Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) (33 page)

“I have to look unprotected in Los Angeles. Julian and Elizabeth don’t have enough time for this to drag on. We use Alexander’s obsession to our advantage, and turn it against whoever is using him,” she spoke fast, hoping he wouldn’t cut her off.
 

“You’re asking me, in essence, to hand you over to a mad man, with no earthly way to find you. I know you have the best of intentions, but I just can’t do it. You’re asking too much of me,” Nicholas sighed, his expression closing down. When he looked at her, pain that Morgan hadn’t seen in decades, filled his eyes. For a moment, she considered acquiescing to his wishes. Then she saw Julian’s face, eyes filled with terror, and knew she had to try.

“And you ask me to do nothing, while my Sire and friend are driven to madness? It may already be too late for Julian. But for Elizabeth, there’s still a chance. Please Nicholas, there has to be a way to do this,” Morgan countered, hating herself for pressing him. Nicholas made a sound of frustration low in his throat and started pacing, tension filling his frame.

“I’d need a way to find you over long distances,” Nicholas sighed, and shook his head, “I doubt this will work if I’m in the country. I’ll have to return to Ireland. We…”
 

“Shh.” Morgan stepped in front of him, and placed a finger over his lips, stopping his words. “You’ll have to know where to find me?”

“That’s the first thing.” He let himself be pulled back to the sofa and sat beside her, wanting to be at her side more than he needed to move. “It’s not like I can tag you with one of those transmitters they use in nature documentaries.” He chuckled at his own weak attempt at humor, and Morgan found herself smiling.

“No, but there’s this,” she murmured, moving to straddle his legs and nuzzle his neck, lips feathering over the skin, covering the steady pulse of blood flowing through his veins.

“The blood bond,” he murmured, his voice rough with a mix of desire and irritation.

“Yes.”

“Everything I know tells me it’s not strong enough,” he protested, pushing Morgan away.
I need her to listen, not seduce me. Too bad, that’s usually so much fun.
“Alexander may be obsessed, and insane in the bargain,” he counted off each point on his fingers, “but we’re pretty damned sure that Lucian is pulling his strings, and he is most certainly sane.” Nicholas frowned and shook his head. “He will control Alexander, long enough to be certain that Marcus is back in New Orleans and I am back in Ireland.”

“Then we make the bond stronger. Is it true that the more blood is shared, the stronger the bond becomes?”

“Yes.”

“Then we share blood more than once.”

“How many times? How do we decide it’s enough?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you certain about this?” he asked, fixing her with, haunted blue–grey eyes.

“We’ve talked about it before.”

“In academic terms, and we have always decided that it was best for our relationship, to keep the status quo,” he insisted.

“That was when all we were worried about was the specter of some unknown lover hurting too much for the other to bear, or not feeling whole when we were forced apart for too long,” Morgan whispered, and brushed an errant strand of sandy hair from his forehead.

“Nothing’s really changed, love. It’s not like we can undo the bond, once this situation has been resolved. And it’s not like we’ve done well as a couple these past few weeks,” he touched her cheek while searching her eyes for some sign he could use to guide him.

“It’s been longer than that,” she sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.

“When did we start faking it love?” Without realizing it, Nicholas started rubbing her back in small circles.

“I don’t know. I’ve felt like you’re pulling away from me for some time now.”

“How so?” Nicholas asked, as he tried to think of what she could be talking about, but came up with nothing. She shifted a little against him, and not knowing what else to do Nicholas tightened his grip on her waist.
 

“How long has it been since you took me to the opera?” she asked, and Nicholas couldn’t have been more surprised.
 

What’s the opera got to do with anything? Our problems are deeper than a night at the opera, right?
 
Nicholas thought, feeling as though he’d just stepped through Alice’s looking glass. “You hate opera and Lilly loves it so,” he drew out the last word for a few seconds, as he thought. “Since she became my donor?”

