Authors: M.J. Scott
Shadow Kin (8 page)
I didn’t want them now
.
I sucked in a breath, seeking control. It’s difficult to function effectively when your mind is consumed by the need for an orgasm. Even worse, when you want blood rather than sex to provide that release.
.
I sucked in a breath, seeking control. It’s difficult to function effectively when your mind is consumed by the need for an orgasm. Even worse, when you want blood rather than sex to provide that release.
Even beneath the horror that washed my stomach like acid at the idea of Lucius making me drink again so soon, there was part of me that wanted to do exactly that. The need prowled beneath my skin, barely tamed, snarling and not wanting to be so quickly denied after such a feast.
I dug my nails into my palms as Ricco leaned in close. Pain. That was what I had to call to mind. Pain. All that could come of giving in to the need would be pain. I had to fight it. Had to hope that Lucius wanted me for something else entirely and hadn’t decided to see how far he could push me.
“You have time to change. Make yourself presentable,” Ricco said nastily. “It’s strange. Most females look better once they’ve come a time or three.” His tone gave a whole new meaning to hell-dwelling scum.
I curled my lip and let myself shadow a little; that always made him nervous. He snarled but retreated a step. I faded back. “I’m surprised you’d know.”
“You’d have to get in line, slave.”
“Oh yes, I’ve noticed there have been more blood-locked around recently. I guess
they
might be witless enough to want to bed you.” I let disgust tinge my tone.
they
might be witless enough to want to bed you.” I let disgust tinge my tone.
His face darkened. “Keep that up and you might get to join them. Lucius looked mighty entertained by your little display last night. Perhaps he’d like to see you on your back, getting what you deserve.”
I ignored the shiver that crept down my spine at the image and fixed him with a flat stare. “Lucius has never appreciated others putting their hands on things that belong to him.”
“Lucius has never appreciated being kept waiting either,” Ignatius said, finally joining the conversation. “I wouldn’t recommend testing his patience tonight, shadow.”
I swallowed, my bravado dampened by the warning in his tone. Which could either be Ignatius pretending to know more than he really did or an actual warning that Lucius was still dangerously angry. I wasn’t in any position to gamble on which might be true. “Where does he want to see me?”
“We’re going to Halcyon.”
I hesitated outside the door to Lucius’ private suite at Halcyon. From below, the sounds of those gathered to indulge themselves drifted upward. Music and laughter and conversation. Halcyon was the largest of the Blood Assemblies, places where the Blood came to mingle with the Nightseekers and the Beasts—even those Fae who chose to come—and entertain themselves. Dancing and sex and blood were all on the menu, and lust and fear scented the air beneath the smells of gas lamps and silk and perfume.
It was the last place in the world I wanted to be. During the journey here, closed in the carriage with Ricco and Ignatius, the need had continued to stalk me. I fought it as always, determined that there would be one part of me I would not give over to Lucius’ control. But walking through the crowded floor of the Assembly, I was near dizzy with the stink of sweat and incense and desire swirling around me.
I did not need to smell the vampire whose blood tormented me and risk becoming even more unhinged.
Ignatius had joined his cronies downstairs once we’d arrived, but Ricco was still by my side. And apparently he didn’t share my apprehension. He rapped briskly on the door. “The wraith, my Lord,” he said, stepping aside to let me through.
I moved warily, not knowing what to expect. The door closed behind me with a soft snick. It seemed I was to be granted a private audience tonight.
Lucius leaned against the edge of his huge ebony desk. Deceptively casual. I paused. Casual, with Lucius, generally meant danger.
It was unwise to be fooled by him. His suite was designed to do just that. Apart from the desk, it was furnished like a parlor, with chairs and sofas grouped informally as if he might wish to take tea with those he invited here. But I’d been here often enough not to be taken in. The scent of fear was deeply embedded in the dark brocades of the furnishings. It probably tainted the very stones that lay beneath the veneer of civilization he’d laid over the room. The only way to dispel it would be to burn the place to the ground.
I hated this room.
