Blood Rights

Tatiana’s pet watched, its beady red eyes ever vigilant. That dangerous creature would be the first thing Maris dispatched when she got free. And she would get free. If she had to tear flesh and break bone to do it, she would free herself and do as much damage as she physically could to Tatiana and her house.

If only Maris had her sacre. But she’d seen swords decorating the walls of this house. One of them would have to do. The time for pretending was over. The time for protecting had come. Holy mother, please allow me this one last effort. She dug a fingernail into the weave of the rope, fraying it piece by piece.

The snake slithered closer, flicking its tongue out.

One of the benefits of being a cripple was being underestimated. Tatiana had not secured Maris’s feet. She snapped her good foot out, catching the cobra and sending it flying into a teak chaise with a satisfying thump.

Of course, there were greater benefits in only pretending to be crippled. After her libertas, she’d been confined to a wheelchair while her body healed. Staying in the chair after she’d learned on her own to walk again had been a difficult decision and an even harder secret to keep, something she’d only ever entrusted to one other – her sweet, volatile Velimai. Bitter tears burned Maris’s eyes, but her anger forced them away. Tatiana and her paramour would pay for what they’d done to Velimai.

With a final burst of effort, she snapped the rope and loosed her hands. Red marks circled her wrists. She flexed them, marveling at how the signum still sparkled after all these years. How she’d despised those marks, worked to hide them so she could move in the mortal world undetected and live a normal human life. The life she’d wanted for Chrysabelle. Poor Dominic. He’d never understood her need for that mundane normalcy, but she’d never expected him to. He reveled in being the creature he was, and a normal human life had stopped being an option for him the day he was turned. He’d gone from prince to king. Comarré were born serfs. How could he understand?

She stood slowly, giving her bad leg a chance to catch up. It took longer for the circulation to return to her old muscles these days. Paying Dominic in blood had given her a welcome boost of virility. Keeping her strength up while living her life as a cripple had been a test of will made bearable by Dominic’s occasional visits, but today would make all those years worthwhile.

The cobra shifted, coming back to life. Foul creature. Maris limped over and snatched it behind the head and by the tail. ‘You and your mistress are quite a pair, aren’t you? Cold-blooded killers.’

The cobra spit, and the sharp tang of venom tainted the air.

‘Just like your keeper. Reeking of poison and death.’ In one quick motion, she released the snake’s head and spun the creature around by the tail, bringing its skull down against the bench with a hard, final snap.

She dropped the limp body. The serpent writhed at her feet as the nerves twitched reflexively in the final throes of death. If only Eve could have done as much. Maris wiped her hands on her dirty, bloodied clothes.

‘Now for your mistress.’

Chapter Twenty-eight

The apprehension building in Mal’s gut had grown the farther into the city they’d driven. The cypher fae, Solomon, had gotten them through Corvinestri’s wards without incident, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being watched. Even the voices’ ever-present droning had taken on a nervous hum. Something wasn’t right. Besides the fact that two anathema were now within the walls of one of the power centers of vampire nobility.

The grounds around the Primoris Domus house, if you could call such a structure a house, were so well lit that the night didn’t leave a single shadow. He almost expected to see armed guards, but what good would they do against vampires?

He’d never been to a comarré residence before, let alone imagined one could be as impressive as the houses nobles lived in. Maybe more so. How many acres did the property entail? At least three other buildings dotted the landscape. Training facilities maybe? Dorms? Armies could have been barracked inside buildings that large. He glanced at Chrysabelle. Maybe that’s exactly what the buildings held.

‘Nice joint,’ Doc said. ‘Your kind don’t like small spaces, I dig.’

Chrysabelle’s eyes stayed on the building, focused yet distant. She raised her hand to the window and rested her fingertips on the glass. ‘Within that house, hundreds of comarré live their lives. They’re born here, raised here, trained here. This is our world. Our home.’

Doc shot a look at Mal as if to say it seemed like a sheltered life. He couldn’t disagree, but Chrysabelle had handled herself well in the human world. Perhaps she’d been trained for that too.

Their driver, the plane’s pilot, pulled the limo to a stop just beyond the large circular drive in front of the main house, staying in the shadows of the tree-lined entrance. The second vehicle, driven by the copilot and holding Dominic, Mortalis, and Solomon, parked behind them. Fi might as well have been in that car too, for all she’d said. Since the incident with the clothes, she’d been quiet and mopey.

‘I’m going in alone,’ Chrysabelle announced, reaching for the door handle.

Mal grabbed it first. ‘Like hell you are.’

Finally, she looked at him. ‘Do you honestly think you’re going to be granted an invitation to come any farther than the threshold? At best I can get you into the foyer and the great room, but nothing beyond that. This place is a sanctuary against vampires.’ She shook her head. ‘I go alone.’