Cat

  Iached all over. Rafe had healed me, but I was far from hale and hearty. My missing toe hurt. My teeth hurt. My head hurt. But worst of all, my heart hurt.

  I hadn't managed to save Harlee.

  It was a slap to the face on top of all the other indignities I'd suffered today. But the metaphorical slap was somehow more poignant than any of the abuses I'd suffered.

  I hobbled beside Rafe out of the torture chamber, leaving a semi-conscious Harlee behind, still strapped to her chair. I rubbed my wrists, but Rafe had managed to heal the marks left by the chains Ama had used to hang me. Physically, there was no sign of what had transpired. At least, not there.

  My missing toe and teeth were another matter.

  But none of that seemed important when Harlee was still under their special kind of care.

  "Will she continue to torture her?" I asked. We'd made it to the reception area. The male witch from earlier — what felt like a lifetime ago — was still sitting behind his big, wooden desk. He watched us approach, a look of disdain obvious on his features.

  I couldn't have cared less what the arsehole thought. He was part of this foul place; a willing participant or not, curse or magia or not, he was just as much to blame.

  I hated him. I hated them all.

  "Unlikely," Rafe murmured, glancing around the entranceway, checking out the shadows as we struggled to make our escape. "Her torture was designed to elicit a response from you. Without you there to witness it, torturing Harlee would prove a waste of energy. If we return, however…"

  He didn't complete the sentence. Maybe because we were still in The Involition. Or maybe because it was obvious what he thought.

  We couldn't trust the All-Mother. But we would be returning, so I needed to come up with something to get us all out of this mess.

  The male witch didn't halt our progress, but it felt like we were being followed out of the building by a malevolent force. I almost held my breath, waiting for the axe to fall. But I needed the oxygen to make any progress.

  Panting, sweating with the pain that still existed despite Rafe's efforts, we stepped out of The Involition's castle — or whatever it was — into a blustery day in the capital city.

  Taking in Bowen House across the road, I was at least grateful that the witches dropped us off in my hometown and not some other place where their realm crossed into ours.

  Ours. Was it mine anymore if I was a sorgina? Everything had changed in such a short amount of time, I hadn't had a chance to work out how I felt about any bit of it. The Involition. Witches, werewolves and vampires. Me, not being exactly human. The curses and magia. None of it had sunk in. None of it felt real. But here I was, battered and bruised, heartbroken and desperate.

  Harlee, I told myself. Work it out for Harlee. And then I could break down in hysterics about what I was and what that meant going forward.

  I stared down at Rafe's hand supporting my arm. His lotu looked different. Fuller somehow. I couldn't sense anything coming off it, but I knew Ama had done something to it.

  So many questions. So little time. Harlee would not last long in there, even if they stopped torturing her.

  "Where to?" Rafe asked.

  I couldn't go to Goldie's Brae like this. There was no explanation sane enough to account for any of this. Harry would take one look at me and call in the army. The place would be crawling with special forces soldiers before the day was out and how would I find the kid then?

  And my apartment was toast. Burned to the ground, along with a couple of my neighbours as collateral damage. For a brief moment, everything felt too big, too much. I couldn't fight this. I couldn't even hold my own. I was a wreck, barely alive, and only because the vampire beside me had used his magic to heal what he could of my body.

  I looked at Rafe now and noted how pale he looked, how his skin seemed to hang off his bones. Ah, fuck it. He needed to feed, didn't he? Vampires needed blood.

  "Take me to the hospital and go eat something," I said.

  "Do you think the medical staff will accept that you simply walked into a cupboard and lost a toe when I drop you off with them?" Rafe asked.

  I looked down at my body. I was covered in blood. I glanced around. No one looked at us and the street wasn't exactly deserted.

  "You're using magia even now?" I asked.

  "Shielding us does not require much," Rafe explained. "Although, the sooner we're off the street the better. I can smell werewolves all around us."

  I sniffed, but not being a vampire, I guessed it was beyond my olfactory senses to pick that up.

