Blood-Bonded by Force (17 page)

Pändra bore down on her teeth, creating another unpleasant smile. “Lawks, sis, I do appreciate the whole sunshine-up-my-arse-thing, but I already know who I am, and it certainly isn’t anyone who can keep her nose clean. Sorry to disappoint. Shall I go now?”

Tonĩ picked up her mug and sipped her coffee as she searched Pändra’s face. “I don’t believe that’s true,” Tonĩ said. “You’re my half-sister, and in my mind, that makes you—”

“Just one of Fate’s little laughs, old mucker, so I wouldn’t get yourself in a dither about it.” Pändra cocked her head to the side. “Do you know that Raymond wanted to have all of his nippers with your mum. Her Fey goes back to the Irish fairies, see, and that’s a right powerful lineage. But there were complications with your birth and your mum couldn’t have any more babies after you, so Raymond had to settle for a Pure Om Rău female,
my
rank mum. A kick in the ballocks for you, though, getting abandoned by your father because of the accident of your own birth.”

Tonĩ stared down into her mug and ran the tip of her finger around the rim. “I’m offering you a second chance, Pändra. A genuine offer from my heart, no strings attached, besides the requirement that you adhere to the town laws, same as everyone else. You can continue to sabotage that by attempting to hurt me…an endeavor you’ll probably succeed in if you keep using my losses against me.”

Pändra re-crossed her legs. Slowly. She couldn’t believe Tonĩ had openly handed her a weapon like that.

Tonĩ looked up. “But I sincerely hope you won’t. If you agree to this offer,” she went back to the topic at hand, “we’ll find you something useful to do. You’ll be assigned to various jobs in the community until you’ve had a chance to try a little of everything. Hopefully, this will help you figure out what suits you best. The only thing you won’t be allowed is access to our computer systems. I know it’s where your expertise lies, but there’s a security issue involved. Everything else is available.” Tonĩ slid a file folder across the desk to her. “The other requirement is that you go to twice-weekly sessions with our therapist. She comes down here from topside three times a—”

“A what? A blooming head shrink?”

“Don’t make it sound like that. Karrell’s a great person to talk to, someone to help you work out your…for lack of a better term, your Raymond issues.”

Pändra smirked. “Maybe you should go, too, then.”

Tonĩ smiled, a shade too nicely. “I’m not the one who’s trying to self-destruct.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Sod the woman, she was frighteningly close to dead-on with that.

Tonĩ turned the mug in her hands. “As to Raymond, what kind of retribution can we expect from him for taking you?”

A laugh launched up Pändra’s throat. Raymond would hardly pass up on another opportunity to send Pändra the message she wasn’t of any cop to him. He would do exactly nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Tonĩ said after a short pause.

“Don’t be,” Pändra shot back. “I myself couldn’t give a kipper’s dick.”

Tonĩ paused again. “Okay.”

Pändra tapped her fingers on the armrests. She was getting restless to be done with this meeting. “So if I say yes to your offer, promising to be well-behaved and such, you’ll trust me at my word?”

“Yes. Until you give me cause not to.”

“I’ll be allowed to”—she swept her hand through the air—“run amuck?”

“You’ll be watched to a certain degree, of course, but not guarded outright. That is, if you agree to abide by our rules. I’d like Ţărână to feel like your home, Pändra, as much as possible.”

Pändra looked down against a rush of unexpected emotion, pretending a sudden interest in her fingernails. Home: the most frightening concept of them all.
Home
had never contained a sister like Tonĩ, who was, from all appearances, caring and just, open and honest. The next oldest sister in the half-Rău brood was Opäl, ten years younger than Pändra at fourteen and born of Boian—Raymond’s pure Fey partner in their procreation program—making her a complete bum nugget, as all of Boian’s progeny were. Pändra wanted to claw the cowbag’s eyes out more than she ever imagined having a chin wag with her over tea and scones.

Pändra coughed lightly. “I suppose I’ll give it a bash.” She had no illusions that this place would ever truly become a home to her, but she was stuck here for now, by gum, and Tonĩ was right; she didn’t fancy hanging from a meat hook while she figured out her next move.

