Stained Hearts Read online

  When he put it like that, how could I say no? I backed away from the little group without a word and grabbed my backpack, before I disappeared to the bathroom I had seen earlier. I threw my bag into the corner and stared at myself in the mirror for a moment.

  Blood covered my face like I'd been an extra in a horror movie. It was smeared around my eyes, like I was some kind of raccoon-inspired, serial-killer wannabe. The worst was where it had mixed with my runny nose and trailed over my lips, not to mention the tracks that flowed down my cheeks. It was all too much. Especially when I looked myself in the eyes and saw the silver reflected back, just like it had been in Darius's eyes a few moments ago.

  I turned the shower on and stripped down, grabbing my toiletries before getting in and letting the scalding hot water lash me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Darius staring at me though, his Vampire front and center. Instead of feeling fear, like I should, like any normal Sixth or salsang would, I felt protection, attraction. I felt... more than I could adequately express in that moment.

  My hand slipped between my legs, and with just a few strokes, I launched myself over the edge of a climax that had my knees almost knocking together as I held onto the safety rail for dear life. At least I hadn't screamed. All I had wanted was to take the edge off, to get those eyes of his out of my mind, to stop thinking about tangling my hands in his long hair, but it only made that need worse.

  I couldn't come again though. Too much pleasure and it would start leaking through the bond to the guys, as I had discovered when I'd slept with Barclay. It wasn't that I wanted to hide what I was doing from them, I just wasn't ready to answer any questions about it, that's all. I definitely wasn't feeling weird about the fact I'd just rubbed one out to the memory of their Enforcer biting me. Just the thought sent another rush of tingles through me.

  As I finished my shower as quickly as possible, I tried to think about anything other than the bite, or the fact that all the men in the other room were interested in me to one extent or another. When I got out, a knock sounded.

  "You okay in there?" Gid called.

  "Yeah, just getting dressed. I'll be right out!" I tried to sound cheerful, but it came out as manic.

  I sighed and scolded myself once again for inappropriate emotions. I was a Sixth. I should have this shit under control. The first clothes that came into hand that were even mildly appropriate to wear out of the bathroom included a pair of jean shorts and a flowy, double-layered tank.

  I pulled both on with haste, hoping the Enforcer waiting for me to have whatever discussion that was needed, wouldn't be too offended by my lack of appropriate clothing. It wasn't like I had ever spent much on anything except work-out clothes and my school uniform.

  The spaghetti strap tank was a reddish-orange color with a floral print over it, so if certain body parts, aka my nipples, decided to make themselves known, the print would hopefully disguise it slightly. The shorts were a dark wash, but they were a little torn in places. I couldn't remember which of the threadbare sections had been intentional and which had been accidental, but they were my favorite pair of shorts and fit me like a glove, so Darius was just going to have to deal with it.

  I threw my hair up into a high chignon and headed out to meet my fate.

  The floor in the entryway had been cleaned, and the sound of plates and forks and the guys eating drew me toward the kitchen. I got a few tight nods from the guys before Barclay meandered up to me.

  "Want some food?" he asked, his voice low.

  I nodded and he helped me pick out a few different things to try, since the food at Westbrook wasn't very exciting. I had been trying all kinds of new things since we left. Just the smell of this barbecue made my mouth water.

  "Have a good shower?" he murmured. His voice was pitched low enough that I knew he was keeping the conversation between us.

  "It was okay," I whispered without looking up at him.

  "Only okay?"

  I turned and looked at him, laughter was dancing in his eyes, and I knew then that I hadn't been successful in hiding my shower quickie from him, but hopefully the others weren't aware. Blush suffused my cheeks and I hid my head, suddenly wishing I hadn't put my hair up so I could use it to hide my face.

  "No judgment here, beautiful," Barclay murmured, before leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to my bare shoulder.

  Just that small contact was enough to heat my blood once again. It was starting to get a little embarrassing. I sighed, grabbing my plate and a glass of wine, before heading over to the large wooden table everyone was sitting around.

