Page 27 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)
Chapter Nineteen
Zuri jiggled the glass to get the last ice cube after finishing her private jet ginger ale. She crunched it between her teeth, earning a blank expression from Elena sitting next to her. Across from her, Bambi had fallen asleep with her arms crossed and her dark blonde hair half in her face.
“It keeps my ears from clogging with the elevation changes,” Zuri snapped at Elena’s non-verbal irritation. “Are vampires immune from the fucking ill-effects of flying?”
“Yes,” Librada answered for Elena from her place next to Bambi.
Zuri couldn’t take another second of Elena’s silence. It was the absolute worst thing Elena could do to her. What she wouldn’t give for Elena to just open her mouth and let all the toxic thoughts turning her soul septic out into the open.
Why couldn’t Elena just get the infection out? Rip open the wound that couldn’t heal while it festered.
“Sofia agreeing to stay behind came a little easily, huh?” Zuri asked, because it was true and if she didn’t get a reaction from Elena soon, she was going to open the door to her fancy little jet and fling herself into the afternoon sun.
With six more hours in the air, she couldn’t tolerate the charged silence.
Not when they were in such a tight space.
“She understands that someone must remain,” Librada started before Elena found her voice and interrupted.
“Or she’s lost confidence in my—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Zuri struggled with her seatbelt, furious that it slowed the momentum of her dramatic storm-off.
“I’m not doing this broody vampire bullshit with you today.
Not at cruising altitude.” She stomped toward the back of the plane, flung open the door to the small bedroom, and took a rage nap.
A hand on her back, soft and warm, eased Zuri out of a stress dream.
She’d been standing in front of her high school biology class, ambushed by a presentation she hadn’t known about—much less prepared for.
A presentation that determined whether she passed or failed and all Zuri could remember was that mitochondria were the powerhouses of the cell.
Information she certainly needed at crucial moments.
“Hey, we’re almost there.” Marisol’s voice was so soft against the shell of Zuri’s ear. Her lips even softer against the curve of her cheek.
Zuri reached back, pulling Marisol fully on top of her like a weighted blanket.
She wanted to stay there like Schrodinger’s Zuri, both having survived this risk and never having left Miami.
That’s how that worked, right? If she never opened her eyes.
Never moved. All possibilities could exist at once.
They could live in suspended safety if they never moved.
“You okay?” Marisol squeezed her tight like she understood what she wanted. What she needed. “This is going to be okay,” she said, even though she couldn’t possibly know.
Guilt rose in Zuri’s throat. She was the one who should be reassuring Marisol.
Making her feel safe. Instead, she was perilously close to being in the fetal position and telling the pilot not to land.
To never land. To keep flying until they reached the end of civilization.
Until she could take a complete breath again.
“We’re so close to having a plan,” Marisol muttered, nuzzling into her neck. “We’re going to get through this.”
Zuri squeezed her closed eyes until she saw a million silvery points of light. Until she subdued the tears she never said could form.
“When the fuck did you get so brave, Bambi?” Her voice was too thin. Too weighed down with her own fear.
Marisol kissed her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck. Zuri’s stupid body had apparently forgotten about being in danger, and her skin heated under Marisol’s attention. Her useless heart raced when her warm breath fluttered over her shoulder.
“I think…” She tugged aside the collar of Zuri’s T-shirt.
“When we get back home...” She slipped off Zuri and slid in behind her, hooking an arm around her waist. “We should remind ourselves of all the things worth fighting for.” She grabbed Zuri’s breast over her clothes in a shockingly possessive move.
Zuri groaned, the muted contact setting fire to her skin beneath the fabric. Her nipples hardened like they’d been aching for Marisol’s touch. Her attention.
“What about it always being me and Elena?” she teased, biting her bottom lip to keep from moaning while Marisol touched her. “Every time,” she added, embarrassingly breathless.
“Maybe I’ll make her watch,” she groaned, sinking her teeth into Zuri’s skin and rocking her hips into Zuri’s ass.
Zuri arched her back out of reflex. She urged Marisol to grind into her. Immediately, they were moving in the same rhythm as if Marisol were wearing something other than clothes.
“Come on. The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get you home.” Marisol ran her hand along Zuri’s side, following the curve of her hip before slapping her ass hard.