“Great.” Tonĩ beamed. “Your first assignment is with Hannah Crişan in our library. You start today. The particulars are in there.” She pointed to the file folder. “It also contains a map of the town and the community manual. I recommend you read that without delay. It’ll get you up to speed on Vârcolac culture. Any questions?”

Pändra picked up the folder. “Actually, yes. I’ve developed…there’s something that grew on my back overnight. A dragon.” The thing had surprised the devil out of her in the bathroom mirror this morning. It was fashioned out of actual scales, brilliant blue on the body and wings, red on the belly, claws, and choppers. The dragon’s noggin sat in profile over her left shoulder blade, the wings arched over the right, and the reptilian tail snaked along her lower back with its clawed feet aimed at imaginary prey to the left of her spine. It was the same kind of beast she and Mürk had seen on Thomal’s and Arc’s backs in that rubbishy hotel room, although the Vârcolacs’ dragon had been green and red.

“The dragon is a tattoo of sorts,” Tonĩ explained. “It means you’re Fey now.”

“It means…?” Pändra’s mouth dropped open. She was too shocked to stop it.
I’m Fey
? “But that’s impossible.”

“I have one, too, as does Ãlex.” Tonĩ pushed her intercom button. “Donree, could you please send in Dr. Jess, if he’s not too busy.”

“You’re pulling my plonker.” Raymond had been going mad planning the next generation because it was only his grandchildren who were supposed to be fully Fey, not his children.

Tonĩ laughed. “Nope.” She stood, turned around, and lifted the back of her blouse, flashing a dragon—the exact same one Pändra had.

Well, I’ll be damned
.

A knock sounded at the office door, then Natty entered, dressed in a white lab coat over an impeccable dark suit, the garment rich enough to pass even Raymond’s high standards.

“Dr. Jess,” Tonĩ introduced, gesturing to Natty. “This is Pändra Parthen.”

Pändra rose.

The doctor offered her his hand. He striking turquoise eyes were warm with welcome.

Pändra took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Pändra popped her dragon,” Tonĩ went on. “I wanted you to look at her enchantment designator. I never know what those symbols mean.”

Designator? Ah, the symbol off her dragon’s nose.

“Neither do I, usually,” Dr. Jess admitted. “The Fey bloodline has been suppressed for so many years. But, indeed, let’s have a peek. If Miss Parthen doesn’t mind lifting her shirt in back.”

Pändra half-smiled. A bit of a silly worry, considering her usual wardrobe choices. “I don’t mind a’tall. I’m rather curious myself.” She turned around and gathered her shirt up.

“It’s the letter V,” Dr. Jess mused.

“And you don’t know what it means?” Tonĩ guessed.

“I have no idea,” Jess confirmed, chuckling. “But Miss Parthen’s power will come out soon enough, and then we’ll all know.”

Bully
. More power for Pändra. Just what she needed to inspire everyone to hate her more than they already did. She pulled down her shirt and faced the doctors. “How did it come to be there?”

“Well, the enchantment itself has always been with you,” Tonĩ answered. “But Thomal’s Fiinţă activated it.”

“Fiinţă?”

“The elixir that comes out of a Vârcolac’s fangs when he or she feeds. Funny, isn’t it?” Tonĩ added in a sardonic tone. “Raymond considers Vârcolac to be the scum of the earth. Yet, it’s the Vârcolac who can trigger enchantment powers in a person with Fey bloodlines. Here and now,
today
.” Tonĩ’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I don’t think we should tell him, though, do you?” She winked at Pändra, such the conspiratorial sister.

Pändra experienced the oddest stirring in her chest. How to respond to this attempt at connection? She didn’t have a bloody clue.

Chapter Eighteen

Nỵko stood with his back jammed against the wall outside of Tonĩ’s office, his hands thrust into the pockets of his black cargo pants. He sullenly eyed one of the waiting room chairs. He could maybe fit one thigh into that thing.

His abnormal size was never cause for celebration, but his recent encounter with the Teague twins had his grumpiness about the whole issue up a few hundred points.

