Page 39 of Between Bloode and Death (Between the Shadows #5)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-EIGHT

“You don’t just tell someone you’re keeping them without asking first,” Val said, incensed. “And what is a mate, exactly? Your baby mama? Sex toy? Wife? Girlfriend? What?”

Khent studied her. “You sound aggressive, angry even.” The bastard smiled. “I like it.”

“Stop. Just… Explain.”

He sighed. “It’s good the witch goddess left. We should talk.”

“So talk.”

“I believe in honesty. I’m curious about you, Valentine Darkmore. Because you’re not who you seem to be.”

“And who do I seem to be?” Why was her heart racing? Why did she suddenly see a shadow of those glorious black wings at his back coming to life?

“You appear human. You’ve known pain and tragedy, felt weakness and loss to those stronger than you. Yet there is a power deep inside you that’s not mortal at all. I’m connected to you through it.” He frowned. “No. Perhaps because of it?”

“No, you’re not,” she said just to be contrary. “You wanted me before that.”

“Hmm. So I did.”

“I— What?”

He shrugged, as if his confession didn’t matter. “I find you attractive. I don’t know what it is about you. Your features are pleasant enough. You’re pretty, enchanting, actually, when you smile. Your joy is surprisingly infectious.”

“Like a disease.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Not feeling the romance here, Khent.” She tapped her foot, nervous and not sure why.

He had to be jerking her chain. Sure, she felt the connection between them.

But humans and vampires didn’t mix. She had a standing date with death—no pun intended—and didn’t think she’d live through her battle with Vladimir.

Plus, she’d just met Khent not even a week ago, not counting their first battle back in February.

“I don’t know romance. I know death, war, and battle. I live for my laboratory and my pets.”

“And your family?”

“My kin?” He considered that. “I suppose so. They’ve earned my loyalty.”

“Yeah, well, I live in a world based on emotion. I have my own loyalties.” She swallowed hard then put it out there. “I find you attractive too. The sex is amazing.”

“I’m quite skilled.”

She rolled her eyes. “We have something called chemistry. But frankly, I don’t expect to live through this battle with Vladimir.”

“I agree. Without me by your side, you’ll likely die.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” What the hell are we even talking about?

“But I’ve decided to keep you. You fascinate me.” He stood and stared down into her eyes.

“So what? I’m some kind of experiment for you?”

“Yes. When I’m close to you, I sense your heartbeat, and it seeks to follow mine. You are so incredibly strong for a fragile human. Secrets and power appeal to me.” He frowned. “And then there is this ache.”

“Ache?” Great. She waited for a comment about blue balls from a guy with a hidden warped sense of humor.

“My chest… At times it grows tight. I don’t like you in danger. I don’t like your tears. And I don’t like when others look at you with greed.”

She blinked in surprise. “Is that all?”

“No. I also like talking to you, and I don’t like dealing with most people. Of my kin, Duncan and Varu are fairly intelligent. Only Rolf is passably acceptable as a conversationalist. Mostly we discuss magic. I don’t care for his jokes.”

“You like talking to me?” The reaper didn’t realize it, but what he described sounded a lot like affection.

Her heart warmed, and she felt herself smiling. Even more when he frowned.

“What’s so funny?”

“I think you like me.”

“Haven’t I just said so?”

“Yes, but I’m a lesser human,” she reminded him, always annoyed at the “lesser” that preceded “human.”

“Well, you’re human.” He glanced at her cup still on the table. “But not lesser. I would never have a lesser being for a mate. Thus you’re elevated to slightly less than myself.”

“Better than Onvyr?” she teased, not sure why she found this ridiculous situation amusing.

“Oh, worlds better. He’s a dusk elf.”

“A dark elf, you mean.”

“No. You haven’t seen him during the day.

Unlike his sister, whose skin is gray at night, Onvyr is dark, his hair white.

During the day, his colors switch, so that his skin is pale and his hair dark.

It’s an interesting phenomenon I’d like to study more, but the fae seems unlikely to comply.

He doesn’t like my company.” Khent smirked. “I scare him.”

“I scare most people.”

“Yes, and I approve. That should make you happy. But I understand the human sentiment for acceptance.” He glanced around then sat her with him at the table. “I will tell you a secret that you can never tell another.”

“Okay.”

“I, too, long for acceptance. But not from my kin or my sire.”

“That’s a secret?”

He frowned.

She waited for him to continue.

“Acceptance of my fate. It was once a tradition for the Sons of Osiris to visit Shai, an ancient Egyptian goddess aligned with destiny. We kept this a closely guarded secret as it’s frowned upon to have dealings with the divine in any light.”

