Kristen Painter - Out for Blood

The wall began to close. Tatiana shortened her broadsword into a weapon better suited for close combat.

“Damn it,” he snarled. “That was meant for your heart.” He yanked the dagger free and jumped back as she swung. “Next time, you’ll be ash.”

Blood gushed from the wound even as the edges knit together. She pushed upright to go after him. “I don’t think so.”

He shook his head and a second later, a wisp of black smoke danced in the air where he’d been, then vanished through the wall just before the opening disappeared.

Tatiana rammed her sword hand into it. The impact jarred her shoulder and reopened the wound. She turned the sword back into a fist. In all her years, she’d only seen one vampire turn to smoke. One lying, deceitful, comarré-loving vampire. Anger forced her fist into the wall again, dislodging chunks of plaster and stone.

How was it possible? She’d seen his death with her own eyes. Howling in frustration, she fell to her knees. Rage seethed through her at the betrayal that had just been measured against her and at the way she’d been played for a fool. “Next time, husband, you will die for real. And your blood whore with you.”

“Dead.” Rodrigo said the word like he didn’t understand it. He swallowed and dropped back into his chair. His jaw hitched forward, then back into place. “I see.”

Doc sat down as well. Heat radiated through him enough that he wondered if he should sneak a pill. “That’s why I’ve been calling you. I didn’t want you to find out through other sources.”

Still Rodrigo didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring blankly ahead. “It was a fair fight?”

Dammit. That was not an easy question to answer. Then Barasa did it for him.

“I’m the pride physician. I’d be happy to do a necropsy if you’d like.”

“No.” Rodrigo shook his head. “Her mother wouldn’t want her cut open. I’m sorry I asked. I have no doubt it was fair.” He exhaled long and slow, looking suddenly tired and deflated.

“You’ve come a long way,” Doc said. “I’ll have a room prepared for you.”

“That’s not necessary. There are plenty of places to stay—”

“I insist.” Sympathy for the man softened the edges of Doc’s frustration with everything that had happened. And maybe a little guilt. “It’s the least I can offer you. If there is anything I or my pride can do for you, we’ll do it. Your reputation as a fair leader precedes you. I would very much like to keep things good between us.”

Rodrigo nodded but sat quietly, his gaze focused low. “Perhaps there is something else you can do for me.”

“Name it.”

Rodrigo glanced at Omur and Barasa. “You are looking for a third council member?”

“Yes. The last one couldn’t accept me in place of Sinjin.”

“I have a son, the third born. If you would take him as your council member, I would be indebted to you. Things have not gone well for him in our pride. A fresh start would be good for him.”

“You don’t think he’d have an issue with me, considering his sister’s death?”

Rodrigo shook his head and at last made eye contact. “Each of us knows the way of the pride. No one enters a challenge without knowing the consequences. He will understand.” His hands loosened their grip on the chair. “Remo is a good boy. A little troubled, but good.”

Doc wanted to know what troubled meant, but asking delicate questions had never been his thing. “How… that is… what exactly—”

“His trouble?” Rodrigo laughed, a good sound to hear. “His trouble is women. Too many of them. They fight over him, create problems I have to solve.” He leaned forward in his chair. “If you knew how many angry fathers I have had to appease.” He threw his hands up. “They all think Remo should marry their daughter. Then they expect favors from me when he doesn’t.”

Doc smiled. “So Remo’s a player, huh? There are worse things to be.”

“Keep him busy with work and his troubles should be behind him. But give him no special treatment because he is my son. Treat him like you would any other member of your council.” Rodrigo raised his brows. “Do we have a deal?”

With a nod, Doc stood and held out his hand. “We do.” As Rodrigo rose to shake it, Doc continued. “I am very sorry about Heaven.”

Pain filled Rodrigo’s eyes again, but still he pumped Doc’s hand. “As am I. But some good has come out of this, after all, no? From this day forward, the alliance between our prides is renewed.”

“From this day forward,” Doc said. So long as Remo wasn’t the nosy type.

Chrysabelle walked through the comarré tunnels beneath Lord Syler’s estate, every step taking her closer to safety and farther away from where she wanted to be. At Mal’s side.

Blood crusted the front of her gown and her shoulder throbbed with pain, but she was still alive. Was Mal? She knew he’d pushed her through the door to save her, but the plan had been to stay together. They could kill Tatiana another day. Like when she didn’t have a horde of fringe guards at her beck and call and they weren’t in the midst of a huge gathering of nobles and after Chrysabelle had a chance to spend some time with her brother.

She exhaled. Damian should be airborne by now, or about to be. She smiled. At least that part of the plan had gone well.

A scuffling sound came from behind her. She turned to see a dark shape walking toward her from the shadows. Fear glided over her like a cool breeze. She ignored it, snagging her last blade and brandishing it. If this was her end, she would go down fighting. “Who goes there?”

“Your friendly neighborhood vampire.”

She tucked the blade away and ran into Mal’s arms. “You made it!” A second later, she wriggled out of his embrace and punched him with her good arm. “Why did you push me through? I could have stayed and fought with you.”

“You have family to think about now. And obviously, I didn’t stay.” With a quick glance behind him, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “We should pick it up a little. I went to smoke right before the passage closed. Unfortunately, Tatiana probably knows I’m not dead now.”

“You didn’t kill her?” She took longer strides to keep up with him.

“I tried. Hit her shoulder instead of her heart. My choices were try again or come after you.” His mouth bent upward, his fangs gleaming dully in the dim glow of the corridor’s ceiling. “Not even a question which way that was going.”

She grinned. Words weren’t really necessary to tell him what she was thinking.

His smile increased for a second. “Hey, I have the other dagger.” He patted the hilt where it peeked from his waistband, then stared at her a little harder. “Your shoulder doesn’t look so hot.”

She glanced at the blood on her dress as they hurried through the passage. “It hurts, but I’ll be fine. She’ll be searching the city for us, you know.”

He nodded, smile gone. “Or she’ll go straight for the hangars. Which is why we need to be on that plane as quickly as possible.” In the distance behind them, something clanged. His grip on her hand tightened. “Can you go faster?”

Chrysabelle glanced back. “Yes.”

“Then let’s get the hell out of here and back on that plane so you can spend some time with your brother.”

Without another word, they started to run.

From Mal’s spot on the narrow metal ladder, he worked the manhole cover free and eased it aside. The dark of night would only buy them so much protection. By now, Tatiana would have guards everywhere, searching homes and businesses and no doubt watching the city’s roads.