House of Comarré Omnibus, page 110
part #0.50 of House of Comarré Series
“You have.” Dominic pressed the intercom on his desk. “Send one of the best comarré up.”
“Yes, sir,” a female voice answered.
Mal shifted. He hadn’t wanted to do this with an audience, but neither did he want to be alone with a human with an open vein. Chrysabelle could fight him off. One of Dominic’s comarrés could not.
“Do you wish privacy?” Dominic asked.
“No.” He forced himself to relax.
“Please.” Dominic held his hand toward a secluded corner of his office that held a chair, low table, and love seat. “I don’t care to be watched while I dine either.”
Without further argument, Mal got up and went to the seating area. A few minutes later, someone knocked.
“Come,” Dominic called.
The door opened. “You sent for me, master?”
Son of a priest. Of all the comarré Dominic had, Alice was the one who got sent up?
“Yes,” Dominic answered. He pulled a knife from a desk drawer and held it out to her. “Take this, get a glass from the bar, then fill it for my guest there.” He gestured toward Mal. She didn’t look, but Luciano watched with interest.
With a hesitant movement, she accepted the dagger. “May I ask why, master?”
Bloody hell. Mal growled softly, causing her to turn. “Because I can’t drink from the vein.”
“You,” she whispered. A flash of anger passed over her face, quickly disappearing into a mask of obedience. “As you wish.”
“Do you know each other?” Dominic asked.
“No,” Alice said.
“Yes.” Mal crossed his ankle over the opposite knee and leaned back. “I tried to use my powers of persuasion on her in the club. She didn’t care for it.”
Dominic laughed. “I’m sure she explained that my comarré are warded against that. Trying to get a replacement for Chrysabelle?”
“Something like that.” Mal held eye contact with Alice, challenging her to say otherwise. Tired of the games, he pointed to the chair next to him. “Sit.”
She did as he asked, setting the glass on the low table. “Now what?”
“Nick your vein and hold it over the glass.” How simple was she?
“Why not just bite me? It’s so much simpler.”
“I told you I can’t drink from the vein.” Can and should.
Indignation rolled off her in waves. “Do you think I’m not worthy?”
Every muscle in his body tensed. He reminded himself he’d thought this a good idea. “I do not drink from the vein.”
“Alice,” Dominic barked. “Do as he asks without question. Do not make me speak to Katsumi about your training.”
“Yes, master.” Disgust in her eyes, she held out her arm and pricked her wrist with the dagger. She yelped, biting her lip. Red beaded up, perfuming the office with the coppery scent of faded roses. Human blood. She turned her wrist over and the glass began to fill.
Mal waited until the blood was an inch from the top. No point in not getting as much as he could if he had to endure this torture to get it. “Enough.”
“Like I could give you any more,” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her wrist and lifting her chin as if she’d just provided him with the finest vintage wine France had to offer.
He took the glass and chugged it without ceremony. The blood held none of Chrysabelle’s sweetness or power. There was no sharp burst of pleasurable pain as his body came to life, no beating heart, no need to draw breath. Just the sensation of being full and the numbing of the voices, something human blood had always done. He set the glass down and stood. Time to go home. Check on the comar and see about the vampiress being held captive in the freighter’s hold. “Dominic, my thanks.” He tipped his head at Luciano.
“Whenever you need it,” he reminded Mal. Luciano lifted his hand in farewell.
Alice stared up at him intently, obviously waiting for him to thank her as well. “Feel better?”
“Not much.” He hadn’t stopped thinking about Chrysabelle once. “I’ve had real comarré blood. This isn’t it.”
Chapter Six
Prick me again and I’ll have your fingers cut off,” Tatiana snarled.
The modiste jerked the pin away from the gown’s bodice. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I will be more careful.”
