Page 25 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)

Chapter Seventeen

Drained after having accommodated thirty people in the bayside mansion that Elena had obviously never lived in, Marisol dragged herself into the penthouse after sunset.

She’d been a little surprised that they’d only lost two families, but she was sure it had more to do with indoor plumbing and actual beds than a willingness to help Elena.

Judith had all but told her she’d only stayed to convince the others not to sacrifice themselves for the potential of hope.

Marisol hadn’t disagreed. She’d reminded those who would listen that they had a lot to consider.

That maybe a shot at a life actually lived was better than a stunted one endured while constantly running. Was there really any safety in that?

Marisol trudged down the hall like each leg was cased in cement.

She’d barely been living before she met Elena, but at least she’d had hot showers and a job and friends—well, colleagues she enjoyed, anyway.

The point remained. She was happier in mortal peril as long as she was with the women she loved. The women who loved her.

Marisol laughed to herself at the height of her delirium. She heard Zuri in her mind saying: Jesus, Bambi, mortal fucking peril? You should get into motivation speaking.

As soon as she stepped into the sprawling main living space, Marisol felt like there’d been a shift in the scores of vampires just waiting around.

They were still just kind of sitting there—robots waiting for activation codes or whatever the heck Zuri called them—but there was a noticeable lift in the air.

Could it be hope? Had Elena come out of her office? Had she said something to them?

Energized, Marisol had to resist sprinting to the bedroom. She trusted the people she’d been sharing space with for the last couple of weeks, but she couldn’t help thinking about a predator’s instinct to chase things that ran.

When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, she was greeted by an enormous and perfectly made bed. A bed that had been cold and empty without Elena in it. Before she could feel sorry for herself, a thud sounded in the closet, followed by a string of Spanish curses. Zuri.

One of Elena’s leather duffle bags sat on the upholstered bench at the center of the walk-in closet, Zuri nearby, picked a pair of boots off the floor.

“What are you doing?” Marisol chuckled, the sight of Zuri easing her tense muscles and loosening the sour knot in her stomach. “If you’re going to stress-organize, you should at least pick a place that doesn’t already look like a Macy’s.”

Zuri turned her attention toward her, dark brown eyes so rich, all Marisol wanted to do was wrap herself in her warmth.

Escape into the comfort of Zuri’s arms and not go back out there.

Not ever. But she couldn’t indulge the weakness.

If her grip slipped on what she had, she might never gather another ounce of strength again.

“How’d it go at the house?” Zuri strode toward her, reaching for her hip and pulling her in.

Face nuzzled in the crook of Zuri’s neck, she took a deep, greedy breath. She inhaled every drop of her scent. Zuri was earth and spice and a magic that had nothing to do with her powers.

“It was fine. This Judith—”

Marisol’s fatigued brain belatedly alerted her to the flash of ink that hadn’t been there before. She pulled away, taking Zuri’s wrist and turning her forearm over to reveal a red geometric tattoo of interlocking triangles.

“What the heck is this?” Marisol leaned in closer, inspecting the ink that didn’t look at all fresh.

“What do you mean?” Zuri couldn’t play dumb if she’d had a degree from Juilliard.

Marisol flicked her gaze up at her.

Zuri’s full lips spread into a lopsided smile. “Well, Bambi, It turns out all kinds of shit happens when you consecrate the ground of a new coven house.”

“Shut up! It worked?” She flung her arms around Zuri, pulling her in and hugging her so tight.

“Congratulations. God, I’m so proud of you.

” She squeezed her harder. “Will you tell me all about it?” She needed something good.

Anything that felt like a real step forward and not the endless flinging of spaghetti at the wall, hoping anything would stick.

“I promise to tell you everything,” Zuri replied in a way that was too heavy with something unreadable.

Marisol tensed and leaned away. “Why do I hear a but in there?”

“There’s no but,” she promised. “More like I’ll tell you in a couple of days.”

Marisol furrowed her brow and glared at the bag. “What the hell are you planning, Zuri?” The edge in her tone didn’t feel borrowed like it often did. Her skin burned hot and her hands trembled and her entire essence roared with absolutely not to whatever this is.

“Lib’s vampire cult contact came through… Well, sort of.” Zuri reached for her again, but Marisol stepped back. Zuri’s jaw flexed with disappointment but she didn’t move again.

“What do you mean, sort of?”

“She agreed to talk, but Lib didn’t want to risk asking her about the Aglion over the phone,” Zuri explained like every word pained her. “I can’t let her go to Venice by herself, Bambi. We don’t know if there’s a trap—”

“Venice?” Marisol’s pulse thumped so hard in her throat it made her question a screech. “You better mean the town on the Gulf Coast.”

Zuri tipped her head to the said as if to say, we both know I mean the damn country in Europe.

