Текст книги "On wings of blood"

Автор книги: Briar Boleyn

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

CHAPTER 31 – MEDRA

The heavy oak door creaked as I entered. Immediately I was struck by the garishness of the brothel. The place was decorated in shades of crimson and gold, with thick velvet drapes and brocade-covered chairs lining the walls. Ornate brass chandeliers hung from the ceilings. There was a sense of opulence without a sense of elegance.

Something brushed past my feet and I looked down to see the fluffin.

I cursed under my breath and darted forward, trying to catch him, but it was too late. The fluffin darted into the foyer.

Pulling my cloak tighter around my head to hide my hair, I followed the pup deeper into the room.

The hour was late, but from the sounds of it, The Drained Rose was still going strong. Voices and laughter filled the air, mingled with the scent of perfume, wine, and sweat. Something subtle lay beneath it all. The faint aroma of blood.

A little ways inside the foyer stood a wooden counter. There was a sign on it: “Madame Illustra will return shortly. Wait here.”

Behind the counter, a grand double staircase curved upward on either side, meeting at a landing before continuing to the second floor, which was encircled by a balcony that overlooked the room below.

I took a few steps forward and glimpsed Blake. He was nearing the top of the stairs. As I watched, he disappeared along the corridor.

Before I could even react, the fluffin scampered up the steps ahead of me.

“Dammit,” I muttered, tugging at my cloak again.

I ran up the stairs behind the fluffin, trying not to lose track of it.

At the top, I paused. Blake had disappeared.

Then I spotted the little fluffin. He was trotting confidently down the hallway, his little paws pattering against the worn red carpet.

I followed, trying to keep my head down, and avoiding the gazes of the patrons who were wandering down the hall.

But one of them, a leering highblood man with greasy white hair and a half-buttoned shirt stained with blood, reached for me as I passed him.

“What you got under that cloak, sweetheart?” he sneered, pulling at the garment.

I jerked away and quickened my pace, praying he wouldn't follow.

Laughter followed me, but I didn’t hear footsteps. I glanced back a few moments later, and the hallway was clear. I let out the breath I’d been holding.

The fluffin had stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. He stood there, pawing the door, waiting for me.

I thought about knocking, then thought better of it. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was empty. A large, four-poster bed sat in the center, draped with scarlet satin sheets. A cloying perfume hung in the air.

Blake was nowhere in sight.

Then I heard it.

His voice. It sounded so clear.

I looked around. The fluffin gave an excited yap and darted over to a tall wardrobe in the corner.

I frowned and followed. Pulling the wardrobe door open, I peered inside.

“You brilliant, sneaky little creature,” I murmured, looking down at the fluffin who bounced up and down happily.

A peephole had been drilled inside the wardrobe, going right through the wall that connected this room to the next.

Hesitating only for a second, I stepped inside. The smell of mothballs filled my nostrils.

I peered through the hole.

There was Blake.

He must have just entered the room. I watched as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it casually over a chair. He wore a black linen shirt underneath, open at the collar. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the black tattoos that coiled up his muscular forearms.

Every line of his body seemed cut with precision. I found myself holding my breath as I watched him. Why did the bad ones have to look so good?

Blake raised a hand to his face and pushed back a lock of pale blond hair, then glanced across the room.

My heart caught in my throat.

On the bed, a blightborn girl lounged against the headboard. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. Scantily clad in a short little dress of red lace, her golden-brown skin caught the candlelight perfectly.

She was beautiful. She was also watching Blake with unconcealed admiration, her gaze roaming over him as if he were a prize.

Her lips curled into a seductive smile as he strolled towards the bed.

A shiver went down my spine. Was I really going to watch this?

Yes. Yes, I fucking was.

My heart pounded in my chest as Blake darted forward in a sudden movement and lowered his head towards the blightborn girl’s neck.

The girl’s head jerked back, her breath coming out in a gasp, as Blake’s fangs sank into her skin.

