Blue-Blooded Vamp (52 page)

Adam approached and saw where Giguhl and I were looking. “Good for them.” He took the seat on the other side of me and kissed my hand.

“So when do you head to Irkalla?” Adam asked Giguhl. He and his bride would be honeymooning in the underworld.

“Tonight, just after the party. Lilith’s insisting on holding a demon mating ceremony immediately to consecrate our unholy union or whatever,” Giguhl said. “Adam said you guys are going down, too?”

I nodded. “Maisie’s having some trouble with the vampire uprising in the Bloodlands, so I’m going to go help her. We won’t be there long, but I’m hoping I can fit a visit in with my parents and Vinca.”

“I’m glad your dad finally got over himself about the whole love spell thing.”

“I don’t think Phoebe gave him much choice,” I chuckled. “Especially when she reminded him that love spells can only make you attracted to someone. They can’t create true love or keep two people together. That’s all a conscious choice.”

Adam shot me an intimate smile. “Damn straight.”

Valva came and plopped into Giguhl’s lap. She planted a loud smacking kiss on his lips. “How are you, Mr. Valva?”

“Better now,” he said, pulling her closer.

“When will you guys get back from your honeymoon?” Adam asked.

“Couple months, tops.”

My mouth dropped open. “That long?” I hadn’t been separated from Giguhl that long since the day he barged into my life.

Valva waved a golden hand. “It would have been longer, but we need to get back to prepare the nursery.”

I frowned at her. “What nursery?”

Valva didn’t notice that her new husband had gone very still. “For the babies?” She rolled her eyes like I’d said something stupid.

My stomach dropped. Giguhl closed his eyes and muttered a curse.

“Who’s having babies?” Adam said, shooting me a tense glance. I shook my head back because I had no freaking clue either.

Valva looked at Giguhl. “Didn’t you tell them, honey?”

“I wanted to wait until after we got back, sugar knuckle.”

In a voice as calm as I could manage, I said, “Tell us what, exactly?” I picked up my champagne, prepared to chug my way through this.

Valva pursed her lips and gave her husband a look that clearly indicated he would not enjoy his wedding night if he didn’t spill the news. “Adam, Sabina,” Giguhl said, his tone reluctant and not a little nervous. “I’m knocked up.”

I sputtered a mouthful of champagne across the table. “What?”

“Wait.” Adam held up a finger. “Don’t you mean Valva is pregnant?”

Valva shook her head. “Gross, no.”

“Giguhl?” Adam said, his tone growing alarmed. “What the hell?”

I put my head in my hands. “I’m so confused right now.”

My minion took a deep breath and leaned forward. “It’s true. I’m carrying our first litter.”

“But how?” I held up a hand. “Wait, I’m not sure I even want to know how that’s possible.”

“It’s simple, really,” Valva said, ignoring my plea to remain ignorant of the inner workings of demon procreation. “Female demons have two sets of equipment.”

Adam closed his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t ask this, but I can’t help myself. Do males have both as well?”

“Um, hello? How many times have you two bitches seen me in my magnificent naked form? The answer is no. The only tool I’m sporting is the mighty Pitchfork.”

“Then how are you—” I stopped myself.

“Gods, Sabina, don’t be such a prude,” Valva said. “It’s just a matter of me implanting a sperm packet in Giguhl’s ass womb.”

All the blood rushed from my face. Adam’s face was slightly green and he swayed woozily. “Are… are you happy about it?” I whispered.

Giguhl pursed his lips, thinking it over. “You know, I kind of am. We didn’t plan on it, but I think it could be pretty awesome to have a gaggle of little Vanity and Mischief demons running around.”

“How many makes up a gaggle, exactly?” Adam said.

“Half a dozen, usually. We’ll know more once I’m further along and my teats come in.”

I bit my lip to keep in the hysterical laughter bubbling up in my throat.

Luckily, Adam had a better poker face. “And how long until these little miracles make their appearance?”

“Four months!” Valva said.

I dropped my glass.

“But don’t worry, Red,” Giguhl rushed ahead. “Once we wean them off the teat, they’ll move back to Irkalla.”

“How long?”

“A thousand years, give or take.”

After the happy couple departed for the underworld and all the guests had returned to the respective centers of power, Adam and I stood on the balcony watching the sun rise.

My body was exhausted from the party but my head was buzzing. “I can’t believe we’re going to have six demon spawn running around here for a millennium.”

Adam shrugged. “Look at it this way—they’ll keep Giguhl and Valva so busy they won’t have time to cause trouble.”

I turned to the mancy and lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, but we’ll be outnumbered.”

“Not for the first time,” he reminded me.

“True.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

We fell silent as we watched the sun finally crest the horizon. “You know, it just occurred to me that the first time we met was during the last harvest moon,” Adam said.

I looked up. “That’s right. At Ewan’s bar. You were sitting across the bar trying to look so mysterious.”

He smiled. “You totally checked me out.”

“Right,” I said. “As a potential enemy.”

“I remember the moment I saw you. You marched in with a huge chip on your shoulder, daring every vampire in the room to challenge you. Begging them to let you prove yourself.”

I stilled, remembering that night. It had been only a
couple of hours after I’d killed David. I’d walked into Sepulcher looking for a fight. And I’d found one. A swaggering vamp had approached me and called me out for killing his brother years earlier.

“When you killed that guy, you smiled.” Adam’s tone was quiet. Not judgmental, just matter-of-fact.

“I did?”

He nodded. “But you know what else I noticed?”

I swallowed hard against a rush of emotion that rose out of nowhere.

“You were standing in the middle of a packed bar surrounded by vampires who either despised you or were afraid of you. You tried to look like you enjoyed their awe, but something in your eyes caught me off guard.”

“What?” I whispered.