  "A hotel," I said. "Take me there."

  Rafe hailed a cab. I'm not sure why he didn't take my car. Maybe it had a tracking device hidden on it. Well, of course, it did; Tac tracked it at the very least. But I was thinking of The Involition; those werewolves. I was too tired to ask, though. By the time we made it out of the CBD, I was asleep. By the time I woke up, we were in a hotel room.

  Not the Wadestown Arms. Somewhere else. I took in the ragged curtains, the worn bedspread, and the stain on the ceiling tiles above me. Not exactly FBI standard.

  "Where are we?" I croaked.

  "A motel in Tawa," Rafe supplied from his chair by the window. The curtains were closed, but he sat in such a way he could peer out between them if needed. Keeping guard.

  Tawa was north of the capital, my sluggish mind told me. Close enough to return in a hurry, far enough away to not be picked up on any CCTV cameras. Tac will have lost us. I was guessing, so would've Ilya and the werewolves.

  I pushed myself upright in the bed. Argh, everything still hurt! I didn't feel any better than before my slumber, but Rafe looked fed. His skin was smooth and creamy again, his muscles pronounced, his eyes shining a soft hint of violet behind the blue. He looked healthy and fit. I felt like death warmed over.

  "I feel like crap," I groaned.

  "My magia is still recovering," Rafe explained. He hadn't been able to heal me further, he meant.

  "Feeding doesn't replenish it?" I asked, surprised I could say that and not grimace at the thought of him 'feeding' from some poor unsuspecting human.

  "Once it might have. The curse does not allow a rapid replenishment now though. It will take multiple feeds and several days to recover fully."

  "We don't have that long." Harlee didn't have that long.

  Rafe played with his lotu. I watched him twist the woven bracelet around and around; watched him fingering the feathers and bones as if he could scratch them out. He didn't acknowledge my comment about Harlee.

  "Can you remove them?" I asked, just to get him speaking, I think. And I knew the answer, of course. Ama was too careful — too paranoid — for that.

  "No. I have not been without these lotu for many centuries now."

  "How old are you exactly?"

  His piercing eyes met mine. "Old."

  Okay, not getting an answer on that front either, then. I moved on.

  "So, what's the plan? I don't think rescuing those kids is going to be a walk in the park, and I can barely walk in the park as it is."

  "There is one way to heal you that does not require the use of my magia directly."

  "Oh?" I said, feeling my stomach flop and my fingers begin to tingle.

  "My blood has magical properties of its own. One sip and you would be whole again."

  I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that.

  "I'm not drinking your blood, Raphael."

  "There is no other solution and Harlee can't wait."

  Oh, so now he acknowledges Harlee's fate?! Was he manipulating me?

  "I don't want to live forever, vampire," I growled.

  "You would need to drink my blood regularly to achieve that."

  "Like Ama does?" I threw back at him.

  He scowled. "Yes. Like Ama does. It heals her, makes her stronger than she would ordinarily be, and gives her longevity otherwise only dreamt about. But in order to get all of that, she must sup of the blood regularly. One such undertaking by you would afford you good health and superior strength for a limited time, but no more."

  "So, no bad side-effects, huh?"

  He said nothing.

  "And you're certain you don't have enough magia to finish the job?" I pressed, waving a hand over my half-healed body.

  "I do not."

  "I'm not sure if I believe you, banpiro."

  "The pact we share would not allow me to harm you."

  "Not the same as taking advantage of me," I muttered.

  "Did you not ask for and offer trust, Catalin?"

  "Trust is earned, pact or no pact."

  "And have I not earned any so far?"

  He had, hadn't he? He'd healed me; risking his own life and safety to do so in that chamber. He'd even healed Harlee when he hadn't promised any such thing to me at all. He'd gone above and beyond any pact requirement to do that.

  He had earned a modicum of trust.

  I wrinkled my nose in thought. "Blood," I said. "Humans aren't meant to consume blood."

  "You are not human, sorgina. It will taste divine."