It should have been a grisly scene. This puncture of flesh, the slow trickle of blood.

And yet, it was anything but.

The blightborn girl wasn’t writhing in pain. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, as she tilted her head back a little more to grant Blake better access. Her body arched towards him, her hands reaching out to clutch the sleeves of his shirt, as if she craved more of the sensation he was giving her.

My stomach twisted, torn between disgust and the embarrassing heat rising between my thighs.

Watching Blake feed was unsettlingly intimate. His hands gripped the girl’s waist, firm but not possessive, holding her steady as he drank.

Yet there was a coldness to his actions, as though his mind was detached from the ritual. He didn’t caress her, didn’t embrace her. He simply took what he needed.

At least, that was what I told myself as the girl’s soft erotic moans filled the room.

Blake seemed unbothered by her reactions. He must have been used to them. His only interest seemed to be in the blood he was taking.

I tracked the motion of his throat as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful from the girl’s limp body.

I could have looked away at any time. Yet I didn’t.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Blake stepped back.

His chest was heaving. His mouth was smeared with a trace of the girl’s blood.

I felt a strange anger fill up inside me as I looked at the red wetness on his lips. As if the girl had marked him in some way she had no right to.

Blake’s fangs shone briefly in the light, before retracting. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, clearing away the drops of blood.

The girl sat up on the bed, her eyes half-lidded, her skin flushed. She pouted.  “Is that really all you want from me?”

Blake didn’t answer. His face was impassive as he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a leather pouch. He placed it on the bedside table and the girl grabbed for it, spilling the contents onto the coverlet.

She huffed softly, her fingers brushing over the gold coins. “It's too much,” she muttered, sounding sulky. “You always overpay.”

She slid off the bed and moved towards him, her fingers reaching for the collar of his shirt.

I felt a knot in my stomach. She wanted him. She wanted more from him. Had he used thrallweave on her? Enchanted her somehow? I didn’t think he’d needed to. She’d clearly wanted this.

But then, she’d been raised from birth to idolize people like Blake, I reminded myself. To see them as purer than she was, better than she was. Of course, she wanted him.

Still, I hoped he’d reject her.

I needn’t have worried. With a frown, he brushed her hands away.

“Maybe the next time you come to call, I won’t be here,” she said petulantly. “Or maybe I’ll be with someone else. Some other highblood man. It would serve you right. What would you do then?”

“I'd pay the next girl,” Blake said coolly, picking up his jacket from the chair and shrugging it back on.

I choked back a laugh. He was one cold bastard. I should have pitied the girl. But I didn’t. There was something about the possessiveness she was showing towards Blake that I didn’t like.

I watched the jacket slide over his shoulders. He was leaving. I felt a flicker of smugness rise inside me.

Smug, that is, until a cold hand clapped firmly over my mouth.

I was yanked out of the wardrobe. A man’s hand wrapped around my waist.

“Well, well,” a low voice growled in my ear. “What have we here? Does someone like to watch?”

My heart raced, breath ragged against the highblood’s palm.

“A new girl,” the man muttered. “I’ve drunk my fill tonight, but I always like a new girl.”

I felt my hood being pulled down. The ribbon was wrenched from my hair. My curls cascaded down around my shoulders.

There was a sudden silence as the man took in my appearance.

Then I felt fingers move through my hair. I tried to yank my head away but he held tight.

“What have we here?” the man murmured. “Such pretty hair.” He sniffed at it. “You even smell different. Unique. I’ve never tasted one like you before.”

Panic flared inside me at the thought of this man putting his teeth into me. I twisted, jerking free of his grip, and leaned down, pulling Coregon’s dagger from my boot.

I spun around, my hand moving fast, and drove the blade deep into the closest part of him I could get to–his thigh.

The man howled in pain and staggered backward, knocking over a wooden chair.

