These eternal bones a da.., p.26
These Eternal Bones: A Dark Vampire Romance, page 26
A memory pops into my head. Her smirk as he left the front entrance. How Elric had pulled me away from the window, all snarls and fang. “She visited a while ago. Why?”
Péal eyes me, nibbling her bottom lip.
“Don’t clam up now.”
She frowns. “I am a seal when I shift, not a clam!”
When she what?
My mouth pops open, staring at her for a moment before shaking my head, no longer surprised by anything here. “What I meant was don’t suddenly decide to be secretive. You no longer serve Elric, right? You serve his mate.”
Her eyes widen, as if she’d forgotten. “It was something about a boat on the way to port. Master didn’t want it here and then the older woman spewed some stuff about remembering blood in the soil. She had an odd feel to her, uncomfortable, like sucking on a tart berry.”
“She and Cartiel are friends?”
Why would Cartiel be friends with someone Elric used to feed on, or is he sleeping with the elderly woman? Not to sound prude but he’s…beautiful, I’d imagine he has his pick if he truly wanted a someone to warm his bed. It seems an odd choice, but I suppose most manners of the heart are.
“I wouldn’t say friends, I don’t think the gold-bronze man has an aptitude for them. When she showed up, he got skittish, made himself scarce.”
I lean back, worrying my lip before an idea pops in my head. “What are the chances of getting the fox up here?”
Péal lets loose a guffawing laugh at that. “On a scale between he simply trots inside, to master kills everyone in the castle?”
I level her with feigned annoyance; it sounded like a longshot, even to me.
If I can’t see Rummes, can I call him?
Can we still talk the way he did in the woods?
We’re connected, right? Elric said we formed a soul connection.
Much to my shame, I’d called out for him, mentally, in those first days locked in this cage. I wouldn’t dare do it out loud. My mate's brain would’ve imploded. He hadn’t answered.
Péal reaches through, brushing her hands through my hair in a comforting gesture when I sigh, letting my head thud against the bars of the cage. “If we’re going to get Cartiel up here, we’ll need to distract master, to get him away from you.”
A needle of worry fills me for the small woman. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She shakes her head. “I will be fine, but I have conditions.”
My brow quirks.
“You must explain to me what you’re doing. Why do you need to speak with him?”
I heave a sigh as I go through the past few months, the way he’s watched and longed. How he’d helped me find the diary, and by the time I’m done with it, she only seems more unsettled.
“How did you fall, mistress?”
I rear back slightly, taking in her expression. She couldn’t possibly–
“I-I was…” I stop, huffing in frustration. “I must’ve leaned too far over. Cartiel said the upper rungs were weak.”
“They aren’t.”
I shrug, feeling oddly defensive of the constant hate Cartiel seems to earn from everyone else. Granted, he’s far from pleasant to be around. He’s done nothing but be exactly that.
“Were you alone?” she asks carefully, and my irritation spikes.
“Enough Péal. We were friends. According to the diary, we were incredibly close.”
She nods. “You were, but…people change, mistress. The grief, it…he blamed himself. I believe it made him ugly on the inside.”
I dismiss her with a wave, but there’s something I’m missing from the fall, something that isn’t sitting right. I had done something before I fell, right? “I need answers. What if he’s my closest bet to stopping this?”
“Stopping…the curse?” The look of pity in her eyes slams into my chest in the most unpleasant way.
“He knows something more, I can tell. He spends all his time sneaking books in and out of the library. It’s not much, but it’s something, Péal. I need something, some hope, even if it’s a wisp.”
She takes a deep breath before her head snaps around toward the stairs, moments before the lock turns. She simply nods, offering me a smile. “You’ll just have to be patient, mistress; I can handle it.”
Elric blurs into the room, glaring down at the tiny woman. “Handle what?”
“The staining in her teal skirts; they are her favorite.”
