Blood Rights

‘Don’t worry, I’m going to want it back.’

Black rimmed the silver in his eyes. ‘You’ll get it without a fight.’

She turned to face the Nothos. One corded arm hung slack at its side, the other scratched a hole in its horse-shaped head trying to get at the fae inside it. This was going to be interesting to say the least.

‘Hang on to that thing, Mortalis. We’re going in.’

The fair-haired male struggled under Tatiana’s mouth, his heartbeat weakening to a thready rhythm that sang in her ears like a choir of castrati. The blood was sweeter when the victim teetered on that narrow edge between life and death.

‘Enough, mistress, please,’ he whispered.

This was not a victim, however. This was her comar, and it had taken her years to repay Ivan for the cost of his blood rights. Well worth it, though, for his blood was exquisite. Reluctantly, she drew one last mouthful from his wrist, then pushed him away and collapsed back onto the chaise.

Clutching his wrist, he lurched to his feet, bowing slightly as he backed away. ‘Thank you, mistress.’

She was only vaguely aware of the pale blond kine stumbling out of the room. His heartbeat receded as he shut the door and left her to absorb the strength of his blood.

The rush of power hit her with its familiar numbing warmth, needling through her veins with the stinging prick of morphine. If vampires had a drug, it was comarré blood. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the heady swirl of life. Her heart began to beat. She listened to the bleak cadence and was reminded of how weak she’d been as a human. Of everything she’d had to endure. That life was thankfully behind her. She had been twice reborn as a creature of unparalleled power.

Power that would see her through the coming battle.

One of the Nothos scouts had reported two others lost in a fight at the Primoris Domus. Losing the two Nothos was unfortunate, but all that mattered was that the girl was here. And coming to her. Even now, Mikkel watched the perimeter for her approach. Once the girl was secured, he would be free to decimate the rest of her party. It seemed the least reward Tatiana could offer him for his help.

The perfection of it all thrilled her. Her greatness was immeasurable. How long would it take before there was no vampire more powerful than she? None would be better suited to rule. The House of Tepes would rise to terrifying heights under her guidance. Another swell of power rippled through her. She would rule all the Families.

The girl would bring her the ring and take her aunt’s place as the sacrifice. Why use the old comarré’s blood when Tatiana could have the younger one? Was the old woman even still alive? Tatiana hadn’t checked on her since bedding Mikkel. Why bother? With the niece on her way, the old woman no longer mattered.

Sweet, dumb Mikkel. How wonderful that he’d been the inadvertent key to her figuring out the sacrifice.

How clever that comarré blood would unlock the ring. How had she not seen it before? Pure blood. Pure power. The covenant shall be broken. Then all manner of hell would be unleashed. Tatiana laughed, unable to contain the wicked, heady joy filling her soulless body. What would it feel like when she slipped that ring onto her finger? She craved it with an almost greater hunger than she desired blood.

A powerful presence filled the room, followed by an unmistakable scent. She forced herself not to shudder. The time was at hand. All fear had to be pushed aside. The fearful did not rule, only the strong.

‘Master,’ she whispered, opening her eyes and slipping off the chaise to bow.

He held out his hand for her to kiss his ring, and after she had, bid her, ‘Rise, my child.’

She did as asked, keeping her head down. Tremors of excitement skittered over her skin. She was so close to getting everything she desired. For once, she did not dread the presence of the Castus. She would do their bidding and gather her reward.

The room darkened around him as though his being overpowered the light. ‘You have just fed?’

‘Yes, master. I am prepared. The ring and the sacrifice approach.’

‘You are sure?’

‘Yes.’ She raised her head. Nothing could stop her. Everything was in place. Everything was perfectly aligned.

The Castus smiled. Tatiana forced herself not to look away. ‘How soon?’

‘Within the hour.’ She assumed. She hoped a more accurate answer wasn’t required.

‘Very good. The prophecy will be fulfilled at last.’ He laughed, shattering the mirror over the mantel. Glass rained down, slicing a thousand tiny cuts into her. They healed quickly, leaving traces of blood behind.

He lifted her hand and dragged his forked tongue over the beads of blood on her hand and arm. ‘Now then, when you have the ring and the sacrifice in hand, this is what you must do … ’

Chapter Thirty

Maris inched down the hall, careful not to scrape the heel of her bad leg on the floor. She’d found enough weapons along the way to arm herself with a short dagger and a cutlass. Not her first choices, but those had been the easiest and quietest to remove from their mounts.

The house reeked of vampire. Not the subtle spice she’d once found so alluring on Dominic, but the pervasive mustiness of death and decay. Like old paper money left too long in a damp place.

Tatiana had killed in this house. There was no other explanation. Maris’s lip curled in disgust. This Tatiana lived like the world owed her something and she was determined to claim it.

A noise up ahead sent Maris into a side room. A small guest room, nothing more. No closet either, just an armoire that would cause considerable pain to her hip should she have to climb into it. She pressed her ear to the door and listened as footsteps went by.