Out for Blood

He dragged a hand over his Mohawk. “They’ll start by eliminating Mal.”

She laughed sharply. “If the nobility can’t kill him, I’d like to see the KM try.”

His gaze shifted and his voice lowered. “Then they’ll come after you. I’m powerless to stop them.”

Anger ripped through her. “I’ve done nothing to them. They have no reason to involve me in this.”

He sat back. “That’s not totally true. You haven’t returned the ring of sorrows to them.”

“Why should I even care about returning a ring to an organization I know so little about? If I even still had the ring.”

He stood and paced a few steps away. “I don’t know much about them either, and half of what I do know, I question.” He raised his hand as if to stop himself from talking.

“Then why keep working for them?”

He looked sideways, like someone might be watching. “I owe them, Chrysabelle. Big-time. For my freedom. For things they’ve done for my family.” He shook his head. “They own me. At least for a little while longer.”

“No one should be indebted like that.” Her anger with him defused. She understood exactly the position he was in. “You have to find a way out.”

He exhaled, his words quiet. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Do they know what I’ve done with the ring?”

“No.”

She stood, ready to go back inside. “Then tell them.”

Something close to fear shadowed his eyes. “That’s calling down trouble.”

“I can handle it. And I want them to know they don’t control me. So tell them exactly what I did with their precious ring and that there’s nothing you can do about it. Then maybe they’ll leave you alone.”

“Nothing will make them leave me alone.” He spoke the words quietly, his tone resigned.

Her anger on his behalf grew. “In fact, tell them I want nothing to do with them and will consider them enemies if they contact me again.” She turned and headed back to the house.

“Chrysabelle—”

She spun back around. “I don’t mean you, Creek. You can contact me, but not on their behalf. I like you. You’ve been a good friend to me.” More than that. He’d saved her life more than once. Fought at her side. Kissed her. She tempered her anger for the sake of their friendship. “If the Kubai Mata want that child, they’ll need a new plan. I’m done being a pawn for the greater good.” She paused. “So should you.”

By the time she reached the front door, the sound of Creek’s motorcycle had already begun to fade. She slammed the door behind her and stormed into the kitchen. Her anger wasn’t completely at the KM for wanting her to do their bidding. No, much of it was at herself for pushing Mal away. Velimai glanced up from where she was setting plates of dinner on the table.

“That was Creek,” Chrysabelle said. Like Velimai hadn’t heard when the guard had called. She threw herself into one of the kitchen chairs, her temper darkening with each passing minute. Why was she so afraid of facing things? Why did Mal raise such emotion in her? Answering those questions meant coming to terms with what she was feeling. Something she was so not ready to do.

She wished Velimai would just sign something. Anything to break the stoniness that had settled over the house since she’d thrown Mal out. Velimai sat, intent on her dinner. Chrysabelle cut a bite of steak and stuffed it into her mouth, but all she tasted was anger. Enough. She swallowed and set her fork down. “I didn’t mean for things to go that way with Mal. He just has a way of… pushing my buttons.”

Velimai looked up from her meal, putting her silverware aside to free her hands. How did you mean for things to go?

“I don’t know.” She slid her plate away. “Why do I do that? Why does everything with him have to be a battle? Why does he always find a way to do exactly what I don’t want him to do?” She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling for a second. “Why do I even care?”

You two are very much alike. You need each other. Both seeking something that can’t be found alone.

Chrysabelle pursed her mouth. “Riddles don’t help.”

Velimai shrugged and went back to eating.

Chrysabelle’s appetite was gone, Velimai’s words ringing soundlessly in her head. “I should get Jerem to take me out to the freighter and apologize. Plus I owe Mal blood.” And she could fill him in on what the KM was up to. She stood, dropping her napkin onto her plate. “Will you tell Jerem I need the car? I’m going to shower first, but then I want to go out to Mal’s.”

Velimai nodded.

Chrysabelle turned away and almost ran across the living room and up the stairs. What did Velimai think she and Mal were seeking? Freedom? That was true. But did they really need each other? The thought of being without him upset her. Did that mean she cared for him? If she did, why did she fight with him this way? Why did he always set her off so easily? She would not travel the same path as her mother. Falling in love with a vampire had gotten her mother nothing but years of misery. And ultimately, death. Not that Dominic was so awful, but something had gone wrong between them. Enough that Maris had ultimately chosen to live alone rather than with him.

Chrysabelle pushed through the doors to her suite and didn’t stop until she was naked under the pulsing jets of her shower. She would visit Mal, apologize, and give him blood. Then she might as well talk to Damian and see what she could find out. Mal had said the comar was at the freighter. Why, she couldn’t imagine, but if Mal had done it to keep the comar out of her hair while she recovered, then she owed him one. The floral scent of her shampoo did nothing to soothe her. If Damian was with Mal, where was Saraphina, the comarré who had run away with him?