Part 2 – Heir
I can feel Malachi’s heartbeat. It throbs in my chest, a steady thump that would be reassuring if it wasn’t so foreign. After all, it’s not as if I’m lounging with my head on his chest the way I have many times in the last month. Malachi isn’t even in the house.
He’s across the county, the miles stretching between us.
I rub the back of my hand against my sternum, but if the last four weeks have taught me anything, it’s that the sensation of multiple hearts nestled up against mine is magical in nature, rather than physical. Malachi assures me that I’ll get used to it eventually, which might actually be reassuring if his dark eyes weren’t worried every time he looks at me. Better than Rylan, who won’t look at me at all. I still don’t understand why he hasn’t left our little nest and taken his chances on his own. I don’t understand him.
And Wolf?
Wolf, true to form, offered to carve open my chest to relieve me of the sensation.
“Stop it.”
I don’t look over as Rylan’s icy words cut through the stillness of the loft. “You’re talking to me now? How novel.” I drop my hand, and then have to curl it into a fist to resist going back to rubbing my sternum when Malachi’s heartbeat kicks up a notch. The feeling in my chest intensifies, signaling proximity. “He’s coming.”
“About time,” Rylan mutters.
At that, I finally face him. “It’s been a month. Leave if you hate it with me that much.”
“I would if I could.” He practically hurls the words at me. His hand goes to his chest, mirroring me. He looks just as perfectly put together as he has from the moment I met him, his dark hair cut short on the silvered temples, his endless supply of suits without a wrinkle out of place. The only time I’ve seen him remotely rumpled was the night we all fucked, subsequently awakening my powers and landing us in this mess.
Together.
Whether we like it or not.
“Just kill me then. It’s what you wanted from the beginning.”
His eyes flash silver, the only sign that I’ve gotten beneath his skin. I shouldn’t be so petty as to enjoy aggravating Rylan, but he’s like a wall of knives I brush against with every movement. Malachi and Wolf might not be overly comfortable being tied to me, but at least they like me a little. Rylan’s hated me from the start—a very mutual sentiment—and now we can’t escape each other.
“Would that I could.” He turns and stalks to the balcony doors, pausing to strip and systematically fold his clothing over the chair set there for what I assume is entirely that purpose.
I know what’s coming, and as such, I should look away. But I’ve had so few pleasures in my life that I find myself unable to resist a single one, no matter the source. A naked Rylan is a pleasure, what comes next even more so.
He’s gorgeous in an entirely different way than Malachi and Wolf. His suits do a good job of masking his strength, but out of them, he looks nearly as big as Malachi. He also has little dimples at the top of his ass that, despite myself, I want to lick. As much as I’d like to blame the bond for that, the truth is that I found this asshole attractive even before the night the bond snapped into place.
He steps out the doors and there’s—I’m not sure how to explain it—a ripple, almost. As if reality gives a little shudder, a tiny tear, and then Rylan is gone and a giant black bird perches on the balcony in his place. A flap of its massive wings and he’s gone, flinging himself out into the darkness.
He’s moving quickly in the opposite direction Malachi is coming from, putting miles between us with ease. I feel each one like a nail driven into my chest. I hate it. I want him gone, but the more distance he puts between us, the greater the urge to demand he return.
To force him to return.
I stomp down on the urge and turn away from the balcony. I don’t care what Rylan says about seraphim. I don’t care that I can no longer deny that I’m one of them. I don’t care about their history of bonding with and abusing vampires. Doing that intentionally would make me no worse than my monster of a father, and that is something I’ll never do.
Death is preferable.
I can feel Wolf downstairs, likely painting again. The man holds multitudes and while I can appreciate the beauty behind his art, it’s highly disturbing. Wolf is chaos personified, and that truth is even more apparent when he paints. He might kiss me or try to cut my throat on our next meeting. I never know. He scares me, but a small, secret part of me likes it. I feel particularly alive when I’m dancing on the blade edge with Wolf.