He beckoned me closer. I moved cautiously, hoping to appear obedient whilst trying to keep as much distance between us as I could without further angering him. Not far enough away for my liking. With every inch nearer, the need bit deeper, blood roaring in my ears, muscles going liquid with want.
I shouldn’t need it again so soon. Fear undercut the want swirling through me. What had he done to me?
I schooled my face to calm. Lucius could hear my pulse moving too quickly and maybe scent the need upon me, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see any outward sign that his closeness affected me.
He studied me, eyes once again lit scarlet with a thread of anger. “The sunmage still lives.”
Ice shivered over my back. Anger limned his voice, cold, not hot. I knew this mood. My punishment was not over after all. I squared my shoulders against whatever might come. “He called the sun, my Lord.”
His mouth twisted, showing fangs. “You were too slow.”
He wanted repentance, abasement, fear. The urge to comply surged, but somehow I found the strength to stand my ground. “I wasn’t provided with all the necessary facts.”
“Are you making excuses?”
No. No, that would simply be foolish. Anger him further. There were no acceptable excuses for not fulfilling Lucius’ wishes. He wanted Simon dead and that hadn’t happened. End of discussion.
Though I still hadn’t figured out why he needed Simon dead. Simon was powerful, a sunmage and brother to a Templar. It seemed a ridiculously ambitious target, even for Lucius. Particularly this close to renegotiation. All the races should be keeping strictly to the laws. Any transgressions could reduce their votes and no one wanted that. The power in the City was delicately balanced. I’d heard no whispers of human plots against the Blood lately.
“No, my Lord.” I kept my gaze locked to his, hoping he couldn’t see the questions whirring through my head like angry wasps. Why did Lucius want Simon dead? Why risk it? Killing a human not blood-locked is against the treaty. Blood-locking and the inevitable death that follows is not considered murder, but assassination is. What was he up to? Why risk war with the humans?
He blinked. Slowly. But the anger was there still when his lids rose again. “I do not permit failure.”
Ice swept over me. “Yes, my Lord. I have never failed you before.”
“And if I set you to this task a second time?” He crooked his finger and I inched reluctantly closer.
The scent of him filled my nose when I came to a halt at arm’s length. The Blood smell of emptiness. Of ice and darkness. A smell not of the living. A smell, in fact, that makes the living recoil. The perfumes the vampires favor mostly hide the scent from humans, but I have keener senses. I always smell the scent of death and predators surrounding me.
As I smell the scent of the blood they drink. But I am used to the insidious odor and even though it is still unpleasant, I can control my reactions. Overlying the notes of death and fear, I smelled the heavy musk and wood cologne Lucius wore. It invoked a different sort of reaction. Lucius wears his perfumes dabbed on wrist and neck and misted over his clothing. They fill the air I breathe when I drink his blood, indelibly linked to memories of ecstasy.
My breath quickened and a slow pulse beat between my legs. Lust warred with rising horror. How long would the dose he’d fed me take to wear off? How long until I could regain control and school my body to ignore the need? Would this new fiercer hunger ever wane?
“Well?” Lucius asked. One hand smoothed the black velvet of his jacket, red glinting against the white skin. He wore his rings tonight. Heavy rubies set in iron. Iron that flaunted his power, a deliberate taunt to the Fae. The black metal had brutal edges, clasping the rubies with spiked tongues. His rings could carve flesh from bone with the force of a vampire’s strength behind the blow.
My blood had fed those rubies more than once. Was that what he’d brought me here for? Remembered pain swam through me and I swallowed as the fear surged, trumping the lust.
I sucked a breath, braced my knees, focusing on staying upright. “My Lord, I believe he would be expecting another attempt. I cannot imagine he will leave himself undefended.”
He adjusted one perfectly white cuff. “Are you telling me to leave him alone? To call off my dogs?”
Yes
. I almost flinched when the word sounded in my head. I did not care about the sunmage. I
would
not care about the sunmage. I needed to care about surviving the next few minutes. “No, my Lord. But I do not think I am the best weapon to serve you in this.”
