine Roman ever being foolish or in love. The guy was cold and hard as a diamond.

The bathroom door opened, and Inigo came out dripping wet, a towel draped around his shoulders.

“That was fast.” Micah smiled, but Inigo kept his face averted.

As Inigo pulled on his clothes, Micah found his gaze sliding to the vampire’s cock, and he turned away from temptation.

“Explain why faeries have crossed after you,” Roman said.

Micah dropped onto the bed. “We know something they want kept secret. Oberon the Seventh is not pure fae. His father was mortal.”

Roman’s eyes widened slightly. Micah realized that for once, he’d told Roman something he didn’t already know.

“Inigo was abducted to do his coronation tattoo, but even with the addition of…a special ingredient, the ink wouldn’t stay in the king’s skin. In the end, Inigo created something that looks like a tattoo but isn’t and will eventually disappear. As far as we know, Oberon isn’t aware of that.”

“A tattoo not staying in place doesn’t make him half-mortal.” Roman tapped his fingers on the chair arm.

Micah tensed, and he curled his toes inside his boots. “When Ellie and I took the Kewen back, we made a mistake.” Perhaps it was more Ellie’s stupidity than his, but he was just as responsible. “My sister has proof that Oberon the Fifth purchased three mortal children in exchange for the Kewen. We didn’t know for certain that the present king was descended from one of those mortals, but his reaction and the issue with the tattoo told us he was. He’s also a fucking monster.”

Roman leaned forward. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

Micah felt Inigo settle at his back as he talked, the vampire’s fingers kneading the bottom of his spine and then higher. When Micah mentioned the bill of sale, Roman rose to his feet and began to pace.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about that?” he snapped. “Did you even think what you were going to do when you confronted the king? You tried to blackmail him? Haven’t I taught you better than that? For the love of— Shit, Micah, you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Yes, he is,” Inigo said. “The king’s a sadist. He gets off on inflicting pain, as does his second in command—Cavan. They almost destroyed Micah’s wings.”

Roman stopped in front of him. “Your wings?”

Oh fuck
. He’d been hoping to keep that quiet.

“Oberon shot bolts at him and pinned him to the wall. Cavan cut out slivers with his knife, and the bastard ate them.”

Roman’s face turned thunderous. “You managed to retract them?”

“With difficulty.”

“Show me,” Roman snapped.

“I don’t—”

“Show me.” His boss spoke more quietly but in a tone of voice that made Micah not want to disobey.

He pushed to his feet, removed his shirt, and took a deep breath. There was usually no need to remove clothing, but he wanted to make it as easy as he could. “I’m not sure I can,” he whispered.

“Try.”

Micah closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain as, little by little, he forced the remains of his wings to emerge. He heard Inigo give a quiet gasp, and Roman swore.

He opened his eyes again and looked at his boss. There was something different in his eyes.
Compassion?
That was unlike him. Roman put his hands on Micah’s face and spread his fingers over his cheeks. Micah could feel warmth at his back and a soft, soothing sensation as if he was lying in a mound of feathers.

“Holy shit,” Inigo mumbled. “How the hell did you do that?”

Roman released his face and stepped away. Micah looked over his shoulder and saw his wings intact again.
Fucking hell. What
is
he?

“Thank you,” he muttered and retracted his wings. They slid in painlessly. He pulled his shirt back on and fastened the buttons. “They staked Inigo too.” Micah turned to look at him. “Thinking of that, how the hell did you survive? It went through your heart. It fucking went right through you.”

“My heart’s on the other side.”

“Good to know,” Roman said.

Every hair on Micah’s body bristled. He spun to face his boss. “Touch him and I’ll kill you.”

The air thickened, and he could almost feel it clogging his lungs, but he didn’t take his gaze away from Roman.

After a long moment, his boss’s lips curved in a smile. “Tell me the rest.”

