Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (11 page)

“You have been brave, little one,” Likho’s voice growled out of Saeran’s body. “The dark and solitude no longer frighten you. But there is something that does and I will find it.”

As if his long talons had slashed through her mind, pain seared through her brain. She felt him digging through her thoughts, what was left of her hope, and her fears. Images flashed through her mind, things she hadn’t thought of or even noticed at the time and she knew when he’d found what he was looking for. A soft chuckle vibrated against her back as his magic ripped the Cossack’s image from her head. She screamed as if he’d actually torn her flesh, and a warm ooze dripped from her ears. The scent of blood overwhelmed her senses as the warmth of it trickled down her neck.

“Ah.” He laughed as pain shot through her mind. “This fear is much more grown-up.”

Likho’s grip loosened from around her waist and Milagra sank to her knees, slamming into the hard stone. Her Cossack’s screams filled her ears through the heavy oak door as he pounded against it with the hard knock of his fists, and the clunk of his heavy boots. She couldn’t understand what he was yelling, his words rough and clustered together. She couldn’t let Likho hurt him. The Cossack had been the only bright spot in her existence and Milagra wouldn’t let Likho take him away. Her mind clouded. On the edge of collapse as desperation made her blood boil, she fought to keep the wolf at bay. But there was no holding her back. Milagra could sense her breaking through the surface to protect what was left of Milagra’s body and soul.

Milagra screamed again as her bones cracked and re-knit, forcing her body into a shape she despised.

Milagra leapt away from Likho on nimble short legs, landing on four paws. Her world had shifted from color to black and white as her lips curled over long sharp teeth. Her claws scraped across the hard stone surface of the floor. Her stomach hadn’t been full in a very long time and her mouth salivated, wanting nothing more than to sink her teeth into Likho’s flesh.

She stretched her back, legs, and toes in the form that she’d been trying to avoid since before her father had given her away. Holding back had only managed to make the beast restless. The full moon had been the only time she couldn’t force the beast away, and now, Milagra feared she may never be able to hide her away again.

“Finally,” Likho breathed with a snarl turning up his lips.

Before her eyes, the man appearing to be Saeran transformed into the beast she’d first seen. One black eye stared back at her as his rows of yellowed, razor-sharp teeth gritted what she could only assume was a smile.

Milagra growled, the sound reverberating up her throat as she leaned back on her haunches, ready to pounce. Her heart was racing in her chest and the sound of her claws on stone, echoed in her ears. Every sound became more pronounced, her erratic heart, her even breathes, the soft crackle of the fire, her Cossack screaming on the other side of the door, and Likho’s steady, even heartbeat.

“You cannot kill me, Little One. Many have tried.”

“Likho! Let me in! Please don’t hurt her!” her Cossack begged from the other side of the door and even though Milagra couldn’t understand his words, she knew the tone . . . desperation.

The door cracked open on its own and the Cossack’s fist froze mid-strike. His mouth open and lips curling up into a snarl, his fist hung in the air in disbelief.

His movements were slow and cautious as he stepped inside. Glancing about for her, Milagra noticed when his eyes finally rested on her in her beast form. She growled from the corner Likho had backed her into. Staring up at the monster, Milagra hoped to keep the Cossack out of harm’s way. He was the only person who’d protected her.

The Cossack took a few careful steps inside as Milagra’s gaze darted between him and Likho. She saw when the man’s gaze traveled over the dress torn to shreds on the floor, the fabric looking like fresh spring grass strewn about. He stepped into the room even with the display of violence.

“Come, Konstantin,” Likho called, his eye lighting up with a malice Milagra knew well.

The Cossack’s gaze turned cold and his fingers absently traced the scar marring his face.

She growled, stepping between Konstantin and Likho, the only protection between the man and the monster.

“You think to protect Konstantin from me.” Likho laughed down at her. “My little one, if I wish to harm him, nothing can stop me.”

“
Devooshka
?” Konstantin whispered. He reached out, his hand trembling as it inched closer to her body. Her body vibrated with rage and the growl rumbling along her jowls. Before he could touch her, the Cossack dropped to his knees. Clutching his chest, Konstantin cried out as tears leaked from his eyes. His face contracted in visible pain and he collapsed, gasping for air and twitching beneath whatever torture Likho was raining down on him.

Growling louder, she stalked closer to Likho, advancing on him as if to attack.

“
Nyet
,” Konstantin called softly to stop her advance.

“You can make all his pain go away,” Likho grumbled.

Milagra barked, snapping her jaws at the monster.

