Page 52 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

ARTHIE

Arthie made her way to the hold to speak to the vampires, leaving the others. Leaving Jin with his family, with his father who had decided she could be his daughter too. Arthie was overwhelmed by the warmth that rushed through her veins, the strange fuzziness.

The dark passageway enveloped her, and when she heard the hush hush of the sea against the side of the ship, she didn’t feel that incessant guilt eating away at her with each push and pull of the waves.

She felt a sense of calm. Not because she’d burned down the fort, really, but because she had gone to Ceylan and returned.

Her guilt hadn’t consumed her; her past hadn’t swallowed her whole.

No, she was closing in on the monarch of Ettenia.

They still didn’t know what the Ram planned for the tribute, but the more they spoke of their own plans for that night, the more it felt as though it was a trap of their own making and the Ram would be their unwitting prisoner.

Footsteps thudded behind her, and Arthie glanced back, seeing his blood-streaked white shirt before the rest of him.

“Careful,” Matteo said. “A beautiful lady such as yourself shouldn’t wander alone in the dark.”

Beautiful and lady weren’t typically used on Arthie. She would have been offended by his words if they weren’t spoken in that darkly teasing tone that slipped beneath her clothes like an errant touch.

“It’s the dark that needs to be afraid of me,” she replied.

Matteo sighed. “Just once, darling, can I be the heroic savior of your dreams?”

She gave him a look. “You know I dream of no such thing.”

“And that is one of the many qualities of yours that I adore.”

His eyes were soft. Arthie wanted to look away; she wanted to square her shoulders. The ship rumbled. They were slowing down and she needed to speak to the vampires, not get lost in emotions.

She turned away, because for all her snarking, he did save her. Once when he turned her, and then when he knocked down and killed a guard aiming for her, and then again a day ago on this very ship, after she’d taken a bullet for Jin’s parents.

“Too busy dreaming of me, I know.”

His voice came right at her ear, and her eyes fluttered closed. She knew what he was doing. He’d done it every time she’d inch close to opening her heart before giving in to cowardice. Distract her. Reel himself back. It was unfair to him.

She faced him again. Goodness, lifting her eyes to his waiting ones was harder than facing Bloodworth’s men.

“I’ve never—I’ve never done this before,” she whispered.

Matteo tilted his head, noticing her change. “Done what?”

“Opened up my heart to anyone.”

His lips quirked with a small smile. “Darling, I’ve held your heart in my hands and begged it to beat for me again; what more do I need?”

He never asked for more than what she gave. Never. That was what made this scary—how readily he accepted her, applauded her, understood her. And to think she’d once stood on his doorstep and thought he was no more than a rich artist whose hands were only as dirty as the paint that smudged them.

Arthie stepped toward him. From the tiny, circular windows scattered through the ship’s hold, the evening light cast him in warmth, placing him at home in the rich furnishings and the vessel’s ornate build.

“Is that enough?” she asked, her voice wound tight.

His response was just as quiet. “To attribute the word enough to Arthie Casimir would be a grave offense.”

And then she rose on the tips of her toes, unable to hold back her smile, and touched her lips to his.

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t kissed him before or pressed herself against him, so why then did she feel suddenly shy?

Why did this feel less like she was sating her hunger and more like she was tearing pieces of her soul and presenting them to him and asking him to be gentle?

And gentle he was. He cupped her jaw with delicate hands, holding her in place when he lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was soft, imploring, accepting. It sent shivers down her spine, lifting the hairs on the back of her neck.

He pulled away, pressing a thumb into her chin, and when he met her eyes, it scared her. I would do anything for you , those eyes said. He already had. He had killed for her; he had infiltrated the Athereum for her. He had sailed across the seas for her. What more would he do?

“Shall we?” Matteo asked, gesturing to the hall ahead as footsteps rushed on deck.

Arthie followed him, surprised by the quiver in her hands, surprised by how ready she was to lock away her pocket watch in a vault and ignore everything else. He opened the door, and when Arthie saw the vampires, she forced her emotions into that vault instead.

First she’d ruin the Ram, then she would have her way with Matteo Andoni.

The vampires crowded around them. Some were loitering around the space, some huddled in corners staring at nothing, others talking in groups.

Their anger was a beating, writhing thing, warped with pain and despair. Arthie thought of the humans plucked off the streets, kidnapped no differently than these vampires. For no reason other than the Ram’s selfish purposes.

“Have we arrived?” one of the vampires asked, rolling a coconut between him and the vampire sitting cross-legged from him.

“Almost,” Matteo said.

“Our arrival may be met with resistance,” Arthie said. “There’s a likelihood we will be ambushed.”

Their reactions were instant, quickly heating the expanse.

Our own country!

I’m not surprised…

Have we not dealt with enough?

But it was Oliver who asked the question they were clearly thinking, for they fell silent when he spoke. “By the Ram?”

Arthie understood that. It was one thing to be angry; it was an acute sort of satisfaction to know where to direct one’s anger. She nodded. “I wish we could return in better circumstances, but I can promise nothing.”

“No better circumstance than that!” someone shouted from farther in the back. Echoes of agreement rang throughout.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment,” someone else called.

“Ever since they dressed us in these tasteless rags, really,” another vampire sniped, and others echoed the sentiment.

Arthie sighed. Vampires were vampires. They’d been trapped in coffins, injected with serums and inoculations, treated as inferior, but of course terrible fashion made the list too.

“After, our friend will get you to a place where you can recoup. Food, shelter, resources. They’ll do whatever you need.”

“Whatever, eh? Hard to believe anyone would do whatever a vampire would need. Where’s that?” Oliver asked.

Matteo grinned. “The Athereum, of course.”

His answer was met with a medley of responses: relieved sighs, excited chatter, awed gasps, and even some grouses and grumbles. Arthie had shared that particular sentiment until not long ago.

Who knew the Athereum would one day be an ally? Who knew Jin would find his parents in Arthie’s motherland? Who knew Arthie would one day have an army of vampires eager for a fight?