“You’re right, I do hate the opera, but I love going with you. In the two or three centuries since you discovered it, do you have any idea how much of what I’ve seen, was on stage?” Morgan asked with a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“All of it?” Nicholas answered, with his own question, not sure where this was going.

“No. Almost none of it, my love. I hear the music, but I spend most of the time watching you. I go because it’s one of the few times you let your guard down. And I love seeing you like that.” Her voice was soft and wistful; something Nicholas didn’t hear often, but understood.
 

 
“And I started taking Lilly.” He loosened his grip on Morgan and sighed, “I never thought you’d mind. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Because, I didn’t realize that it was an issue, until I blew up at you about her yesterday.
 
Christophe thinks I’m jealous, maybe he’s right, but I thought about it today, and I think there’s more.” Morgan stopped herself because she realized that she’d begun to babble.

“And you came to the opera conclusion?” Nicholas asked, still feeling stymied by female logic.

“There’s that, but I also feel like I’m losing myself, Nicholas.” Her voice was high–pitched tremulous as she tried to keep her composure. Then she closed her eyes and looked away, before whispering, “I’m frightened.”

Nicholas slipped his curled fingers under her chin, and tipped it up, so he was able to look into her eyes. “I’m guessing my streak of over–protectiveness hasn’t helped much?”

“No. It’s understandable,” one side of her mouth lifted in a half smile, “and kind of cute, but it’s not helping.”

“Are you sure this idea isn’t coming from a need to feel more independent again?” Nicholas asked, as Morgan shifted a little on his lap. Sensing that she was going to pull away, Nicholas tightened his hold just a little.
Oh no. You started this, but we are damned well going to finish it. I’m not going to let you get away that easy, Minx
.
 

“I can’t lie, it might be.” Morgan closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “However, I really think it’s the best option we have right now.”

“We’ll need to stay here an extra day or so. I want to do what we can to make the bond as strong as possible.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I need to make a call to Michael at the compound. He can go into the archives and see what there is to know about this.”

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

“Then maybe we should find another way.”

“I don’t know,” Morgan whispered, feeling her resolve begin to weaken.
Maybe Nicholas is right. Maybe I am rushing into this
.

“So again,” his eyes met hers and held them, “are you certain about this?”

“As certain as I was when I agreed to marry you.” Morgan chuckled, remembering the stricken look in the young woman’s eyes that Nicholas’s lord had decided to give to him in marriage. The flash of anger and cunning in Nicholas’s, as he refused, in the most polite terms possible, citing a standing betrothal, to Morgan. It had been a shock, but she’d managed to school her features so that no one knew it for a bold lie. That they’d talked about it, in bed that day, and decided that following through with the marriage wasn’t a bad idea, had been a bigger shock.

“In other words, blindsided, but willing to muddle through?”
 

“As long as you’re with me,” she answered and laid her head on his shoulder. Morgan sighed, feeling a mix of contentment and desire rush through her, as Nicholas rubbed her back. He shifted their position and leaned back against sofa cushions whispering in his native Russian tongue, too fast for her to keep up with his train of thought. Then he stopped whispering, and his lips were on her neck, the tip of his tongue teasing at the pulse in her throat. Morgan moaned and closed her eyes, feeling the blood pounding in her veins as his sharp teeth teased her flesh.
 

“Ah love,” he murmured, and before Morgan could react, Nicholas plunged his fangs into her throat. Surprise ripped a short cry from her, and reacting on instinct alone, she tensed to push him away. Nicholas was faster; his hands caught her wrists. Morgan gasped, as he took both her wrists in one hand, and pinned them in the small of her back. She shivered and moaned, as his free hand slid up her spine coming to rest at her neck, pinning her.
 

If I fight, Nicholas’s baser instincts will take over, and it’s possible he could hurt me without meaning to. Besides, there are worse things than being ravished by my husband,
Morgan thought, as Nicholas moaned, the sound vibrating against her throat, sending a pleasurable shiver through her body. He shifted position so her back was on the sofa, wrists still pinned by his hand pressed into Morgan’s spine, arching her back.
 