“Yes, you will be.” Nothing irritated Tatiana more than inactivity. Standing on this platform before these mirrors, being fitted for a gown to wear to the Dominus ball, was not the best use of her time. Not when she could be in New Florida hunting down that comarré whore and finally taking possession of the ring of sorrows. With that power, Tatiana would be utterly unstoppable, and protecting Lilith would be as easy as breathing. If Tatiana still breathed.
Octavian strolled in. His eyes silvered as he took her in. “You look glorious.” He stopped by Lilith’s crib, leaning down to coo soft words and tickle her belly. Pride swelled in Tatiana at how good he was with her. She’d been so right to turn him from the kine head of her household staff to her vampire paramour. “Sweet child,” he whispered. He kissed her tiny fist, then came to Tatiana’s side and kissed her cheek. “Hello, my love.”
“Octavian, don’t keep me waiting. How did her blood tests come out?”
“Everything’s fine. With the strains of vampirism in her system, the doctor doesn’t think any of the usual immunizations will be necessary.”
“Excellent.” Relieved, she glanced at Lilith’s crib. “I’d hate to subject her to that kine again.”
“He’s not such a bad fellow. But enough about him.” He took her hand and held her arm out. “I know nothing about women’s fashion, but you do wonders for this dress.” He winked at her as he released her hand.
She smiled and smoothed the skirt. “I do, don’t I?” She studied the gown. Deep purple silk corseted her torso with a heavy crusting of diamond embellishment purposefully designed to conceal two slender blades that could be whipped out at a moment’s notice. From her waist, the gown flared so that it flowed around her like water when she walked. Let Svetla’s pale blondness try to compete.
“You look like the queen you are.”
“I’m having a tiara made to match. Diamonds and amethyst.”
“As you should.” He glanced at Lilith. “And for our little one?”
“Lavender silk and a headband stitched with diamonds and amethyst as well.”
He nodded. “Like mother, like daughter.”
She glanced at the seamstress and her helpers, reluctant to talk about private matters in front of them but eager to find out if Octavian had news from Daciana. “Any word from our associate?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He grasped his hands behind his back and walked forward a few steps. He released his hands, clenching them into fists. “I have no clear way of making contact, despite our new advances.”
Since declaring computers and communication devices no longer off-limits in the House of Tepes, Tatiana had been frustrated by how few members seemed interested in using them. She was slowly learning to use them herself and understood these things took time, but how could anyone not want to take advantage of the technology? “That’s very disappointing. Do you think… all is still well? It’s been nearly five days.” And no word from Daciana. Anything could have happened to her. Tatiana swallowed down the building emotions. This was what came of allowing herself to care about others. She reached for the locket around her neck, comforted by its weight in her hand.
Octavian shook his head as if to dispel her thoughts. “I’m sure everything is fine. You know I’m willing to take care of this in person, if you wish. I can leave immediately. Just say the word.”
“I can’t spare you. With the ball approaching, I need you here with me. Especially when…” She studied the kine around her, looking for listening ears. “All of you, outside until I’ve called you back.”
“Yes, my lady.” The modiste motioned for her helpers to leave.
As soon as the doors closed, Tatiana stepped off the platform to face Octavian. “I’d love to have you check on Daciana, but I suspect the council has eyes on me.” She threw her hands up. “I hate that those pompous fools can affect me this way. After all I’ve been through with them, the way they fought me becoming Elder, the way they made me wait after Ivan’s death, the way they doubt me and question me at every turn—”
Octavian took her hands in his. “You’re Dominus now. One of the council yourself!” He held her gaze. “There’s nothing they can do against you.”
“Not openly, no. Just because they must accept me publicly doesn’t mean they won’t still try to tear me down in private. With the ancient ones so firmly on my side, I have no doubt jealousy will drive at least one of them to oppose me. More than one, I’m sure.”
“My darling.” He shook his head. “Let them try. What can they do? You think the Castus will not punish any who dare come against you? You watch. The rest of the families will be your dutiful servants at the ball.”
She pursed her lips. “For show, yes. But what they plan behind closed doors—”
“Again, I say let them. Let one attempt something. I’m sure the Castus will make an example of them the rest will not soon forget.”