I looked him over quickly. I’d half-expected to see the man I’d run into back in the corridor. But this was a different highblood. He wore a black domino mask over his eyes and a crimson cloak. There was blood all around his lips–blood he hadn’t bothered wiping away, as if he liked looking like that.

I glanced at his hands. They were covered in blood, too. My heart sped up. This man had done more than simply feed tonight.

And he wasn’t done with me yet. Rallying with more speed than any mortal, his face contorted in fury and in a flash, he was on me again, seizing my wrist and pulling my arm back with a painful twist.

I cried out in agony, but didn’t drop the dagger. My eyes darted around the room in desperation.

There. On the floor. The fluffin was lying motionless. The highblood must have kicked him earlier. The sight filled me with a sudden, blinding rage.

Stab him again, my mother demanded. Use the knife. Hurry. He’s not going to let you out of this room, no matter what he might claim.

But I couldn’t fight him off, no matter how I twisted. He was too strong.

I remembered something I had learned in my History of Sangratha class. That highbloods grew stronger with age. Before now, I’d only fought against highbloods my age–Visha, Blake. I might have been close to a match for them...but I wasn’t one for this man.

“I should bring you to the Sanctum,” he muttered as he fought me. “Turn you in. You’ve been hiding from them, haven’t you? Naughty, naughty. You’re special. That hair. But you smell so good. I think I’ll keep you for myself. Will you scream like my other girls? I don’t like my girls damaged. Not until I’m ready to do it myself. Drop the knife, little girl. Don’t make me break your fucking wrist now, girly.”

He was close to it. I could feel my bones coming close to the snapping point. My eyes were burning with pain.

The door to the room slammed open with a splintering crash.

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CHAPTER 32 – BLAKE

I’d been coming to The Drained Rose long enough to know that most of the time you just had to look away. Madame Illustra wanted you to look away. Sometimes her girls– and boys–had rough customers, and it usually wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. Hell, some of them liked it that way.

Most of Madame’s workers enjoyed what they did. The low level coercion that we highbloods had spun over the blightborn in Veilmar and the rest of Sangratha made mortals more pliable to suggestion. But they still had a measure of free will. If one wanted to feed, one needed the blightborn to be willing–or one had to overpower them or use thrallweave. Something which most highbloods had no qualms about.

In any case, I was used to hearing the sounds of rough feeding and even rougher sex.

But this was different. The sounds were different.

And then I’d heard Pendragon scream.

Now I took in the scene, my heart pounding.

Pendragon, her cloak ripped off, her hair wild, cascading down her back.

Her dress was torn. It was fucking torn. I saw red.

The highblood brute had hardly noticed me. He still had his hands all over her. Clawing, pawing at her, his intentions sickeningly clear.

“Get your own girl, my friend,” the highblood called back over his shoulder. “I've found myself a new girl and she's mine.”

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

The word echoed in my head and fire erupted in my veins.

“I’m not your fucking friend.”

I launched myself at him, moving faster than I ever had in my life.

One moment, the highblood was latched onto Pendragon like a leech. The next I had ripped him away, my hand twisting into the man’s collar as I hurled him against the wall with all my strength.

He was older than me. Probably stronger.

But not now. Not tonight.

Mine, he had said. Mine.

The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed through the room. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

The blood pounded in my ears as the man crumpled to the floor, dazed but still alive.

That simply wouldn't do.

Mine, he had said. Mine.

She wasn’t his. She was mine. Fucking mine.

I didn’t know why I knew it with such certainty then but I did. The word pounded through my blood. It spread through my bones. Mine.

Medra Pendragon was mine. And I was prepared to die before I let any harm come to her.

She was mine before we’d even met. Even when she hadn’t known it yet. She was mine and I was hers.

It didn’t matter if she believed it. If she accepted it. It didn’t matter if she hated me. I’d believe it enough for both of us. She was mine and she always would be.

My heart might have been black, my deeds as dark as night, but she was mine to protect, mine to keep safe, with everything I had to give.

