‘I’m not sure what you’re implying.’ She uncovered her face to look at him.

Mal shrugged. ‘Just saying you look good for an old broad.’

Steel glinted in her eyes. ‘Comarré age very slowly.’

Hmm. Anger brought the truth out of her. Might be worth another shot. ‘How old were you when he first sucked your brains out?’

A spark of that rage returned. Her chin lifted. ‘You needn’t be vulgar. He purchased my blood rights when I was fifteen.’

Ouch. ‘So … was he your first?’ He hated the images those words brought, but took pleasure that her patron’s head was no longer intimate with his spine.

‘And my last.’

Only one. That was something then. Easier to take. Not that it mattered if she’d serviced the whole bloody council. Because it didn’t. He decided to test her, to see how much truth she was telling. ‘What Family was he?’

She pursed her mouth. Like she was about to be kissed. Or stalling.

Mal put his hands on the chair’s arms and pushed up. ‘If you’re done, I’m leav—’

A sigh ended the silence. ‘Tepes.’

Great, she hadn’t been lying in the gym when she’d said his power wouldn’t work on her. Why, of the five Families, did it have to be that one? ‘And his name?’

More sighing. ‘Algernon.’

‘As in the Elder of the Tepes Family?’ Hell and damnation. This couldn’t get worse.

She shrugged. ‘Yes, but, well, not anymore. Obviously.’

He stood and paced to the far end of the room, then back again. How convenient that the prize comarré of the Elder of the Tepes Family should somehow end up in New Florida. On his doorstep. She probably didn’t even know she was being played for a pawn. How bloody perfect. It stank like a setup, because it probably was. Somehow, despite everything he’d done to stay off the radar, someone had found out he’d escaped the imprisonment. Someone who still wanted him dead. Someone who obviously thought he was stupid enough to fall for a game like this. Damsel in distress worked better if the damsel wasn’t trying to kill you.

‘No.’ He waved his hand at her. ‘I’ve made my decision. I’m not getting involved in this. Nice try, though.’

Her mouth opened, most likely to protest, then she crossed her arms. The movement inched the T-shirt higher. ‘Would you say that Fi belongs to you?’

‘No. Of course not.’

‘Then she’s free to leave whenever she wants?’

‘No.’ He scowled. ‘She’s bound to me.’

Chrysabelle rolled her eyes. ‘So she belongs to you. Have you noticed that the urges you feel around me, the way the scent of my blood affects you, those things, have you noticed they’re a little less aggressive today?’

Actually, they were. ‘Yeah, so?’

‘Then you have no choice but to help me.’ She couldn’t have looked more smug if she’d tried.

‘How the hell do you figure that?’

‘The first to blood a free comarré takes that comarré’s blood rights. Technically, that would be you, via Fi. Even though, technically, you stole them.’ She scowled and started muttering to herself. ‘A ghost. How does that even happen? I hate this city.’

‘You mean I’m your new patron because of Fi getting your blood?’

Chrysabelle glared daggers at him. ‘Great. Anathema and slow. This just gets better and better.’

‘No, this isn’t happening. There’s got to be a way around this. I’ll give them back. Go. You’re free. I release you.’ He waved his hands at her like shooing a fly.

‘I’m not a sparrow. You can’t just release me into the wild and hope for the best.’ She shook her head, looking at him like he was a world-class idiot. ‘There are two ways to give me my rights back.’

He waited. ‘And those would be?’

‘You can die on your own. Or I can kill you.’

Chapter Fourteen

The red-black haze numbed Tatiana like a paralyzing poison. She welcomed the respite from the pain and the punishing use of her body and allowed herself to float. As long as she fought her way back to consciousness when the time came to drink in the power she’d earned. The kind of power only the blood of the Castus Sanguis could supply. Such power was priceless. Painless.

A hand slapped her face, tugging her back to reality. No, she whispered to the fading numbness, but already it dissolved around the edges. She reached for the remains of her self-imposed oblivion, but it was too late. The pain sifted the haze out of reach. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Hungry tongues lapped it up. She gasped, desperate for the darkness. Clawed fingers dug into her flesh. Every slice registered with unnatural clarity. Must … return … to the nothing.

Greedy mouths worked the cuts for more blood. A whimper built in her throat, but she refused to give it voice. They might bend her, but they would not break her. She would prove herself worthy of the power they had to bestow.

A body leaned into her, heavy, unrelenting, weighing on every sore spot. She pushed the pain away, sought the haze, opened herself up to it, and forced her way into the fog’s sweet relief.

The reward was all that mattered.

The door chimes sang out at dusk. Maris wheeled to the door ahead of Velimai and opened it, hoping for Chrysabelle, but knowing it wouldn’t be.