  "Mate," Darius said in greeting after I sat down.

  I'd just taken a sip of my wine and proceeded to spray it everywhere in surprise.

  "I see we need to work on your manners," the Enforcer commented.

  "You're not my mate," I hissed at him, once I'd regained my composure, totally ignoring the way my instincts were in total alignment with his statement.

  "You know that's a lie, as do your Brotherhood, so why don't we drop the dramatics, hmm?" He pulled a napkin from his lap and dabbed at the corners of his mouth like the pretentious prick that he was.

  "Do you have anything interesting to say, or are you just going to word vomit through dinner?" I snarled at him, before taking a long swig from my glass.

  Everyone was looking at me like I'd lost my damn mind, and maybe I had. All I knew was that I didn't want Darius telling me what to do. When he said jump, I was going to kick him in the balls instead of asking how high. I wasn't a puppet for anyone, not any more.

  5

  Keiran

  Was I happy that my prick of an Enforcer had laid claim to my Sixth with both words and bite?

  Nope.

  Categorically N-O.

  However, hope started to spiral inside me as I took in his cool demeanor, and the arrogance that he wore around him like a shield. Not only would Marcella not put up with that shit, but if he was right, and Darius was too fucking old to be wrong, then…

  “That means you can’t want her dead.”

  Okay, so maybe I should have thought about those particular words before I blurted them out.

  Gideon rolled his eyes at me. “You’re supposed to be the rational one, Keir,” he grunted, sounding disappointed in me, but Maker, I didn’t give a damn.

  Instead of answering him, I leaned forward, my urgency bleeding through as I ground out, “Darius? If she’s your mate, then you will have to protect her from the council.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

  There was no way in fuck that Darius had uttered those four letters without being absolutely sure of what Marcella was to him. Maker. They’d already shared blood once. That was more than she’d done with over half of her Brotherhood! Pursangs never fed others like Marcella had, and when two pursangs exchanged blood?

  That meant something.

  I didn’t want to think what.

  Didn’t want to contemplate that her connection with Darius might supersede the one she had with my Brotherhood, but if it meant keeping her safe?

  My stomach twisted in knots as I realized the lengths I’d go to keep her safe.

  I’d lose her before I let the ugliness of our world rob her of her life.

  No one really knew how old Darius was. He was an Ancient Roman, but their Empire had been around for a long time, and no one knew which Emperor he’d lived under because he’d always kept that tucked away. One thing was for sure, he’d had long enough to learn how to compose himself.

  The only time the Enforcer had looked in any way out of control, was when he’d supped from Marcella like she was a bag of blood from the clinic.

  Twenty-five minutes later, he was back to looking like a stone. Yeah, a stone. Blank. Expressionless. Unmoving.

  Fucker.

  “I don’t want to be his mate!” Marcella half-screeched.

  Cade, at her side, curved his arm over her shoulders, and watching her burrow into him made everything inside me clamp down. I was
jealous, sure. I wanted that connection, but it would come. With time. It wasn’t the kind of jealousy I’d felt when Darius had put his mouth on her. Didn’t inspire that kind of terror either.

  The second he’d pierced her flesh with his fangs?

  I’d thought she was lost to us.

  There was no way we could hurt him while still connected with her like that. If we had? He could have torn her throat out faster than blinking.

  Shuddering at the thought, I tried to calm my voice. “Marcella, it might be for the best.”

  Her eyes widened. “Y-You don’t want me?”

  There was panic now. In her words, her body. I didn’t mean to scoff, but she was so wrong that seriously, I couldn’t hold back the snicker. “Baby, if you think I don’t want you, you’re nuts.”

  She’d stiffened at my snicker, and Maker damn it, those tears had started up again. The red ones. What the hell were they about? “Y-You do want me?”

  It was so unlike her to ask this kind of stuff. It told me how off-kilter this situation had pushed her. Then I remembered, fuck, she’d wept tears of blood. Not a few tablespoons of blood. A lot of it.