She thought she was trapped? I was the one trapped. Trapped with this feeling I couldn’t get away from. The need to possess her. To dominate her until she accepted me.

I grabbed the man by his throat, yanking him up with ease. The highblood gasped, clawing at my arm in desperation. But my grip was like iron.

“She’s not yours,” I hissed. “I want to hear you say it.”

There was no mercy in my eyes as I looked at him, holding him up off the ground.

I slammed his head against the wall, hard enough to crack the plaster. A trail of blood was left behind.

“She’s...” The man choked. “She's yours.”

“Mine,” I growled, my voice thick with jealous rage. “You don't get to touch her–ever.”

The man’s voice came out as a rasp. I could hear the blood bubbling in his throat. “For–forgive me...”

But there would be no forgiveness. Not tonight. Not ever.

I tightened my grip, twisting the highblood’s neck with a sickening crack that reverberated through the room. The man went limp in my grasp.

I flung him to the floor, his body crumpling in a heap.

Breathing hard, I turned towards Pendragon.

She stood there, frozen, clutching her cloak to her chest as if trying to hide her torn dress. Her eyes were wide with shock.

Our gazes locked.

I reached for her arm, expecting her to slap my hand away. But to my surprise, she let me.

I led her towards the door.

“Wait,” she said, her voice hoarse. She pointed down at the carpet.

Neville. The fluffin lay on the gaudy red carpet. His little chest was rising and falling slowly.

“Fuck,” I growled. “He did that?”

She nodded tightly.

I suddenly longed to kill the man all over again.

I let go of her arm and scooped the little pup up into my arms.

“Come on,” I said, hoping she’d comply for once in her stubborn life. “I’m taking you and Neville back.”

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CHAPTER 33 – MEDRA

I was following a vampire.

Because I had no other choice, I told myself. The fluffin–whose name, apparently, was Neville, of all the ridiculous names–had been my way back home. At least Blake knew where we were going.

Still, I waited until he’d led us into the tunnel beneath The Wandering Page before I spoke up.

“What the fuck was that back there?”

He’d grabbed a lamp from off the shelf in the storeroom. Now he carried it in one hand and the limp fluffin in his other.

“What do you mean?” he asked, not even pausing to look back at me.

“I mean...”

“You mean you followed me,” he interrupted. “You followed me into a place you had no business being and where you had no chance in hell of being able to take care of yourself.”

There was no point denying it. Still, “You’re saying you had a right to be there? You snuck out of school. You wouldn’t have snuck out if you’d been allowed to leave.”

“No one would have stopped me.”

“Then you snuck out because you didn’t want anyone to see where you were going. Why?” I thought of the girl. “Why use a sellblood? I thought House Drakharrow had its own thralls.”

A pause. “We do.”

“Then why not feed from them?” I asked. “Or does it just get you off to go to brothels?”

“Why not mind your own fucking business?” He shot back. “Oh, wait. You can’t. You’re clearly obsessed with me.”

“I beg your pardon?” I sputtered. “I don’t think so.”

“Really? Then why follow me? No, not just follow me. Why follow me all the way into The Drained Rose? You could have gone anywhere in Veilmar, but instead, you were in the next room over. Did you watch me feed, Pendragon?”

He stopped and turned around, holding the lamp up higher so he could see my face.

I felt my face flushing. Godsdammit.

He sneered. “You did. You watched me. And you fucking liked it.”

He took a step towards me and I backed up.

“Stop it,” I said automatically. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Come near you? Why not? When it’s obvious you want me to. Why can’t you admit it, even to yourself?”

My blush deepened. I felt furious with myself. “In your wildest dreams, Drakharrow. Not every woman on earth wants you.”

“Not every woman, no. But you do.” He smirked. “Did you watch the entire time I was feeding? Or did you look away? Was it too much for you?”

I didn’t answer.

He lowered his voice, looking at my neck. “I can give you the same pleasure I gave her. Anytime you want. All you have to do is say the word. Just one little word. ‘Please.’”

