Flesh and Blood

The subtle breeze carried a little salt tang in from the ocean, cutting through the neighborhood’s general oily stench. The combination reminded him of the Glades, where his mother now lived with her mother, out on Seminole land. Both women and Una wanted him to move out there, to reconnect with his Native American heritage, but truth was, he didn’t feel like he belonged there any more than he felt like he belonged anywhere. Maybe when his time with the KM was done. He lay back against the metal stairs, stared up through the lattice of rusted iron and studied the sky. The stars sparkled and shimmered like the signum on the comarré’s skin.

She was like something out of a dream. Nothing in his training had adequately prepared him for seeing one of her kind in person. That sunbeam-blond hair, those eyes like the early summer sky, and those strawberry-red lips combined with all that gold ink made for one hard-to-ignore package. He’d known immediately she wasn’t one of Seven’s brand of comarré. Just like he’d known immediately he wanted to spend more time with her. And not just because of the mission. He sipped his beer and refused to let his head wander in that direction. Being locked up had a way of sharpening a man’s desires to a razor-thin edge. He needed to focus on the comarré and forget about his own wants. The comarré and the ring she possessed were his responsibility now. His to persuade. His to protect. His to recover. He tipped the bottle again. A man could do serious harm to himself around a woman like that, tripping over his words and acting a fool. But he wouldn’t. Because he was stronger than that. He was KM.

In a small way, he felt sorry for her. Despite being free now, she’d spent her life in service to the vampires. Sustaining the one who owned her. That was the whole purpose of the comarré – keep the vampires happy and fed and away from humans. All the decisions in her life were already made for her.

Kind of like being in prison.

Yet there was more to the comarré than that, a darker, hidden side. He knew about the physical training they went through, the weapons skills that were drilled into them. That much was evident by the way she worked those swords, one in each hand. He whistled low and long. If that didn’t get a man’s attention, nothing would.

He rolled his head slowly side to side, watching the constellations wink in and out of sight through the cage of metal above him. Those gold tats of hers were something else. Straight-up amazing, if you knew what she’d had to endure for each one, and he did, thanks to the eons of knowledge that had been crammed into his brain in a matter of weeks. Without question, he knew more about the comarré than she did about the KM. Hell, even he knew more about the comarré than he did the KM.

He especially understood the pain she’d endured for those marks, since he’d been through the KM rituals. Women supposedly had a higher tolerance for pain, but he couldn’t imagine that pale, slender female going through that kind of agony. Especially not for the sake of some vampire. Pissed him off, actually. No woman should have to endure pain at a man’s hands.

Una’s dark eyes flashed in his mind, her cries and the sound of their father’s hand cracking her cheek echoing in his ears. He’d come home at just the right time to save her. Just the right time to crucify himself. He clenched and unclenched his empty fist, feeling the snap of bones under his fingers as if he were there again.

Anger pushed him upright. He hunched his back, remembering the day he’d accepted the KM’s offer. He’d walked out of FSP an hour later, proof of the organization’s power. He exhaled hard. Out of one prison and into another. But the deal was worth it.

Worth the pain of the day he’d been sealed into KM service. The memory lingered on his skin, sharp and heavy and just as painful. Being bulletproof didn’t mean the bullet wasn’t going to hurt. Neither did it mean the pain would weaken him. Instead of being something to fear, pain was something to use.

He set his beer on the step beside him and was about to get up and go back inside when he went stone-still. Two vampires strolled into the mouth of the alley, oblivious to his presence. Just to be careful, he used some of his newly acquired skills to stop his heart and breathing. They kept walking. As a safety measure, he’d decided not to make any kills this close to his home, but temptation kissed his fingertips and made them itch for his cross-bow.

If the fringe looked up and saw him, he’d take them out. If not, he’d let them pass. Fringe weren’t specifically his mission, but if they were hunting humans or him, they were fair game. He wasn’t comfortable with them knowing his home base either.

Vamp One said something to Vamp Two that made Vamp Two throw his head back in laughter. As his gaze rose, his beady eyes locked onto Creek. Then the vampire pointed Creek out to his buddy. A second later, two sets of fangs gleamed in Creek’s direction.

So much for letting them skate.

Creek vaulted over the fire-escape railing and landed in front of the dentally challenged pair. ‘Evening.’

The vampires stared back in silence, perhaps stunned by his good manners.

Without waiting for a return greeting, he yanked his halm off his belt and flicked it open to its full six-foot length. Few understood the power of the quarterstaff, and as a result, few feared the weapon. He liked that. Surprise was always an advantage.

Like now.

He tucked the titanium rod beneath his arm and lunged forward, ramming the sharpened tip into Vamp One’s chest, ashing him instantly. Vamp Two took off, but Creek flung the halm like a spear after him. The halm pierced the vampire through the lower back, pinning him to the potholed asphalt.