Page 45 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

45

BLAKE

W hy did Evangeline have to feed from Malachi Draven, of all people? Blood pounded in my temples as I imagined hunting him down and tearing his treacherous, lying head from his traitorous body with my bare hands while she watched, just to prove I was the better male.

Jealousy raged through my veins like a marauding army, crushing down everything in its path.

Logic.

Common sense.

Fucking reason .

I was mad with this overwhelming need to possess her, to protect her, to keep her safe. None of which was logical, or even sane.

I kept telling myself I needed to be rational, to use my head.

But jealousy won out, every time.

“I never met him before today. Why don’t you tell me how long you think I’ve known him, Blake, since you have all the answers?” Oh, that look on her face promised pain, and God help me, my cock hardened, a floodwater of lust pouring through me at that defiant challenge in her eyes.

“You sank your teeth into him pretty fucking fast for just meeting him.” Fury tightened my throat until I could barely get the words out. “And how did Draven beat us to Virginia? I smelled him all over that motel room you were staying in. Care to explain that?”

Oh, I’d pictured them together, alright, writhing on that mattress and that image had given me the rage I’d needed to leave Silas’s mercenaries strewn all over that field in pieces.

To let my shadows wreak destruction over what little remained of White Chapel. When I’d left, the Silverwood legacy was in ruins.

My fangs dug into my bottom lip, a droplet of blood trickling down my chin. I was barely holding myself together, some deep, throbbing torment squeezing my chest like a vise ripping me apart.

That pressure in my chest, right…

Right below…my heart.

Fuck.

I jolted like I’d been struck by lightning, a sharp spear of clarity cleaving through me as the truth squeezed my heart tighter. I was bound to her. I could hear her thoughts, a rare bond, usually forged over centuries…or between mates.

Mates.

Riordan’s slow smile was maddeningly smug, shock jolting through me when Evangeline reached up and massaged her sternum, the exact same place where my own ache grew more and more urgent.

Watching her delicate fingers rub, my own tender spot tightened even more, like a muscle spasming, or a heart breaking, and the truth struck me so hard and so fast I couldn’t deny it any longer.

Fuck, we were really mates…weren’t we?

Evie saw where I was looking and dropped her hand, “I…don’t know how Malachi found the hotel. I swear, I never saw him before today.”

I believed her.

I believed every word, and I wanted to fall on my knees and tell her how wrong I’d been about everything. I yearned to grovel and kiss her feet and tell her how I’d gone to Virginia to save her, because she’d been the only thing that mattered.

Then Malachi swept in and stole her away.

Took the honor that should have been mine, making me look like a fool. Less than a minute later, she’d had her fangs in his throat.

Not only that, but Riordan’s scent was all over her.

And just like that, jealousy came roaring back.

I fought for air, lungs burning, adrenaline and rage flooding through me. Everyone got to have Evangeline, except for me . No, even worse .

She’d given herself to them.

If she was really my mate…why did everyone get to have her except me?

“Are you seriously suggesting I subjected myself to torture at the hands of my own family because I’m what? In some kind of partnership with that swarmy Viking fuck?” She burst to her feet.

I wiped every trace of emotion from my face. “The possibility occurred to me.” What the fuck was I even doing? From Riordan’s expression, he was wondering the same. Yes, I have clearly lost my damn mind over this female.

She threw her hands up in the air. “You’re even more of a bastard than him,” she hissed, pointing at Rohr, shaking her head with a bitter laugh.

“The two of you, so quick to assume I’d stab you in the back the first chance I got. I’m tired of proving myself to everyone. I don’t care what you believe. In fact, believe the worst if that helps you sleep at night.”

“What happened, then?” I demanded, guilt and jealousy and hurt warring inside me. “Why did you feed from him? Why ?”

“Because I was starving, Blake. Because I thought I was fucking dying. Because I hadn’t fed in days and I couldn’t think around my own hunger. Are those enough reasons for you?”

She advanced me, hands clenched into fists. “Do you think it meant something ? Well, it fucking didn’t. And Riordan doesn’t mean anything to me, either.”

Her finger poked me in the center of my chest. “I would have fucking chosen you, but you left me lying in a fucking entryway, half naked, and called me your enemy, so you weren’t a fucking option. Does that make you feel better?”

My entire body relaxed.

I’d been so desperate to hear her denial. Needed to hear her say the words so they were etched on my heart. That she wanted me, trusted me.

Not Riordan, not fucking Malachi. Me .

But…

Some of the rage ebbed from my chaotic mind. I was the one who’d ruined everything between us. I was responsible for my aching heart, for the tears shimmering in Evie’s eyes…

I was the reason for everything.

And I was the only one who could fix this.

“That’s enough, Blake.” I flinched when Riordan’s cold, authoritative tone took on a cutting edge I’d never heard before. “You’ve never fallen for Malachi’s games before, why are you letting the bastard get you all twisted up now?”

“Fuck you, Riordan.” But some dark corner of my mind paused, knowing he had a point.

