The Turning-Blood Ties 1 (16 page)

“What’s that?” I asked.

He leaned in, his icy breath hissing in my ear. “Your humanity.”

Drawing back, he tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

“I have.” I wasn’t lying.

“And?”

“And I’m still undecided. But I’m not going to give up my humanity, even if I choose you.”

“Why not?”

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“Because it’s wrong. Killing for pleasure is wrong.” I fixed him with a cold stare. “I heard what you did to that little girl.”

“Which one?” He winked at me. “I wonder, have you even bothered to seek out others of our kind to ask them what they think of your idealistic Movement? There’s a war coming. Do you honestly think you’re on the winning side?”

“I’m not going to be on the side that gets off on murder. That’s all that matters to me.”

His face became solemn. “Carrie, you’re making yourself a martyr when I could make you a queen.”

His distress seemed real. The look in his eyes was enough to make me promise I would reconsider. I wiped a bloody tear from his cheek and a smile touched his lips.

“Stay with me, Carrie,” he whispered against my palm. I quickly moved my hand away from his face. My fingers burned from our contact, and I shuddered with rage. “I’m here for Dahlia.”

“What on earth would you want with Dahlia? Aside from that deplorable fire incident, for which she’s been thoroughly punished, anything she’s done, she’s done under my orders. If you want to punish someone, then by all means, punish me.” A wicked grin lit his face. I didn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction. “You sent Dahlia to kill me?”

Rage contorted his face. “What?”

“I’m sorry, did I stutter? She tried to kill me. And I don’t appreciate it.”

His frown deepened, this time in confusion. “If she’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead by now. She’s very good at what she does.”

“Well, she missed.” I stood and crossed to the floor-length windows. The curtains were not yet drawn, so he wasn’t concerned about daylight any time soon. I’d never actually watched a sunrise, so I had no idea how long they took. Or, more important, at what point it would kill me. I’ve got to get back to Nathan.

“Ah, you’ve met Mr.—what is he going by these days? Grant?”

I silently cursed myself. I hadn’t meant to think of him in Cyrus’s presence. There was no point in lying. “Yes.”

“And I presume he’s told you about our past…involvement?” Cyrus fought to control his anger as he spoke, but I still felt it through the blood tie. “No wonder you’re on this…prohuman bent.”

I held firm, despite the volatile emotions invading my mind. “He told me he was sent to execute you. He told me you have the same blood.”

“We do. I didn’t sire him, but I was there when my sire turned him. We’re hardly on brotherly terms now.” Cyrus stood and paced the room. “So Nolen is dead, is he? I’m glad to hear it, even if I didn’t do it myself.”

Nolen? “He’s not dead. But I need Dahlia to reverse whatever she did to him.”

Cyrus laughed as though I’d told a clever joke. He pulled two cigars out of a mahogany humidor and offered one to me. I refused. “I want him dead, Carrie. Why on earth would I help him?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” My reply sounded embarrassingly weak to my ears.

“But, Carrie, didn’t you just accuse me of killing for pleasure?” He lit the cigar and took a few puffs.

I tried not to gag as the sickly sweet smoke assailed my nostrils. “Change my opinion. Give me Dahlia.”

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He moved toward me. I sensed what he was about to do and braced myself. He reached out too fast for me to step aside, his cigar dropping to the expensive carpet. One arm wound around my waist and brought me up tight against his chest. He pulled my hair, jerking my head back sharply.

“I want to make something clear so we don’t have any further misunderstandings. I don’t care what your opinion of me is. At the end of the day, it’s still my blood in your veins. I own you.”

“No!” My instincts told me to get free, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I feared him.

He leaned forward, nuzzling my throat with his lips. The cigar still burned at our feet. It gave me something to focus on besides the feeling of his tongue against my skin.

“Your carpet is going to catch fire.”

I stepped back, and to my surprise, he let me go. I didn’t know if I’d have had the will to fight him. Without even looking at it, he ground out the cigar with the ball of his bare foot. Swallowing hard, I looked him in the eye. “If you let Nathan die, the Movement will send someone else, someone stronger. They’ll hunt you down like a dog. And I don’t want that to happen.”

