Page 34 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY

PARIS

Medusa slept beside me on the king’s bed, her body pressed against mine.

I liked her being there.

The wild knots in my chest weren’t for her, but for Sarah’s revelation. My brain was too overloaded to cope, but the anxiety and the hope ran rampantly, drowning out my fear over this damn curse thing.

I drew luck down my chest and sat cross-legged, using the essence of the bedroom’s flora to keep me steady.

Freedom’s coming.

The floral essence flowed into my body like a stream of gentle sparks crackling in my veins, filling me up with a happy glow, boosting my mood and my body.

It joined the heat of Silvanus’s blood doing its own snap, crackle, and pop still—a lingering radiance that pissed me off and made me crave more of him at the same time.

Damn this being a thrall shit. The bloodthirst for the king curdled my insides.

And I had three days until I needed his blood again.

Would the attack come before or after then?

I drew more luck, hoping against hope it happened first. Because drinking blood… By Aidan, what a gross sin.

Getting out of here might mean never getting answers to the weirdness. Or it might get figured out later. Whatever. I didn’t care. I’d rather be myself again, not at the mercy of King Prick.

Only, I kind of doubted myself.

I do want to know…

I rolled my shoulders, performing some deep breathing exercises. Relaxing, focusing. If I couldn’t untangle my thoughts, I’d throw soothing, metaphysical balm on them instead.

It wasn’t working. So I went to the floor, resting back on the bed, the grass tickling me in greeting. I lit up a cig, the first drag super soothing.

Ah, much better.

Closing my eyes, I allowed myself the space to mediate. I used to do this all the time with Pearl, but hadn’t been able to quite pull it off since her death. Too many flashes of her death would skewer me, shattering the flow.

Empty, I thought. Let your mind be empty.

I smoked, I drifted.

“Precious one…”

The voice shivered in my mind.

No, no, no. Only tranquility here. I focused on a happy image. My sofa, my flowers, chilling out on a Sunday. Lazy Sundays were the best, and Hal made amazing roast dinners. The man really knew how to make the roast beef melt in your mouth.

Hal. The traitor. The coward. The steaming pile of shit.

No! Relax!

I wriggled in the grassy carpet, dropping the lazy Sunday stuff. Pictured myself in my own flower shop instead, all happy and laughing with my customers. Building myself a reputation as the best florist in Quintrealm.

Ha! Imagine that! Having a little shop people flew all over the world to visit.

Man, what an awesome goal.

“Precious one…”

Ugh. Why did my brain have to do this to me?

“Stop it,” I grumbled, squeezing my eyes harder, determined for them not to open until I became a merry cloud of empty contentment.

What? In this damn palace? Pull the other one!

“Flower shop, flower shop, flower,” I muttered. “All about the flower shop.”

“I believe in you, precious one. The truth is coming. Soon it will begin. Soon you will see.”

“Who are you?” I asked out loud, eyes still closed.

“Sing. Always sing.”

Whoa. That hit me hard, a massive confirmation of me being on the path by singing for the king.

“Are you at the tower?” I tried.

No answer.

“Can you tell me why this is happening?”

Still no answer. Minutes passed, the voice throwing out nothing else.

I opened my eyes, my forehead creasing with frustration. I couldn’t escape this. Even if the big attack got me out of the palace, this shit would trail behind me like a bad smell.

Dammit. I couldn’t walk away. This was bigger than me. I felt it in my soul.

Medusa’s head appeared to my left. She faced me, her tongue flickering at my cheek, amber eyes gleaming.

“Annoying, huh?” I said, stroking her head.

She hissed gently as if to say yes.

While she slithered off the bed, I sent Aidan a bunch of prayers begging for a sign, for his love to point me in the right direction to crack this riddle.

Man, it petrified me. Clearly there was some major life-changing shit about to go down. But the scrambled nature of it all freaked me out, putting my anxiety in a blender on full blast with no lid to contain the splatter.

