Deathless (The Vein Chronicles Book 2) Page 16

  “No one decided how you felt about me,” he declared. “You’re too stubborn to let anything influence your emotions. I knew you loved me from the moment you didn’t kill me.”

  I smiled at him. “So sweet. That’s how I knew you loved me too.”

  He stared at me long and hard in a way that told me I was to also stay stoic and silent.

  “I can’t deal when you look like that,” I snapped, obviously not doing what his glare told me to.

  So he stepped forward, snatching my face roughly.

  “It is not by design, or blueprint,” he murmured. “Though it feels divine—you feel divine—it wasn’t gods or even the Devil who created this. It was a prophecy created to be broken. We are not loving each other because of a plan but despite one. Because it’s written in the stars that death will take me from you, and I won’t let that happen. Not for gods, not for the Devil himself and sure as fuck not for the universe.”

  I stared at him. “You can’t do that. Guarantee a forever. Decide you own me.”

  His eyes flickered. “Think I just did, babe. Eternity. I’ll accept nothing less.”

  I wanted to be mad. I really did.

  But even I wasn’t so irrational as to try and carve up something so good in the midst of everything that was turning to complete and utter shit.

  “So apparently being owned by someone isn’t a death sentence. It turns out to be a life sentence. Of eternity.”

  “And is that a bad thing?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Because if you ever decide to create a joint Facebook account, I’ll end it right there.”

  His soulful intensity rippled with my words and he shook his head, yanking me into his chest, which was vibrating not just with his heartbeat but with his slight chuckle.

  Then he pulled me back to meet his eyes. “How about we take a break from the reading portion of the afternoon and prove to the gods and the Devil himself just how much someone couldn’t have designed what we have? How about I show you that nothing could’ve imagined what I’m going to do with you, to you, for eternity?” he rasped, his hand brushing the corner of my breast and then roughly tweaking my nipple.

  My stomach dipped at the delightful promise and I leaned in. “Only if you agree that once this starts, I’ll be showing you just how no god, nor even the Devil himself, will be able to rival the depraved things I can do,” I whispered.

  His eyes darkened as he took hold of my ponytail, yanking my neck back roughly so his teeth could run along the flesh that was both icy cold from my nature and in a fiery inferno from his touch.

  The promise of engulfing flames was enough to make me welcome any kind of destruction as long as it came at Thorne’s hands.

  Of course, that’s when a short rap sounded at the door.

  We froze and I cursed myself for not hearing the two vampires from the Sector ascend the elevator.

  “Fucking fuckers,” I hissed.

  The knock at the door echoed through the apartment that already was full of all sorts of words left unsaid, and maybe too many left said.

  After all, there was only so many times you could open your heart to someone without it bleeding all over the place.

  Without it dying.

  It was just science, really. Undead or alive, love was fatal.

  I didn’t need a prophecy thousands of years old to tell me that. No, I just listened to that little voice inside that most of the time I ignored because it was so utterly dull. Its whispers turned to roars when Thorne’s heartbeat wasn’t close enough to drown them out. When Thorne wasn’t close enough to drown it out.

  The voice of survival. That ingrained instinct that everyone had. And it was telling me something that I didn’t rightly need to hear.

  Something that seemed to ring in with that knock.

  Thorne pulled back from my face at the same time I screwed up my nose in distaste.

  “Company’s here, dear,” I said. “And although I wouldn’t really care much, or at all, if they had to wait or even watch you ravage me, they might learn a thing or two.” I winked at him. “And these stiffs might do something idiotic like try to kill us if we keep them waiting too long.” I paused, knowing the vampires at the door could very well hear me. That was what made it fun. “So let’s get this over with. I’ll be prepared for murder or tea. In fact, we can offer both. Be a doll and heat up the pot of blood on the stove, won’t you?” I asked as we walked into the kitchen.

  His hardened eyes focused on the pot that was indeed full of inky red liquid that I’d drained from the mobster Lewis offered me.

  Thorne didn’t like it, considering protecting humankind was meant to kind of be his ‘thing,’ but he was getting rid of some of that humanity and self-righteousness, thankfully. What worried me was where some of it was going.

  He knew Theonexia and the sharing of human blood was required in order to stop us from having to ruin another sofa with the blood of two representatives from the Sector.

  He gave me a long look before kissing me on the head and storming to the stove, turning it on. I stood and waited because I knew the alpha male in him would not let me walk to answer a door for the two vampires who may or may not try to kill me and him.

  He was strange like that.

  Not that I minded. I liked that we were keeping them waiting.

  And his butt looked fucking brilliant in those jeans.

  “Ready?” he growled, eyes on mine when he returned, grasping my hand.

  “Not really,” I admitted as we walked towards the door. “I’m much more comfortable with fighting and murder. These peace talks really freak me out.”

  The corner of Thorne’s mouth turned up. “Well, sometimes peace talks are required in war.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know. So annoying.”

  Opening the door, I was presented with three vampires, two of whom I was expecting. The third, I was not.

  Neither was Thorne. His body went stiffer at the third vampire, fury radiating off him. The bones in my hands protested as he squeezed too hard, obviously restraining from doing anything like lunging at him.