“Shift back to human.” The command was clear in Likho’s voice, as his roar echoed off the walls.

A soft shimmer engulfed Milagra and her bones cracked and shifted as the ripple of power over came her. Her fur receded and the long angular face of her wolf disappeared. She shivered and hunched in on herself with knees drawn up to her body. She lay naked, cowering and cold on the stone floor, her chest heaving in exhaustion. Turning her head, her dark hair fell in long, dark waves over her shoulders and covered her breasts, giving her some concealment from the monster’s prying eyes. She focused on Konstantin. Eyes wet with unshed tears and filled with regret, she peered over at him.

“You are mine,” Likho growled. “Loyal and obedient. As long as you remain so, Konstantin will come to no harm.”

She remained silent, watching Konstantin. His warm chestnut gaze softened as he shook his head.

“Milagra!” Likho bellowed in expectation.

Shaking the furniture with the sheer power of his voice, Milagra half-jumped out of her own skin as the choice raced through her head. She could rip Likho apart in her beast form. But what would that get her? Konstantin would be dead and she would wander the Outer Realm endlessly without a way back to Faerie. She would die here. Konstantin would die here because of her. He’d protected her, fed her, treated her like she mattered. She couldn’t leave him to a fate designated by Likho. He deserved better from her. There was no choice.

“Agreed,” she whispered.

Chapter 11

Columbus, Present Day

Parking the bike behind the building and out of sight, I slid the helmet off and shook my hair out. I unzipped my leather jacket and let the cool night air filter in.

Butterflies were somersaulting in my stomach. The cool air wasn’t helping like I’d hoped as dread slithered across my skin. I shoved that all down as I approached the club. I hadn’t heard from Patrick in the three days since the Manit, since Alex had promised me she’d talk to him. That was a bad sign, and I knew it. I took a deep breath and started walking. I couldn’t let this fester any more or it would never get resolved. I needed to look Patrick in the eye and talk to him and know once and for all where we stood.

I rounded the corner with my helmet clutched tight in my fist. Taking a deep breath, I buried the anxiety surging through me like an electric pulse. I didn’t want to be this nervous to see someone I loved, someone I believed still loved me. I was anxious to see someone I’d hurt. The odds of Patrick rejecting me outright seemed pretty good by my calculations and I was scared to death.

Nova was on the door again at Damsel. Catching his eye as he charmed the very short skirt off the woman at the front of the line, I smiled at him. With a wink, he opened the velvet rope for me and I almost forgot about the anxiety roiling in my belly. I waved Nova away, bypassing the line as I strutted through the open door. Muffled moans and grumbles of the people still in line echoed behind me.

The steady thump of bass hit me hard, thumping in my chest and brain as the music pounded from the dance floor. I made a beeline for the door on my right, the stairs to Patrick’s office. No point in beating around the bush. Just get it over with.

Miguel stepped in front of me quicker than I could side step him, blocking my path. “
Buenas Noches
, Dahlia,” he said, a forced smile turning up the corners of his mouth. His eyes dark, dull, and wary.

“Miguel?” I replied, eying him closely. It wasn’t like him to stand in my way. The man was quiet and kept to himself. As far as I knew, I had the only person to’ve seen his art studio, but I was also the only person he’d painted other than his family.

“I haven’t had an opportunity to talk to you since you got back. I’d love to hear about your trip,” he cajoled, slipping his arm around my waist in a casual, friendly gesture that set my teeth on edge. Miguel had never touched me before. Ever.

He ushered me to the bar and away from the stairs. I turned, circling away from him. Slipping back into the coat-check area with a quick deceptive smile over my shoulder, I made my way to the stairs.

“Sorry, Miguel,” I said. “It’ll have to wait. I’ve got something important to talk to the boss about.”

He was in front of me again before I could turn my head. Moving quicker than any human was able and quicker than a vampire should move in public, he halted me in my tracks. Whatever it was he was trying to avoid scared the shit out of him. He jeopardized their entire existence by pulling that stunt in full view of the club and every human there.

He grabbed my shoulders with his roughened, stained fingers. I glanced down at his hand holding me in place. Paint residue colored his fingertips and caked the space under his fingernails. Glaring up the few inches to meet his pleading dark eyes, I rolled my shoulders out of his grasp with an unspoken threat in my gaze. His hands dropped to his sides and he took a step back against the closed door.

“Dahlia,” he whispered. I heard him above the thumping bass from the other side of the curtain as if the room was silent. “Please, don’t go up there.” Desperation made his voice harsh, his words quick, almost frantic as his gaze focused entirely on me.