“Don’t you?” A menacing joy spread across his face. It did nothing to calm my nerves.

“No, I don’t.” My mouth went suddenly dry at the realization I meant what I said.

“You’re my sire.”

He shrugged as if it were out of his hands. “Well, we can’t have Nolen coming after me. You saw what he managed the last time. And I don’t like fighting. It’s ungentlemanly. Can you think of anything that could entice me to take such an ugly risk?”

Of course I could. I just didn’t want to offer it to him. “Just say it, Cyrus.”

He closed his eyes as if savoring a delicious meal. “I love the sound of my name on your lips. It’s like music.”

“I don’t have time for this, just say it!” My vehemence startled me. He clucked his tongue. “You have no appreciation for the dramatic. Fine. Promise you’ll return to me, to stay, and I will help your precious ‘Nathan.’”

I stuck out my hand in an attempt to appear confident. Instead of shaking it, he drew my fingers to his mouth and kissed the tip of each one. He might as well have set my hand on fire, for the scorching feeling that raced down my arm.

“Then it’s settled.” He strode to the doors and threw them open. “Dahlia!” His enraged call echoed through the dark foyer. Within moments, the room beyond the door flooded with light.

“You wanted me?” I heard her purr over the click of shoes on the marble floor. Then she screamed.

His hand tightly gripping her red curls, Cyrus yanked Dahlia into the room. She was dressed much the same as she had been the night I’d met her, in a tight black shirt and long skirt. The only difference I saw now was an abundance of jewelry, rings and necklaces all bearing silver pentagrams. Cyrus threw her to the floor, and she scrambled away as he kicked at her.

Normally I would have turned my head from such violence, but it was hard to feel pity for her after what she’d done. Especially since she’d intended to kill me. She didn’t beg for mercy when he grabbed her again and pulled her head back, exposing

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her throat. His face changed and he bared his fangs. Dahlia didn’t recoil, but I did. That face summoned the memory of glass piercing my skull, the slippery pools of human organs under my knees, and the sensation of being powerless in the grasp of a killer. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp. Cyrus’s eyes flickered over my face for an instant. His grotesque face actually registered some emotion then, and I thought it was regret. He didn’t like that he’d scared me. He dropped Dahlia and let his features shift back to normal. “You tried to kill her!”

Now she did whimper, as though she knew her lies would prove useless. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You’re lucky this turned out so well for me, you sniveling bitch. Else I’d hand you over to the Fangs when they arrive.” He stalked a circle around her as he spoke.

“No!” She reached for him, clinging to his leg. “I killed that bookstore guy for you! You should be happy.”

He pulled away from her grasp as if he’d been touched by a leper. “You’re not allowed to kill whenever you please! How can you expect me to turn you when you have no selfcontrol?”

Her face paled. “What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever I have to. Just tell me what you want me to do!”

Cyrus rocked back on his heels, feigning consideration. “If there was a way to reverse what you did to him, what would it take?”

“An antidote,” she said as she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“And where would I find this antidote?” he asked patiently. Tears shone on her face. “In my room.”

“Why don’t you go and get it, then?” He dismissed her as easily as telling a child to run along and play.

“Thank you,” I whispered when she had gone.

“This is not a gift, Carrie. Don’t mistake it as such.”

“It’s not a gift, but it’s the decent thing to do. Even if you are being paid for it.” I glared at him, hoping to make him feel the true weight of my words. He crossed to me and cupped my cheek in his palm. “Poor little girl. Is the Big Bad Wolf taking advantage of you?”

I tried to turn my face away, but he grasped my chin and forced my lips to his. I opened my mouth beneath his, my blood both searing hot and prickling cold as it coursed through my veins. His excitement fed my own. His sharp claws raked my back through my shirt, tracing the column of my spine. I couldn’t get enough of his tongue against mine, his breath against my lips.

