Kristen Painter - Forbidden Blood

“No. But it is a possibility.” Dominic tried to appeal to the man’s pocketbook. “Surely you won’t expect me to reimburse you for her blood rights?”

Arnaud snorted. “No. She’s a good comarré—from the Corvinestri Primoris Domus—but her blood rights cost half what they should. Seems she’d caused some trouble for the headmistress and the woman was willing to let her go cheaply under the condition I would not return her.”

Dominic’s curiosity rose. What kind of trouble could a comarré cause? His had some attitude problems, but nothing he’d really call trouble. “You expect me to explain things to her?”

Arnaud yanked a belpul near the door. “Do what you need to. You’ll take her home with you for two weeks. After that time, you’ll both return here and I’ll expect her transformed.”

“Two weeks? That’s hardly enough time to—”

A servant entered. “You rang, my lord?”

Arnaud nodded. “Send her in.”

“Very good, my lord.” The servant disappeared.

Dominic tried again. “Two weeks is insufficient for what you ask. I need two months at minimum.”

“A month. Not a day longer.”

A knock this time.

“Come in,” Arnaud called.

The door opened and his comarré entered, head down, her golden glow suffusing the room with the warmth it had been lacking. The sweet aroma of burnt sugar followed closely behind.

Dominic’s gums ached as the perfume invaded his senses.

She nodded at Arnaud. “Master.”

Arnaud ignored her to speak to Dominic. “Is there anything you need of her before you leave?”

Dominic began to shake his head, his gaze still lingering on the blond creature before him. She was no different in coloring than his own comarré, Catarina, but he spent little time with her due to his work and her increasingly poor attitude. She usually sent him blood so that he never had to leave his laboratory, an arrangement that worked well for both of them. Seeing this one up close reminded him what extraordinarily beautiful beings they were, and the part of him that still clutched the last shreds of his humanity stirred with longing. “No, I can’t think of anything— humanity stirred with longing. “No, I can’t think of anything— Wait, yes. I need to know her name.”

She lifted her head and her crystal-blue eyes pierced him to the bone. “I am Marissa.”

Marissa knew whatever lay ahead of her would not be pleasant, but the thought of escaping Arnaud’s estate for a month filed her with such joy she didn’t care. She glanced across the aisle of the plane to where her new temporary patron sat.

Dominic Falconetti. He was rumored to be one of the most skilled alchemists the House of St. Germain had ever produced.

What that meant for her she couldn’t imagine. She worried the ring on her finger, flicking the tiny, hidden blade in and out. How was this was all going to go? She prayed to the holy mother he was not as difficult as Arnaud. He was certainly easier to look at than Arnaud.

Dominic glanced up, his mossy green eyes flickering briefly with silver that did nothing to diminish the kindness they held.

Kindness she could not comprehend. “Si, bella, what can I do for you?”

He could start by not calling her beautiful or treating her like she mattered. It wasn’t the way Arnaud acted and it unsettled her. She turned her gaze back to her ring. Too bad the little curved blade wasn’t large enough to do more than pierce a vein.

“Nothing, thank you, my lord.”

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw his eyes stayed on her.

“I am not your lord, nor am I your patron. No, you must treat me more like…your equal, capsice?”

Her head jerked up. “Your equal? My lord, I cannot do that.

You shouldn’t even speak it.”

He laughed. “Perchè? Who is going to hear me? The pilot?

He works for me and he is tucked away in the cockpit.”

She relaxed, knowing he was right but shaking her head nonetheless. “Yes, but we are not equals.” No matter what she felt deep in her heart. “Why would you say such a thing?” The question was bold, but he didn’t seem the type to care.

He sighed. “I am as much in the service of Arnaud as you are.” He rolled his eyes and muttered something derogatory in Italian that sounded like a comparison between Arnaud’s private parts and a festering corpse.

She laughed, stopping abruptly when she realized the sound came out of her. “Forgive me.”

“For what, cara mia?” He slipped across the aisle to sit in the seat opposite her.

She scooted back to keep their knees from touching. “For laughing at my patron. It was improper.”

“I like the sound of your laugh. I shall endeavor to bring it out of you again.”

She studied him for a long moment, suddenly very aware that her preconceived notions about this vampire, this man, were wrong. Just how wrong, she wasn’t sure. “You don’t care much for…propriety, do you?”

“Rules and respect have their place.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his crisp white shirt, revealing a triangle of olive skin. “But some rules are foolish and some people do not deserve respect.”

“Like Lord Arnaud.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, but the words had already slipped out.

He reached over, his cool fingers pulling her hand down.

“Exactly like Arnaud. He is a bully. You know this to be true.”

She tried not to react to his touch, but her pulse betrayed her.

Contact outside of feeding was such a rare thing. Beneath her clothing, her skin pebbled with the sensation. She crooked her head toward the window and stared into the blackness beyond.

Answering him would mean exposing herself more than she already had. What if this was a test? What if Dominic and Arnaud were good friends? Her belly coiled at the thought that her every move might be reported upon.

Dominic’s thumb brushed her ring. “Pretty.”

She turned but didn’t make eye contact. “Thank you. It was a gift from Lord Arnaud.” The only thing he’d ever given her.

“You were playing with it. I heard it clicking. What does it do?” He lifted her hand, studying the ring.

“Do?” He lifted her hand, studying the ring.

“This.” She caught the tiny indentation disguised in the ring’s filigree and notched the hidden blade out. “Al comarré wear one so we may drain excess blood in an emergency. Too much in our systems makes us sick.”

His forehead crinkled. “Arnaud gave this to you? How do all comarré wear one, then?”

“We are all issued one, but the one I had previously wasn’t as nice as this one, although this one is a bit larger.” She’d initially worn Arnaud’s gift because not wearing it would have created more trouble than it was worth. Now she’d grown used to it.

He let go of her hand, leaving her oddly bereft at the loss of his touch, and sat back. His appraising gaze seemed to peer into her soul. “I did not mean to upset you, bella. I just want you to know that while you are with me, you needn’t be afraid or walk on eggshells I am not Arnaud. You are human, as I once was.

Given different circumstances, our positions could be reversed, could they not?”

They could, but for him to acknowledge that? It scared her that he could be so aware. She turned back to the window and tried to ignore the scared woman staring back at her. “I would like to sleep a little.”

“Rest, Marissa. I will bother you no more this trip.” He went back across the aisle.

What had she gotten herself into? Already she felt his words sinking into her like a balm of hope. If he really meant what he said… She squeezed her hands into fists. She always wanted too said… She squeezed her hands into fists. She always wanted too much. Rennata had told her so and she knew it to be true, but she couldn’t stop the desire for something more than this life. To give up that hope would be to die.