  I scowled. “What are you doing here?”

  The woman gaped at me, her ordered facade cracking. “You dare greet your king like that?” she asked in horror. “The correct term in addressing him is Your Highness. Treat the ruler of your race with the respect he deserves.”

  It was Thorne’s turn to have the hands in his bones cracked with the amount of restraint it took for me not to rip her hair from its tight chignon and bring her head with it.

  Thorne didn’t heal as fast as I did, so it was perhaps unfair that I broke the bones. But he was tough and barely even reacted, if but a little stiffening of his jaw.

  I smiled a tight smile. “I am treating him with the respect he deserves,” I told her. “He’s still here, and he hasn’t got anything pointy sticking out of him, like, I don’t know, this.”

  My hand was out of Thorne’s in a flash and at his belt, where the enchanted blade was tucked more often than not these days. It was, after all, a war.

  Both vampires reacted rather dramatically as I casually waved it in front of me. Sweater Set nearly crawled up the wall, and her male counterpart actually hid behind the king I was pretty sure he was meant to protect with his undeath.

  I raised my brows at them as I easily twirled the blade around before fastening it back in a smiling Thorne’s belt.

  “Chill, dude and dudette. If I were going to use that, you wouldn’t even have the time to reconsider your frankly criminal choices of outfits for the last day of your deaths. You’d just be dead.” I gave them both a look as they hurried to right themselves. “But that did not go well for either of you.”

  I fastened my gaze on Rick, who had, of course, been smooth and calm during the whole exchange, despite the initial hardening of his jaw at Thorne, then our intertwined hands. That seemed to cause him more trouble than the knife with which I’d kind of threatened his life.

  Th
e moment his eyes locked with mine, they softened slightly, something moving in them. Something that had been a small glimmer that night of the explosion at his compound and had been there a lot more after me almost dying.

  Then it was gone.

  And I was able to gather myself enough to move my attention from the attractive vampire king in the exquisitely cut suit to the mousy woman in an ill-fitting, gray polyester skirt suit with kitten heels.

  Fucking kitten heels.

  “See, Sweater Set, you’re on my turf right now. And my turf means my rules.” I paused. “No, wait, whosever turf I’m on, it’s my fucking rules because that’s just how I play it. I hate being told what to do. I guess I’m Peter Pan in more ways than one. I don’t want to grow up, nor do I want any authority-type figures thinking they can tell me anything. Though I can’t fly and that kind of sucks. And I don’t have a little fairy in a kickass but kind of slutty outfit as a best buddy. But I do have a witch and she’s pretty badass. She even cast this spell that means as soon as you came out of the elevator your immortal asses are going to be rendered mortal should you decide to do something untoward.”

  I smiled.

  Sophie had done no such thing because no such spell existed except for the one I was currently dealing with. Black magic was required to play with life and death. And that was a little cliff she wouldn’t be able to hop on her broomstick and fly up from anytime soon.

  But they didn’t know that.

  Sweater Set scowled. “In addition to your—” She moved down to the intertwined hands that had once more found each other despite the broken bones and death threats. “—fraternization with the enemy, you are admitting to having connections with a witch not only practicing forbidden magic but performing it in your place of residence on two members of the Sector and your own king?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m admitting. Thank you so much for laying it out like that. Your little friend there does seem like he needs someone to paint him a rather vibrant picture. Doesn’t get social cues,” I explained, looking at the slack-jawed and reasonably vacant-looking male vampire. “And the king in question did try to have me executed not that long ago. That’s something a girl doesn’t forget in a hot minute, so I’m more than a little testy.” I paused. “Oh, how rude of me to exchange death threats on a doorstep like some kind of heathen, or werewolf.”

  I screwed up my nose as I stepped back to let the three vampires in. It didn’t escape my notice the way Thorne positioned himself in front of me very purposefully when the vampires passed, nor the way he did it when Rick moved smoothly inside, meeting his fury-filled eyes with a cold indifference he’d practiced in the face of naked rage.

  Again, I put that on my to-do list, along with Thorne—he was hot when he was homicidal—killing witches, winning a war, and making sure my best friend didn’t tumble off a cliff and turn into some kind of witch bitch. And also not tumble into bed with a werewolf, of all things.

  “I’ll just go get some blood for our guests,” I said, gesturing to the sofa. “Why don’t you sit?”

  There was a long pause as the invitation hung in the air, and it was Rick who moved to accept it. And even though the Sector was a governance separate to the crown, they still answered to it, so they sat as well.

  I winked at Thorne. “Honey, could you give me a hand with the glasses? They’re ever so heavy,” I asked sweetly, fluttering my lashes.

  I was very satisfied with the incredulous gape from Sweater Set, which I’d decided to shorten to SS. Rolled off the tongue much easier.

  Thorne and I disappeared into the kitchen, where, as organized, we used the blood of the mobster to distract from the fact that I gently put my fangs to his wrist, eyes on his the entire time. The way his eyes darkened with blatant desire had me wanting to ravage him here and now.

