Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion) (25 page)

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.” He raked both hands back through his hair, staring ahead and sighing with frustration. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Well, I do actually. When you’ve got this much magic running through your body—pleading to be commanded—it starts to build up. I don’t even realize how I’m acting.”

“Yeah, magic is a lot like sexual tension that way,” I said with a smirk.

“Seriously...” He held my gaze for a several seconds and I promptly forgot exactly what we’d been talking about. “I should have listened to you, when you said someone had betrayed you.”

“Well, there’s no way of knowing whether or not I would have actually told you anything,” I said. “Even if I’d been given an opportunity. So don’t beat yourself up over it too much. Maybe a little, but not a lot.”

“Everything he said was true, then?” Nate asked.

Oh god. I’d been dreading this part—the curiosity. The questions. He’d want details. He’d want to listen. Especially after shutting me down earlier, now it was a pity party with Zara at the center of attention and expected to entertain.

“Yup, totally factual.” I bit my tongue hard enough to wince, swallowing back the rest I didn’t want to reveal.
He
knows
about
Pavel
.
That’s
all
you
wanted
to
tell
him,
so
keep
your
goddamn
mouth
shut
...
you
don’t
need
to
milk
it
...

He didn’t move, expression didn’t change. “You’re certain?”

“It
was
three centuries ago,” I reminded him. “And I don’t have the best memory on a good day.”

He waited there in front of me expectantly for a moment. When he seemed satisfied I wasn’t going to say any more, he reached for the liquor.

“I was seventeen,” I blurted out.
Stupid mouth, moving when it’s not supposed to.

“I’m sorry?” His hand froze in midair and he looked at me.

Damn
you,
Zara
. “When I was turned.”

“That’s right, Peter said eighteen.” Nate pushed the bottles aside and sat next to me. Eyes on mine, his attention felt...
weighty
. Real and focused, centered on me.

For a moment, relief touched me, and I realized I was
glad
. Glad I was getting this out, glad I was talking about it. Peter would’ve listened, no doubt, but purely from an academic standpoint. The idea of Jamie knowing personal stuff about me was no good. But Nate...he just learned I ate small children, committed brutal acts of revenge, and he still wanted to listen. Had it confirmed I was the worst kind of murderer—a child killer—and he looked at me like I was the only person who existed in that moment.

I shifted under the intensity of his gaze and swallowed dryly. “Not for another ten days. It wasn’t like Dragomir had a birth certificate or anything back then, so he couldn’t be expected to know.”

“So technically you can’t even vote?” He offered a grin that was sad around the edges.

The thought of him feeling sorry for me made me squirm so I kept my tone light. “Yes, and that definitely would keep me up at night if I didn’t have a fake ID. What would the Green Party ever do without my support?”

We sat in silence. I stared at my knees, let my long legs dangle from the edge of the table. My chest tightened, worry building and building and I knew I wouldn’t get out of the conference room without spilling all my guts once and for all.

“The rest was accurate?” His tone was gentle and quiet. For some reason, it hurt.

“From what I recall.”

“No exaggerations? This dismemberment and disembowelment—”

“And the tasty Romanian children? All the god’s honest truth.”

“And no one knows why you awoke so early?”

“No, they don’t.” I licked my lips and swallowed again as a painful lump rose in my throat. Eyed the bottles. It would take nearly the whole bottle of scotch to get me buzzed, but I was three words away from cracking it open and injecting it directly into my veins. “But I do.”

Nate immediately looked over at me, and I glanced away, avoiding his gaze and letting my hair drape over my shoulder to obscure my face.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’m assuming it probably had something to do with the amniotic fluid and stuff.” There. I’d said it.

“Amni...you mean—”

“I was with child,” I said, surprising myself with how calm I was. “A few months along, starting to show if you knew how to look. When the vampire parasite turned most of my insides to pulp, something about the child’s cells or my body’s hormones or something must have sped up the process. Nutrient rich, I guess. Like demon fertilizers.”