It had happened about an hour ago. He’d been on his way downstairs to the mansion’s dining room for breakfast, the sisters had been going in the same direction, and,
Hello
—they’d all ended up standing on the grand staircase together. He’d skidded to a stop, and managed to get his senses unboggled enough—dang, they smelled good—to offer them a smile. Not a grin wide enough to show his fangs.
Gosh, no
. The Teagues knew what he was, of course, but they were still getting all snug as a bug with the whole Vârcolac idea, so why push it? Besides, he didn’t need to dial up his own menace by showing off the sharper parts of himself.

Little good his precautions had done him. Not
any
good, in fact, at least where it counted…with Faith.

He liked both of the sisters; they seemed equally nice. Considering they’d been drugged and kidnapped—and, ugh, no one in the community felt happy about doing that again—and also considering their lives had taken a really bizarre turn in the last few days, it was a testament to their good manners that they were trying to be polite. They were both super pretty, too, with swanlike bodies and eye-catching grace, and they smelled like cookies. Not literally, but rather the idea was they smelled like his favorite thing in the world.

He loved every kind of cookie there was: peanut butter, lemon cream, cinnamon applesauce raisin, sugar cookies, chocolate chip. But his all-time favorite were oatmeal butterscotch. One of the best parts about babysitting for Maggie and Luken was that Maggie always made him a batch of her World Famous Oatmeal Butterscotch Cookies whenever he came over. Well, besides the
main
best part of being able to spend time with their two-year-old daughter, Amabel, his little cutie-pie baby with curly blonde hair like her momma.

He adored kids, and had let it be known around town that he was available for babysitting anytime—no cookies required. He didn’t get as many gigs as he would’ve liked, though. Not because of how scary-looking he was. Nah, kids always saw beneath the outer appearance to the real person beneath, and all kids loved him. No, it was because there were still so few offspring in Ţărână—only ten—so he had to share babysitting duty with half the community. There were lots of single gals with loads of maternal love to give while they waited for more Dragon males to be brought in so they could start their own families.

Anyway, while Kacie Teague could best be compared to chocolate chip cookies—yummy, for sure—Faith drugged up his senses with one-hundred-percent-pure oatmeal butterscotch. The Best Scent in Creation. She smelled like a mate. Which meant that she was his, but how in heck he’d ever convince her of
that
was a complete mystery.

When the three of them had been grouped on the grand staircase, Kacie had managed to dredge up a return smile for him. It’d been strained and had come after some extended wide-eyed gawping, but she’d done it.

Faith had let out a horrified yelp, stumbled back from him, and stayed far away. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings; they were both well-brought-up ladies, as he already knew. She’d just been too appalled by him to do anything else. And could he blame her? Besides his looks, she’d seen him punch a woman’s face off yesterday.

He’d been at an utter loss about how to smooth over the situation. He knew as much about flirting as he did about ballet. Another mark against him, he supposed, that he didn’t know jack diddly squat about his future mate’s passion. So he’d ended up mumbling something about forgetting his wallet, then lumbered back up the stairs.
My vow of celibacy is good, yes it is
. He’d do himself a favor by keeping that sentence at the forefront of his mind.

Donree, Tonĩ’s assistant, rescued him from any more morose thoughts by leading the group of them—team members Dev, Thomal, and Gábor, plus Jaċken and Ãlex—into Tonĩ’s office.

Tonĩ was seated behind her desk, a newspaper open in front of her. “Where’s Sedge?” she asked, glancing at Nỵko.

Yep, once again Nỵko was today’s insert-substitute-warrior-here.

“In hibernation,” Jaċken answered.

Tonĩ’s face brightened. “Oh, that’s great.”

A Vârcolac male went into a three-day hibernation state after he’d exhausted himself with the grueling process of Vârcolac baby-making.

“I knew Sedge and Kimberly were planning to start a family soon,” Tonĩ continued. “I just didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

Gábor plopped down on the sofa. “Nature called,” he drawled.

Jaċken strode up to Tonĩ’s desk. “So what’s your security issue?”

Tonĩ spun around the newspaper in front of her, showing Jaċken the bold headline: THE SYMBOL KILLER STIKES AGAIN. “Have you seen this?”