  "Not sure that makes me feel any better." I sighed. "What about the…you know…urge to do more than drink your blood?"

  "Fuck?" I nodded my head jerkily. "Your body is too weak to want that right now."

  "So, I can drink your blood without assaulting you? Good to know."

  "The desire would be returned."

  "Because of the magic in your blood," I guessed.

  "Because I am attracted to you and want you in my bed."

  We stared at each other.

  Finally, I said, "This is a bad idea, Raphael."

  "One sip. Just enough to heal you and not deplete me of all my magia. Then we find the boy. Save the kids. Deal with Ama."

  "Get Harlee."

  "One sip," he repeated. "No more."

  I searched inside myself for an alternative. My foot was screaming at me. My teeth pulsed in agony as if teeth could do that and maybe they did when you'd had so many knocked out and broken. I ached. A buzz had started inside my head, thrumming with pain and rage.

  I was furious. Frightened and furious. The thought of not doing everything within my power to rescue Harlee was abhorrent to me.

  Maybe Rafe could drain himself a little more. Maybe we had time to wait twenty-four hours for his magia to replenish a little. Maybe I could get those damn lotu bracelets off his wrists and free him from Ama's binds.

  But his curse wasn't just woven into the lotu. It was in the tattoos that writhed along his neck and down his chest out of sight. I had magic, but there was no way I had enough magic to counter what Ama had done.

  We needed time. We simply did not have it. I tipped my head back and stared at the stained ceiling. Not exactly a romantic location to get us in the mood for anything. We could control ourselves; I was pretty damn certain of that.

  I could control myself.

  "You better not be lying to me, Raphael," I said to the ceiling.

  "The pact would make that very difficult."

  I waited. He said no more. To trust or not to trust?

  Damn it.

  Harlee.

  "Okay," I said. "How do we do this?"

  He approached the bed. I was thankful he didn't glide. He'd said he was attracted to me. But when he approached Ama, he'd glided like a panther through the forest, hunting prey.

  "Am I not your prey, Raphael?" I asked.

  "You, sorgina, are a viper I wish fervently not to startle."

  I snorted. The tingling in my fingers stopped. Huh, maybe my precognition talent thought me a viper too?

  "Just remember that if you ever think to cross me, vampire," I told him.

  "Catalin," he said, "one look at you, and I quake."

  His eyes flashed violet. The pain throughout my body made it hard to savour the desire that coursed through my veins right then. He was magnificent standing there. Tall, broad, godlike in appearance.

  King of a Dead Realm.

  His fangs flashed in the dim light of the room, blood welled on his wrist. He sat down on the edge of the bed and held his arm out to me.

  I reached up, brushed the lotu aside, and stared into his violet-hued eyes.

  "I'll tell you when to stop," he said.

  "Promise?" I asked, sounding small, sounding frightened.

  His free hand cupped my cheek, and his long fingers gently brushed my hair from my face.

  "You have nothing to fear, Catalin," he purred.

  What hunts a viper? I thought numbly.

  As his blood hit my tongue, I remembered.

  Contrary to popular belief, vipers were not at the top of the food chain.

  Raphael was a bird of prey. And he'd caught me.

  Rafe

  The moment my blood hit Catalin's tongue the deed was done. It was not the volume she drank, but that she drank it. A drop would have sufficed. A lick of her tongue across an open wound as small as a scratch would have been enough. The instant my blood entered her, she was mine.

  Her eyes were closed and her hands gripped my forearm. She was oblivious to the world around her, lost in the throes of banpiro blood magia. I gently pulled her forward, off the pillows, and took their place at her back. She moaned as she leaned back against my chest, her hips fitting snugly between my thighs.

  It was an intimate position, but not one to lead to more than she could handle or I was willing to give.

  I hadn't lied, though. I wanted her. But not like this. This was too similar to what Ama and I shared. If you could call what the All-Mother did during her replenishment sharing that is. And I didn't. Witches took. She more so than any other.