Silence. Then: “Did
he
know?” Voice steady and deceptively calm, something simmered below the surface. That hint of rage I heard sparked a strength in me I hadn’t been expecting.

“Yes, he did. And he pretended to be happy, every day, all the while he was planning to kill us.” I clenched my hands into fists, digging my nails deep into my palms. “God, I wish he was alive so I could kill him again. I’d do it right this time and make it last for days.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Nope. Dragomir didn’t know either. Given how quickly he took up with Ecaterina, I’m guessing he just didn’t love me. Never did. Just didn’t want to do it himself, so he delegated.”

Back then, he’d had all of me. I thought the world of that man, twelve years my senior. He was so smart, so handsome. Married off at sixteen, he was
everything
to me when I hadn’t a clue there existed a whole universe outside of being his wife.

He didn’t just kill Ana’s body—he killed
Ana
. He took something I’d never, ever get back, no matter how many years I lived. And so Zara was born: a narcissistic killer who would look out for number one and never lose part of herself to a man again.

Rest in peace, Ana
.

“So yeah.” I swallowed and blinked in case my eyes got any funny ideas about crying—I was stronger than that now. “I’m kinda like the original Beatrix Kiddo, on a roaring rampage of revenge, except with fewer katanas and more fangs. I would’ve rocked that yellow outfit, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “I definitely wouldn’t have said all this yesterday. Besides, it would have seemed less sincere with me trying to jump your bones at the same time. But yeah. I understand what you’re going through. Except I was more violent about it.”

“At least Mishka only lied to me for a few months. And I should’ve known better. Everyone...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Another brick in the wall, I guess. I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. Mishka’s Judas act dug in a bit deeper into him, chipped away at the damaged person he already was. My husband destroyed a faithful, loving person who never dreamed such a thing could happen. Is it worse having your trust betrayed when you’re completely innocent, or after you’ve given your heart despite already being jaded?

I had no answer for that.

“Zara...” He shifted to face me and reluctantly I turned to look at him. Tense seconds passed with his eyes on mine. His hand went to my face, brushing back a few strands of hair and warming my flesh as his fingers ran over my cheek.

A tingling started beneath his hand and swept across my skin. It traveled along my face, fanning out in all directions, and leaving a trail of welcomed fever behind it. My lips parted in a gasp. The sensation moved down my body, out to my arms, and down my legs, covering all of me and lasting for a few minutes.

When the feeling had dissipated, his hand left my cheek and returned to his side; I shivered, gooseflesh covering my arms, and tried to form words.

“What...what was...” My gaze fell to my hand resting on the edge of the table.
What the fuck?
I blinked a few times. It didn’t go away.

The considerable marks left on my skin from the previous day’s overexposure to the sun were shrinking.
Right in front of me.
I reached up to feel my face, but the only scarred bits of raised skin I encountered faded beneath my touch.

“I sped up the healing process.” Nate’s shoulders slumped and he yawned, the magic having zapped some of his strength. A few seconds later he eased himself up to stand and picked up the bottles of alcohol. “It’s...sort of like a system boost—I just amplified what your body was already doing to mend itself, so it works a lot faster on you than it would a normal human. Might as well do something with all that magical build-up.” He walked to the door and held it open for me.

“Well, should you decide to release any other tensions that might be accumulating, you’ve certainly earned yourself my good favour.” This time I was only joking, though, and the exaggerated roll of his eyes told me he knew it too.

Good thing—my ego had taken enough bruising for a while.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kids These Days!

The two guys were seated on the couch, with Peter scanning the pages of a large, hardcover book, and Jamie flipping through TV channels. They both looked up as Nate and I came downstairs and immediately took notice that I was no longer sunburn central.

“Zara, my dear.” Jamie moved over and motioned for me to sit between him and Peter. He turned me toward him once I was seated, then held me at arm’s length to study me for a few moments. Peter left his book on the coffee table and got up to come to Jamie’s side to take a better look at me as well.