I snapped. “No fucking way. Keep your hands and fangs off me. Besides, you’re not allowed to take blood from me. You said so yourself.”

His smirk deepened. “You don’t even know how it works.”

“Then tell me,” I demanded.

He shook his head. “No way. It’s more fun like this. Maybe someday you’ll figure it out.”

I refused to beg him for information. “Fuck you, Blake.”

“Now who’s dreaming, Pendragon?” He laughed.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” I said, stabbing my finger into his chest. “I’m not yours. I don’t know how to get it through that thick highblood skull of yours...”

“Oh, so you admit I’m thick?” He smirked again.

I threw up my hands. “I’m not yours. Stop saying that word around me. It gives me the creeps. You and that word. Mine. I’m not yours. I never will be.”

He gave an exaggerated yawn. “Whatever you say, Pendragon. I noticed there wasn’t a single ‘thank you, Blake’ in there. Even though you know I saved your life tonight. Yet again. For someone who doesn’t want to belong to someone else, you sure do a shitty job of taking care of yourself.”

I gritted my teeth. “Maybe if all of you highbloods weren’t so feral, I wouldn’t have to worry about protecting myself.”

“Not all of us are feral,” he said, his eyes roaming down my body. “Some of us are all about control.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” I retorted. “You’re just as bad as that highblood who attacked me.”

To my shock, fury filled his eyes. I’d gotten to him.

“We’re not all like that,” he spat.

“That man had clearly been murdering blightborn girls. I saw children out on the streets, begging for someone to pay for their blood. Their parents had been killed, drained of their blood. Who else would do that besides a highblood? Tell me, Blake, why do you all pretend to be so civilized? So restrained? When really you’re all just monsters inside?”

He moved so quickly that I could barely register the blur of his body before he was in front of me, his face an inch away, his breath hot against my skin.

“You think I’m like him?” he growled. “You think I want this? You think I want to be tied to some mortal? To a blightborn who despises me?”

I glared at him, my chest tightening.

“But you’re right about one thing, Pendragon. Why should I fight so hard to leash the monster inside when you’re so determined to bring him out?”

Before I could even respond, his lips crashed against mine.

Blake’s hand cupped the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding possessively into my mouth.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react, caught up in the sudden heat that was shooting through my body.

Then, to my shame, I found myself kissing him back. The taste of him overwhelmed my senses. I hated it. Hated him. Hated this. Hated how good it felt. My heart was racing. My skin tingled.

I clenched my fists by my side, desperately trying to control the storm of emotions that were sweeping through me.

And then it was over as quickly as it had begun.

Blake pulled away, breathing hard, his gray eyes dark with a mixture of triumph...and confusion.

He turned away from me and stalked down the tunnel.

I stood there, frozen for a moment, my hands trembling.

Then I followed.

“Well, at least now we know where Neville has been going,” I finished, sinking down onto Florence’s bed.

“Neville?” Florence’s eyes were wide. I’d woken her up when I’d brought the fluffin back.

Blake hadn’t said another word to me until we reached the Dragon Court. Then all he’d done was shove the fluffin at me and tell me to bring it to him if the pup didn’t recover by the next day.

I’d wanted to ask him why he didn’t just take the fluffin, but I hadn’t.

Hadn’t dared.

Florence was looking at me curiously. I colored.

“Um, Blake Drakharrow seems to have named the fluffin Neville,” I confessed to her.

We looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

“Neville?” Florence sputtered. “Neville? Why Neville?” She gawked at me. “Are you really saying the fluffin–I mean, Neville–has been sneaking away to visit your...” She stopped herself just in time. “To visit Blake Drakharrow?”

She fell backwards onto her bed, giggling again. “That might just be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, you’re the one who loves highbloods. Can’t a highblood love a fluffin?” The question sounded so silly, we burst out laughing again.