The flora’s energy increased, shifting suddenly from the pleasant crackle to a powerful pulse in my right hand.

“What the—”

A wooden disk appeared, about the size of a cup coaster, its edges ragged. Symbols appeared in a dark ink, drawing across the wood as if written by an invisible hand.

What the hell?

I studied the symbols, getting to my feet while my heart jackhammered, holding the disk up to my face, unable to decipher them. This wasn’t anything I’d encountered before.

Medusa turned her head, watching me.

“I don’t get it,” I told her, shaking, wondering if I was about to wake up again.

By Aidan, my chest hurt, my throat dry with fear.

Another vision here to confuse the shit out of me harder?

Heat bloomed in my palm, the sound of windchimes tinkling in my ears.

“Blackberries,” an inner voice whispered. “This ink is made of blackberries.”

How did I know that?

The heat increased, the symbols melting off the disk into my palm, sinking into my skin with a sizzle.

“No,” I rasped at the sharp burn, going to drop it.

It wouldn’t come off. No matter how hard I pulled, the disk failed to budge an inch. And the ink continued to drip into my skin, burning away.

Shit. shit. shit. It was going to burn the flesh off.

The windchimes clanged louder, heavy vibrations in my head as if I’d pressed a massage gun against it.

Magic moved through me, joining with my body and soul. Not like the powerful kiss of Aidan’s Fire, but something else. Something more…I didn’t know. It was just different.

This had to be a dream.

“Get off me!” I cried, panic setting in, giving my hand an aggressive shake.

Medusa hissed, slithering over. Her body was a blur, fading in and out as the windchimes became aggressive bells clanging in a belfry. Too loud, too violent, crashing, crashing, crashing.

The disk crumbled to sawdust, falling through my fingers like sand. I coughed, taking a pew on the bed while my heartbeat settled down.

“What…what happened?”

Hiss.

“Unlock,” my mind spoke.

I coughed again, my chest feeling heavy with dust. The strange magic itched on the tips of my fingers, wisps of dark purple smoke curling around them.

“Unlock.”

“Unlock what?” I countered the inner whisper. “I’m going to need more than cryptic bullshit.”

“Unlock.”

I snorted at the ridiculousness of this, shaking my hands to dispel the smoke. But it stayed, not reacting to my actions, snaking in and out of my fingers.

“Aidan help me,” I said, getting to my feet. “Aidan, please help me.”

“What’s the matter?” the vampire king asked from behind me.

Startled, I spun to face him. “I…” Words dried up in my throat.

His eyes fell on my hands. Slowly, he moved toward me. “Paris?”

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Unlock…”

He stopped moving, head cocking. “Is that magic?”

“Yeah. I…” I coughed once again, needing water.

His nostrils flared. “I can smell roses. No. Blackberries.” He came forward a few steps. “Blackberries and roses.”

Did he? I couldn’t smell anything. “I think I’m about to scream.” My chest ached as if I’d caught the flu, and my head throbbed like it was under attack from a sledgehammer.

Bollocks to this pile on of things with no clues to help sift through it.

“Keep singing…”

The vampire king folded his arms. “Since when do elves possess magic?”

I went to explain, coughing so hard I brought up blood.

“The body of the precious one is adjusting.” The voice rolled inside my skull.

I snarled, retorting with, “Can you shut the fuck up?”

“Me?” Silvanus questioned.

Awful agony throbbed in my forehead, so painful I had to lay down. The gentle glow of the fairy lights hurt my eyes, my body breaking out in a feverish sweat.

“Paris? What’s wrong?”

I shivered, my temperature fluctuating between hot and cold. My stomach roiled, gurgling from upset, a spike of nausea making the room spin.

“By Aidan…” I curled into a ball, clamping my eyes shut.

Please stop spinning, please stop spinning, please stop spinning…

“Paris?”

The spinning stopped, every affliction ebbing. I opened my eyes and released a massive sigh of relief.

