Mother May I (Knight Games Book 4) (4 page)

“Woot! That was one hell of a ride, wasn’t it?” she said, circling her arm above her head.

I groaned.

“Sorry, Grateful. Traveling by gold dust is a lot to get used to, especially for an injured air and wood witch. To say I took you out of your element would be an understatement. I’m just happy I got you here in one piece. I mean, they say metal chops wood. I might have sliced and diced you if I wasn’t careful. But here we are, and you’re still breathing—”

“Polina?” I cut her off. She rambled when she was nervous, and I could tell she’d had major anxiety about my potential survival.

“Yes?”

“Get Rick.”

She moved to leave the kitchen, but there was no need. Rick was standing at the threshold, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. As always was the case lately, Rick’s vulnerable expression did not match his overtly masculine appearance. His size, as well as his dark waves and Mediterranean complexion, gave him a forceful presence that seemed to fill the space between us.

“Oh, good.” Polina pointed at me. “You’ve got to give her your blood. Now. She’s dying.”

Rick stared at me, the corner of his mouth twisting downward as if the mere thought turned his stomach. “She is gravely injured,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious. Did you hear me?” Polina said. “She will die if you don’t feed her your blood, right now.”

Wood slammed against stone as the front door was thrown open, and Julius rushed to my side. He pushed Rick into the wall in his effort to get to me. Only vampire strength could explain the way Rick’s feet left the floor, and his body dented the drywall from Julius’s efforts. My caretaker brushed himself off, looking rightfully peeved.

“I can help her,” Julius said. “Drink of me.” He lifted his wrist to his fangs.

“Hold it right there, cowboy!” Polina said, grabbing Julius’s wrist. She turned her attention to Rick, who’d become statuesque in the threshold to the tiny kitchen. “Are you going to let him do this? You’re her caretaker!”

Rick seemed paralyzed by the situation. He’d had my blood plenty of times, but never given me his. I’d never pressed the issue. I assumed he wasn’t ready to take that step. As his mouth opened and closed with unsaid words, I could see my mistake. Now he had the trauma of me near death and was being guilted and pressured by people he didn’t even know.

“Don’t force him,” I croaked. All I wanted was to close my eyes. I was fading fast.

Julius stroked my cheek. “Let me help you.” The vampire leaned over me, smelling of scotch and the forest at night. I blinked at him, unable to respond.

A hand landed on Julius’s shoulder and yanked, the vampire’s head snapping with the force of his retreat. Rick’s hand twisted into the vampire’s silk collar, holding him away from me.

“Tell me what to do,” Rick said, shoving Julius across the kitchen.

“Score your wrist with your teeth,” Polina instructed. She raised her arm to her mouth to demonstrate.

Rick followed suit, but when he bit, he hardly broke the skin.

“You’ve got to shift partially,” Polina said. “Your human teeth will barely draw a drop, and your flesh won’t heal as quickly if you don’t.”

With a shake of his head, Rick admitted, “I can’t shift.”

Julius grabbed the sides of his head, clawing at his hair and turning a pleading gaze toward me. “This, this derelict is why you won’t drink my blood? A caretaker who can’t shift?”

Black spots danced in my vision. I was slipping away again. “Carry me to the bed,” I whispered. “I don’t want to die on the floor.” I closed my eyes.

A deep feral growl rumbled through the kitchen, and strong arms swept me up. My head rolled against a broad chest. Next to my ear, the steady beat of a heart comforted me. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know it was Rick who held me. He was gentle, positioning me to avoid the arrow still protruding from my shoulder, and trying his best not to jostle me too much.

Carefully, he sat down in his bed with me cradled in his arms. My eyelids fluttered. Through our connection, I felt his worry for me. He wrapped an arm around my head and offered his wrist. “Perhaps if you did it?”

“Too weak.” I couldn’t if I tried. I was too exhausted and in debilitating pain. “Nightshade,” I blurted. “My blade is enchanted.”

“Where is it?” he asked.

I whispered, “Julius.” The vampire appeared in the bedroom door in an instant.

“Bring her blade,” Rick commanded.

The vampire didn’t move. “Julius, please,” I said weakly. The request was barely audible, but Julius retrieved the blade and offered me the hilt.

