Page 7 of Blood & Bedlam

The word leaves my lips on a broken, anguished gasp, and I react, my body lunging from the box on raw instinct. Wind rushes up to meet me just as his fangs bare and he bites her, hard. My world narrows down to this single moment stretching between us. I land, ripping her from his grip, and as his razor-sharp nails rake over her skin, blood blooms red and fresh, but all I see is her.

As soon as she’s in my arms, his thrall drops, but her eyes aren’t wide with fear of him. Instead, her brow scrunches with confusion, the elegant curve of her neck exposed to me. The blood pumping under her pulse point pushes a steady stream from her wound, a succulent invitation to nirvana that leaks down her skin. The world stops as I hold her in my arms, and I have no time to react to the impossibility of it all because she has consumed every thought in my world for my entire immortal existence, and years before then.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The venomous roar is biting and loud, the English nearly broken, a threat barreling toward the precious woman in my arms. I snap as soon as his body is in my reach.

He touched her.

He bit her.

My hand darts out, fingers steel against the porcelain of his fang, and I snatch it, ripping it out down to the bone. Blood sprays over us, his cry deafening, but I don’t care to spare him another glance, even as he drops to the floor in agony. The music screeches to a stop, the undead and Otherworlders growing still as the grave as Mina and I stare in each other’s eyes.

“You,” she whispers, stunning even with the spray of blood, his blood, staining deep purple over her pale skin.

The rest of the thrall fades as her eyes flutter shut. Her body goes limp in my arms. Chaos erupts around us, hisses of violence and rage at the injury I’ve just delivered, but I don’t care. Somehow in my arms is my wife, centuries dead and yet now warm and human, and it’s that thought that crowds my mind, not the fear that I may have just started an international war.

Fuck.

Vladimir

CHAPTER 3

Bodies jostle around us, but Mina’s head rests against my chest and I can feel the organ clawing to get closer to her, nearly tearing itself out of my rib cage in its eagerness. I don’t know how it’s possible, and I don’t care why, but she is real in my arms, and I can’t let her go. Fangs are bared in all directions, the Italian bleeding out in the arms of one of his companions, but I don’t have time to spare him more than a glance.

My family has formed a circle around us, strong and exuding a powerful aura that keeps those calling for my blood at bay. They know the stories of the strength of our bloodline, and the fierce, raw magic pouring off my daughters could bend mountains. They fire questions down the bloodlink, frantically demanding answers, all the while looking unaffected to the world in a united front. I drop a curtain between us, shoring up my mental wards because I don’t have any answers, certainly none that will de-escalate this situation. Blood drips in a slow, hot arc down Mina’s throat and the scent blooms in the air, tempting those around us, calling to me in a way I’ve never felt. The beast rages within, but the immediate danger lets me keep control despite the way my fangs ache at the scent of her blood in the air.

“This is an outrage!” a woman hisses, her resemblance to the First Blood on the floor unmistakable. Her eyes are violet tinged with red, her skin so pale that the purple veins beneath are a river peeking through. The silver gown she wears is streaked with his dark blood, her fangs sharp and deadly as she pushes, unafraid, into Cami’s space. His mother, perhaps. Or an aunt?

“Step back, or I will liberate the tongue from your mouth.” Cami stands her ground, her voice a cold fury as she looks down on the First Blood, unafraid and unaffected.

“This is an act of war against the First Blood. I demand satisfaction.”

My grip tightens on Mina. First Blood. The realization of the consequence for what I’ve done is a sinking stone in my gut. I’ve just attacked a royal in plain view of the entire congregation of Otherworlder leaders. Their lineage sees me and my family as abominations. The look of disgust she wears says that and more.

“He violated the sanctions of our city by bringing a human amongst us. The Dracul was correct to take swift action,” Fleur barks, her voice smooth and controlled. She flanks her sister, the ripple of the command in her voice pushing out. The First Blood’s knees buckle under the weight of Fleur’s power, but her teeth gnash together in defiance.

“He has mutilated my son!” the woman screams, and the weight of the silence builds as hundreds of our kind look on, frozen in time as they watch what could be the spark that ignites a long-abated war spring to flame.

“Your son brought a human into an Otherworlder event and then proceeded to feed on her for all to see. This is not the old country, Countess. We have a Rule of Law here in New Orleans, rules you and your delegation agreed to upon setting foot back on our soil. I suggest you gather your kin and make haste, else a fang may not be the only thing you lose tonight,” Camille warns.

The Countess’s eyes narrow to slits, glowing almost violet in her rage.

“You think that because you run this rat’s nest that you can speak to me this way?” she says with a sneer, rising to her full height, lifting her chin. “You may think you are one of us, but you will never be a true vampyr. You are still whores, only now for the leechi instead of the men of France.” Several shocked gasps ring out. The vampyric slur she used doesn’t affect me at all, but I’ll never let a soul speak ill of my girls, or what they endured.

Before I can intervene, Cami’s hands light up with her Dark Gift. Fire licks over her fingers, up her arms in gentle caresses in an impressive display of power. The Countess draws back, and for the first time, there’s hesitation in her eyes.

“I will remind you, Countess, that you are in the presence of the Dracul and his family. And in New Orleans, whores and First Bloods alike are subject to the law. I suggest you take what’s left of your son and ensure that you are out of our city by sunrise.” Fire dances in my eldest’s eyes, her jaw set as she stares the Countess down.

“This will not go unanswered,” the Countess grits, backing up into the safety of her guard. Cami tilts her head, as though daring their entourage to make a move.

“We’ll be waiting by the phone for your call,” Claire spits, venom laced in her tone. The power of her shift ripples beneath her skin. The Countess eyes her warily, as she should. There are no traces of the kind gentleness she normally exudes. With a snap of the Countess’s fingers, the muscle of the Torini Clan has the young viscount lifted and, as one, they vanish out the doors, into the night. Silence reigns for a beat more, with three of my daughters watching the dark entryway intently. Only Juliette’s attention remains on the woman in my arms, her brows pinched together as she takes us in.

“Music!” Kendra instructs, clapping loudly, pushing mirth and ease over the room. The strings strike up once more amongst murmurs and side glances, but the diamonds of Kendra’s dress shimmer like stars over her dark skin, capturing the attention of everyone looking on as she uses her own Dark Gift to pull the revelry from the very air around her. Mina stirs in my arms.

“Get her out of here,” she demands, her voice low as she forces a smile. I make for the door, surrounded on all sides by Fleur, Juliette, Camille, and Claire. The night swallows around us, with each on high alert to the new threat I’ve just brought down on our heads.

It’s quiet on the ride to the Manor, none of us foolish enough to divert any attention from our surroundings in case the car is attacked. When we finally roll to a stop behind the safety of the Manor gates, their voices fill the car at once, but I can’t bring myself to answer any of them. Instead, I hastily leave my daughters and their whispering behind, pulling Mina from the car and lifting her in my arms.