Circle. Share flesh. His seed in you. Gold Cat’s tone suggested I was stupid not to know that. She tugged out of my hold and padded away to disappear into the darkness beneath the stage with the struggling gnome. I stared after her, thoughtful.
If all I needed was a bit of mutual cannibalism (ugh) and sex with someone more powerful than Finn, well, that probably gave me the option of a good ten per cent of London’s fae as a starter. Not that I had any intention of going down the ‘another mate’ route. But at least the answer wasn’t one of those Herculean tasks. In fact, if I ignored the whole ick factor, it actually seemed way too easy an out.
Something to investigate later, once everyone was safe. And Malik had his soul back.
I rolled my shoulders and turned back to where he lay on the stone circle.
Dropping to my knees, I placed my palm on his chest. Despite his heart not beating, and his skin hard and cold like stone, not living flesh, he didn’t seem like a vamp who’d been drained dry, but more as if he were in his daylight sleep. But the tent was painted in his blood. So never mind what he looked like, or the stingy couple of mouthfuls Bastien had dripped into him, which even with his Autarch’s power would no more quench a vamp’s thirst than two drops of rain in a drought, it was always possible Malik would wake to full bloodlust. Not a particularly reassuring thought, but I wanted him to have his soul back.
Though really, it wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty of blood to spare. Thanks to my time in Between, I hadn’t donated for two nights. Nor had I sated my body’s need for vamp venom with blood-fruit. With my sidhe metabolism, that was like a week to a human and the 3V addiction rioting in my cells was near enough at its ideal. My venom levels not so low for the craving to be vital, and my blood levels high enough that losing two or three pints wasn’t going to do anything more than treat both of us to a good time.
Anticipation speeding my pulse, I positioned Janan’s silver point over his heart—
Malik’s eyes flew open, power flamed hot in his pupils, and his hand clamped round my wrist. ‘No.’
Malik’s order snapped around my mind like a net. I resisted automatically. The net tightened, then broke and shredded to nothing. I jolted in surprise and the blade’s point pierced his flesh.
He groaned as if in agony, then too fast for me to counter, I was on my back, arms pinned above my head, his legs straddling my thighs, his body atop mine, all four of his fangs fully out, his eyes black and opaque with no hint of recognition in them.
My childhood training kicked in and I forced myself to lie still, concentrating on slowing my thudding heart; struggling with a vamp gets them too excited, makes them more likely to rip your throat out by mistake.
After a long perilous moment, he gave a slow blink. ‘Genevieve?’
I frowned at the question in his voice. If he was lucid enough to ask, he shouldn’t need to. ‘Yes.’
His nostrils flared and the reason clicked in my mind. Damn vamp supersenses. As Mad Max and Bastien had both oh, so helpfully pointed out, I smelled of more than just me. And damn Bastien. I had a sudden inkling the sadistic prick had deliberately given Malik just enough blood to get him up and reacting instead of thinking. Malik either sensed I wasn’t totally me, thanks to Gold Cat’s recent residence, or Finn’s scent on me had triggered his territorial instincts. Neither of which was good.
‘It’s okay,’ I said, keeping my voice calm, despite the anxious knot in my gut. ‘I’m not possessed or anything.’ I released my bracelet, hearing the quiet chink of charms. ‘See, I’m still wearing the cross.’
He gave another slow blink, nostrils flaring again. ‘The scent of fae and blackberries clings to you.’ A mix of accusation and anger lit fire in his pupils.
‘I can explain,’ I said quickly, not that I particularly wanted to right now, nor was I sure an explanation would work . . . hungry/territorial vamps aren’t too big on listening. I held my breath, flinching as a sudden gust of wind buffeted the tent, flapping the entrance wide for a moment then, as it ruffled my hair and cooled the sweat prickling my skin, Malik visibly reached for control. His needle-sharp venom fangs retracted, the tension in his muscles relaxed and the flames in his pupils flickered out, leaving behind a sea of anguish and concern.
‘Explain?’ A concerned line furrowed his brows. ‘Are you hurt, Genevieve?’
I frowned. ‘No. I’m fine.’
The furrow deepened. ‘Have you been forced against your wishes?’
‘What? No, of course not.’ Surely he knew Finn would never do that.
Desolation flickered in his eyes, spearing an odd grief through my heart. ‘You were willing, then,’ he murmured, his face blanking to his usual enigmatic mask. He glanced at where he pinned my wrists and his grip loosened as he suddenly seemed to realise he’d been holding me captive. ‘My apologies.’ His tone was as remote as if we were strangers. And then vamp-quick he was gone, leaving me scowling in disbelief up at the peaked roof of the tent.
Did he think I’d had sex with Finn deliberately? After what had happened between us on the island? Was this some sort of jealous snit? Or was his blood hunger screwing with his mind? The only one way to find out, as Hugh would tell me, was to ask.
I scrambled up, ready to demand what he was playing at, only to find him staring at the Empress.
My heart went out to him. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and I was. I didn’t know her, and didn’t particularly want to. But even if he hadn’t seen her for centuries, and even if Bastien’s story about her hitching up with the Emperor was true, Malik must have cared for her at some point. Losing someone hurts.
After another long moment, he raised his gaze to mine; beneath his carefully blank look, he seemed relieved, not sad or angry. ‘The Emperor is dead.’
‘Yes,’ I said, even though it was a statement, not a question. Obviously he was aware that his wife, though ex-wife was probably more appropriate, only got to live as long as she did thanks to her blood-bond with the Emperor. If she’d expected a new blood-bond with a vamp as reward for her part in the plotting, then she’d pretty much lost that gamble.
He scanned around the tent as if searching, spied Janan and scooped the knife up, then attacked a pile of clothes in one corner. As I watched, feeling oddly redundant, he efficiently turned out pockets and patted the clothes down, then pulled on jeans and a shirt, both black. They fit, so had to be his. He slipped Janan into the back of the jeans in a practised move, then strode back to contemplate the Empress again and demanded, ‘Where are the Emperor’s ashes?’
Of course, he’d know the Emperor would go up in flames once he was dead. As Bastien had gleefully informed me, the whole ‘fool-the-Emperor-into-thinking-he-was-getting-Malik’s-immortality-sting’ had been Malik’s plan.
I frowned, not happy he was virtually ignoring me. ‘A wind blew them into the ether.’
‘All of them?’ he queried, still not looking at me.
‘No. His head sort of shrank and Bastien ate it before the ashes dissipated.’
Malik’s shoulders slumped as if in defeat.
‘I take it that’s bad?’ I asked, more for something to get him talking. Because no way in hell was it good.
‘It was not meant to happen this way,’ Malik murmured, almost to himself. ‘I was to be the one to wield Janan, not you. No one but I knew that you could also use the Bonder of Souls.’
Yeah, not even me. ‘So how did Bastien find out? Because I take it he was the one who decided to add me in as an extra to your plan?’
Malik gave a sharp shake of his head. ‘I do not know how he discovered it. It was only after your mention of Janan at the lake that I realised something was amiss. After our time together—’
‘When you decided to send me home without consulting me,’ I interrupted flatly.
‘I hoped to keep you safe, Genevieve,’ he said, voice toneless.