Page 12 of Between Bloode and Death (Between the Shadows #5)

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Khent hadn’t expected the pretty little human to be so bloodthirsty.

He liked it. “You want us to help you kill the necromancer? Really?”

His hand still tingled where he’d gripped her slender neck. Valentine Darkmore. So fragile, so easily controlled.

To his mortification, he continued to have to fight his body’s natural response to the female’s proximity. The call to mate had never been so present before, and he was immediately reminded of his dream.

The one where he’d reached an unsatisfying fulfillment, waking to spill into his sheets instead of her warm body.

She flushed, as if she could read his mind. Could she?

He imagined dominating her sexually, in all manner of poses. But she didn’t respond except to answer Hecate’s question about knowing their enemy.

Unfortunately, all that fantasizing did little to cool his suddenly awakened libido.

“I’ve known him all my life,” Valentine was saying. “He killed my parents.”

So, not a telepath then. A necromancer who wanted vengeance. That interested him.

Hell, he found everything about the slight human enthralling, which irritated him to no end. Humans were the lowest of the low in terms of power and strength.

Yet for all that he could crush her windpipe in the split second it would take him to wrap his hand around her throat, he had the feeling she had a lot more power than she showed the world.

Oddly, the human felt like a reaper. Of course, it only made sense since she controlled the dead. Months ago, when he’d fought her briefly at the bazaar, she’d commanded a legion of birds. A lot more than most necromancers might be able to handle.

He wondered how much she could really do, and if he’d get a chance to see before she died. Because he had no doubt he’d be the one to kill her at some point. But not before he had some fun with her.

She glared at him, her eyes night-dark and full of rage.

Despite himself, he granted her a smile.

Her anger turned to confusion, and she glanced back at Hecate. “I’m sorry. I missed what you just said.”

Hecate smirked at Khent. “I said it’ll be interesting to watch you and Khent work together on this.”

“Excuse me? I must have misheard you.” Khent turned his wrath on the goddess he’d grown tired of entertaining.

It was one thing to heed her call because his sire insisted. Another to bond with a group of vampires and take them on as kin. Working to recover legendary Bloode Stones had its merits, but he didn’t want to hand them over to Hecate. To his new patriarch, sure. Varu had earned Khent’s loyalty.

Hecate had not. Putting him in a house with other vampires and casting a spell to make them all get along? A flash of momentary magical brilliance. Even gods could get lucky sometimes.

He flashed a fang at her in annoyance.

“Khent, don’t try my patience.” Her magic felt oppressive, the witch goddess’s magic tied to necromancy, after all. He supposed he should give her a modicum of respect for that, at least.

“Yes, Hecate, goddess of ghosts and witchcraft.”

“And?” She crossed her arms over her chest, one finger tapping her arm in impatience.

“And death, crossroads, boundaries, etcetera.”

She huffed. “Gods forbid I get an attagirl from a vampire. Just wait here while I grab Varu.” Turning away before he could answer, she yelled for Varu and stalked from the kitchen.

Valentine nervously glanced at him before moving back to her plate of food, fond of the kitchen island that put distance between them.

Naturally, he moved around the island to sit next to her. He decided to use her as a source of study, his scholarly pursuits always at the back of his mind.

She plucked a strawberry from the tray and shoved it in her mouth. He watched her chew. A delicate jaw, small, flat teeth. She had a slightly crooked lower incisor. How cute.

Ignoring him, she took another piece of fruit, then another.

Surprised he had to fight the urge to grin, he said, “You remind me of something.”

She paused mid-chew.

“A squirrel? No. I think, a chipmunk.”

With a glare that would make his patriarch proud, she continued to eat, focusing on the tray once more.

Ignoring him for a full minute, silent, the necromancer started to grow on him. He liked her stubbornness in the face of overwhelming odds. She had less than a tenth of a percent of doing him any damage, and they both knew it.

Before she could grab the next piece, he plucked a blueberry for her. “Open up, Valentine.”

She opened her mouth to lambaste him, no doubt, and he pushed the berry onto her tongue, taken with the heat and smooth texture of her lips.

She blinked, stunned, and closed her mouth around his finger.

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice low. “Bite me. I dare you.”