I don’t want that right now. I’m too tired, too frustrated. Wolf, predator that he is, will pick up on it immediately, and he won’t be able to resist testing me. Testing the bond. It exhausts me just thinking about going a round with him right now.
We might have spent the last month together, but I should know better than to lean on these vampires. Even Malachi, for all his declarations of intent, hasn’t known me nearly long enough to actually mean anything he says. More, considering the possibility of a future together is a far cry from agreeing to a bond that only death will sever.
I am surrounded by men, but I’m just as alone as I was in my father’s compound. Separate. Other. Alternatively a threat and prey, depending on who’s around. The only thing I ever wanted was freedom, and it’s the one thing I’ll never have.
Gods, I’m a little ray of sunshine tonight.
I move through the upper floors of the house that is our most recent lodgings. Despite Malachi’s intentions of losing ourselves in the city, the plan fell through almost immediately. It took my father’s people less than twelve hours to find us the first time. Since then, we’ve had to get increasingly creative, avoiding any properties directly linked to Wolf or Rylan and moving regularly. It still isn’t enough to grant us true peace, but at least we’re staying ahead of my father’s hounds.
Barely.
The air shifts behind me, but I don’t need to look to know who it is. Malachi. When we first met, he had a habit of surprising me by appearing unexpectedly without a sound. Now that we’re bonded, he’ll never be able to sneak up on me again. None of them will. That knowledge should reassure me, should offer some kind of layer of safety, but it’s simply a reminder of how much has changed in such a short time.
“Do you think he knew?”
Malachi doesn’t ask who I’m referencing. “I doubt it. Even if she was like you and tasted different than humans do, there are a lot of monsters in our world. Knowing your father, he wouldn’t have risked bedding her if he suspected she had even a hint of seraph blood.”
She. My mother. The source of my seraph powers that awoke a month ago in a bed filled to the brim with sex and blood, the chain that now binds me to these three Bloodline vampires.
Not every vampire in our world is graced with magic. Those turned might get the near-immortal lifespans, but that’s the best of it. Even those naturally born barely have a leg up over the turned vampires.
No, the true power lies with the seven Bloodline families, each with a specialization they pass from parents to children. There are other perks, including pleasurable bites, but the real focus is the magic. My father can get anyone to do anything he wants as long as they’re in the same room and he’s able to speak. He can also use his glamour to shift his appearance.
And now I have three Bloodline vampires linked to me. Malachi with his fire. Wolf with his blood magic. Rylan with his shapeshifting. Practically an army of three, all vested in keeping me alive because if I die, there’s a decent chance I’ll drag them all to hell with me. Aside from my father, little can touch me now. If I was a different person, maybe I’d be elated.
I never wanted any of it.
Malachi closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around me, tugging me back against his large body. If not for the way he sometimes looks at me, I might allow myself to sink into these little intimate moments. To believe that the future holds even a sliver of happiness for me.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Malachi rests his chin on the top of my head. “You and Rylan have been sniping at each other again, haven’t you?”
“I didn’t want this,” I whisper. I can feel Rylan winging his way farther and farther from the house—from me. Eventually, he’ll reach the limits of our bond just like he has countless times in the last month, and it will snap at him until he turns back. “Why can’t he understand I hate this even more than you all do?”
“He’s got a long and complicated history with the seraphim. When your memory is as long as Rylan’s, it’s difficult to get past old beliefs. Old fears.” Malachi delves his hands beneath my shirt to bracket my waist. I try to resent that the feel of his hands on my skin instantly unwinds some of my tension. I try…and I fail. I want to blame this on the bond, too, but my attraction to Malachi has been there from the moment we met, and only seems to grow stronger with time.
With a sigh, I lean back more firmly against him, letting him coast his hands up my sides. “I didn’t want this.”
“I know.” He shifts to press a kiss to my temple, my cheekbone, my jaw. “Mina.”
