Page 6 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)

Chapter Five

Elena was a hundred feet tall when she strolled into the teeming ballroom.

The high ceilings and half a dozen chandeliers couldn’t compare to the women on either side of her.

Having agreed to wear the dresses she’d brought for them—Marisol’s short and Zuri’s shorter—they were scorching in skintight black leather.

Vegan leather for Marisol’s sake, but Elena had to admit the material of her black leather pants and corset didn’t feel artificial.

It was soft and molded to her body. Where the leather was warm, the gold bands on each of her ring fingers were cool.

Bands that linked her to the chains she’d have to wait to feel.

Around them, gowns and suits were pale ash against their flame. Beings who’d seen centuries of parties couldn’t tear their eyes away. Elena cut through them, pride pushing against her chest.

“The number of fangs being pointed in my direction…” Zuri, taller than usual in spiked heels, whispered. “Whatever you thought you were going to pay, double it.”

Elena laughed, chain wrapped around her wrist when she tugged her to her side. “You’re only negotiating against yourself,” she replied.

Zuri hid behind the ruse of coercion or self-interest, and Elena let her wear it like armor.

Like a disguise. She didn’t care what Zuri pretended.

She knew well that Zuri only ever did exactly what she wanted.

If she didn’t want this, she wouldn’t be wearing a strapless leather dress that hugged her perfect form, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing a gold ring on her neck.

But Zuri wasn’t wrong about the lust she was inspiring in Sayah’s guests. The want pulsing around the room, growing and swirling and clawing at them, was unmistakable. Elena was the most envied woman in the room and she fucking lived for it.

Instead of a traditional banquet setup, Sayah had created endless seating areas. Scattered chairs, lounges, and settees faced a circular stage at the center of the room. The night would involve some kind of show.

Choosing a black velvet sofa with room for three near the far corner of the room, Elena wrapped her arm around Marisol’s waist and walked in that direction.

Despite Marisol having been unusually quiet on the flight to Georgia and silent in the car, she wasn’t as nervous about being in an unfamiliar setting as Elena expected.

There was more curiosity than apprehension in her energy.

She was unsure… but excited by the unknown rather than scared.

When they approached the sofa, the two male vampires with their human companion stood. They’d given up their seats with muttered apologies before Elena had spoken.

“You’re such a brat,” Zuri said before taking the spot on the left.

Elena suppressed a satisfied grin. She’d gotten to remind Marisol and Zuri of her power without even trying. It was a jolt building on an unbeatable high. “I didn’t do anything,” she protested.

Marisol, eyes gold and green against her dark makeup, shook her head. “Did you send an imperceptible alpha signal?”

Elena chuckled, fangs itching to extend and sink into Marisol’s visible expanse of neck and shoulder and cleavage.

Zuri had forced her to promise that she wouldn’t bite until Marisol asked for it, but she was so eager to show her what she was missing.

With her affection for Marisol growing by the moment, a bite would only strengthen their bond, only accelerate their emotional intimacy.

But Elena wasn’t in a rush. The most delicious things were earned.

“It’s more like she never turns the damn thing off,” Zuri joked about Elena’s fictitious alpha siren, but her dark brown eyes were gleaming with delight.

She loved Elena’s power. Loved how she could control a creature like her with nothing but a look.

Or a whispered word. And damn if Elena didn’t love the feeling of surrendering to her.

Elena sat in the middle seat, pulling Marisol onto her lap instead of letting her sit next to her.

After a surprised gasp, Marisol didn’t just relax over her like a custom garment.

She twisted a little to throw her long, athletic legs over Zuri’s bare thighs.

The sight of Zuri’s hands settling possessively over her legs was a rush of desire that made Elena question why they’d ever left their room.

Moments later, Librada and Sofia arrived to stand on either side of the sofa like armed guards.

While they waited for whatever was going to happen on the stage, other cartel leaders took turns greeting Elena.

They were individual sovereigns, but they signaled their respect by coming to Elena instead of waiting for her to make rounds.

A quarter of the territories were in attendance.

The largest and most powerful cartels never missed an opportunity to have their boots licked by the least influential.