“Is it over?” I sat up, checking my hands. No more purple smoke, no more nausea, my chest clear again. But the word unlock kept making itself known.

“Shit.”

The bed rocked from Silvanus taking a seat close to me. “Are you alright?”

I checked my hands again. “Not really.”

Medusa hissed, chiming in.

I explained what’d happened again, looking him in the face. “Makes no sense, right? But I guess I’ll sing until it does.”

Dammit. Damn everything.

He stood up, walking toward the balcony doors. “The smell is familiar.”

Oh, yeah. Blackberries and roses. “How so?”

The king hefted Medusa off the floor, draping her across his shoulders, still facing away from me. “I don’t know.”

What answer did I expect? “I can’t smell it.”

“I see.” He turned around, his scarlet eyes luminous. “Sing and see if anything happens.”

“After a glass of water,” I said, tapping on my throat.

He didn’t say anything until a knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”

Elio arrived with a glass of water. “For you.” The thrall held it out to me, expression blank for the most part. But I saw hints of disgust there, the envy glinting in his eyes.

“Thanks.” I took the cold glass and gulped half of it down.

Nothing like a refreshing drink to chase the cobwebs of bollocks away.

“Thank you, Elio,” Silvanus said. “You may leave.”

The elf hurried out the door.

“Better?” the vampire asked.

“Guess so.” Couldn’t he just leave me alone for a bit?

He stroked Medusa’s head with his right index finger. “Do you want to sing now?”

I finished the water and agreed. He might piss off if I did.

We received no new information, everything a replay of what’d come before.

Silvanus wasn’t happy. He strode out of the room with Medusa in tow, not returning until dawn, bearing clothes and a pair of white trainers, but no snake.

“What’s this?”

He dumped the folded pile of garments on my bed. “I don’t want to see you in such fine fabrics anymore.”

“Huh?” I picked up the trainers.

“Wear these. They suit you better.”

What twisted development was this? “I don’t get it.”

“It’s not for you to get,” he answered snootily. “I’m telling you to wear these clothes. This is your uniform, setting you apart from everyone else.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “To piss them off harder?”

His mouth twitched into a smile. “Hopefully.” He removed his shirt and trousers, revealing a pair of tight black boxers.

Whoa. Talk about serious meat tucked away in there.

I licked my lips, eyes glued to the impressive bulge.

“Is there a problem?” he inquired.

“Huh?”

“Why are you gaping at my cock?”

Because it’s there to be appreciated. “I… Oh.” I dipped my head, cheeks heating. “Sorry.”

He said nothing, just climbed onto his bed. It sank into the floor, grassy carpet closing up behind it.

Another night down.

Another day of kingly rest.

Fucking prick. He did that on purpose, knowing I’d look. Twisted bloodsucker. Yeah, it wouldn’t be all fun and games when the attack on his precious palace came.

Pretty well rested, I showered and changed, slipping on my new uniform of blue jeans and a white T-shirt. This ensemble was much more my style.

“Welcome back,” I told my reflection in the bathroom mirror, fiddling with my hair.

I never understood the power of fashion.

When people banged on about clothes changing a mood or being like armor, it went over my head.

But in this moment, I got it. Big time. These were me, a return to myself.

An executioner who didn’t thirst over a vampire’s dick.

More likely to cut it off and shove it down his throat.

I hopped from foot to foot, pulling my shoulders back, shaking out my frustrations.

Unlock…

Would this new magical development unlock something to kill Silvanus? Like our bond?

Hmmm. I wasn’t sure, seeing as the visions and dreams were also trying to tell him something.

By Aidan. What if we had to join forces to fight a new big bad?

Ugh. He was supposed to be the final boss, nothing else. But the more I thought on that, the more the possibility grew.

Dammit. Why couldn’t things be simple?

I kill the king.

King goes dusty.

Cue me guzzling a case of beer until I fell into a happy sleep. Hangover be damned!

An elf could dream, right?