I searched Rick’s face. “You’ll have to do it.”

This made Julius’s lips peel back from his fangs in disgust. “
I
could draw blood from the caretaker if needed.”

With a growl, Rick wrapped his hand around the hilt and drew the blade quickly across his wrist. He lowered the bleeding cut to my mouth. Warm ambrosia coursed down my throat, hit my stomach, and radiated to my fingers and toes. I moaned and closed my eyes at the taste, the nourishment I’d been denied for so long.

“Out of the way, vampire,” Polina said. Her small fingers brushed my shoulder as she gripped the arrow. “On the count of three. One… two… three.” I swallowed a scream around Rick’s wrist as the arrow tore from my flesh. My eyes popped open, and I lost my grip on his arm.

When I caught my breath, he repositioned me in his lap. “Leave us,” he told the others.

“Please. Please help me,” I begged, searching his face. The small amount of blood I’d had was counteracting the venom, but the process felt like I was on fire. I didn’t notice the witch or the vampire leave until the door clicked shut. I’m usually not a crier, but tears of pain drenched my cheeks.

“Come. Drink more,” Rick whispered, slicing a fresh gash in his wrist and plugging my mouth with it. I sucked greedily, the pain withdrawing with every swallow. Slowly, the cuts on my arms began to heal. He repositioned my back against his chest and stroked the hair from my face.

“Grateful,” he whispered in my ear. “It is working.” His breath was warm and soft.

With a long inhale through my nose, I settled into his lap, falling into a rhythm of deep draws and audible swallows. I reached behind me for his other arm and wrapped it around my torso, resting his palm between my breasts and pressing my back into his chest.

His broken exhale was my reward. He felt it too, the rush of heat that came when we shared blood. I was full, in fact, moderately sloshy from all the blood, but didn’t want to move. This was the closest we’d been physically in weeks. I stopped drinking but licked the cut on his wrist with long, languid strokes of my tongue.

He didn’t protest or push me away. On the contrary, the hard length of him twitched under me. I stopped licking and adjusted myself in his lap to look at him. What I saw made my heart leap. His eyes were black and his jaw slightly elongated. He pulled his upper body away from me, pressing into the headboard.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s just your beast coming to the surface. Your beast likes to get in on the action.” I smiled and cupped the side of his face, stroking the line of his jaw.

He pulled away, shaking his head violently until he appeared fully human again. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t… think I can control it. My body…” He rubbed a hand down his T-shirt.

“Your body is doing what it was made to do. You want me,” I whispered. “You want to be with me. It’s perfectly natural for your body to change like that. It knows what it wants.” I placed my hands on his chest and repositioned myself to straddle his lap. Inhaling his scent, I lowered my lips to within an inch of his.

His startled expression stopped me before I made contact. “Is this… intimacy normal in this time?” He bit his lip and allowed his gaze to rake down my body. “I wouldn’t dream of touching you like this in mine. It would ruin your reputation and my virtue.” He swallowed, his lips parting as he focused on mine with barely contained desire.

“Totally normal now,” I lied. “People do it all the time.” Not so much of a lie. I rolled my hips, grinding against him, and glory hallelujah if he didn’t respond in kind. “It’s okay for us because we were married,” I murmured. “It’s like I told you. We’ve been together for hundreds of years. We’re supposed to be together.” The tips of my nipples brushed his chest. Too much? Was I pushing him too far too fast?

If I considered slowing down, that thought dissolved in the sound of his moan.

I pressed my lips against his.

His breath hitched in his throat, and he pulled back slightly. “I hardly know you.”

“Then get to know me.” I pressed my lips into his again, breathing deeply through my nose and using my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Still, he held himself in check. His kiss was guarded and distant. I rolled my hips, begging him with my body to respond.

Until an invisible barrier between us shattered. He stroked along my sides and up my back, pressing his lips into mine. He parted his mouth and allowed my tongue to trail over his lower lip. There was a moment of hesitation and then he responded, stroking with his tongue. I groaned with desire.

His hands explored my body, wild and inexperienced. I didn’t mind as long as he kept touching me. Energy swirled thick around us, leeching into my skin, bolstering my soul.

“Isabella,” he murmured.