When the cartel system was created, Elena had voted to establish five regions.

The pathetic masses outnumbered the handful who agreed with her.

It was the losers who knew they’d have a better chance at their own fiefdom if there were so many more of them.

They’d ended up with one boss per state but big cities like Chicago got their own cartels.

New York City was the biggest mess, with each of the five boroughs forming their own cartels.

Nearly seventy syndicates shared power peacefully in the end.

Librada leaned over the back of the sofa and whispered in her ear. “Narine has not come.”

Elena had already seen her. Draped in a plunging ultramarine kaftan, Narine wore heavy gold earrings that cascaded over her shoulders like medallions. She’d decided to hold court with the other lesser cartels rather than greet her, but Elena let her have her moment.

Unlike her blood daughters who preferred shadow and service, Narine indulged in attention.

Events like these reminded her of her royal days.

The youngest daughter of a fourth wife, Narine was born at the height of the Qajar Empire.

It had made her a fan of luxuries and less enamored with duty and expectation.

“Don’t be a snitch,” Elena joked, her good mood extending to grace. “I didn’t even know she was going to be here. Let her be.”

Librada straightened, but Elena could feel her clenched jaw even if she couldn’t see it. The retired soldier in her fixated on respect for the chain of command. But Narine was no longer her subject.

“How old is the oldest vampire?” Marisol’s gaze darted around the room as if she might devise the answer to the question.

“Here?” She shrugged. “Halima is slippery about her age, but given what she knows about the Catholics taking over her home in Ethiopia… I would say she’s the eldest among us at four hundred or so.”

Zuri looked like she’d regretted leaving her phone in their room upstairs. She never mentioned it, but the idea of vampires living so long made her uneasy.

“But if you can potentially live forever—”

“Then where are all the ancient vampires?” Elena guessed with a little smirk. It was a good observation. One that often took others years to make.

Marisol nodded.

“As vampires age, they require blood far less often. As the hunger fades, they become more insular and the further away from humanity they get.”

“Will that happen to you?” Marisol’s eyes were wide with curiosity and a lightning strike of fear Elena meant to erase.

“No, I’ve always been insatiable,” she promised with a wicked grin.

The lights dimmed, signaling that the show was about to start. Elena relaxed into the soft upholstery, one arm around Zuri’s shoulders and the other hooked around Marisol’s waist, hand resting on her hip.

Before the lights went out completely, a circular curtain of white sheets dropped from an unseen rig in the ceiling and landed around the stage. A moment later, violin strings sighed to life, and the ballroom went dark.

At the center of the room, a light illuminated the stage. It turned the sheet suspended from the ceiling a bright white, reminding Elena of a modern lantern.

Shadows rose from the stage and danced against their canvas like smoke billowing halfway up the cylinder. Cellos, playing low and slow, joined the increasingly bright violins.

“What is this?” Marisol whispered against her ear.

“Lilith stepping out of the primordial chaos,” Elena explained just as quietly.

Marisol looked away from the stage. With her pretty eyes she said… What?

Elena’s chuckle rumbled in her throat. It was a bit of bullshit to her too, but that’s how the creation myth went.

“Lilith emerged powerful and independent. When the old patriarchal gods had no use for that, she turned her attention to the mortal world. It was too insignificant for anyone else’s attention, so she made the realm hers. ”

Discordant trumpets clashed with the elegant violins to represent strife and struggle.

It grew louder until the brass overcame the strings and the light above the stage turned red.

Marisol’s heart beat faster with each change in the music.

Elena could nearly feel the increased tempo in her own pulse.

“She spilled her blood, the Blood of Eternity, into her seven daughters.” The red light dimmed until it nearly faded completely. “Lilith kept only a drop of blood for herself. Only enough to stave off death.”

Elena didn’t add that this was a warning about how dangerous it was to birth new vampires. That like mortal women, procreation for vampires was an awesome power with tremendous risk. The process brought the mother close to death, making her vulnerable in her sacrifice until she recovered.

The music faded away to silence. Marisol held her breath until a single violin played as lightly as a butterfly landing on a petal. A shadow torch floated from the base of the screen, the faint red light from above morphing back to its original bright white.