He smiles at me, but the veins are edging onto his lips. He’s unsettled again, be it by something external or his own mind, I’m rarely sure. “I can buy you another. You’re dismissed, selkie.”
She remains peeking around my mate to get my approval. I nearly laugh, but my heart pounding in my chest keeps it at bay as I wave bye to her.
No sooner than the lower door locks, mine breezes open and shut in a flurry of speed. Elric regarding me with a predatory glint in his eyes. “Your pulse is racing.”
It’s not a question. I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt, simply raising my brows in response.
He gathers me in his arms, depositing me on the bed. My body wants to let loose a sigh of relief, but I know better. I know this man better than I know myself, and I know I haven’t won. Not yet. He lowers his head to my neck, teasing me with his fangs before he kisses me there. My core heats, suddenly wishing to be free from my bodice so that his chest can drag around my peaked nipples. I moan as he dips lower, pricking the skin on the top of my breast with a sharpened canine. He watches the blood well there with no small amount of reverence. His eyes capture mine as he leans in to lap at it, dragging his cool tongue over and over until the bleeding stops, as if we’ve got all the time in the world. “The two of you were whispering, my love. What about?”
My body trembles, at war with my flushed skin and throbbing center and the lethal edge to his voice. “Perhaps it is nice to speak to another woman about womanly things without a man leering menacingly in the corner,” I snap, but it lacks any real venom.
He pulls back, and I refuse to shrink under his perusal.
It lasts an eternity, and I can’t tell if my chest is heaving from the lie or the arousal.
I nearly wilt when he pulls me from the bed. “Come my sweet Molly, let's seat you upon my cock.”
40
A Bronze Man
Molly
I didn’t have to wait long, but were those next two days some of the longest of my life? Absolutely.
Tien whistles from the bottom of the stairs, giving me a warning that he’s here, though judging by the growl that left Elric’s throat seconds ago, I knew someone was coming. I bring my cup of tea to my lips, blowing on the steaming China. He used his power to enter. Does that mean he doesn’t have the key?
“Sir Jin got out last night. We think the storm spooked him; he’s lost to the woods.”
I choke on the tea.
Elric tenses at my back. “Molly?”
Worry lances through the bond as I hack, sputtering out reassurances between coughs.
Is this it?
Schooling my features, I turn back to Elric. “He only responds to you, doesn’t he?”
His eyes flick to mine, and I can see the warring on his face. I certainly didn’t help matters by hacking half to death in his lap seconds ago. “And you.” He offers, trying to sound calm.
It does not work; his voice has that eerie note to it. Like it’s coming from him and everywhere else at the same time.
“Barely,” I mutter, my pulse jumping as he sighs, lifting me off his lap and back into the chair.
“I’ll go get the beast and be right back, syringa.”
Be calm, Molly. Be calm.
I just nod, leaning in for a kiss. Standing, I only come up to his lower chest, but sitting, I’m even smaller. He never seems to mind bending to meet me. He lingers, his tongue testing the seam of my mouth, and it frazzles my brain in a way I don’t have time for.
Tien’s reptilian brows furrow at me as he catches himself, offering his own odd version of a smile before he follows Elric out.
Was that it?
Oh god, it had to be, right?
I’m up and pacing before I know it, worrying my hands in front of me. It only takes a few minutes before I hear a lock turning in the door. It closes in a rush but shuts silently, like when you hold the handle and let it twist slowly. Cartiel regards me with no small amount of displeasure as he clears the top of the stairs. “You’re going to get me killed.”
“Elric won’t know.” I cringe at the desperation in my voice.
The man chuffs at that. Arrogant as ever. “Of course he’ll know. He’s a god.”
“And you’re the son of one.”
“Bastard son,” he corrects, nodding toward the stack of non-aggravating books Elric allowed me to have. He wasn’t trying to be restrictive for the sake of restriction, but he refuses to let me stew over the curse, over answers. Yet here I am. Stewed. He leans down, his bronze golden locks falling into his face as he regards the book at the bottom of the pile, one my selkie accomplice snuck to me. “You’ve done your homework.
