Page 49 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

49

EVANGELINE

I t was still dark outside when I woke a few hours before dawn, judging from the thick dew on the grass and the stars winking out in the sky.

I was alone and the divot on the other side of the bed was cold, as if Riordan had left as soon as I’d fallen asleep. I ran my fingers over the tiny flecks of blood. I’d asked him to bite me, and the sex had been mind-blowing, and now I was…I blew out a shaking breath.

I had to talk to someone—preferably a female vampire—about protection. Either that or I had to stop falling onto Riordan’s cock like a fucking hussy.

Because if I was pregnant…I was properly fucked.

I had to get my priorities straight.

I had a job to do. Get my sister away from Tyrell and get us both somewhere safe. I didn’t care what anyone else said, the bastard was compelling her or had brainwashed her, because there was no way Angel chose that depraved life willingly.

No way. Except…

I bit my lips, reliving last night.

The feeding, the sex, the power. Everything about being a vampire was seductive. Carnal. Addicting. I could—theoretically—understand how Angel might get caught up in this, but with Tyrell?

My sister was sweet and good, and he was the epitome of chaotic evil.

I tossed off the covers and paced over to the dresser, flipping on the light. Morning was a few hours away, but I was wired, either from Riordan’s blood or the earth-shattering sex, and I’d never go back to sleep.

The shopping bags contained a bewildering selection of clothes—and after the first price tag nearly gave me a heart attack, I stopped looking—but I found a buttery soft shirt and a pair of jeans that fit me like a glove then headed for the kitchen.

Coffee first, existential crisis second.

Crimson House reminded me of one of those houses on HGTV where someone with no renovation experience started a huge project with no idea of what they were getting into. The place had good bones and beautiful detailing, but every surface needed work, from the cracked plaster ceilings to the warped parquet floors.

And if Riordan had ten million for Malachi, why was the house— his house—in such utter disrepair?

The kitchen was old but functional, the ancient refrigerator humming loudly enough to be heard halfway across town, the pipes knocking together when I filled up the coffee pot. The ancient machine took forever, but the familiar gurgle calmed me, the smell winding through my senses, and my first sip?

Pure heaven.

I didn’t so much hear Blake come in as the air in the kitchen changed, a shiver of anticipation that rippled through the cool morning silence, skating across my skin and leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’re up early, little slayer.”

Ah, so we were back to that.

Maybe he was jealous— maybe he had a right to be —maybe all those words yesterday were just words. But I didn’t ask for Riordan to sneak into my dreams last night and work his vampire voodoo magic on me.

So fine, if Blake wanted to throw walls up between us…

My fingers tightened on the handle of my cup. No . No, I wasn’t playing these stupid games any longer. Wasn’t taking one step forward and two steps back, dancing around our feelings and pretending none of this mattered when it mattered more than anything ever had.

“I couldn’t sleep. I made fresh coffee if you’d like some, Blake.”

He prowled through the door straight to the coffee, tight black shirt accentuating every bulge of his powerful body, face schooled into an unreadable mask, dragging that haze of shadowing with him. After yesterday, I resented that Blake couldn’t be open with me, that he had to hide.

“Was the bed not to your liking?” Again, doubt edged the question, as if he wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. “We can get you?—”

“The bed was fine, Blake. More than fine, it was probably the nicest bed I’ve ever slept in. These are certainly the nicest clothes I’ve ever worn. Thank you for making me comfortable. Thank you for thinking about me, that means a lot.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said stiffly. “It was all Rohr’s idea.” His back stayed to me as he poured his coffee, the steam curling around his body, accentuating how tense his shoulders were. He was beautiful, powerful in a way humans could never be, and utterly baffling with this warm-cold act.

A declaration of affection, then this.

Promises I never thought I’d hear, then a cold mask I couldn’t pry off with a crowbar. Unless…unless the mask wasn’t to hide behind, but a protection to keep him safe.

I’d been brought up with men who gave me harsh orders and had strict expectations. I was punished when I disappointed them and left alone when I succeeded. I’d never bothered to ponder their inner thoughts; I’d tried to stay out of their way.

But yesterday, watching that smile gild his beautiful face, the way that light lit him up from the inside made something inside me settle, like I’d found a port in a storm.

Blake wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known.

He was good and kind, his grumpy, dark facade masking a heart softer than any I’d ever encountered.

He made me feel so safe, I could almost believe that maybe, one day, I’d get that happy ending. And maybe that was wishful thinking, but I wanted it to be true.