. I almost flinched when the word sounded in my head. I did not care about the sunmage. I
would
not care about the sunmage. I needed to care about surviving the next few minutes. “No, my Lord. But I do not think I am the best weapon to serve you in this.”
His fist clenched. “That is not your decision to make.”
I wished he would just hit me and get it over with. I’d survived beatings before and Lucius was always safer when his rage had been bled off. “No, my Lord.”
He moved then. Fast enough that I didn’t have time to react. His fingers closed around my jaw, forcing my head back. “You do as I say,” he said with deathly calm. “If I want Simon DuCaine or any other man dead, then he dies. You do not fail. You do not interfere. You obey. Always.”
His nails bit into my skin, not quite hard enough to draw blood but close. Tears stung my eyes even as Simon’s name rang in my ears. I stayed still. Lucius could snap my neck from this position with one quick movement.
Just as I could sink a stiletto into his heart, I thought for a wild moment. But I wouldn’t. My stilettos wouldn’t kill him. And if he lived, I might escape if I shadowed, but he wouldn’t suffer me to survive for very long. I would be hunted. Tortured. It wouldn’t be an easy death. As much as I sometimes longed to be free of Lucius, I was not ready to give up my life to gain that freedom.
“Always,” he repeated, shaking me.
“Y-yes, my Lord,” I managed. “I am your shadow.”
His grip eased slightly, not enough for me to get free or move. “Yes. Mine. I think it’s time to remind you of your place, shadow.” His breath washed over my face and I shivered, caught between fear and desire as his scent surrounded me again. I clenched my teeth, fought the whimper rising in my throat.
He trailed a finger from his free hand across my throat. “I could make you completely mine,” he said softly. His hand dropped, slid between my legs, pressed against me and sent shards of hungers splintering through me.
“One drop of my blood and you’d be begging for it. Is that what you want, shadow? Me between those pretty legs of yours?”
I should’ve said yes. My body wanted it. After all, would it really be so different from what I already submitted to? But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t willingly give him the one part of myself still mine. I shook my head.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Good. Because I’m not interested in your pleasure today, shadow.”
He pulled his hand away, then casually tossed me across the room.
I hit the wall with a crash and pain exploded down my spine. Lucius was on me before I could move or shadow or do anything at all to protect myself, lifting me effortlessly to plow a fist into my stomach, driving what little air was left from my lungs, leaving me clawing for breath as my insides cramped and throbbed.
He set to work, face calm as he struck again and again.
There’s a trick to surviving a beating. You have to find the rhythm of it, so you can anticipate and send your mind away from the pain at the right time. But I couldn’t do that. Lucius is a master at keeping you on edge and present for every second. That way, every hurt inflicted makes its intended point.
Instead of retreating I tried to use the pain, forcing my focus down to each shaky breath I took. Proof I was still alive. He didn’t touch my face—he never did. But the rest of me was fair game. The pain grew with each blow and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to shadow. It would only be worse if I tried to escape.
Eventually there was a lull. I lay on the floor, tears wetting my cheeks as pain settled and dug its claws in the nooks and crannies of my body. Nothing shrieked with the burning red of a snapped bone. But there was a chorus of hurts clamoring for attention. I have strength beyond a human’s, but I doubted there was an inch of me below my neck that wouldn’t be purple-black with bruises tomorrow. I couldn’t yet tell whether the damp patches I felt against my skin were fear sweat or blood where he’d split my flesh.
“Get on your feet.”
I obeyed, unable to stop a moan as my body shrieked. Somehow I stood, knees locked against the adrenaline tremors.
Lucius smiled. He looked exactly the same as he had when I’d walked in the door. Cool. Removed. Icy. No sweat or wrinkled clothing to show he’d spent hells knew how long hurting me. I’d hoped violence would have provided an outlet for his rage, but pools of scarlet still rode the depths of his pupils.
If anything, they were brighter now. He wasn’t as calm as he appeared. Would tonight be the night his control snapped? I doubted I’d survive if it did. Bile rose in my throat.
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