I shrug. I hadn’t wanted Elric to know I was reading into Nephilims. It seemed an unnecessary risk to the man’s life when my mate spent most of his time near the edge of sanity, anyway. Most of the words in there I couldn’t figure out, so I gleaned very little.
“What do you want, Molly?”
I swallow hard; heavens, why am I so nervous? “We were friends, close friends.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You helped me in the library,” I offer, trying and failing to find the words. My brow furrows as something flashes across his eyes, something akin to a wince. “I don’t blame you. The fall was an accident.” The hidden message is there, lingering, thickening the air. I don’t blame you for her, either. There was nothing you could do, nothing you did wrong. I want to see the smile she wrote about someday.
His throat bobs. Clenching and unclenching his fists. “We have little time. Whatever it is you want me to risk my life for, get to it.”
Every bit of class and decorum I have flies straight out of the nonexistent window as I rush forward, gripping the bars, making him take a step back. Like he can’t stand the thought of being near me. “You know more than you’ve said. I can feel it,” I point at him. “Don’t bother lying, you suck at it.”
“I do not.”
“You do. There must be something, a book, a ledger, something from the coven that did this…I know Elric, he’s meticulous. He would’ve kept everything after they were gone. There must be a way to stop this, Catriel. I want it to end, to end the curse so we can be free. This life…it has to be the last.” My voice breaks. “However long that may be. He’s suffering–”
“To fucking hell with his suffering! This is his fault! He did this to you! Did it to all of us!” I flinch as his eyes burst into a glow, erupting like daybreak. “He did this to you, and all you can think about is him.” I nearly scream when Cartiel rushes the bars, his face inches from mine. He smells like summer, like my home in Mertigas, but only in the good ways. “To fucking hell with his mercy, Molly. He deserves none.”
My hands are shaking as I reach through the bars, as desperate to comfort him as I am to scream at him for the horrible things he said. When my hand covers his, I almost do just that. Scream at him, but a wave of déjà vu stops me. Why do I feel he’s said those words to me before? I feel like I did scream then, but that makes no sense. He’s only been around for two of my lives. This one and the last. I found out about the curse the night I died; I was rushing to open the door–
“This is insanity,” he whispers, looking horribly sad for a breath before his mask slips back into place.
“In that, we agree. I need your help. There’s got to be a clue–”
“All texts he took from that night are lost,” he says, slipping his warm hand from mine and backing away.
“And why is that?”
He shrugs. “Seven hundred years is a long time. Things happen.”
I ignore the odd nagging in the back of my mind. “You know how to help me.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t, but I know someone who does. Someone with a long memory.”
“Who? What does that mean?”
He takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to convince himself to tell me. “Maybe Elric, in his rage…forgot one.”
My eyes widen, and I can only fathom what my mate is feeling in our bond. I try to calm myself but fail; my eyes welling with tears. “One of the ones who cursed him?”
Cartiel’s eyes meet mine and, for once, they don’t flick away. “No, not directly. There’s more to the story than maybe even he knows. I doubt there was much humanity to be found on either side that night.” I swallow hard, trying to steady my shaking as I brace myself for another deafening blow. “One witch was with child, Molly. A child born from her mother’s corpse.”
My stomach churns as I press my hands to it.
“She survived. How?”
He simply stares.
“How? It doesn’t make sense, nothing I read claimed witches to be immortal; that would be…over seven hundred years.”
“That’s not my story to tell. If there’s anyone that can end this…it would be her.”
Apprehension fills me, only further upsetting my stomach. “Would she? They certainly didn’t help me then.” I take a step back, unease pulsing my chest. “They killed me, simply for being his mate. For just wanting a child.”
He shifts on his feet. “I know nothing more than that. Nor do I care enough to sit here while you toddle with your thoughts. You either take the lead or not; it matters little either way.”
