Page 49 of Kiss of Seduction (Court of Chains #1)

Evie stayed on the club floor longer than she’d intended and drank more than she’d planned. Much more.

She would like to believe it was the atmosphere that spurred her into drinking the bar dry, but she knew it wasn’t. Natalya showing up, all beautiful and commanding, and just being had left a strange worry in Evie’s chest that she couldn’t ignore.

“ We’ll talk …” she mumbled as she entered the elevator. It was almost dawn. “We’ll talk , alright. Stupid, dumb fiend.”

The last time she’d felt this way, it was because Natalya didn’t want to talk to Evie. Now it was because she wanted to do just that. There was an irony there that would be funny if it wasn’t so goddamn irritating.

What did Natalya want to talk about anyway? What more could she want? She was always asking stuff of Evie, making her open up and talk about how she was feeling . Natalya never did that. Stoic, strong protector Natalya.

Right… Protector Natalya. Who was responsible for keeping Evie safe and nothing else. Even her talking to Evie could be traced back to her wanting to know what had gone on at Varro’s. She didn’t care about what Evie felt. Only about what she’d seen and heard.

If Evie had been sober, the thought could have been dismissed with reasoning. When drunk, it lingered. And it stung.

Evie staggered down the hallway towards Natalya’s apartment. Drago left her alone when she got to the elevator, and she was glad for it. She didn’t want anything big and looming near her. She didn’t want to be reminded of why she was there.

“What the hell…” Evie looked down at the steely gray carpet in the hall. There were splotches of black on it. Someone must have spilled paint or something. Though it smelled funny.

Grumbling and cursing, Evie unlocked the apartment door and walked in. She was met by a sharp smell of brimstone that made Evie cover her nose. The scent was faintly familiar, though she couldn’t say why.

The smell sobered her up some. Fear did it even more when she noticed a trail of black stains leading through the apartment toward the bathroom. The door was open. She could hear the shower running.

“Hello?” she called.

No answer. Just the pattering of water against tile.

Evie considered going back to the elevator and finding help, but something kept her from leaving. Drunken stupidity was part of it, but there was a memory too. Of a gunshot and black blood.

Hesitantly, Evie started moving towards the bathroom. The sound of the running shower got louder. It was the only noise in the apartment.

As she reached the open bathroom door, she moved with the slow certainty that something was terribly wrong. She peeked inside. The sight froze her in place.

The room was filled with steam. The white tiles were covered in black, smoking liquid. It was on the walls and the sink, smeared all over the shower stall. A discarded suit jacket had been dropped on the floor and lying in the shower, unmoving and covered in black blood, was Natalya.

Her clothing had been torn to pieces. The water from the shower was hitting her, but she didn’t seem to feel it. Her eyes were closed. With horror, Evie realized she wasn’t breathing.

“Natalya!” Evie rushed to her, the panic sobering her up to the point of complete, horrible clarity. She reached forward, wincing as the water from the shower hit her skin. It was scalding.

Evie turned it off and leaned over Natalya. She wasn’t moving, and she was soaked. How long had she been lying there?

Streams of black, smoking blood ran out of two massive wounds, one in her shoulder, another in her side. Smaller trickles oozed from half a dozen bullet wounds.

“Natalya, wake up!” Evie shook her. She didn’t react. Her skin was cold, despite being under the hot water. Touching her produced no sensation in Evie’s fingers at all.

Was she dying? Maybe she was already dead.

Evie pulled Natalya closer, her body limp and cold and smoking. She couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t be.

She’d gotten to the apartment on her own. An assailant wouldn’t have left a trail like Natalya had. It had started in the hallway. She’d walked to the apartment like this.

Natalya needed to heal. She needed to feed. Evie recalled the nasty scar Lily had shown her, the one Aleksander made when he was close to dead and lost control.

Evie decided she didn’t give a damn.

She bent down and kissed Natalya. Her lips were cold. It was like kissing a corpse. Natalya didn’t move.

Evie deepened the kiss as if by doing so, she could will her awake. She pressed her tongue against Natalya’s lips. Tears ran into her mouth.

There was warmth. Faint at first, but then it turned hot. Natalya’s lips were searing against hers, burning like flames. It hurt, but the relief of feeling the pain meant more.

Natalya opened her eyes, revealing bright scarlet irises that drilled into Evie’s gaze so intensely it sucked the air from her lungs. Fear, already present from thinking Natalya was dead, grew to be the only recognizable feeling in her body. It swallowed the relief, the sadness, everything.

It made Evie scream.

She crawled backward as Natalya did the same. Evie was panting, panic gripping her chest hard enough that she thought she was having a heart attack.

Across the room, pressed into the corner of the shower, Natalya stared at her. Like a wounded animal caught in a snare.

It took several long moments before the terror waned enough that Evie could think about anything else.

She recalled the fear she’d felt in Varro’s guest room when Natalya made eye contact with her.