An idea flared in her mind. She smiled, her fears ebbing as the new thought formed. “Or we could make our own example.”
His face lit up, his whiskey eyes going silver with joy. “You are the most brilliant woman I’ve ever known. I’ll work on that immediately. Do you have a preference?”
“Oh, yes.” She laughed, giddy with purpose. “Svetla.”
After he’d parked his bike inside the machine shop, Creek pulled the rolling door closed and locked it. The shop that he’d turned into his headquarters looked about as rough as any other building in downtown Paradise City, but that was the idea. No one would ever guess the place was so secure. Being back in his childhood neighborhood was no joy, but it afforded him great access to the othernatural lowlifes from whom he was duty-bound to protect humanity. Walking past the shop’s open area, he hung his leather jacket on a hook on one of the sleeping loft’s support columns.
He leaned against the big steel work sink in his makeshift kitchen and stared at the glass block window above it, letting Chrysabelle’s words sink in. As much as he agreed with her, there was nothing he could do. The KM owned him for now. Sure, he’d rather live out in the Glades near his mother and grandmother. Someday, he would. Someday when his debt to the Kubai Mata was paid. At least, that’s what he liked to tell himself.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge and loped up the stairs to his bedroom. From there, he climbed through the one unboarded window to sit out on the fire escape. He wished Chrysabelle had been more receptive to his message from the KM, but he understood. Completely. She’d been through a lot. He hadn’t expected her to want to go after a vampire child when it meant putting herself in Tatiana’s path again. Chrysabelle deserved to be able to do what she wanted to do. Even if that included Mal. At least she hadn’t shut Creek out entirely, although he’d given up on his feelings for her. There was a bond between her and Mal he couldn’t penetrate.
He should probably stop thinking about her. Not that she was the only woman on his mind lately. He settled onto the grated steps of the fire escape, twisted the beer cap off, took a pull, then set the bottle beside him. From inside his shirt, he tugged loose the charm his grandmother had made. It was warm from being against his skin. His grandmother had wrapped the three black feathers in leather and silver, sealed the knots with blood, said words over it Creek didn’t understand, then passed the whole thing through the smoke from an assortment of dried herbs and other things Creek didn’t remember.
He lifted it to his nose and inhaled. A faint hint of the soulless woman’s briny, ocean-air scent remained. He turned the charm over in his fingers. “Yahla,” he whispered. If not for the proof in his hand, he’d think she’d been a dream.
“You called?”
He started, nearly sending the beer clattering to the asphalt below as he twisted to look toward the voice.
She perched on the stairs above, her head cocked to one side, eyes bright and blinking, body hugged in bits of black leather and low-slung jeans. “I am here.”
He stood and moved against the rail to put a little distance between them. “I see that.” For a deadly aberration, she was unquestionably hot.
“You have no need to fear me now.” She bobbed her head toward the charm. “Your grandmother is a wise woman.”
He tucked the charm back inside his shirt. “Yes, she is.” And he was a fool for not telling this one to leave him alone.
She rose and walked slowly down the steps. “You have thought of me.”
It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway, unable to keep the word from leaving his mouth. “Yes.”
Almost toe-to-toe with him, she stopped, an odd smile curving her lips. The long feathers of her hair shifted like silk in the breeze. “Do you find me beautiful?”
“Yes.” Again the word was spoken before he could think otherwise. It was like she pulled the truth from him.
Her hand lifted, her fingers coming to light upon his chest. They were warm through his thin T-shirt. “I can make you forget her,” she whispered.
He didn’t doubt that. He also didn’t doubt she could do a whole hell of a lot of other bad things to him. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Could she read his mind?
“The gold one. She is not for you. Her blood is not your blood as mine is. We are of the same people, you and I. We are kin.”
“She’s just a friend.” He drew away to the side of the fire escape and found his voice as soon as her touch left him. “And you’re a myth. A story my people tell.”