He turns on his heel, heading toward the stairs when I lurch forward. “Wait! If you hadn’t noticed, I can’t simply hike to her. What good does this do me?”
“I could tell her, obviously.”
“Stop being rude.”
He just glares. “Write her something quick. I’ll pass it along if I have time.”
My eyes snap to my sketchbook before embarrassment sends color flooding my cheeks. “I-I’m not so good at that yet.”
He heaves a sigh, like my illiteracy is just a terrible inconvenience to him.
“I’ll pass along who you are and what you want.”
“Is that…wise? Hang on, maybe we should think about this more.”
He waves me off. “All anyone can talk about is the legend of the Vampire of Port Clyde, all but confirmed to be true now that you’re here. How young women go to his castle and never come out alive? I’m sure she already knows he’s taken another one. I’m sure she knows exactly what that means. You’re telling her nothing she hadn’t already gleaned.”
Spoken like someone who knows…
He leaves with that, and my mind is reeling too hard to stop him. I step back until the backs of my knees hit the bed, forcing me to sit. I’m barely lucid when Péal rushes in shortly after, displaying her hands in front of her as a sharp buzz of energy crackles in the room. Where there had been traces of summer before, there is only the smell of the ocean, the sand, and salt.
I quirk a brow at her.
“It’s projection. Like what I do with the water, only instead of taking it, I just borrow some of its essence. I can’t say it’ll completely mask the scent of him, but it’s better than nothing. Did you find what you were looking for?”
I frown. “I’m not sure yet.”
She just nods, her hair windswept. It’s then that I realize she was acting as some kind of lookout. My heart warms for the sweet woman.
My friend, the only one I think I’ve ever had.
I got what I wanted, though, at least a good start to it. So why don’t I feel even an iota of the relief I thought I would? Why does it feel like I’ve just made a huge mistake?
41
Realization In the Form of Horror
Elric
My eyes slip over her warm, tanned flesh, savoring each swell and divot. These times are my favorite, when her chest rises and falls, measured with her sleep. Her body is loose; she’s not trying to sit pretty, not laying herself for my gaze. She’s perfection. My hand twitches to caress her, but I fear my cold fingertips would wake her, so I keep them tucked behind my head. My sweet Molly has been odd the past few days, jumpy. Perhaps the magic the selkie showed her had unsettled her. Although I doubt it would be that, my nose wrinkles at the smell of the ocean mixed with lilac. Inhaling deeper, my fangs descend. There’s something else, something so faint it could almost be a trick of the mind. Something that shouldn’t be here.
Molly shifts in her sleep, kicking the blankets down around her bared legs, her sleeping gown having risen in the night. The scent of me still lingers between her thighs. The lace neckline hugs her defined collarbones before it gives way to champagne colored silk, the slit up her side favoring her maddening hips.
When will it happen?
A death that sticks…
The voice whispers its foul words, never allowing me a moment of peace. It grows more pressing toward the end. Always grating at the remnants of my soul, the ones braided through copper curls and warm smiles.
Any day now.
Maybe today.
Grab her!
My head snaps around the room, taking in the dust swirling in the air, the ebb and flow of candlelight. She’s safe. I repeat it in my mind a dozen times.
Something feels off.
Everything feels off, and I feel off. Disjoined, unnatural, and wrong, a bond rooted in my very being ripped from my chest time and time again. It’s hard to imagine anyone would be quite right after a thing like that.
I sent a vessel to intercept the one from Mertigas as soon as Thalia Dupree sulked back into the woods, glaring and spitting on the land. My tendrils swarm Molly, the damned things never listen to reason or logic. My lips quirk as she fends them off, batting at them sleepily. They calm under her ire but expand. A sea of silken crimson coating her, forming and molding over every inch of her body like an armored blanket. She doesn’t seem to mind settling onto her back. Soon enough, her lips part again, her breathing evening out once more.