“A highblood can do whatever they want, I suppose,” Florence said at last. “But Blake? I mean... I would never have taken him for a fluffin-lover.”

“Florence, please. If we don’t stop putting Blake in the same sentence as a fluffin, I’m never going to be able to stop laughing,” I groaned.

“What I don’t understand is why Neville keeps coming back here,” Florence said, leaning over to pat the fluffin’s fluffy head. Neville perked up a little, then fell back asleep. He seemed to be recovering after his nasty ordeal with the highblood.

“Maybe they’re not allowed to have pets in Drakharrow Tower either?” I suggested.

She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure the highbloods are allowed to do whatever they want over there. That goes double if you’re a House Leader.”

“Maybe Neville–” I suppressed a giggle. “Maybe he keeps trying to get back to Blake, but Blake keeps sending him back to us?”

“That would make sense. But it’s also a little sad. Why doesn’t Blake just keep him?”

“I mean, I guess it might be a little embarrassing for the big, bad House Leader to keep a fluffin?” I said, snorting with laughter. “Poor Neville. He deserves better than Blake.”

Florence looked at me consideringly. “So do you, I guess.”

I blushed. “I mean, he did save me from that highblood. Do you think I should have thanked him?”

“Do you? You said yourself the highblood would probably have killed you.”

I looked away. “I don’t know. Blake’s different from anyone I’ve ever met. He’s not... fully evil, I guess. But he’s certainly not good either. He’s selfish and controlling. He acts like he owns me. But he doesn’t want me to get hurt. It’s confusing.”

I hadn’t told her Blake had kissed me. It was too humiliating. I’d only told her that he’d killed for me. Which was somehow slightly better. I wasn’t sure why.

“What do you think of him feeding from a sellblood?” Florence asked, eying me curiously.

“I was going to ask you that same question,” I said.

She tilted her head, her dark eyes thoughtful. “I think it says something about him. Something neither of you might want to admit.”

“Something bad?”

“No, the opposite. He’d rather feed from someone who’s willing. He didn’t hurt her, did he? The sellblood girl?”

I shook my head. I hated thinking about her. “No, she seemed to enjoy herself quite a bit, in fact.”

“I can’t believe you watched,” Florence said, a little admiringly. “That was rather daring.”

“Blake Drakharrow doesn’t have a right to privacy, as far as I’m concerned,” I countered. “I wasn’t trying to be daring. I just wanted to figure out what he was up to.”

I thought of Professor Rodriguez. How he and Blake had met outside The Drained Rose. It was clear it wasn’t for the first time either.

“But speaking of daring,” I said slowly. “I have a dare for you...”

Back in my own room a little while later, I lay beneath the blankets, unable to sleep even though I knew there were only a few hours left before I’d have to wake up for class.

My head was spinning and it wouldn’t stop.

Mine, he’d said.

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. But it felt like the first time I’d actually been truly listening.

Mine, he’d said.

And at that moment, my heart had quickened. My useless, traitorous heart.

The words had felt true.

But they weren’t true.

They couldn’t be. I wouldn’t let them be.

I forced myself to think of something else.

Professor Rodriguez’s book still lay on my bedside table. I couldn’t risk keeping it much longer. Florence had promised to help me get it back into his office the next day. She’d distract him while I slipped inside and shoved it back on the shelf.

I’d placed Coregon’s dagger high on a shelf. I’d managed to shove it back into my boot before Blake had noticed me carrying it. I’d have to find a sheath for it. Then perhaps I could carry it around, without having Orcades exposed to everything I saw or did.

Part of me was glad she was still here. But I knew this wasn’t what she’d hoped for.

Tomorrow was the start of Wintermark term. In a few weeks there would be festivities, a school break, even a ball. I knew Florence and Naveen were excited about the first real school holidays. It turned out Naveen played the flute and planned to audition to join the school band.

The last autumn leaves had fallen days ago. The air had turned crisp and cold.

I fell asleep and dreamed of snow and dragons.

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