I tried to ignore it. I should have let it go. Did it really matter that he called me by the name of a woman I used to be? Yes. Yes, it did. I pulled back. “Grateful,” I corrected.

He visibly cooled, the last remnants of the beast bleeding away. Confusion tightened his brow.

“You’re not ready.” I shook my head, heart pounding. I was still in his lap, but the distance between us might’ve put me in the next room. I could’ve cried for want of him.

A knock on the door broke the awkward tension.

“Julius, have a seat. I’ll be out when I’m good and ready,” I yelled.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Polina called through the door. “Julius has gone. The sun is rising, and he needed to return to his tomb. I would show myself out, but I must speak with you before I go.”

Curious about the urgency in Polina’s voice, I asked, “About what?’”

“About why the goblin who tried to kill you had a symbol of our sisterhood on his arrow.”

Chapter 5

An Inconvenient Theory

I
removed myself from the comfort of Rick’s arms reluctantly, scooting off his lap and onto my feet. As soon as I was off him, he pitched forward, resting his elbows on his knees and digging his hands into his hair. A mix of relief and disappointment poured down our connection. I hated interrupting what was a major breakthrough for us. We had attraction, albeit misaligned with my previous incarnation, Isabella. I was sure with a little time and focus I could turn that into something more—something directed at me. Rick had shifted, a little. That meant his magic was there, under the surface. He just didn’t remember how to use it.

But for both of our sakes, I needed to know more about the goblin who’d tried to kill me in Salem. “I’ll be right back,” I told Rick.

He took a deep breath and nodded toward the door.

I slipped out of the room and joined Polina near the sofa. “Are you familiar with the symbol on the fletching?” I asked her.

My redheaded half-sister held up the arrow that almost killed me, the symbol branded into the fletching taunting me with its familiarity. “This is our mother’s symbol. Hecate’s wheel.”

“That’s where I’ve seen it before. When Hecate gave me permission to kill Tabetha, it was on the door to her jungle abode.” I lifted the arrow from her fingers, inspecting it from all angles. I called for my familiar, anxious to learn what he knew about it. “Poe!”

“He’s gone,” Polina said, taking the arrow back from me. “Once he was feeling better, I let him and Hildie out to go hunting. Said he was starving.”

I rubbed my stomach. “I know the feeling. Can I talk you into a snack? Maybe a hot beverage?”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

In the kitchen, I found some tea and a tin of butter cookies from Christmas at the back of the cupboard. I popped the tin open, relieved the cookies weren’t stale, then filled the teakettle. Once I lit the stove under the teapot, I got down to the matter at hand.

“The symbol seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it,” I said.

“You’ll find it at the back of your spellbook and every Hecate grimoire. The circular symbol represents her labyrinth, her duties as the goddess of the crossroads, death, doorways, or change.” She traced the circular symbol. “There are three areas where the maze bubbles out. They represent her three aspects—maiden, mother, and crone. The star at the center is a depiction of the united elements, the source of her power.”

I shook my head. “Why is Hecate’s symbol on a goblin arrow?”

“Or more to the point, why does the Goblin Trinate want you dead?”

“Goblin Trinate?”

“All goblins are dangerous, but the one that shot you was the most dangerous type of all. Similar to the fae, there are many varieties of goblins. From an evolutionary standpoint, they are presumed to be cousins of the fae, actually. But only one type of goblin uses a bow and arrow like this. These goblins are organized and humanoid. You might think of them as the goblin equivalent of the mafia. They call themselves the Goblin Trinate, and—this is the important part, Grateful—they have a reputation as mercenaries.”

“You think someone hired them to kill me?”

“I don’t know. I’m simply saying it’s possible. The more likely scenario is you caught the goblin in the act of doing something else, and he felt threatened by your judgment.”

I tapped my fingers near the arrow, trying to digest everything she’d said. I’d gone to Salem to judge and sentence a maleficent supernatural being. That being had turned on me. That wasn’t surprising. It happened almost every time I patrolled my ward. But this encounter was different.

“My power faded when I tried to sentence him to the hellmouth. Nightshade just fizzled.”

Polina looked at me out the corner of her eye. “Was your blade touching goblin blood? The blood has anti-magical properties, which is why it’s poisonous to witches.”