Her eyes darkened until not even the light from inside his bedroom reflected in them. “You’re Kubai Mata. How many people believe in you?”
She had a point, but it wasn’t one that made him like her any better. Irritation popped his jaw. “You should go.”
Her head tipped to the side and she blinked a few times. “You are angry with me, but I am not the one who bound you to the Kubai Mata’s promise. You did that to yourself.”
“I did it for my family.” Was every woman in his life going to come down on him for that?
She came a little closer but didn’t touch him again. “Your reasons are enough. But I am sad that you deny yourself for them.” Her lip curled in disgust. “The Kubai Mata.”
“I don’t deny myself anything.”
“They rule you. They are your master.”
“They got me out of prison.”
At the word, her mouth softened again. “You did not deserve that place for what you did.”
“I agree, but the jury thought otherwise.”
She spat. “And none of them tribe. None of them your people.”
“No.” She had a point, but all that was in the past now.
Her hand reached out and her fingers bunched in the fabric of his T-shirt. The space between them disappeared. She pressed against his chest and her pulse vibrated through his body, so fast it was like a shudder. Tendrils of heat curled around his muscles, brushing against his nerve endings with soft insistence. “I am your people.”
“Yes.” She was. He was half Seminole. She was born of Seminole myth.
Her lids fluttered as her hands slipped higher up his chest. “And I can set you free of the Kubai Mata.”
He shook his head, her mouth dangerously close to his, her eyes impossible to look away from. He wanted her. Right down to the soles of his feet. “I… I can’t be free of them until my family is safe.”
She threw her head back and laughed, the sound a soft caw-caw-caw. “I have promised to protect you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. My sister, my mother, my grandmother. They’re my concern.”
Her hand flattened down hard on his chest. “You think I would hurt them?”
He looked into her eyes, searching for a reason to answer otherwise, but he seemed destined to always speak the truth around her. “Yes.”
She pushed away, but he grabbed her hand, unwilling to let her go. Unwilling to dismiss the possibility that she could do what she said. “Give me your word. Your promise. Tell me you’ll protect them, too. Otherwise, I want nothing to do with you anymore.”
Her eyes were wild, her mouth slightly open as her chest rose and fell. “What do you give me in return?”
Reluctantly, he released her. “What do you want?”
Instead of answering, she stepped back and dragged her hands through her hair, then held them out, her palms full of feathers. “Take these to your grandmother. Have her make charms for each of them.”
He took the feathers and tucked them into the pocket of his jeans. What had he just agreed to? And why didn’t he care more what the answer was?
“You are a good man, Thomas Creek.” She flattened herself against him, her breasts soft through the leather top she wore. Her hands came up to stroke the column of his neck, the shaved sides of his head, each caress dragging him toward the line between control and abandon. She leaned up and touched her mouth to his, just enough contact to pull a groan from his throat.
Instantly, his emotions returned to the day he’d stepped free of the prison grounds. Every want and desire he’d ever had while trapped inside that steel and concrete hellhole now burned in him again. Nothing mattered but possessing Yahla. His hands tightened on the bare skin above the waist of her jeans. “I’m not as good as you think I am.”
She laughed, the same birdlike sound as before, then pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with a fire that ignited every wicked thought coursing through his brain. When she released him, he was panting. She smiled and took his hand to lead him back through the window and into the bedroom.
“You saved me. And now I am going to save you.”
Chapter Seven
The lights of Umberto’s restaurant lit up the night like a burning ember in an ashtray. The last time Lola had come to Little Havana, she’d been here to identify her daughter’s body. Pain pierced her heart as the car drove on. She hadn’t planned on coming back so soon. If ever. It wasn’t that she’d abandoned the neighborhood of her people; she’d just… risen above it. Her abuela had pushed her to get out. To better herself. To join the ranks of the successful. If you can’t beat them, join them, her abuela had always said. And join them Lola had, despite the cost to her personal life.
