“I do understand.” Daciana strode forward and grasped Tatiana’s shoulders, forcing her to meet Daciana’s gaze. “What has happened to you is more horrible than words can describe, but you’re a fighter. You’ve always been a fighter.”
“And I will be again.” Tatiana shook her head. “Just not now. I need more time.”
Daciana’s lip curled. She drew back and slapped Tatiana across the face. “You’ve had enough time. The nobility is beginning to talk.”
Stunned from Daciana’s attack, Tatiana reeled back, the first frissons of anger breaking through the pain. “Why did you—”
Daciana followed and struck her again.
Before Tatiana could react, Daciana lifted her hand a third time. Rage moved Tatiana forward. She grabbed Daciana’s arm, bent it behind her, and took her to the ground. She crouched overtop Daciana, fangs bared. “Hit me again and I’ll—”
“Finally.” Daciana smiled up at her. “There’s the Tatiana I know. Channel that anger. Let it motivate you.” She lifted her free hand and flattened it over Tatiana’s heart. “Who caused you all this pain?”
“Malkolm,” Tatiana hissed. “And his comarré whore.”
“Yes.” Daciana nodded.
Tatiana freed Daciana and sat back. “I have let this grief make me soft. No more.”
“That’s it,” Daciana encouraged.
Tatiana stood and lifted her head. “I am so sick of them interfering with my life. My plans.” She growled softly, weaving her grief into a suit of armor to protect her for the fight to come. Because fight she would. “If it means sacrificing everything I have left, I’ll get Lilith back and put an end to Malkolm and Chrysabelle once and for all.”
Daciana grabbed Tatiana’s hand and squeezed. “That’s the Tatiana I know and love. Come, feed from Jonah and renew your strength. Then, together, we will find a way to make all of this happen.” Her eyes went bright with promise. “I will never leave your side. You have my word.”
The pledge broke the last of Tatiana’s doubts, opening the way for her anger to take full rein. “If only everyone in my life were as faithful as you.” The wicked smile bent her mouth. “We have work to do.”
Chapter Two
Mal followed the human woman, keeping enough distance so she couldn’t see him, but close enough that the dying roses scent of her blood still teased his senses. Human blood. It had been too long. Too long, the voices agreed.
Catch her. Drain her. He didn’t need the urging. The fae who’d taken his love for Chrysabelle had done him a favor, leaving a hole inside him that the beast had slipped into as easily as a knife through flesh. The voices no longer mocked him as they had in the past, perhaps content that he was theirs to control once again.
Ahead of him, the human continued without a clue that she was about to become his dinner. Mesh shopping bags swung from her hands. Food that would never be eaten. Milk that would spoil.
The remaining shreds of control on his humanity had disappeared with the day’s setting sun and the increase in his hunger. He was lost to the bloodlust, severed from the threads of mortality that Chrysabelle had begun to weave into something whole again.
Whore. Mal didn’t argue. She was a comarré and comarrés gave their blood to anyone with enough funds. That left him out. Anger gnawed at his bones. She’d never been anything but an anchor tethering him to his humanity, keeping him from fulfilling his immortal destiny. He was a vampire, not a pet to be chained and fed when she deemed it so.
The beast hovered just below the surface of his black-inked skin, crouched and ready. Feral need flexed his muscles and he inhaled again, the perfume of his quarry stirring the chaotic pleasure in his head to new heights. He anticipated the succulent pressure of the human’s flesh beneath his fangs. The way she’d struggle and mewl, her feeble attempts to escape only fueling his predatory intentions.
The joy of the impending kill ran hot and electric down his spine, winding him like a spring.
She entered her apartment building without a glance back. Stupid humans. So unsuspecting. Then another dark figure followed after her. This one smart enough to look around before going in.
Fringe vampire. Mal snorted. No fringe was going to thieve his kill. He shot forward and latched onto the fringe faster than the lesser vampire could react. He snapped the fringe’s neck, then vanished into an alley as the ash settled to the sidewalk. He waited a few beats, but the act hadn’t caused the slightest ripple in the evening.
Satisfied he remained undetected, he went to smoke, slipped under the closed door, and hugged the ceiling. He found his target as she made her way up four flights of stairs. Garbage littered the landings and graffiti covered the dirty walls. Greasy food smells wafted from other apartments along with shouted arguments and blasting holovisions.
She should be happy he was about to take her away from all this.
One after the other, she pressed her thumb into the locks buttoning up her apartment, then opened the door. He stayed in the hall to give her a few minutes to relock her door and settle in. Experience had taught him a mark who felt safe was an easy mark to take. His smoke form blended with the lingering remnants of someone’s burned dinner and her junkie neighbor’s hash addiction. How perfect. In a building like this, in a neighborhood like this, it might take a week before anyone discovered her body.
He was smarter now than all those years before when he’d killed without thought. Now he knew how to leave no trace. To make it look like a suicide. He’d give them no reason to wonder about the locked door or the lack of forced entry.