I sipped my coffee, considering him as he drifted over to the windows, determined not to look at me. He’d laid that heart of his on the line yesterday and what had I said in return?

Nothing.

Not a single word.

“Where did you go last night?” I waited while he debated whether or not to sit down before finally pulling out the chair opposite me. Even sitting, he towered over me, elbows braced on the table, one huge hand making his cup look ridiculously small. The thin, gold ring strung on the chain around his neck glinted.

“Out. I had things to do.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I ground my teeth together.

“What kind of things?” I counted to ten, and when he didn’t answer, added, “Out where?”

“Just out.”

I set down my coffee. Beneath every answer was a seed of hurt.

This went far deeper than jealousy. He’d given me part of himself, and I’d given nothing in return. True, I was about as emotionally stunted as a person could get, but even I could see how that would wound someone.

“I came out of the bathroom and you were gone, but you’d stood there a long time, waiting. Do you know why I was in there for so long? I was crying and I didn’t want you to see.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the cup.

“My entire life, nobody ever bothered to do anything as nice as what you and Riordan did for me, nobody ever took care of me like that. I didn’t know how to handle all of that emotion, and I’m sorry it took me so long to get myself together, but I was coming out to thank you.”

I stood up and rounded the table, Blake looking slightly alarmed when I stopped in front of him. “You were already gone, so I’m thanking you now.” I wound my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his cheek, his whiskers scratching my mouth.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Blake Marten. Thank you for taking me to see Aria, for keeping me safe, but most of all, thank you for opening up to me yesterday and telling me how you feel. I should have said something.”

I tipped my forehead to his and closed my stinging eyes. “But I couldn’t find the right words. But even the wrong words would have been better than nothing.”

“And now?” he asked quietly. “What about now?”

“Now…I don’t trust easily, Blake. So far, my survival has depended on me not trusting anyone.”

I straightened up. “But I would like to fix that. I would very much like us to trust each other. I’d like to be…friends.”

He lifted a brow. “Friends?”

“To start. I’m also not opposed to a little groveling.”

His eyebrows went up. “Is that me groveling or you groveling, because now I’m confused.”

I punched him in the arm and only ended up hurting my knuckles since his muscles were like a stone wall. “You’re doing the groveling. I’m doing the magnanimous forgiving.”

“It’s kind of early in the morning for groveling, don’t you think?”

“Never too early, in my opinion, and besides”—I nodded to his cup—“you have coffee, what more could you possibly want?”

I meant it in jest, but Blake dragged his eyes down my body, so slow and deliberate, bottom lip caught between his teeth, heat boiled up inside me like an exploding sun.

I can think of something I’ve been wanting for a long, long time, little slayer . His nostrils flared and my nipples peaked, warmth settling between my legs like a fire about to ignite.

What the hell was I doing?

This was madness. Riordan had just left my bed. For the last time , my little voice of reason reminded me. Even so, I shouldn’t want more, probably didn’t deserve more, but…but I wanted Blake, too, which was utter madness.

Frankly, I could barely handle Riordan.

Blake would definitely put me into overload. Possibly break a hip if we weren’t careful.

“Sit down and drink your coffee, Evangeline.” His voice was about three shades deeper and as rough as sandpaper. “I told you I’d fix my mistakes, and that’s what I intend to do.”

I slid back into my seat and sipped my coffee, watching him over the rim of my cup. His hair was still wet, curling at the ends so the tips brushed his shoulders. Neither of us took a sip of coffee, neither of us moved a muscle, lost in the moment that stretched between us.

“I want to tell you a story. I want to tell you about my sister.” Blake’s voice was quiet. Serious . The kind of serious that set every nerve on edge.

“Cassmira died nine years ago on a beautiful spring morning. Today is the anniversary of her death.” He shrugged as he reached up, touching the tiny gold ring reverently. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

I wanted to say something, but what could I say? Nothing would bring his sister back. And nine years ago…Mom had been killed nine years ago, too. The anniversary of her death was… tomorrow , I realized, with a jolt of shock.

“Cass was a lawyer. She took mostly pro bono cases, anyone in the clan who’d committed a petty crime or owed money and couldn’t afford a lawyer to represent them.”

“So you have a…court system? With judges and juries and everything?” I asked, not sure how I never even thought about this before.

“We have old, antiquated laws, which are upheld by the king. If the king is just, then the laws are meted out fairly. If the king is corrupt, well, the best one has to hope for is someone will stand up for you, and maybe, just maybe, you don’t end up rotting away in Tyrell’s dungeon or becoming one of his thralls. Punishment, before Riordan, was never compensatory to the crime in this clan.”

