Page 47 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

47

EVANGELINE

R iordan’s speech wound through my chest like a ribbon and wrapped around my heart like a bow. He made me believe he could win this fight.

Hell, that speech made me want to go and fight alongside him, sword raised in the air like a goddamned warrior.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off Blake.

He stared at Riordan like a thirsty man looked at a mountain spring. Awestruck, so much hope shining in his face, he was transformed back into the tender, protective male who’d held me like I was a treasure, who’d promised to protect me forever.

This arrogant, prickly bastard who went out of his way to piss me off…this was his dream, too.

A better world.

A better life for their people.

For someone who’d never looked past their next meal, or putting a roof over their head, or keeping their little sister safe, lofty dreams were nothing short of fantasies.

Thinking small was one thing, thinking this big…I couldn’t comprehend the scope. But some piece of me had always yearned to be a part of something larger than myself, something that would change people’s lives for the better.

“Can we see the dagger?” Riordan asked hopefully, nodding at the filthy bag. “After everything I’ve heard, I’m curious what it actually looks like.”

I pulled the bag closer and worked the strings loose, dirt and leaves flaking off all over the table. The dagger was heavy, heavier than any useful weapon would be—no surprise since it was strictly ceremonial. “I’ve only seen this once before in person,” I murmured, slipping my hand into the bag, hesitating before I closed my fingers around the handle.

After the Vault door debacle, caution would be the smart choice.

Stories about the Harpe Dagger had built up in my head for so long, I half-wondered if the weapon would live up to the hype, but the second I touched the hilt, a faint hum shivered through my palm, some truth to the magic trapped in the metal, I supposed.

“It’s quite beautiful.” I pulled the bag off, revealing the dagger inch by glorious inch. The gleaming blade was engraved in strong, cleanly etched Latin, the leather-wrapped pommel tipped with a single glittering ruby of the deepest red. Unlike normal silver, this knife didn’t tarnish, the metal as brilliant as the day it was forged.

There was some wear on the blade, two small nicks, hardly large enough to notice, but I stared at the exceptional relic soberly.

We all did.

“This has killed a lot of your people,” I said softly. “And for that, I’m sorry.”

Blake crouched over me, eyes glued to the weapon in my hand. “So a steel-iron core, then gold, then Laurium silver?” My skin prickled from his closeness, the heat of his body, his rich scent washing over me.

“Yes, the Laurium silver mines produced the purest silver at the time. Uncle Dante was a stickler for history, in case you couldn’t tell.” I meant it as a joke, but Blake’s expression hardened.

“Don’t touch that silver, little slayer. It will leave a burn on your skin that hurts like Hades.”

“I won’t.” I’d been careful not to even brush my wrist against the intricate setting on the end, where that enormous ruby gleamed. “It’s heavier than I imagined. And I can sense the magic flowing through it.”

My eyes flipped up to meet Blake’s. “Witch magic feels…strange.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when a shiver of cold rippled up my arm and through my shoulder…

“Fuck.” I dropped the knife, sending the priceless blade clattering across the table like a common butter knife. I writhed, trying to escape the burning between my shoulder blades.

“Evie, what’s wrong?” Blake gripped my wrist, one hand behind my head, cradling my neck as agony seared through me. “Talk to me.”

“The mark, the mark hurts ,” I sobbed through gritted teeth, trying to claw at my back. God, the cold was so intense I expected to smell burning flesh. “Please, please …”

“ Blake, get her out of ? —”

I had no warning, not even a word before a howling wind engulfed me, sweeping me away. I screamed out a curse, then Blake’s name, but the wind tore those away, too. His arm wrapped around the small of my back, crushing me against him, my face buried in his chest so I could finally catch my breath.

“Hang on. That sensation was the brand triggering. Silas was getting close.”

“You could have warned me before you dragged me away. I think I’m going to throw up,” I muttered into his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” His lips brushed my ear. “All I thought about was getting you out.”

His words shouldn’t have made me feel warm all over, they really shouldn’t have, but goddamn, I was a sucker. I swear, he’d been such an asshole to me, I should make him work harder for forgiveness, but my treacherous body—to tightly pressed against his—had other ideas.

“Almost there.”

God, I hoped so, because I wasn’t feeling so good.

Then everything stopped, which was almost as bad as when everything was moving. I hadn’t even gotten my bearings before I heaved the contents of my stomach into the grass.

“Why do I feel like shit?” I moaned, sounding like a whiny brat and totally relying on Blake to hold me up, which was embarrassing. “I’ve done this a bunch of times before.”

“Because of that brand on your shoulder. Simply put, tracking magic grows…roots, which make it incredibly difficult to remove the mark. But the magic threads have infiltrated every part of you, so when you act in opposition to the brand, the magic…doesn’t like it and reacts.”

“What are you talking about, Blake? I have roots in me now?”

“Silas was close enough to trigger the brand, and he basically poisoned you with magic.”

“I feel poisoned. This is awful.” But now that I had my feet on the ground, the nausea was fading, along with the burning sensation. I straightened, rubbing that odd tightness beneath my heart, like I’d pulled a muscle or something.

Blake froze, his intense gaze fixed on my hand clutching at my shirt, a small, slightly hopeful smile on his face.

“I had to put distance between us and Silas.” His voice was so soft I could barely hear him.

“Riordan will catch up; he stayed behind to do some reconnaissance. Don’t worry, the dagger is in his possession. He’ll take it back to Crimson House and lock it in the safe in his office. It’s plenty secure.” Blake carefully let me go, hands resting lightly on my hips until I got my shaking knees to stop wobbling. “Better?”

“Better. At least the world stopped spinning.”