  But there were responsibilities of making sure the Sector didn’t organize our execution and such.

  So boring.

  So after letting my lips linger on his wrist for a beat longer than I needed to, I removed them and turned his bleeding wrist over the small glass I’d saved for myself.

  Obviously I couldn’t let the Sector know the little gem that was me drinking from Thorne and only Thorne.

  Something to be kept on the down low, considering making public enemy numbers one and two more vulnerable by knowing that number one—me, of course—needed number two and only number two; otherwise, she was fucked.

  Putting a target on his back and/or advertising my vulnerability were not on my to-do list for the night.

  Hence me giving my glass to Thorne while I cradled the three meant for our guests. They weren’t likely to take a glass of blood offered to them by a slayer, so I was the waitress for the evening.

  Thorne and I exchanged a look that I knew meant no words were necessary. Not that we could speak them; vampire hearing meant that the stare of lovers was the only thing we could share. Oh, and a quick kiss.

  The air in the living room when we came back was more than a little chilly.

  Just how I liked it.

  The three vampires silently took the glasses offered with obvious distaste and reservation. Despite Theonexia forbidding hosts from presenting tainted blood to guests, at Apollo’s wrath, they paused.

  I grinned at them. “I’m so touched that you consider me brave or crazy enough to go to battle with a god. Fills me with so many warm fuzzies.”

  They ignored me.

  Why was everyone doing that?

  Rick bringing the glass to his mouth and tipping it down his throat in a smooth swallow signaled the other two to do the same.

  I rolled my eyes, sipping from my own glass, giving Thorne a heated look as I did so.

  His eyes glowed.

  The silence that bathed the room after the sipping of the blood was uncomfortably brilliant.

  Unfortunately, or fortunately, I had things to do—namely Thorne—so I decided to move the party along.

  “So, what? You’re going to kill me now?” I asked conversationally after I’d drained my glass.

  It was addressed to the room in general, but SS took it upon herself to answer, lifting her brow. “We will not break the most sacred law that helps keep us from the animalistic humanity that lets wars and battles ravage mankind,” she snapped. “Despite your obvious distaste for any law that governs our kind. Taking up with a slayer.”

  I tilted my head. “I thought it was more frowned upon than actually law which will show the wrath of the gods or whatever. You know, like murdering someone at a wedding. People don’t like it, but they deal.” I paused. “No? Okay, then.”

  She put the glass on my coffee table, without a coaster, which made me stabby—it was new. I’d just had to replace everything thanks to Thorne and me destroying all the furniture.

  This was one of my best coffee tables yet, and she was ruining it with her fucking rings.

  I squeezed the stem of my glass as she brushed her palms on the cheap fabric of her skirt.

  Her eyes met mine. “Once this mess has been cleaned up and the rebels have been taken care of, you know the Sector will recommend the extermination of the problem you’ve decided to give us. I will personally make sure that this problem is rectified, and the slayer alliance that our king is proposing will end with the execution of the one who doesn’t seem to know its place.”

  The silence that came after the less-than-masked threat—a Vegas bride had more veiling on her shit—was heavy.

  I made it so it lasted a lot longer than was comfortable. Though Thorne, taut and furious beside me, was anything but comfortable. In fact, due to my heightened emotions and the connection we now had, I would’ve been damn near homicidal off his emotions alone.

  You know, if I wasn’t already homicidal as shit. Side effect of being a vampire.

  And of being a woman when some asshole said something like that about your man.

  I smiled sweetly at the vampire in front of me. “Now I know you didn’t just threat
en Thorne, my….” I searched for the word. ‘Fated one’ and ‘mate’ sounded so douchey. “Man companion.” Equally as bad, but I said it with enough confidence and venom that the term rolled off the tongue sharp enough to cut a bitch.

  Not sharp enough to take the head of this vampire, unfortunately.

  “I know you didn’t just do that,” I continued. “Not in my own home, in front of me, the vampire very well known for, shall we say, overacting. Slicing off that demon’s arm for spilling a drink on my dress?” I waited for dramatic pause. “Yeah, that really happened. But to be fair, she was a total bitch and it was fucking couture,” I seethed. It may have been a decade ago, but vampires never forget. I did smile over the fact that the blade I used was enchanted and now she still didn’t have an arm.

  It was the little things.

  I kept my smile as I regarded them but added a little more insanity to it, just to freak them the fuck out even more. “I know you’re not stupid, or suicidal enough to do such a thing,” I said. “But if you were stupid enough to threaten him right in front of my fucking face in my fucking house, I’d rip your throat out,” I promised. “Then chop off your head, burn you, and sprinkle your ashes on the steak I planned on having for dinner.” I grinned. “If you don’t do it again, I’ll just stick with regular peppercorns. Aren’t as zesty, but I can go without.”

  I let my own silence descend as Thorne’s fury remained, an invisible pulse in the air. But the corner of his mouth twitched only slightly, communicating his amusement.

  I smiled, that time slightly less insane. Just my usual crazy.

  “Okay, great. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, we can get down to it. Can I get anyone a scone? Fresh baked this evening.”