  “She needs blood,” I said grimly.

  Gideon rubbed his chin. “She’s not the only one.”

  “No. Look at her. Marcella isn’t meek and mild.”

  “This is her being meek and mild?” Darius questioned, his eyes flaring wide with—shock?

  I wanted to laugh again. If Darius thought Marcella was some pureblood princess who was more interested in her nails than anything else, he was so far wrong that he might as well be chasing his tail like Barclay.

  “Yes. This is her being irate and erratic, since she lost a shit ton of blood because of you, fucker, as well as whatever the shit she did with the lightning. Again, because of you,” Cade growled.

  Darius’s lips pinched. “Despite whatever is occurring with the council, Cade, I am still your Enforcer. You will not call me,” he gritted his teeth, “fucker.”

  “I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want to call you. You’re not the council, you’re not the Enforcer at this moment in time. Keir’s right. If she’s your mate, and you wouldn’t throw that word around lightly, then we’re under no threat from you. In fact, I fully expect that the council threat will be gone by the end of the day. Am I right?”

  Darius’s eyes darkened before they flashed silver. His nails morphed from the human kind into twisted talons that I’d… Shit, none of us had witnessed before.

  Ever.

  “What in the ever-loving fuck?” Cade bit off, just as Darius slammed to his feet, upended the table, sending the food and dishes soaring, and stalked forward.

  He moved faster than a blur—in Vampires, old age didn’t mean you became decrepit, it meant you became so much more than you ever were. Humans really had it shit in that department. For most supernaturals, the older they lived, the stronger they grew, not weaker. And in this? We were at a loss.

  We’d never faced a thousand-year-old-plus pursang before. There was little we could do when, after he’d ceased moving so fast he was a blur—do you know how hard it is to predict anything a damn blur might do?—he reappeared, and Marcella was in his arms.

  She wasn’t struggling.

  More because she was half-conscious than anything else. Having just turned into a blur herself, it was a wonder she wasn’t puking, because she had to have motion sickness. Dayum.

  Her cheeks were blanched of all color as she hung limply in Darius’s embrace, but the way he held her?

  “Fuck,” Cade bit off.

  Gideon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well done, Cade.”

  “How the fuck is this my fault?” he snapped back. “I just told him how it was.”

  “And now you’ve made him feral,” Gideon snarled. “Look at him!”

  “I can guarantee I’m not looking anywhere else.”

  Rav narrowed his eyes at Darius, who was in full freak-out mode—Marcella was draped in his arms bridal style, and she was only visible from the side.

  “He must think you were threatening to keep her from him.” Rav clucked his tongue. “As big of a dick as you are, Cade, you didn’t say anything that seemed like you’d be keeping her from him.”

  I grunted. “No. He just mentioned the words, ‘threat,’ ‘Marcella,’ and ‘council,’ in the same sentence.”

  A low breath whistled from between Cade’s lips. “Fuck. Guys, I didn’t realize, I was just trying to make him call off those cunts.”

  Barclay slapped him on the back. “We know, bro.”

  Cade grimaced. “What do we do? Rav, can you get him back online?”

  “She’s lying in his arms for the moment. Not struggling.” Rav sucked down a breath. “I think, for the moment, that’s all we can do. Just let him hold her.”

  We just stood there like goddamn bookends watching as Marcella didn’t come back to herself—she passed out instead. She was young, wasn’t used to moving so fast yet, and the hyperspeed Darius and she had traveled at was similar to a human being thrown into space without one of those bulky spacesuits on.

  I was seriously impressed she hadn’t vomited all over the Enforcer. Seriously impressed.

  “I didn’t even know Darius’s control could be penetrated,” Barclay intoned, a faint streak of awe in the words.