  But still, with that thought on my mind, my free hand rose to stroke Catalin's silky dark hair. I ran my fingers through the shiny strands. Even caked in her blood and sweat, her hair was beautiful.

  I never touched Ama's hair if I could help it.

  The thought of Ama helped ease the throbbing in my groin. The All-Mother was a suitable turn-off when not under a spell. And Catalin, either from lack of knowledge or lack of desire, did not use the moment to spell me. Which relieved me more than I wished to acknowledge.

  I sighed and wrapped my arm around her body and held her close.

  There were certain sensual requirements needed for a maisu/morroi bonding. Physical contact, of course. Blood sharing, of course. And trust.

  In that moment, I trusted the witchling not to abuse my nearness. And I gave her my trust in return; not taking this intimacy to its natural and carnal conclusion.

  Strange how she chose trust as a tenet of our earlier pact. As if she knew this would happen. As if she knew, one way or the other, she would get mine. Her precognition talent was remarkable. I wasn't sure even she knew how magnificent she was amongst her people.

  I brushed her long hair aside, revealing her neck. She was deep in the thrall of my blood now and unaware of what I planned. It wasn't necessary; I'd already drunk Catalin's blood and it was still in my body. And part of me wondered if this was an abuse of her trust.

  But it would not harm her. It was not sexual in nature. It simply confirmed the maisu/morroi bond now, rather than force us to do so later, when it may not be as convenient.

  But still, I paused. My lips pressed against her neck, my fangs denting her creamy skin but not breaching it. I ran my tongue over her flesh and felt my body tighten. Catalin moaned and wiggled her behind against my crotch. My cock thickened. Lengthened. I let out a low groan, feeling drawn to her in more ways than the pull of my blood through her mouth.

  "You are a little minx, Catalin," I huskily whispered. "One sip, I promise."

  I was not a good man. I liked to think I was not evil, like the witches. But I was not good either. I had done my fair share of misdeeds; done what I deemed necessary for survival. And I had plans that the curse would punish me for. Plans that involved Ama's demise and the fracturing of The Involition.

  The consequences of which could prove fatal to many of our kind. But sacrifices have to be made in the name of freedom. This — how we lived under Ama's rule — was not a life. It was servitude. Imprisonment. Torture.

  It had to end and the witch in my thrall would help me end it.

  No, I was not a good man, but I was the man in a position to change things and change things I would.

  My fangs gently broke her skin and her blood hit my tongue. We both moaned then. Lost in the dual sensation of sharing our lifeforce, magia thrumming between us, mixing in a way it only could if we were mate-bonded or maisu/morroi bonded.

  Part of me wished fervently to mate with this woman, but that was the blood sharing speaking to a part of me I swore I would never allow free reign. I was in no position to mate with another and bring new life into this fucked up world of Ama's.

  I had promised myself I would consider such a luxury only when The Involition was destroyed. And I would never consider such a hallowed thing as mating with a sorgina, which Catalin was.

  But in that moment, between one heartbeat and the next, I wanted to mate with her. I wanted it badly. It almost ruled my body, if not my mind and heart. But Catalin did not deserve that.

  And neither did I.

  I drank. She drank. Our bodies longed for something neither of us were willing to give. It was a form of torture, but a blissful one; bursting with anticipation and the promise of such glorious fulfilment.

  I chose, if only for a brief moment in time, to believe that it would happen. That my body would find its release inside Catalin's, that together we would become one.

  But not today.

  Forcing myself to withdraw from the delicious taste of her blood, I licked the wound closed, used a fraction of my magia to heal the bite mark, and stroked a hand through her lovely hair as my body shook with unspent desire.

  "You are sorgina and I am banpiro," I whispered into her hair. "It would be disastrous, maitia. Trust me on this if nothing else."

  She sighed, her body relaxing against mine. Neither of us had found release, but somehow we had found peace in each other's blood. Despite what we had just done, what I had committed myself to, I felt calm. Centred. Anchored, in a way I had not felt since I was a child and my parents still lived.