Page 10 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)
Chapter Seven
The Night of Rites had never been so exciting. Elena hadn’t cared about any of the Rites before, but with Zuri and Marisol at her sides, the Rite of Lilith unexpectedly moved her.
The making of blood daughters was always significant.
Always momentous. But there had been something about watching Nia—the boss of the New Mexico cartel wearing the same white linen as her soon-to-be daughter—take the center of the circle created by all the women in attendance.
Under the bright moon in Sayah’s rose garden, the night air was alive and sparking with anticipation.
They’d all worn white to mark the occasion.
Elena was in trousers and a vest, Zuri in a strapless dress that showed off her mouthwatering cleavage and gorgeous full figure.
In the highest heels Elena had ever seen her wear, Marisol was nearly Amazonian in wide-legged, high-waisted pants and a glorified bra.
When one of Nia’s vampires began a wordless song low in her throat and her sisters followed, Elena couldn’t stop the emotion from pricking the back of her eyes.
She was taken back to the night her own mother gave her a new life.
To the night when she’d been drained to the very brink of death only to be replenished with her mother’s own blood.
To be made truly of her mother’s essence.
And then she was shoved forward to the night she lost her. To when she’d held her limp body in her hands and couldn’t rouse her. When she’d cried and begged and screamed for her to come back. She’d been so young then. So naive in the way only youth can be; so blind to her own lack of experience.
Nia’s daughters, both blood and adopted, carried Nia and their new sister away to keep watch over them.
At home, they would have protected them in their helpless state alone.
But there, all the vampires in attendance followed like an impenetrable shield.
It was a symbol of their unity. Their collective strength.
Brothers and sons joined them for the procession back to their room. Nia would return to them the next evening, although it would take a few days to regain her full strength. It could take up to an anxious fortnight for their new sister to wake.
“That was significantly less bloody than I expected,” Marisol said, hand in Elena’s as they walked through Sayah’s great room and toward the ballroom. “It was really beautiful.”
Zuri, walking next to Marisol, nodded. There had been a few non-vampires in attendance during the ceremony—an honor bestowed on very few. Nia had demonstrated a great deal of trust in Elena to allow it.
“It’s a rather elegant design,” Elena agreed. “Nia used her daughter’s blood to give her enough strength to spill nearly all of her own. She will quite literally be blood of Nia’s blood. A connection even more complete than a biological parent.”
“A little narcissistic maybe,” Zuri said with a half-smile, “but I guess it’s kind of poetic.”
Elena tipped her head to one side. “Vampires are world-renowned for our egos.”
“What about witches?” Marisol asked, eyes wide like she’d just realized she had a thousand questions.
Zuri brushed her shoulder. “We’re born, baby, not made.”
“Not chosen, you mean.” Elena called back to an old argument they hadn’t visited in years.
“Bambi, Count Charisma thinks the world is littered with nepo-babies. Just because we inherit our gifts rather than trolling the streets looking for attractive people to spend the rest of our lives looking at.”
“It does seem a little less special if anyone can join the club,” Marisol replied with the weakest attempt at an insult Elena had ever heard. It was so weak that it penetrated her skin and seeped through her sternum and dripped into a sliver of her heart not covered in scar tissue.
Zuri laughed with her eyes and the rise in her chest and the relaxed slope of her shoulders. “We’re going to work on that trash talk, babe.” She snaked her arm around Marisol’s waist and tugged her close while they walked.
In her life, first or second, Elena had never felt more complete. She wouldn’t have them in her life without the tempest that brought them, and it was hard to be grateful for that. But she couldn’t deny that things felt more like providence than misfortune.
Together, they were a blend of moon and sun, of fire and water, of earth and air. They were the balance Elena had craved for centuries, the harmony she’d never dared dream of. They’d brought her something better than a love worth dying for. They’d given her something worth living for.
She let them walk ahead of her into the ballroom.
Converted into a lounge fit for Dionysus, the design was an obvious tribute to Jezebel.
White sheets thin as gossamer hung in panels, creating a score of semi-private areas.
Furniture, different from the night before, was all powder blue and gold indulgent elegance.
In a sea of shadow, Marisol and Zuri were blinding. Even without trying, they drew attention. Attention Elena both wanted to delight in and repel. They were hers, and no one here would dare tread upon her claim, but blood rushed to her hands and curled them into fists just the same.
“Now it all makes sense,” Narine said when she appeared at her side.
When Elena looked at her and waited for her to explain what she meant, Narine laughed.
“Why you’ve been hiding away all these months. Why you turned down my hospitality.” She grinned, eyes dark and heavy with innuendo. “You’ve got it bad for those gorgeous specimens.”
Elena forced her features into a mask, but they both knew it was too late. Her affection was etched into her skin.
“You didn’t mention that you were back with Zuri.” Narine took a sip of wine. “I don’t blame you. I prefer humans, but a witch’s unpredictability can be fun.”
Even if Narine would never trespass on what was hers, and she preferred to take human males to bed, Elena didn’t like how her gaze lingered on Zuri and Marisol.
How she followed the curve of Zuri’s hips when she sat in an oversized armchair.
How the corner of her lip twitched when Marisol slid into her lap.
“Perhaps the next time you grace me with your presence, you’ll bring them.” She dragged her lingering gaze away from them and turned it to Elena, gold goblet to her red lips. “I’d love to get to know—”
“Your time would be better spent making sure your territory isn’t a breeding ground for insurrection.” Elena’s tone was a steel trap snapping hard enough to crush bone.
Narine’s aura shifted away from amusement and into shame. “Elena,” she said, so quietly the sound was barely more than the movement of her lips. “I don’t have the words to describe how I feel about my failure—”
Elena raised a hand and willed the topic away. She was as happy that evening as she ever remembered being. Her skin was almost warm from the surge of gratitude in her chest. There was no reason to spoil it with concerns now dead.
As if the universe wanted to remind her she had better things to do with her time than think of the past, Zuri found her with her gaze and moved Marisol’s hair to one side to kiss her neck.
Marisol immediately relaxed into her, closing her eyes and parting her lips.
Zuri didn’t so much as blink while she held Elena’s gaze.
Gods, she always knew exactly what to do to her.
“Did he say anything to you?” Narine moved closer, lips to Elena’s ear so she could whisper even more quietly.
“What?” For a disorienting heartbeat, Elena couldn’t remember what the hell they’d been talking about. Couldn’t figure out why she was standing there instead of sitting with Zuri and Marisol.
“Baylor,” Narine said with an edge of impatience. “Did he say anything about who he was working with? If there was a female—”
“No,” Elena snapped. “And there was no trace of a female vampire having stepped foot in his shithole little base.”
Narine relaxed right as Marisol reached back and pulled Zuri closer by the neck. Dozens of people stopped to watch them, and Elena couldn’t endure another second of waiting.
“We will speak later,” Elena said with a hand on Narine’s arm.
Narine laughed, energy light again. “Far be it from me to keep you from the promised land, Mother.”
Cutting through the crowd, Elena didn’t speak when she reached them. Bending down, hand gently sliding over Marisol’s jaw, she kissed her in an act of absolute ownership. “Let’s go,” she growled against her hungry mouth. “Now.”