“Loneliness.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. It had been months since I’d felt that hollowed out feeling. The weight of solitude, which, along with self-loathing, had been my only companion. But now the memories flooded in and with them, the visceral pain of rejection and self-inflicted isolation.

“I guess I was pretty fucked up.” Funny talking about it now—that old life felt decades in the past instead of a little more than a year.

“A little maybe,” he said. “But also brave and brash and proud. I was fascinated from the moment you stormed into that room.” He tilted my head up and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “And the longer we’re together, the more fascinated I become.”

I kissed his lips, savoring the sandalwood musk of him as it combined with the smoky scent of autumn leaves and the flavor of whisky on his skin. “You’re pretty fascinating yourself, mancy.”

As the sun climbed in the distance, Adam and I continued to explore our mutual fascination for each other. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what a miracle my life had become in twelve short months. The road to get there had been twisty and treacherous and downright terrifying, but in the end every heartache, every cut and bruise, every tough lesson learned had been worth it.

I wasn’t sure what the future would bring to us or to any of the beings I’d come to care about during my journey from burned out assassin to demigoddess, but I took comfort in knowing that whatever challenges waited, I’d never face them alone again.

A feeling swirled in the pit of my stomach. Not the foreboding, achy sense of despair that had been part of me for so many years. But something warm, glowy… pleasant, even.

It took me a moment to recognize the emotion because, frankly, I didn’t have a lot of experience with it. But for the first time in my life, I was happy. For the first time in my life, I felt loved and safe and… balanced.

I smiled inwardly and my soul whispered, “Miracle number seven.”

A
s many of you know, or are about to find out once you read this,
Blue-Blooded Vamp
is the final installment in Sabina Kane’s journey. I’ve learned so much writing this series, both about writing and about myself. Those lessons weren’t always easy, but I owe a debt of gratitude to so many people for guiding me on this long, strange trip.

Devi Pillai, thank you for challenging me to always improve and for seeing the spark in this series from the beginning.

Rebecca Strauss, thank you for being an amazing agent, trusted advisor and advocate, and an all-around cool lady.

Thanks also to the entire team at Orbit in the U.S. and U.K.—Tim Holman, Lauren Panepinto, Anna Gregson, Alex Lencicki, Jack Womack, Jennifer Flax, Susan Barnes, and all of the amazing sales and marketing staff. Without all of your hard work, this series would have never found its audience.

Huge hugs to Suzanne McLeod, my stalwart critique partner. For your fast reads and brilliant insights, I will always be in your debt.

Thanks to the League of Reluctant Adults for the camaraderie and support.

To the Migues, Hughes, and Wells families, thank you for simply everything. A special shout-out to my cousin Maryam Houston, whose advice and plentiful supply of wine make her an indispensable brainstorming partner.

Emily and Zivy, thank you for believing in me. I will never stop believing in us.

Mr. Jaye, I know it’s not easy being married to a writer, but your patience is the stuff of legend. ILYNTB.

Spawn, nothing makes me prouder than being your mom.

And, finally, thank you to all the readers who have stuck with Sabina (and me) through thick and thin. I hope that the culmination of her quest does not mark the end of our journey together.

Happy reading!

After several years as a magazine editor and freelance writer, Jaye Wells finally decided to leave the facts behind and make up her own reality. Besides writing, she enjoys travel, art, history, and researching weird and arcane topics. She lives in Texas with her saintly husband and devilish son. Find out more about the author at
www.jayewells.com
.

If you enjoyed
BLUE-BLOODED VAMP,
look out for

THE IRON WYRM AFFAIR

by Lilith Saintcrow

P
relude: A Promise of Diversion

When the woman stepped into his parlour, Archibald Clare was only mildly intrigued. Her companion was of more immediate interest, a tall man in a close-fitting velvet jacket, moving with a grace that bespoke some experience with physical mayhem. Hatless, too, and with curious boots.

The chain of deduction led Clare in an extraordinary direction, and he cast another glance at the woman to verify it.

Yes. Of no more than middle height, and slight, she was in very dark green. Fine cloth, a trifle old-fashioned though the sleeves were close as fashion now dictated, and her bonnet perched just-so on brown curls, but its brim small enough that it did not interfere with her side-vision. However, her skirts were divided, her boots were serviceable
instead of decorative—though of just as fine a quality’s as the man’s—and her jewelry was eccentric, to say the least. Emerald drops worth a fortune at her ears, and the necklace was an amber cabochon large enough to be a baleful eye. Two rings on gloved hands, one with a dull unprecious black stone and the other a star sapphire a royal family might have envied.

The man had a lean face to match the rest of him, strange yellow eyes, and tidy dark hair still dewed with crystal droplets from the light rain falling over Londinium. The moisture, however, did not cling to her. One more piece of evidence, and Clare did not much like where it led.

He set the viola down, with careful precision, and waited for the opening gambit. As he had suspected,
she
spoke. And without niceties, too.

“You are Dr. Archibald Clare. Distinguished author of
The Art and Science of Observation
.” She paused. Aristocratic nose, firm mouth, very decided for such a childlike face. “Bachelor. And recently-unregistered mentath.”

Clare steepled his fingers under his very long, very sensitive nose. Her
toilette
favored musk, of course, for a brunette. Still, the scent was not common. “Sorceress. And Shield. I would invite you to sit, but I hardly think you will.”

A slight smile, her chin lifted. The curls, if they were not natural, were very close. “Since there is no seat available,
sir
, I suppose I am to take that as one of your deductions?”

She was correct. Even the hassock had a pile of papers and books stacked terrifyingly high. He had been researching, of course. The intersections between musical scale and the behavior of certain tiny animals. It was the intervals, of course. Each note held its own space. He was seeking to determine which set of spaces would make the insects (and later, other things) possibly—