And now that it had, I didn’t know where to look first. At the enormous, rambling white house—more of a castle, really, given it had no less than five turrets—surrounded by pink cherry trees in full bloom, or across the sweep of dark-blue water sparkling beneath the sun, dotted with sailboats.

Or toward Manhattan, rising in the far-off distance like a mouthful of clustered teeth.

“Blake…where exactly are we?”

Blake hesitated as he surveyed my face then offered me his hand. “We’re in Raven’s Hollow. Come on little slayer, let’s see a witch about removing a tracking spell, shall we?”

Even I had to smile at that, sliding my hand into his. Only because I didn’t know where we were going and definitely not because it felt good to have his big, warm palm wrap around mine.

“Aria?” Blake knocked again, louder this time, his knuckles striking the wood door frame with the same aggressive bullheadedness he applied to every other situation. “Come on, I know you’re here.”

“Maybe she’s not?” I gripped his hand harder and leaned out to get a better view of the perfectly tended backyard. “I mean, she could be anywhere.”

Witches were not exactly a known entity to me, more like a cautionary tale. I had spent the better part of my life walking the narrow line between the human world and the supernatural one, so I knew witches existed, but the Silverwoods, especially, shared a complicated history with the covens, at best.

At worst, we were at war. I didn’t know if we were still at war, and if that war applied to me or only my father and uncles.

“Blake, maybe we should leave. Try something else. The mark doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Why so nervous, little slayer?” he teased, following my gaze around the corner toward the backyard, where a strikingly ornate Victorian greenhouse was outlined against the blue of Long Island Sound.

“Uhm…there’s probably something you should know.” He tugged me down a cobblestone path then out onto the clipped grass. “My uncles…my father, they aren’t exactly on good terms with witches.”

“That’s not a surprise, given they’re a bunch of barbaric fucks.” Blake headed straight for the greenhouse, where the door stood half open. A trap, if I’d ever seen one, and I tried digging my heels in but only succeeded in tearing muddy furrows into the perfectly manicured lawn.

Yeah, somebody was definitely going to have to reseed that.

“Blake, I’m serious. My family’s been at war with the witches for centuries. For all I know, they’ll kill me the second they see me.”

“Nobody’s going to kill you, little slayer.” He finally stopped and gripped my shoulders, stooping down until he looked me dead in the eye.

“Shit. I’ve gone about this whole thing wrong. There’s so much I should have told you, and I will, but we don’t have time for an etiquette lesson. You’re not a Silverwood anymore. You’re part of the Nocturne Clan now.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” I tried to twist away but he held me tight.

He sighed and wound a strand of hair around his fingers, dragging his thumb down my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “You belong to us, Evangeline. You ceased to be a Silverwood the moment Rohr’s blood began flowing in your veins. After you left, he and I decided. Your name is Evangeline Marten Graves now.”

The name rolled off his tongue like he’d been waiting forever to speak it, and a shiver thrilled down my spine at the sheer ferocity of his stare.

A shiver of pure excitement, but fear, too, because the weight of that look felt momentous.

“I made myself a promise, Blake, a very long time ago.” I strung the words together carefully, not wanting to ruin this moment yet knowing there was a line I had to draw.

Now, before it was too late.

“I’ve belonged to someone before. So thoroughly I didn’t have a beginning or an end. They ruined me, and it took all my strength to crawl up out of that hole they put me in. I will never allow myself to be controlled like that again, to the point where my thoughts are not my own. I won’t be caged, not even by you. I need you to understand that.”

I expected him to stomp away in a fit of temper, but all Blake did was hold my stare, the golden flecks in his eyes flashing.

“I have no desire ,” Blake spoke, as carefully as I had, as if he, too, knew how tenuous this moment was between us. “To cage your body or your mind, or to take your free will away, Evangeline.” No little slayer this time, no nicknames between us, and another one of those full-body shivers hummed through me.

“I have no desire to possess any of those pieces of you. However…” His smile turned his face into a work of art, the sun gilding one side in gold. “The only part of you I wish to possess is your heart.”

He laid a finger over my lips when I went to protest. “You can’t deny there’s something between us. Something I won’t put a name on this soon, but all I’m asking for is a chance. One chance to prove I’m worthy of you. I’ve been a fool, Evangeline. A stubborn, jealous fool, but I’m not going to make that mistake again.

“Only when you ran did I realize what I’d lost. Only when I found you again and saw how badly Silas had hurt you”—his jaw clenched and a vessel in his neck began to pound—“did I realize true fear. And only when I smelled Malachi Draven’s scent on you did I know what true jealousy felt like.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I argued past his finger.

“I know that, but I’m old and cantankerous and it takes me longer than most to figure things out, Evie.” My head spun, not only from Blake’s blunt admission, but from his steady, serious tone. This was no game; he meant every word.

“In so many ways, I’ve fucked up. I have severed every tie that bound us with my hate, and broken every promise between us with my jealousy, but I will fix them all, if you let me try. I’ll crawl through fire for just one more chance. Tell me how and I will do anything you ask.”

His smile wavered. “Tell me I can still make things right between us. Tell me it’s not too late.”

I didn’t think I was breathing, completely lost to that consuming stare, shaken by his words and the strength of his declaration.

I wanted to say something.

But I couldn’t find the right words.

“As for the monster who hurt you, the one who dared mark you…” His fingers dragged lightly down my back, skimming over the raised brand. “I will kill him the first chance I get. You’ll never think of him again, because I will banish him to the Underworld and lock him behind a wall of iron.” He grasped my hand again and pulled me into the humid, suffocating greenhouse.

“But until that day comes, I’ll settle for knowing Silas cannot find you, no matter how hard he searches.”