“But you’re working for Hecate.”

“With Hecate, but she’s the exception as she was owed favors by my kins’ sires. Thus we are obligated. I’m not part of the Night Bloode because I wanted to be here. I was beholden. Vampires always honor bloode-debts.”

She nodded, a little confused but fascinated by his story.

“Something I had forgotten until only recently. Shai gave me a secret name—Imy-Mut. It means ‘Champion of the Dead.’ Proud to have something special none of my clan had, I bragged about it to my sire, which unfortunately ended our association with divinity. The only regret I admit to still having. The goddess was kind at a time when I needed kindness.” He scowled. “Never repeat that.”

“Never.” She twisted an invisible lock over her lips.

He nodded. “The life of any vampire is fraught with danger and violence. Without those, we never learn how to harness our abilities or conquer our enemies. But reapers are more cerebral than our tribal brothers. Well, perhaps not more than revenants. Still, we’re feared and loathed more than any other tribe.

Including the useless upir.” He sneered in disgust.

“Shai not only gave me a title, she also gave me a hint of purpose, a question that had to be answered. I put my curiosity to good use. Learning as much as I could, stealing into crypts, reanimating things which, in retrospect, should not have been given new life. There were many wars fought to great glory. Yet they never satisfied. My purpose hidden from me.”

“Until now,” she said.

“Until now.”

She didn’t know why, but being so close to him, listening to the smooth cadence of his words, seemed to put her under a spell. She couldn’t look away from him.

He must have felt it too because his eyes smoked with the same power that emanated from his wings. In a voice that resonated with supremacy, he stated, “I am Imy-Mut. And you, Meryt, are mine to guard.”

It felt like a pledge. Deep down, Val sensed his words meant so much more. Another internal bond clicked into place.

“Meryt? What does that mean?”

He blinked, shook himself, and downed the rest of his drink. The smokiness in his eyes faded.

Odd. He appeared discomfited. Something Khent would never allow to show on his face. He sure hadn’t in the short time she’d known him, what felt like forever but was a blip in his lifetime.

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Five hundred sixty-three years. You?”

“Twenty-seven, grandpa.”

His slow smile heated her up. “But such a well put together twenty-seven.”

“Oh, stop.”

He kept looking at her possessively.

“I wasn’t kidding before,” she blurted. “I will probably die soon.”

“As long as it’s a good death.” He didn’t seem to be taking her seriously. “I meant it when I said I’ll help you with your magic. You have an inner strength that is way beyond what you’ve used, I imagine. I look forward to helping you access it.”

“Why? I’m just a human.”

“My human.” He flashed a fang, and his eyes burned red.

She sighed. “I’m not anybody’s.”

“Vampires only hear what we want to hear. And I…” He trailed off as he stared at her, his eyes narrowing on her face. “Your eyes are dark brown.”

“Um, I know.”

“Normally. But now they are red, like mine. Why is that, my little human…who’s not so human?”

She had no idea what he was talking about. “Khent?”

He glanced at the cups on the table. “Do you feel strange after having consumed mead?”

“Having…what?” She hurried to the cup she’d been drinking, smelled regular beer, then looked at Morpheus’ empty mug. It smelled of that divine sweet taste she’d had before. “Oh my God. I drank mead?”

“Yes, yet you haven’t become more aggressive than usual.” Khent nodded. “Something that didn’t seem to surprise Hecate when she fed it to you. I wonder why that is.”

“So do I!”

He watched her.

She watched him back. Felt no urge to rip his head off or tear anyone to pieces. “Why aren’t I going crazy?”

“That’s an excellent question. Because only the immortal can consume mead. Thus you, Valentine Darkmore, are not exactly human.”

Hecate had been eavesdropping. But as soon as she heard Khent confess to his talk with Shai, heard him call Val his meryt and put that together with the black wings stirring at his back and the odd fluctuations in Val’s powerful aura, she knew.

Crap on a cracker.

That was why Nergal and Vladimir of the Void’s all-consuming hunt for a certain gemstone—not a Bloode Stone—made her so uneasy.

As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.

The Darkness That Comes might be the end of them.

But not if Valentine succumbed to her fate before then. If you-know-who rose from their cradle of slumber, there would be no more world to end. So sad that Khent had a chance at love only to have to destroy that which would have made him whole.

He wasn’t the only one who’d talked to Shai over five hundred years ago. Hecate had done her best to ignore it, but now that the future had come to pass as was foretold, sacrifices had to be made.

Talk about a clusterfuck of hellish proportions.

Time to see a major pain in her ass about a favor.