“Nicholai,” she whispered, as his lips massaged her throat, a silken thread drawing between them, pulling at her desire. He growled low in his throat, and his grip on Morgan’s neck tightened a little, possessive. She gasped as flashes of his memories flickered through her mind. She was pulled down in a swirl of images, until Morgan wasn’t sure where his ended and hers began.
 

One instant Nicholas knelt in the snow, a pyre ablaze, so close he could feel it searing his skin. He could still make out the three forms atop the wood, which was meant to have warmed them through the harsh winter months. He had failed his wife and daughters, failed to cure their disease, failed to share their fate. So, he knelt in the snow weeping bitter tears while they burned.

The next, he was already a vampire, and Marcus was there, dressed in the finery of a wealthy Roman General. The elder vampire shook his head, wondering at the snarling gutter rat vampire before him. Nicholai begged for death, though Marcus didn’t understand a word. Shaking his head, he dragged Nicholai into his villa. He taught Nicholai to fight, how to feed without killing, everything that Magnus never had.
 

Then she was there, raven haired and full of life, showing him that there were reasons to continue living. Her smile filled him with warmth and purpose, before he was sent away. Something beyond his control made it too dangerous for him to remain, Marcus had said. Her Sire was powerful and had a powerful enemy. Marcus argued that it was best not to lose this life, before it had truly begun.
 

Other images came in flashes, meeting David, becoming an enforcer. Then he was being forced to watch as David ended his existence, passing on the abilities of the Lead Enforcer to him. The nights spent hunting Renegades and Rogues. Days spent covered in drying blood, hidden in basements or tombs. The scent of the slain filling his nostrils, until he felt he would scream. Finding Morgan, his raven–haired beauty again, then courting and marrying her.
 

Death was a constant companion. So many of the memories were of fights, and near misses that a distant part of Morgan’s mind shuddered to think of how many times she had almost been made a widow. Through it all, she remained hyper aware of his lips caressing her neck. Soft yet insistent, every so often his sharp fangs would pierce her flesh, as the mix of vampire’s blood and saliva caused the wound to close.

Darkness crept up on her, first blurring the edges of their shared memories. Morgan dragged her eyes open. A small part of her mind panicked. Nicholas had taken too much blood. Morgan could feel it slowing every response, except the ones that were connected to his lips on her throat. She sighed in frustration, as his velvet tongue caressed the wounds sealing them.

“Morgan love,” Nicholas whispered, his voice sounding far away, she knew that it was due to blood loss, but didn’t care. “I need you to drink,” he implored pressing his already bleeding wrist to her mouth. Morgan licked her lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Instinct took over; her fangs slipped their sheaths, plunging into the vein rich flesh of his wrist.

His cool blood slid over her tongue, down her throat, and she felt her memories flowing into his mind. Morgan fought back a moment of panic, as she realized that he was going to know what she’d endured at Alexander’s hands, but there was no way to stop it.
I hope those get lost in the flood, as many of his memories were lost to me
.

“Take what you need, my love,” he encouraged, as his lips danced along her chin. Morgan lost herself in a haze of feeding and desire. She reveled in the heady mix of Nicholas’s ancient blood, and the feel of his lips tracing patterns on her exposed flesh.
 

In what seemed to be no time at all, Nicholas breathed against her throat, “Love, you need to stop.” In response to his words, Morgan sank her teeth in deeper, as Nicholas tried to take his wrist away from her mouth, “Morgan I can’t handle much more,” his voice hissed through clenched teeth, tight with pain. The hint of sadness and fear she heard in his tone sliced through the bloodlust and brought Morgan back to herself. Sighing with regret, Morgan eased her fangs from his wrist, and flicked her tongue over the wounds before kissing it, she opened her eyes and looked up to meet Nicholas’s gaze.