Zuri gasped in surprise, heat rushing through her body in a way she was sure she’d never feel again. “You’re fucking diabolical, Bambi.”
Marisol smiled against the back of her neck before whispering, “I know.”
Well, there’s one way to wake up, Zuri thought with a smirk when Marisol was gone. When the plane had landed, Zuri rolled out of bed with her underwear sticking to her body. She took a deep breath and prepared to meet what was next.
The first and last time she’d been in Venice, the only thing Zuri feared was falling in love. She’d been too late then.
Zuri’s attention floated to Elena climbing into the waiting Mercedes-Benz van, her dark hair pulled back in a severe knot, skin flawless and sharp beneath the streetlights. If Zuri didn’t know her, she’d never guess Elena had just spent endless days unraveling.
Zuri’s heart was a squeezed fist, punching the inside of her chest. She hadn’t stood a chance the second time either.
Mercifully, Elena, like Zuri, wanted to get the cult visit over with quickly. Instead of going first to her villa in the heart of the city, they were getting right to it.
When they left the mainland airport and exited the van near the docks, Zuri inhaled the salt and brine and diesel that wafted through the night. There was always magic in the stones of old cities. It called to Zuri and her warming blood answered, even if they didn’t speak the same language.
“This is so beautiful,” Marisol whispered while they stood at the dock and waited for Librada to return with their ride.
Zuri wished they had time for Elena to take them around the endless labyrinth of canals and waterways.
To show them the hundreds of bridges in the city of islands.
She didn’t let herself remember the moonless night she and Elena had spent drifting over calm waters, talking and laughing, blissfully unaware of all the bullshit that would come for them.
Librada arrived in a sleek speedboat, its dark, polished wood gleaming.
Elena stepped forward, one foot on the boat’s bobbing ledge and the other at the end of the dock.
Barely looking at her, like she was afraid to stare into the sun—afraid that the light would burn rather than purify—Elena gripped Marisol by the waist and deposited her in the boat.
When it was Zuri’s turn, she straightened, stomach tight. “We’re not fucking cargo,” she said, forcing Elena to look at her instead of just reaching out blindly.
When Elena glanced up, Zuri realized her mistake.
Elena could polish up the outside, but she couldn’t hide the pain and exhaustion in her eyes.
There it was, swimming beneath the surface like a mythical monster trying to swallow Elena whole.
Its horrifying maw wide enough to take everyone who loved her into its acidic pit of a stomach.
“We must go,” Librada said, extending her own hand to help Zuri get on the rocking boat without slipping.
And just like that, Elena was gone. Retreated inside herself like they’d never left the penthouse. Zuri’s soul ached from her absence, but she shoved it down and got on the fucking boat.
Crammed together on bench seats in the small cabin surrounded by windows so they could see while being shielded from the wind, Zuri sat on one side of Marisol and Elena on the other.
In front of them, Librada drove, cutting through the calm water of the populated lagoon.
As they sped into the darkness, the distant islands were pockets of light and life taunting Zuri.
Zuri resisted the urge to throw her arm around Bambi’s shoulders.
To let her fingertips find the nape of Elena’s neck and play with her dark silky hair and bring back the electricity of her touch.
It wasn’t fair how hard her chest ached for her.
How agonizing it was to have her so close and yet miles away.
A massive blast of magic cut Zuri’s longing short. Her attention snapped dead ahead. Barely visible, a small mass floated in the dark. The sheer force of magic cloaking it warped the air, creating a shimmering mirage like the wavering reflection of water on asphalt during a brutally hot day.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Zuri asked over the roar of the engine, pulse racing.
“What?” Marisol straightened, looking around but failing to see what Zuri saw. Failing to feel the witch magic concealing their destination.
“Wards would not work because of visiting vampires,” Lib shouted over her shoulder, animated—relatively speaking—by the prospect of educating Zuri.
“But it is best if tourists do not stumble upon The Order out of misguided curiosity. It has been concealed by magic much older than any living vampire.”
“I thought it was unusual for witches and vampires to work together.” Marisol didn’t have to explain that she meant the surprise over Baylor and Narine having worked with a coven to nearly kill Elena.