Then, Natalya’s eyes had grabbed at her strongest emotion and amplified it.

The same thing happened here, except much more intense.

Evie had been so afraid Natalya was gone, and looking into her scarlet eyes made it worse.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t true emotion. It was a manufactured thing, conjured by Natalya in a panic. Realizing it let Evie push against the feeling, forcing it down.

It didn’t vanish entirely. Some of the fear remained, laced with painful worry.

Evie moved back towards the shower. Natalya was shaking. Her teeth were clattering.

“Stay back,” she said tightly. Evie stopped.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.” Natalya turned on the water again, gasping when it hit her. She was bleeding everywhere.

“Should I get someone? Aleksander or—”

“No!” Natalya’s eyes were furious. “They can’t come. They can’t see.”

Only then did Evie realize. Natalya’s dress was cut to pieces, baring her back and sides. Several small wounds, oozing black blood, littered her skin.

If Evie got help, they would see her marks, at least parts of them.

“You’re bleeding,” Evie said, horrified at the amount still seeping out of her.

“It’s not blood. It’s ichor. Life force.” Natalya grimaced in pain. “The wounds are filled with sanctified salt. I can’t heal until it’s gone. The water helps. Dissolves it faster.”

“You looked dead.” Evie’s voice was trembling. “When I got here… You were cold and…”

She covered her mouth with her hand. She wanted desperately to go to Natalya. To hold her and make sure she was alright. To help. But she didn’t dare move closer.

“You need to go ,” Natalya said. “Somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t here. Give me a week. Maybe two. Then I’ll have healed.”

A week? Natalya would have to spend a week like this? Shivering in pain and oozing ichor all over the floor?

“Please let me help. Do you need to kiss me? I can—”

“ No .” Natalya’s eyes shined with flame. “Leave, Evie. You can’t see me like this.”

Shaking. In pain. Vulnerable. She wanted to be strong, and right then, she couldn’t be. She didn’t want Evie to see her not perfectly in control.

Why? Because it would ruin the image Evie had of her? Of the powerful fiend who could make vampires collapse just by looking at them? In a way, it did. Though the image didn’t break, it extended. It deepened.

Natalya was powerful. One of the most powerful beings Evie had ever met. She was commanding, assertive, and strong. If that was all Natalya was to someone, then seeing her like this would ruin their perception of her.

It didn’t for Evie.

She had been imprisoned just like Evie. She’d experienced pain and horrors, same as Evie, if not more profound. Despite that, she hadn’t turned cruel or cold. She was gentle and warm and the biggest worrier Evie had ever met.

Those were the characteristics Evie felt safe with. The ones that made butterflies flutter in her stomach. The parts of Natalya that had made her fall in lo—

Evie stopped the thought before it could fully form.

With forced resolve, she picked up a set of tweezers from the sink drawer. “I can get the salt out.”

Natalya’s stare could’ve started wildfires. It took every shred of courage Evie had not to cower and run.

“Once, a girl I worked with fell on a glass, and it messed up her leg. She didn’t have health insurance, so I helped her pick out the shards.” Evie gestured with the tweezers. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need help,” Natalya snarled.

“Everyone does.” The statement felt as weak and trembling as Evie’s voice. But she wouldn’t leave Natalya alone like this. No matter what she said. “Please. Just let me help you.”

Natalya’s gaze was all anger. If Evie wasn’t pushing against it, she suspected it would have sent her running. Even without the manufactured emotions Natalya could conjure, she was still terrifying.

Then she looked away. She didn’t beckon Evie closer. Didn’t ask for help. Her silence was all the encouragement Evie would get.

She helped Natalya strip out of her clothes, and just touching her skin produced blazing sensory pain. Evie had to push against the feeling before she could touch Natalya fully.

Using the water to wash off the still-flowing ichor, Evie spent the next hour digging rock salt pellets out of Natalya’s flesh. There were scores of them. Every time one was removed, Natalya nearly screamed.

“What do you need?” Evie asked when she was sure there were no more pellets. Natalya was shaking so hard she had to lean against the wall.

“Sleep,” Natalya said through clenched teeth. “Rest.”

Evie started to help her stand. As she did, she stepped on Natalya’s suit jacket, and there was a clatter as a small box fell out of a pocket onto the floor.

Natalya grabbed the box before Evie could even think to reach for it.

In the bedroom, Evie eased Natalya onto the mattress. She left to get towels to press against the still oozing wounds, and in the time it took her to get back, Natalya had passed out. It was a small blessing amidst all this horror.

Then she noticed something glinting on the floor. The box Natalya had scrambled to pick up had fallen and opened.

Evie recognized its contents. She’d seen Lily and Blake and several other humans in the Court wear something just like it. All the humans who were Claimed. Who belonged to another.

On the floor—in iron, silver, and steel—was a necklace with a purple Chain pendant on it.