“Oh, now that’s how you make a team work.” Rolf walked back into the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Khent, my man, you are smooth. I take back what I said to Onvyr earlier.”

Khent didn’t take offense, more than pleased when Valentine yanked her head back and blushed scarlet, the rush of her sweet blood making her that much more attractive.

Though he had spent little time among humans, Khent was starting to believe he might have been wrong.

Alive, they proved incredibly interesting.

Or perhaps Valentine would prove to be the exception.

He hadn’t been this interested in their Bloode Witch.

Macy had been living with them for six months now, yet he only cared that wherever she went, her mate would not be far behind.

And Khent had use for Duncan. The revenant had mastered the art of gathering information.

Which reminded him…

“Tell us about this necromancer. What’s his name?”

She finally swallowed the mouthful of fruit she’d been shoving into her mouth, and he idly wondered if that would sweeten up her spicy blood. “Shouldn’t we wait for Hecate to return?”

“She’s not important. I’ll tell our patriarch everything you tell me.”

“He means Varu,” Rolf added helpfully. “He’s our leader now. Though Mormo wasn’t ever really in charge. He just thought he was.”

“True.” Khent nodded.

“Varu?” Valentine glanced from Rolf to Khent.

Obviously, of the two of them, Khent had the most power. Not to mention was better looking and smarter. Pleased she understood where to properly direct her attention, he nodded.

“So how many of you live here anyway? Five? Six?”

“We are kin,” Khent answered without really answering.

Rolf hopped on the counter, never content to stand still. “There are six of us. The strigoi, who killed his old master vampire back in Romania. I mean, that’s badass, right?”

Val’s eyes widened.

“That’s Varu. Then we have Duncan, the revenant. Orion, the vrykolakas.”

“The vrykolakas likes water, right?” Val asked.

Khent frowned at Rolf, who seemed a little too eager to part with information the human didn’t warrant.

“Yes. They originated off the Greek island of Santorini and are partial to the sea. Very good.” Rolf winked at her. “You met Kraft already. He’s our nachzehrer and is pretty wolfish. Didn’t your shifter buddy poison him and his mate?”

Val shrugged.

“Then we have Khent, our reaper, who enjoys dead things. Gross, but there you have it.”

“Thanks, Rolf,” Khent sighed. “Dead things aren’t gross. It’s nature’s way of protecting balance.”

“That’s very true,” Valentine agreed.

“Whatever. Corpses rot.” Rolf shrugged. “Then we come to me, the most powerful of all of us.”

“Not at all.”

“The best-looking.”

“Not at all,” Khent said again.

“And the most fun. I’m a draugr. We know how to have a good time.” He blew Valentine a kiss. “I mean, I come from the Vanargand Clan. A reference to my boy, Fenrir. Rawr.” He held up a hand and clawed at the air.

The little human scowled. “Fenrir? As in the giant wolf of Norse legend who ends the world?” She shook her head. “He’s not real.”

“Oh, but he is.” Rolf shot Khent a smug look. “Our reaper here used to be one of the Sons of Osiris. But Osiris is a stupid god.”

“Stupid?” Khent scoffed. “They’re all stupid. But at least he’s in command of the underworld and resurrection. Fenrir licks his own balls.”

“A huge plus.”

Valentine blushed and muttered, “Oh my God. Could you two please stop talking?”

Rolf ignored her. “Fenrir eats the world. He kills Odin. That’s killer. Literally.”

Khent, getting bored with the discussion, sighed. “The wolf bit off Tyr’s hand and killed Odin. Big deal.”

“But…Odin?” Valentine frowned at Rolf, likely seeing the wolf light shining from his eyes. Like Kraft, Rolf’s alternate form was a wolf. He had a decidedly predatory air about him in spite of all his joking around. Apparently, insulting Fenrir brought out some real anger in the draugr.

But what really annoyed Khent. Valentine should have been staring at him, not Rolf.

Khent cleared his throat. “The Norse are nothing but stories. Osiris, though an irksome god, I admit, represents all that is glorious in the liminality and the afterlife that is Duat. The only person in the Norse pantheon who comes close to that is Hel, Rolf. And she’s difficult to work with, bothered by everyone living and dead. ”

“Because people are annoying. What’s your point?”