I had a sudden rush of pleasure at being so warmly admired, and I didn’t stop myself from enjoying it.

“Love, this is the most miraculous healing I’ve ever seen,” Jamie said.

My eyes darted to Nate as he started for the kitchen. He shook his head, so I didn’t explain.

“I’m just a miraculous sort of person, I guess,” I said instead.

Peter’s gaze also went to Nate, but he too kept his mouth shut.

“So where’s Heaven?” I loathed shifting the subject from how gorgeous I was looking, but I had plenty of time to be vain later.

“The lovely Widow Thiering is in her room,” Jamie informed me. “Not liking what our new friend here had to say.”

“She had a problem with the whole evil secret government dealio that her daughter wanted into?” I asked.

“The poor thing blames herself,” Peter said.

“Why shouldn’t she?” Jamie shrugged. “It’s usually the parents’ fault.”

“Your sensitivity in such matters is an inspiration to us all,” Nate said coldly as he returned from putting the liquor away. Ah, back to the grumpy warlock routine. At least it kept the dialogue interesting.

“It’s true,” Jamie said. “Any psychologist will tell you that.”

“Any more irrelevant bits of wisdom you have to pass on?” Nate asked. “While we’re on the subject of psychology, that is.”

“Well, you seriously need to get laid, my friend.”

“Right, because that seems to be really helpful at keeping you from being a complete asshole.”

“Starting to sound a bit jealous there, kid,” Jamie said with a grin.

Nate took a few steps forward. “And what could I possibly be jealous of?”

Jamie hopped to his feet and closed the gap between them in a few paces. “Let’s see...” He raised his hand and counted off the reasons on his fingers. “I’ve got Zara, for one thing.”

“No you don’t—” I began.

“If that’s your only reason, I’ve got news for you,” Nate said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “
I
don’t want her.”

“Hey, be nice!” I shot in, but neither of the men seemed aware of me.

“I’m wealthy, good looking, and immortal,” Jamie continued. “And that’s gotta sting.”

“Nate’s actually hotter than you and he’s way rich,” I said, more to myself than them. When that much testosterone was in the air, everything—including logic, reason, and a pretty girl talking—was totally lost.

“You’re also a prick,” Nate said. “Which definitely negates the immortality. So far, we’re still even.”

I leaned back on the couch, propped my feet up on the coffee table, and sighed. “Would you guys mind taking off your shirts and dousing yourselves in olive oil if you’re going to do this? I’ll get some popcorn.”

Neither acknowledged me.

“Hmm, how about the fact that
my
girlfriend didn’t sell me out for a bit of demonic power,” Jamie said. “Now I wonder what that says about you as a—”

Nate took a swing at Jamie, and I had to agree that the guy had it coming. His fist connected with Jamie’s nose, spraying blood onto the couch and the wall behind him.

“Oh, Junior, you really don’t want to get into this with me.” Jamie sent the back of his hand flying against Nate’s jaw. The vampiric strength behind the simple swipe hurled Nate clear across the room, smashing him into the far wall. White motes of dust puffed out of the cracked drywall.

The warlock muttered a few words and Jamie flew back over the couch into the opposite wall. Nate tried to stand again, then fell forward, spitting out blood.

“This could go one for a while,” Peter said to me quietly as Jamie swore and vaulted over the sofa to stalk toward Nate. “And there’s a good chance they’ll end up killing each other.”

I sighed. The fight was entertaining, but Peter was right. Plus I didn’t anticipate anyone actually getting out the olive oil, so I’d get bored pretty quick.

“Boys, boys,” I chided, standing up and stepping in front of Jamie before he reached Nate. “That’s enough.”

“He started it,” Nate muttered.

Jamie smirked. “Aw, running out of charms?”

“What, are you guys five or something?” I asked. Both of them dropped their heads, just as a couple of children would. “Time for each of you to take a walk.”

“As long as you’re sure Junior
can
walk after that one,” Jamie said.