“ Think , you jealous bastard. This is what Malachi Draven does . He destroys alliances from the inside out, like he’s tearing Tyrell’s operation apart as we speak. You and I have to be smart, and we have to stick together, like we always have.”

He paused as if debating his next words. “Evangeline didn’t betray you; she’s not part of some conspiracy. Draven is an opportunistic bastard who took advantage of her hunger to force her into a life debt.”

“What the fuck?” I spun to face her, jealousy forgotten in the face of Malachi’s new crime. “What did that bastard do to you?”

“I didn’t know who he was,” she admitted quietly. “I just…I was starving . I was hurt. He fed me a…little of his blood and I was so hungry I couldn’t stop. I wanted more. He said I hadn’t transitioned yet, that I was dying, that only drinking from him could save me.”

She chewed her lip, eyes full of doubt. “He tricked me, didn’t he? I wasn’t really dying?”

That fucking bastard . Jealousy turned to rage, the cold, dark kind that I’d gotten familiar with after losing my family. What the fuck was I doing? Rohr was right. I’d been played.

That, and the mating bond was fucking with my emotions.

She sighed and squared her shoulders. “Whether I would have died or not, whether Malachi lied or not, doesn’t matter now. I fed from him. He said I owed him; I told him to fuck right off. He threatened to take his blood back, then Riordan showed up.”

“A life debt?” I was going to kill him for sure now . “That fucker .”

“I don’t owe Malachi shit,” Evangeline muttered at the same time Riordan hissed, “See? This is only another one of his games.”

“I never saw Malachi Draven before today.” Every clearly enunciated word stabbed me in the chest, my jealousy ebbing away. “I don’t know how he found my motel room, but it wasn’t my fault he followed me to White Chapel. I covered my tracks so well, even you had a hard time finding me. You said so yourself.”

“Stop wasting time on Malachi. Back to Tyrell.” Riordan was getting exasperated, and I could hardly blame him. “We have two days before Malachi breaks the bond, and once that’s done, Blake and I are as good as dead.” He sat down opposite Evangeline, hands on his knees, his eyes on the dagger between them.

“How does the dagger work?”

I drifted closer, curious, as Evie pulled the velvet bag closer, a hint of fear on her face. “The metal is infused with old magic and is said to be our greatest weapon. I’ve never wielded the blade myself, but all our family histories mention the Harpe Dagger. One of my uncle’s used to call it the Scythe of Cronus as a joke, but…”

“Which uncle?” I asked softly.

“Dante. He taught us strategy and history, like where the dagger came from. Alistair was hand-to-hand and weapons training. Ezra took care of security, though after today, my father will probably demote him to latrine duty.” Her lips quirked.

“What about your father?” I hovered close enough to feel the heat coming off her, but didn’t touch her, no matter how much I wanted to. “What did he do?”

“My father was in charge of torture,” she said flatly, and every muscle in my body went taut at that hushed, halting tone.

Vampires were a cruel, bloodthirsty species, prone to hurting each other just for fun, and I’d heard that strained inflection in too many survivors’ voices, too many times not to understand the suffering behind it.

“And he was a very good instructor. Very thorough.” Evie rubbed her wrist like she was reliving some past pain, and that cold, dark anger raised its head once more.

“Silas taught me, with painstaking care, how to cause maximum pain to a target with minimal effort. I hated the evil things he’d shown me, hated that I’d put some of his lessons into practice when I was searching for my sister’s kidnapper. Hated that…” She stopped, eyes clearing, like she’d forgotten where she was.

“Tell us what you know about the dagger, Evie?” Riordan asked gently, as if he knew where she’d gone in her head and had the decency to pull her back out.

“The dagger has an iron infused core, encased in gold, which is encased in silver,” she recited, as if she’d spent years memorizing the information. “According to legend, the blade was made in Rome, in the forge of a very famous smith known for his metalworking skills by the name of Gaius Faber. He was working during the reign of Marcus Aurelius.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Yeah, that one.” She carefully picked a leaf from the velvet.

“The dagger was made specifically for some Roman general named Laurentius Talarius and presented to him at a ceremony in front of the Coliseum after his final campaign. When General Talarius disappeared after Rome fell, the dagger was lost for a thousand years.”

“Somehow it ended up in my ancestors’ possession by ‘a divine act of God,’ according to family legend. I used to pester Uncle Dante for more details, but he always cautioned me not to question destiny.

“As far as how the blade works…back around 1300, when the Silverwoods first began hunting… vampires …they were in league with a coven of powerful witches. The dagger is infused with a corruption spell. Anything organic the blade pierces will die, so long as that’s the intention of whoever wields this weapon.”

“So intention paired with magic makes this dangerous?” I asked.

“According to my uncle, the bearer has to manifest their purpose, and only then will the blade carry out their will.”

She paused, staring so steadily at Riordan unease trickled down my spine. “And that’s where your clever plan falls apart, Your Highness. I can’t be the one to cause the distraction, because Malachi can’t wield this blade.”