Khent admitted, “I don’t have one, except to say my clan is much more important than yours.”

“Uh, bro, we’re the same clan now. Night Bloode Brothers. For life.” Rolf held up his hand. “Air high-five?”

Khent brooded. “No.”

The human watched them interact, now trying to hide a smile.

“Something amusing, human?” Khent asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

His words made her smile widen.

Rolf shook his head. “She finds you amusing. We all do really. I can’t wait to—”

“What’s the plan?” Valentine interrupted.

Khent wondered if she could tell he was two seconds away from going for Rolf’s throat. Again. Normally, he’d overlook the draugr’s pitiful arguments, but Khent didn’t like anyone thinking he’d lost a verbal skirmish. And certainly not a pretty human.

“Plan?” he answered, snide. “We kill the necromancer. You might or might not live to talk about it.”

“Not about the necromancer. I mean your plan about being a clan. What’s that all about? The Night Bloode? How can six vampires from different tribes coexist without killing each other? The detente can’t last, can it?”

“It’s Hecate’s magic,” Rolf answered. “Who knows? I don’t mind sticking around here. Now that the guys are getting mates, it’s gotten kind of fun. We have dusk fae, witches, nymphs, and now a berserker.” He eyed Valentine. “What’s one more human in the mix, eh, Khent?”

“Huh?” Valentine frowned.

Khent deliberately didn’t react to the obvious bait. “I’m giving Hecate another minute, then I’m taking Valentine to my laboratory for answers.”

“Oh, can I watch the torture? Er, the interrogation?” Rolf looked so hopeful.

“Perhaps. If you cease annoying me.”

“Like that’s going to happen. Not.” Rolf snickered.

Valentine glanced from Rolf to Khent, but her gaze continued to drift back to Khent. “I already told you I’ll help.”

“Because if you don’t, you and all your shifters will die.” Rolf nodded. “I heard.”

“No.” Ah. Now she looked annoyed with Rolf as well. “Because I want nothing more than to watch the head of my enemy roll off his fucking neck. The harder his death, the better.”

Impressed at the menace surrounding her, Khent gave a slow clap.

Rolf joined in. “I really do like her.”

“Shut up.” But Khent smiled as he said it. “His name, Valentine. We’ll start there.”

She nodded. “He’s been going by the name Spectre around the bazaar. But his real name is Vladimir of the Void. He added the Void part a few years ago.”

“And you want him dead because…?” Khent asked.

“I told you. He killed my family, Talon’s family, and every necromancer he can get his hands on. He’s a loser who steals power because he doesn’t have enough of his own.”

“Vengeance. I dig it.” Rolf nodded.

Valentine didn’t seem to hear him. “I won’t rest until he’s dead and beyond resurrection. If I die,” she said to Khent, “I give you permission to reanimate me and use me to kill him.”

“Not that I need permission. And I might just kill you anyway.”

She snorted. “You’ll try.”

Intrigued, Khent leaned closer, subtly scenting the lovely ash and honey underlying the magical cloak meant to disguise her power. “Why don’t we make a wager on it?”

“Oh, I’m in.” Rolf tried to jump off the counter, but Khent shoved him back. “Hey.”

“Bring it, reaper.” Valentine closed the distance between them, so that they sat nose to nose.

“When I win, you grant me a boon. And if you win, the same applies.”

“A boon?” She scrunched her nose, as if scenting something rotten. “No way. You could ask for anything. You’re already stronger and faster than I’ll ever be. I also know some vampires can regenerate. It would never be an even contest.”

“Ah, so you admit you’re inferior. Very good.” Khent felt vindicated.

“Oh please. You’ll cheat and be too fast for me to spot you cheating.” She turned a mutinous glare on him he found adorable.

“Nah,” Rolf interrupted. “Khent’s all about fair play. The contest would have to be centered on magic, right?

“Exactly.” He studied Rolf.

“Whoa. What’s that look?”

Khent turned to Valentine and raised a brow quickly, so that Rolf couldn’t see it. “We’ll kill the draugr and see who reanimates him first.”

Rolf didn’t look so pleased with himself now. “Now hold on. I’m not part of this game.”

Valentine smiled. “Oh, that’s a bet. Whoever raises him first wins.”

“Yes. On three. One, two, three—”