“It should only be for a couple of days,” she said like that mattered. “We’ll get over there, find out what they know about the Aglion so we can make the most of them in a fight and stop whoever the fuck is trying to kill you and the rest of the—”

“I’m coming with you,” Marisol said the way Elena would. It wasn’t a question. It was a complete freaking sentence.

“No, Bambi.” Zuri shook her head. “You can’t—”

“Oh, now it’s I can’t?” Anger rose so hard and so fast, it nearly knocked Marisol off balance.

“You’re not my mother, Zuri.” Her skin was so hot it felt like a fever and her wings itched to rip through her shirt again.

“Oh, guess what. She can’t tell me what the hell to do either.

” Marisol tore one of her shirts off a hanger and grabbed another bag from the shelf.

“It’s bad enough that Elena won’t talk to me.

Can’t even stand to look at me.” She unzipped the bag and dropped it on the floor before spiking the shirt in.

“That we’re already doing all this shit alone and working apart and the craziest thing happening right now isn’t my fucking bio mom appearing out of nowhere with her merry band of…

of… whatever the hell.” She slammed a pair of jeans into the bag because what the hell did one wear to meet a Venetian vampire cult?

“And now you want to leave me behind. To throw me aside like everyone else—” Her voice cracked and tears she chose to believe were rage-filled stung her eyes.

Zuri reached for her, light fingers gently clasping her wrist. “Hey,” she spoke softly. The kind of tone Marisol usually heard when they were in the dark, entangled in each other and Elena and covered in hard-earned sweat. “Come here.”

She tugged on her arm and Marisol was too weak to resist. Too weak not to want Zuri’s comfort and reassurance.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to come with me.” She wrapped her arms around Marisol and held her close to her chest. “I don’t want to be away from you even for a second—”

“Because you’re scared that—”

“Because I love you,” Zuri said before pressing her lips to Marisol’s temple.

The gesture was like a plug yanked out of a drain and all of Marisol’s anger rushed out of her body. She was left with nothing but trembling muscles and tears and Zuri holding her up more than she was hugging her.

“I love you,” Zuri repeated like she hadn’t trusted Marisol to hear her the first time.

Like she needed to burn it into her heart.

“And you’ve got your hope to take care of,” she said like they’d officially christened the band of Aglion.

“And we just don’t know what will happen if we walk in there with you. ”

“They’ll think I’m a witch,” Marisol responded weakly. “Elena did.”

“Maybe,” Zuri agreed, hand moving in soothing circles on Marisol’s lower back. “Or maybe they’ll know exactly what you are.”

In the silence, Marisol’s thoughts moved in a hundred different directions. She wasn’t reckless. There had to be some objective reason she couldn’t be left behind. That she couldn’t be discarded.

“If part of the reason is to get intel on who is ever after us….” An idea formed as Marisol spoke. “Well, then I’m the one who needs to hear it.”

“Bambi—”

“What, are you going to Clara and the others to share what you learned?” Marisol leaned back to look at Zuri.

She imagined the impenetrable wall that was Judith.

“Or what? You’re going to tell me what they said and I’m going to pretend they told me?

I’m not even sure they’re going to trust what I say, but I’m sure as hell not going to take a chance at lying. ”

“Babe—”

“Or is it that you think I can’t handle myself, Zuri?

” Marisol reached for her wings as effortlessly she’d exhaled.

She didn’t know what it meant that power seemed so much more accessible since she’d been with the others, but this time, she controlled their density and made her wings translucent as the room filled with the electrical hum of potential.

“Jesus,” Zuri whispered, eyes wide like they always were when she remembered who the hell Marisol was.

“You’re not going to tell me where I can and can’t go. And you’re not going to leave me behind,” she said with a voice that shattered at the end.

Zuri looked at her with all the love one person could feel for another. She stepped into her space and Marisol reflexively curled her iridescent wings around her.

“Okay, Bambi. Potential suicide mission for both of us then,” Zuri whispered against her lips. “I’m not leaving you.”

Marisol didn’t wait. She crashed into Zuri, pouring every ounce of her fear and pain and relief into their kiss. Zuri’s mouth was heat and safety and home, and Marisol clung to her like the world might split open if she let go.

Zuri kissed her back, deep and unhurried. She grabbed fistfuls of Marisol’s shirt, keeping her tethered to the ground when all she wanted to do was float away.

Marisol lost herself in the electric press of Zuri’s lips, the strength of her arms, the fevered intoxicating rush of being seen and chosen, over and over, even when loving meant risking everything.

All she needed was the press of Elena’s body at her back. Her arms encircling her as she kissed the back of her neck. Locked between Elena and Zuri was the only time Marisol felt safe. Felt belonging at her very core.

Elena’s absence was heavy and cold, but Marisol found hope in the way Zuri held her tight. Hope that Elena would come back to them. That the frayed strands of their bond would be mended. Restored. And when hope was all she had, she made sure it was enough.