By the time he was done, Roman had risen to pace several times and now returned to his chair, elbows on his thighs, hands steepled in front of his face.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Roman said. “Three mortal children were taken to Faerieland to replace children who’d died, most likely unexpectedly and in secret.” He frowned. “I’d love to know why that happened, and why Oberon the Fifth felt the need to take mortal children in their place.”

“I guess if he’d taken faerie children, they’d have been missed,” Micah said. “In kidnapping three from the other side of the Divide, it was an easier secret to keep.”

“True.” Roman pursed his lips. “So Oberon managed to convince everyone the human children were his and that nothing had happened to his actual children. One became Oberon the Sixth—a mortal king, who reigned for a very short time. When he died, his son Oberon the Seventh took over, half-mortal, half-fae. But the only people who know this are you and your family, the vampire, and now me.”

“And possibly a few faeries,” Micah said. “I assume Cavan knows.”

“I told Ryn we suspected the king was half-mortal,” Inigo said.

“I have no idea whether the faeries sent after us know,” Micah added. “I suppose it’s possible this is a secret only Oberon holds to his chest. It’s possible
he
didn’t know until Ellie and I suggested it and then he began to put two and two together, but something tells me he knew we were telling the truth from the start.”

“What happened to the two other children?” Inigo asked. “They must know too.”

“Not necessarily,” Roman said. “Perhaps they were bespelled to erase their memories.”

“Maybe they fled when they realized what sort of king Oberon the Seventh was, or perhaps he killed them,” Micah said.

“Or they might be married, have kids, and living happily in Faerieland knowing that if they reveal Oberon’s secret, they reveal theirs too,” Inigo added.

“No decent faerie could be happy to have that bastard as king,” Micah said with a snarl.

“Do they have a claim to the throne?” Inigo asked.

“The eldest child of the ruler inherits the crown,” Micah said. “If Oberon the Seventh died childless, it would pass to his aunt or uncle—whoever was older—or to their eldest born child. But if none are pure fae, I’m not sure the Elders would allow any of them to rule. Though Oberon the Sixth managed it and he was born mortal.”

“But spent most of his life in Faerieland,” Roman said. “The offspring of any of those three mortals, assuming there are any other than Oberon, would probably be very close to being pure fae. Never completely, of course, but Oberon the Seventh was born in Faerieland, has spent his life there, and his mother probably shared her power with him and his father.”

“They need a new king,” Inigo said. “Anyone would be better than that wanker.”

Micah sighed. “He wants us dead.”

“We know that a team of hunters have crossed the Divide after you,” Roman said. “I would imagine the king won’t be happy until he’s eliminated all threats.”

“He wants the bill of sale,” Micah whispered.

“True. Once he has control of everyone who knows the truth, you and your family will disappear. Then there’s no proof.”

“Apart from that piece of paper.” Micah suddenly felt himself falling even deeper in the mire.

“I hope it’s somewhere safe,” Roman said.

So did Micah.

Chapter Eleven

“What should we do?” Inigo asked.

Roman stared at him. “You’re not part of this. Find a hole to crawl into.”

Inigo bristled. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m not part of this. I’ve been kidnapped, barbecued, and fucking staked by that bastard of a king.”

Micah’s boss might have mended his wings, but the guy was an arsehole. A tall, blond, good-looking…arsehole. Built like a faerie, big and strong, though not a faerie. Nor a vampire, because Inigo would know. Not a shifter either unless he could transform into a creature Inigo had never seen before, like a duck-billed platypus or a T. rex.
So what is he? Merman? Warlock? Dragon? Ghost?

As he ran through a list of possibilities, Roman suddenly smiled at him, and Inigo felt his anger and irritation fade, and for a moment his curiosity too before it came surging back.
What the hell? Did he do that?

“Are you trustworthy, vampire?” Roman asked.

With one sentence, he threw Inigo straight back into pissed off.

“Are
you
?” Inigo snapped as he sprang to his feet. “When you sent Micah into Faerieland to look for the shifter, did you know what was happening in the kingdom? That there was a psychopath on the throne? I can’t believe you didn’t know. You could have warned him.”