I squared my shoulders and met his dark eyes with my own steely glare. Miguel didn’t want me to see something up those damned stairs, and now, I needed to see.

“Miguel, let me pass,” I ordered. For a long moment, we stared at each other. I could almost see the thoughts stream across his eyes, evaluating whether he could or should disobey me. Dropping his gaze in defeat, Miguel took a definitive step to his left and opened a path to Patrick’s office.

Before I could grab the knob, the door swung open. Three chattering, giggling women stepped out into the coat check.

Glancing at Miguel, relief sagged his shoulders, making them droop and relax.

“Iris, that was so much fun,” the one in the back said. She was tall, in four-inch heels, white satin shorts that showed too much of her ass cheek and a navy sequenced tube top that didn’t leave enough to the imagination as her fake boobs bounced with each step.

“You have no idea,” the woman leading the pack offered with a mischievous grin that I understood all too well.

She was petite, a foot shorter than her friends. A lush brunette, she sauntered on her stilettos as if she owned the place. Her skin was bronzed as if kissed by the summer sun. She had long, soft, milk chocolate curls slung over her shoulder, exposing a long neck and the two unmistakable bite marks at the base of her throat. Cocoa butter filled my nose from the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the excitement of a feeding.

I’d closed my emotions down before entering the building but I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding a hole in my chest no matter how deeply I breathed. My nose picked up the unmistakable, musky scent of her arousal mixed with a familiar old musty book scent as she passed, barely glancing at me.

I imagined her blood-red fingernails running up through Patrick’s dark coarse hair. My jaw clenched and my entire body stiffened in hatred. I actually hated her.

Tightening my grip on the helmet, I heard the plastic crack in my grip. I wanted to rush all three of them, beat them all until they were broken and bloody on the floor. What had they done that her arousal was as pungent as the cocoa butter?

The Eithina growled through my mind, wanting to rip the sluts to shreds. An invisible band squeezed around my heart so forcefully that I thought the organ would burst in my chest. My gaze zeroed in on those two little marks on the bitch’s throat. The same marks that were now translucent on my skin.

My breath hitched in my throat, lodging like a stone as I tried to swallow it down. Jealousy turned my gaze red and they strutted onto the dance floor as if I wasn’t even there. The women hadn’t noticed me, and why would they? I was just another woman in the crowd.

The helmet crunched under my grasp, finally cracking the dome underneath the pressure of my arm. I watched the women, girls really, dance and giggle without a care in the world as the club around me disappeared. A single thought echoed through my mind.

He doesn’t love me. Patrick doesn’t want me. He wants that woman. Those whorey girls.

“Dahlia?” Miguel’s voice shook, sounding small and unsure as he attempted to break through the sea of anger swirling around me as if it was solid heat.

A twinge of responsibility churned in my gut as I met his gaze. No matter how Patrick felt or didn’t feel about me, his colony was still mine to protect. Miguel was a part of that. The power of the Fertiri wouldn’t allow anything else. Shaking off the jealousy and hatred, I attempted to neutralize my expression and ease the energy percolating around me. Miguel was worried about me and I was supposed to take care of him, of all of them.

I couldn’t focus.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t feel anything but anger and rage.

Couldn’t see anything but red.

“Dahlia?”

My brain snapped, broken. I actually heard it snap in my head. My wolf growled in the back of my mind, wanting to rip Patrick’s throat out, the three bitches’ throats out, and even a small part wanted Miguel’s throat, too. Before I knew I’d moved, I’d pinned Miguel by the front of his shirt, my helmet jammed into his stomach, and slammed him against the wall. His feet dangled a few inches above the ground as I held him there, drawing his eyes to my gaze. The growl I could hear in my head reverberated from my throat.

“Dahlia! Your eyes! They’re silver,” he hissed.

I heard the fear in his voice, could taste it on my tongue. My wolf liked it, wanted to taste it. Shaking my head, and the silver from my eyes, I buried the overpowering need to sink my teeth into flesh.
She
wanted to kill. I wanted to leave.

“I wasn’t here,” I growled. “You never saw me tonight.”

“You know I can’t lie to him,” he said, an apology furrowing his brow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget I was here.” I dropped him to the floor and backed away. I waited for him to jump up and fight. The Eithina wanted a fight, blood.

Miguel remained on the floor, watching me with wide, surprised eyes.

I have to get out of here.