“But Riordan’s father—” I snapped my mouth shut.

“Yes, things were every bit as bad under Dominic Graves. My sister wasn’t fighting for anything as intangible as justice, she was fighting for people’s lives, and she was all that stood between an innocent victim and Graves. Or Tyrell, since he pulled Dominic’s strings.”

“Since she fought an unwinnable fight, she was always flat broke and lived with my sire and mother north of here at the Marten estate.” He stared into his coffee, his expression somber. “None of us cared about the money. We admired Cass because she was doing something none of the rest of us were able to do. She fought the system, but mostly, she fought Tyrell’s tyranny.”

“So Tyrell and Cassmira…were enemies.”

“My sister was the biggest thorn in Tyrell’s side since he left the Old Country. Of course, outright murder of a citizen is frowned upon by the High Council…”

“I’m sorry, the what? High Council?”

“Our governing body, located in Europe, is called the High Council. As powerful as he is, even Tyrell answers to them. Dominic answered to them, too. And the only explanation for what happened next was…the council sanctioned my sister’s murder.”

He sucked in a breath, as if he was gathering himself for this next part. “First, the Silverwoods infiltrated our estate and executed my sire and mother in their bed. They took Cass. Questioned her for two days before dropping her on the front steps of Darkmore Castle with a note pinned to her chest. ‘She told us your secrets. Now none of you are safe .’”

I could almost hear Silas’s satisfied chuckle, see his brutish hand scrawling such a gruesome message. Some sense of wrongness niggled at me, though. Why would my father, legendary vampire hunter, make such a grand gesture to the oldest Ancient on American soil?

Unless Cassmira was part of a larger trap?

“Certain crimes”—Blake’s voice was shaking now—“are punished more severely than others. Betraying our species is considered the greatest crime a vampire can commit. Tyrell handed my sister over to Valaine for punishment.”

Shadows curled around him like a shroud, the ends playing down his arms, his neck, like they were trying to comfort him. I tightened my grip on my cup, because part of me wanted to do the same.

“I…” I rubbed my brow. “I know that name. Riordan said…he tortures people.”

“Tyrell planned to give you to Valaine the night of the auction. That was the choice. Me…or Valaine. Then you took matters into your own hands and we—Rohr and I—had to make a decision. That’s why we turned you. Not to take your choice away, but because we knew that Valaine would hurt you, and…we couldn’t let that happen.”

“But…Cassmira wasn’t so lucky, was she?” I didn’t want to hear this, I couldn’t stand to hear it, but I had to listen until the end, for Blake’s sake.

For Cassmira’s sake.

“Rohr and I tried to get her free. We broke into the castle and got as far as the lower basement—that’s the level above the dungeons—but we couldn’t go any further. Bosch and his guards overwhelmed us and there were magic wards that sapped our power, silver bullets, fucking revenants…Suffice it to say neither of us should have walked away that night.”

“But you did.” I couldn’t take my eyes off this male who’d lost everything, been consumed by guilt and bitterness, and still didn’t have his vengeance. “Your sister wouldn’t have wanted you to die, Blake. Trust me. I’d never want my sister to suffer for me, not for a single second.”

His shoulders sagged. “Tyrell gloated when he gave me back Cassmira’s mutilated body. Valaine had gotten sloppy and snapped her neck, otherwise, he would have kept her alive longer. I always wondered if that mistake was luck…or something else. But that’s why I hate your family. That’s why, when I heard your name— that name—slide between your lips, I just…lost it.”

“I would have lost it, too.” I was so… exhausted by all this cruelty. How fucking much damage did people like Silas and Tyrell have to do before they were finished? How much pain did they have to cause before they were satisfied?

He didn’t so much as blink. “I should have given you a chance, Evangeline.”

“You already gave me that chance when you saved me from Valaine. Now you’re trusting me by telling me about your sister. Next time…who knows?” I reached out and brushed my fingertips over the back of his hand. “Trust is hard for people like us, Blake. But I’d like to get there. Are you willing to try?”

I lifted my cup. “To Cassmira. May she get her vengeance in the next life.”

Blake’s eyes were bright when he clinked his cup against mine. “To my sister.”

And to you, Mom. Thank you for showing me what freedom felt like, even if you weren’t able to enjoy it for long . But the path you set me on led me here.

I’m starting to think you had a good reason for that.