  It was a facile thing to say, but I knew what he meant. Darius was the epitome of collected. Saying he was slow to burn was an understatement, because even in the fit of a rage, he was ice cold—we’d seen that too. Last year, when a bunch of trolls had broken out of their council-appointed territory and we’d had to help round them up, Darius had been wicked pissed.

  Or so we thought, because his hair had moved.

  I know how weird that sounds, but yeah, even his hair was control. Slicked back with some kind of gel so that it fell in a precise way down his spine. He’d mussed the shit out of it when we’d had to discuss a means of getting the trolls back to their prison/home without them trampling us to dust—we were immortal to a point. Being squished by a troll? It was the equivalent of a human swatting a fly.

  Those motherfuckers were huge.

  And ugly.

  I almost shuddered at the memory. So ugly.

  “I think we can say something was penetrated,” Cade retorted drily, making Gideon elbow him in the side.

  “Don’t say shit like that.”

  “Come on,” Cade replied. “Look at him. He’s gaga for our Chella.”

  He had a point. Darius’s beast had been called to the fore, and that meant he was standing in the corner of the room, facing the wall, with Marcella in his arms.

  Yeah.

  It was as nutty as it sounded.

  Running a hand through my hair, I murmured, “Darius? We’re not going to take her from you. You can protect her in ways we can’t.”

  His shoulders were hunched, his entire body tensed, as he curved himself into her, and Marcella? She was still out cold.

  Gideon shot me a look. “Carry on,” he mouthed.

  I frowned at him. “Why me?”

  I didn’t have to ask, not really, but dammit to hell—I had the most soothing voice, didn’t I? The rest of them were all trigger-happy pricks, but I was the only one who could stay calm and rational long enough to get us out of this mess.

  Rolling my eyes, I stated, “Darius, you are the council. You can save Marcella. She’s in no danger from them because you can stop them, can’t you?”

  I figured that was right. Within a family line, there were several leaders that were seated on the council. The Enforcer was one such position. He was the third such person, meaning he had a third of the vote, and just one veto from any single council member could quash a ruling.

  That meant Marcella was indeed safe.

  Well, she was, once the ancient pursang let her go.

  Not that I feared for her safety, but it was just weird how he’d cornered her like some kind of frightened animal. Or…
/>   Was that too apt a description?

  We weren’t like Barclay. We didn’t all have literal beasts inside us, but there was a definitive part of the Vampire that responded to the same stimuli as an animal would, and for Marcella and Darius, who were pure Vampires, that creature would be stronger than what we, as half-bloods, had to deal with.

  “I’m sure your Vampire is frightened,” I crooned, unsure if this was the right path to go down. “I’m sure it’s, he’s,” I quickly corrected, “scared that someone will take her from you, but you don’t have to fear. There are six of us to keep her safe, and Marcella’s not exactly like any pursang princess you’ve ever known. Maker, she’s not like any Sixth you’ve known either.”

  “I think it’s working,” Cade rasped, and I knew he was right—Darius’s shoulders had been hunched up by his ears. Now? They were back at their regular height. “Carry on.”

  “She’s safe, Darius. So safe. And we’ll die to keep her that way, won’t we? She’s our life, Darius. Our future. We have to work on making sure that she’s so safe, nothing can harm her.”

  Those final words seemed to inspire something in the Enforcer that had him turning around, Marcella still hanging limply in his hold. He kept a tight clutch on her, and his hair? It was all over the place. His face was a mask but his eyes were like mercury still, telling me he was listening, but the Vampire beast was mostly in control.

  I cleared my throat. “You’re here for a reason. Was that just to drag us all back to the council for punishment?”

  The older man sliced his head to the left, then the right, in a definitive ‘no.’

  Well, that was a surprise.

  I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a tension headache starting to stir—you have no idea how hard it was for a salsang to get a damn headache, but this situation was enough of a clusterfuck to make it so.

  “Why are you here, then?”

  Darius’s voice was so unlike his own, so gritty and raw, none of the smooth elegance he was renowned for, as he grated out, “To give you a case.”