Turning on my heels, I stormed out. The cool air hit me like a slap in the face. Nova was whispering in the ear of some young co-ed. She giggled in a high-pitched squeal that sent chills up my spine.

Nova leaned on the open door of the woman’s cab as she hovered just outside and flirted with death.

Screw them! I’m out!

Jumping in the cab, I slammed the door shut and sank into the bench seat.

“Where to?” the man asked in a thick Somali accent.

Where to?
That was a damned good question.

Nova knocked on the window, a confused expression furrowing his pretty brow.

“My little flower, are you okay?” he asked.

Was I okay? Hell, no! I sure as fuck was NOT okay.

“German Village. Jaeger and Reinhard,” I snapped.

The car lurched into motion and away from the curb, leaving all of them behind. I sat in the back of the cab, listening to the constant rumble of the cabbie’s voice in a language I didn’t understand as he talked into the Bluetooth device attached to his ear.

When the car stopped, I glanced out the window, a fleeting thought of disorientation flittered across my mind. This wasn’t my home. This wasn’t my neighborhood. I peered down the street a few houses and noticed Jade’s familiar Maserati, remembering I
was
home.

I threw a twenty at the driver and got out. The twenty was way too much for the fare but I didn’t feel like waiting for change. He’d left me alone, no idle chitchat and no prying. He deserved the tip.

Trudging down the street as if no one actually lived in my body, I opened the wrought iron gate surrounding my small front lawn and climbed the few steps onto the porch.

The house was lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Lights upstairs and down filled the windows, sending me into a blind panic. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I couldn’t shake the rage still burning inside of me like a furnace. I couldn’t even explain why I was so angry. Patrick fed from donors all the time. I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease twisting my gut as I’d zeroed in on those two little marks at the base of her neck. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and prepared to hide.

I could be alone later. I COULD be alone LATER. I’ll just tell them I’m tired. I could go to my room and forget this whole day had ever happened.

The sound of laughter fluttered around me, twisting my insides as I stepped inside.
I cracked my neck, threw my shoulders back, and closed the door behind me. I’d been playing at fine for months. I could do it for a few minutes more.

I stalked into the kitchen where all the laughter came from and found the room almost bursting at the seams. Jade sat perched on Kurt’s lap at the kitchen table. He had a beer in his hand and a broad smile on his face. His arm snaked around her waist, tugging her to him. Niyati was at the sink, washing peppers. Alex sat at one of the stools around the island, watching her with a pleased little grin turning up the edges of her petite mouth. She seemed happy. Damn her.

Dean stood at the stove, removing a big pan of what smelled like garlic meatballs from the oven. He turned and winked at me. The grin on his lips was warm, and I felt in that smile how much he loved me. I wanted each of them, Patrick and Dean, to be enough. But Dean didn’t fill the hole Patrick left. Patrick didn’t fill the hole Dean left.

“Baby? I thought you’d come in through the back door. Did you leave your bike parked on the street?” he asked, placing the giant pan on the counter.

My bike! Shit! I’d left my bike.

“Ahh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I took a cab home. It wouldn’t start,” I answered, trying to hide the hesitation in my voice as I tripped over an explanation. It wasn’t really a lie since I never tried to start it and if I didn’t try to start the bike, it sure as hell wasn’t going to start on its own.

“Where’d you leave it? Niyati can get it. Where’s your helmet?” he asked, taking the three steps to close the distance between us.

Heat radiated off him in waves, soaking into me as if he knew I needed him. His power filled the room, a bonfire to make me feel safe. I gazed up into his face and noticed the concern crinkling the corners of his eyes. He knew I wasn’t being completely honest.

“My helmet?” I asked.
Where was my helmet? Why was he asking? Niyati wouldn’t need a helmet.
“I must have left it somewhere,” I said, distracted. I glanced around for it, hoping I’d left it in the house somewhere. I couldn’t remember the last place I’d had it. Everything zeroed in to those two little marks at the base of that bitch’s throat.

Clasping my face between his large palms, he made me focus on him and meet his gaze. His hands covered my cheeks as his fingers stretched up into my hair, stroking small circles across my temples with the pads of his thumbs. I adored how his touch eased my mind and my racing heart.

“Baby? You okay?” he murmured. As he peered down into my eyes, the world around us disappeared and it was just him and me.

I forced a smile to my lips but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Sure,” I said with false levity and a little too much enthusiasm. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I think I’ll go upstairs to my room,” I said, my voice dripping in false cheer.

“
Our
room,” Dean growled on a hushed breath.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Niyati asked in disbelief, as if anyone could pass up food.