“Yes.” An answer and permission, all rolled into one. Rylan may be staying as far from me as he can manage. Wolf is as changeable as the wind, wild for me and avoiding me by turns. Only Malachi is consistent in this.
I wish I could believe that it’s simply because he wants me.
If I were anyone else, maybe I could. But I’m not. I’m the daughter of Cornelius Lancaster, the last Bloodline vampire of his line. Up until a month ago, I was a freak, a powerless dhampir. Half human, half vampire, somehow missing the power that should come along with that mixing of vampire with human. Useless except as a pawn in my father’s schemes, as a womb to fill with another Bloodline.
I have power now, but that doesn’t make me safe.
If my father discovers that I have not one, but three Bloodline vampires linked to me, he’ll use me as a tool to bring them to their knees. I might not want to take their freedom and willpower, but he’ll only be too happy to in order to boost his own power. Killing him might be possible, but it won’t solve the problem, not when I have other half-siblings only too happy to step into his shoes.
We have one chance to avoid being hunted until the end of time.
I have to become my father’s heir.
The only way to do that is to get pregnant before any of my half-siblings do. Not exactly an easy feat when some of them have been trying since before I was born. Not to mention I don’t even know how vampire and seraphim and human mix together. Rylan claims it’s possible—even probable—that I can conceive and quickly. I’m not so sure.
“Mina.” Malachi’s lips brush my throat. “It will work out.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No more than you know that it won’t work out.” He kisses my neck. “Let me make you feel good for a little bit.”
Let him make me feel good. Let him have another go at getting me pregnant.
I exhale slowly. At this rate, my racing thoughts aren’t going to slow down without extreme measures. “Bite me.”
Malachi, gods bless him, doesn’t hesitate. He sinks his fangs into my skin. Just like that, every thought turns to mist in my head. I melt back against him. Every pull as he drinks from her has pleasure curling through my body. Yes, this. This is what I crave right now.
I reach back and fumble at his pants. I need him inside me and I need it now. “Please.”
He withdraws long enough to pull my shirt over my head and skim off my pants. His clothing quickly follows, and he wastes no time carrying me to a nearby couch. It’s as sturdy as all the other furniture in this house, as if it were built for giants instead of regular people. Malachi sets me down and goes to his knees in front of me.
In this position, he feels even larger than he is. Broad shoulders that taper down to a slim waist. Muscles strong enough to punch his way through concrete walls without breaking a sweat. Scars upon scars, his outsides matching my insides. I reach out and press my hand to the mangled flesh over his heart where someone tried to carve it out. He still hasn’t told me that story. Maybe he never will.
I abandon that line of thinking and dig my hands into his hair. It’s just as long and dark as mine, though he’s got a bit more wave in it. “I need you.”
“Not yet.” He presses me back against the couch and kisses his way down my stomach, his beard scraping against skin already over-sensitized by his bite. “I’m ravenous for you, Mina.”
This. This right here is why I can’t quite believe Malachi is only in this because he has no choice. We might be trapped together, have been trapped since the moment we met; first in that old house by my father’s blood ward and now by the bond that strums between us with every beat of our hearts. If it was only the bond, Malachi would fuck me and nothing else. I’d hardly complain if that’s all we did.
Instead, he’s bringing me pleasure in a multitude of other ways every chance he gets.
In particular, he loves eating my pussy as much as I enjoy his mouth on me.
His breath ghosts against my clit and I shiver. “Well, if you insist.”
Movement behind him has me startling. I was so focused on Malachi, I didn’t feel Wolf approaching. He stands outlined by the doorframe, his lean form clothed in his normal eccentric mix of dark pants, a graphic T-shirt with a band I’ve never heard of, and suspenders. He gives me a feral grin. “You started playing without me.”
Malachi doesn’t lift his head, each word vibrating against my heated flesh. “Get over here, then.”