He drew away, leaving me panting and flushed while he was as unaffected as someone who’d just received a dental exam. But when he lifted his hand to brush back a strand of his long, nearly white hair, his hands shook. “Believe that all you want, Carrie. But when you needed help, you didn’t call the Movement first. I wasn’t a last resort. I was a choice.”

My body shook with the violence of the truth.

We glared at each other in antagonistic silence until Dahlia entered. She cleared her throat at the doorway and shot me a murderous glance. “I’ve got your fucking antidote.” Cyrus reached out a hand to take the vial from her and she practically threw it at him. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and turned away. “Now, be a good girl and move your things to one of

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the servant’s rooms. Carrie will need the guest suite.”

I expected an outburst, but all she did was watch Cyrus. The full realization of his words—that I was usurping her place—hadn’t yet dawned on her. I didn’t want to be around when she made the connection.

Returning to my side, Cyrus slipped the vial into the palm of my hand. I stared hard at it. This was the price of my freedom. I could smash it on the floor and never have to come back.

“But you won’t.” He arched a knowing brow at my thought. “Your word means too much. You’ll take this to Nolen, see him safely recovered and return to me tomorrow night after sunset.”

“How do I know this won’t do him more harm?” I called to Dahlia. I don’t think she even saw me, though she looked right at me.

Cyrus drew my attention back. “It won’t. She knows what will happen if she’s lied.”

She broke then, her back shaking with muted sobs as she covered her face with one hand. I’d never seen anyone cry so gracefully, and I’d seen plenty of tears in my life. But Cyrus didn’t seem to notice. He kissed my forehead and gave me a push toward the door. “Go now, the sun will be up soon.”

He didn’t follow me. I hesitated as I passed Dahlia. I don’t know if I meant to offer comfort or rub salt in her wounds, but when she looked up with hate-filled eyes, I kept walking.

The foyer blazed with light as bulbs crackled and shattered with the force of Dahlia’s anger.

“Sunset,” Cyrus called after me. “Don’t make me come get you.”

Nine

Antidote

I left the house as a shower of sparks exploded from the electric fixtures in the foyer. This time, I did run down the lawn, but only to buy us a little time. With no knowledge of how Nathan would react to the antidote, I wanted to get him to a safe place before it took effect.

Ziggy had left the driver’s seat, presumably to tend to Nathan. I pounded on the back doors and stepped away as they flew open. Ziggy crouched over Nathan’s body, a wooden stake aimed straight for my heart.

When he recognized me, he dropped the weapon. “Sorry. Can’t be too careful.”

“It’s all right,” I grunted, pulling the doors closed behind me as I climbed into the van.

“How is he?”

“Alive, but that’s not saying much. What’d you find out?”

I showed him the antidote, which gleamed a muddy blue in the glass vial. “Drive. I’ll pour it down his throat, and hopefully it won’t kick in until we’re back at the apartment.”

“What do you mean?” Ziggy pulled the canvas partition back and slid behind the wheel.

“Because I have no idea what it’s going to do to him.”

As the engine sputtered to life, I carefully made my way to Nathan’s head. The van lurched away from the curb, tossing me flat across his chest. The contact was sudden and startling. Even unconscious, with no blood tie connecting us, I was still attracted to him. Despite the fact he’d lied about his identity. Or that he didn’t

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tell me he was vampiricly related to my sire. I reminded myself of what I’d sacrificed for this favor.

I opened the vial and poured the contents into his half-open mouth. I hope it tastes terrible, I thought with a petulant frown. Then I rocked back on my heels and waited. Why had I done this? When I’d set out to help him, I’d felt I’d been doing it for a friend. And when I found I barely knew him after all, I still plowed on ahead. I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Cyrus might have been right. Nathan’s—or Nolen’s—predicament could have been handled by the Movement, but my first instinct had been to run to my sire.

I knelt over Nathan and felt for a pulse. Nothing. No breath. No reflexes. Defeated, I lay down next to him, out of necessity more than familiarity. My body ached with fatigue. My emotions were a mess. The one person I’d thought I was safe with, well, not safe exactly, but safer, wasn’t who I’d believed him to be. That he was dead was icing on the worst cake in history. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried to cry without Ziggy hearing me.