Bloodspell (27 page)

As she moved to get up, Victoria saw the flash of a crystal and understanding surged through her like a warm flood.
That's
how she had been able to survive! Leto had told her that witches used crystals to store magical energy for protection, although unlike her own amulet, their stored magic could not replenish itself. Victoria gathered her strength knowing she had less than a few minutes before the unknown accomplice showed up, and guessed that she had enough inside her for a simple spell. She engaged her own sluggish magic and released a crude summoning spell toward the crystal she'd seen.

"Effero crystallus!"

She heard the snap as the woman whirled around panicked, at the exact same moment that the crystal spear-shaped pendant appeared in her fingers. Without thinking, Victoria took it into herself. Her body jerked as her hungry blood absorbed the magic like a sponge, the crystal turning immediately to dust in her palm. It wasn't her magic, but she consumed it like a starving beast, letting the raw power fill her, and still, she wasn't satiated even though it was more than she needed to escape. Her blood wanted
more.
It wanted it all—every last drop of the witch in front of her.

She shook her head once and her bindings fell off like paper. She stood up, her eyes burning like black coals and faced the woman who no longer looked triumphant. She looked very, very afraid. Victoria cocked her head to one side, like a cat studying a mouse, and watched as the woman calculated the odds of getting away. She was so easy to read, this little exiled witch, Victoria's blood thought patronizingly. But her magic had been so delicious, so much of the forbidden in there that it had been intoxicating.

The witch moved and tried to hurl a magic blast. Victoria deflected it lazily without even moving, and she watched the witch's eyes widen as a sudden cold understanding filled them, and she dropped prostrate to the cold ground.

"Please—"

Victoria's demon blood trilled, ravenous and inhuman. And while her smallest self screamed defiantly within her head, her blood rushed forward and claimed its prey. As the witch died, the taste of her death was heady like brandy burning through Victoria's body. Her blood sang victoriously. Despicably.

Victoria wanted to rip her skin apart and drain the poisoned magic out of her, its tainted evil fueling the darkest nature of the blood magic. She sank to her knees, delirious with sinful pleasure and sick with disgust at her own weakness, and clawed at her face and her stomach. Even as her blood healed the wounds of its own volition with the magic it had mercilessly stolen, she continued to tear at herself as if it assuaged the terrible guilt and self-hatred boiling inside of her.

She remained there until she felt familiar arms enclosing her in their tender warmth, Christian's voice against her hair, his lips on her temple, even as she struggled viciously against him.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed. "Don't touch me ... don't touch me ..."

CHRISTIAN REMAINED UNYIELDING, whispering against her hair until finally, inexorably she calmed, her body shuddering as she clung to him. He could feel the tightening of his jaw in violent response to the blood that had soaked through her clothing but he ignored it, stifling the urge viciously. The sound of her scream and the scent of her blood had all but done him in as he had raced to the top of the mountain.

When he had felt her slipping away earlier, Christian had almost lost it, especially as he hadn't been able to contact her right after their brief mental exchange. Holding her in his arms, her wild unhinged strength had been nearly impossible to contain, but he had held on.

Christian stood, taking her with him as if she weighed no more than a feather. With his free foot, he kicked fresh snow over the blood-spattered earth, knowing from the sounds lower down the mountains that the rescue crews he had seen would be heading their way. As he turned, Christian registered movement in the trees off to the left and his eyes locked with a pair of familiar icy blue eyes. Lena. She didn't move, just stood watching him and the gentle way he sheltered Victoria in his arms.

"Tell your
master
that if he comes after her again, he'll face me," he hissed in her direction.

Christian wondered how long she had been standing there, and whether the pile of ash-covered dark clothing lying on the ground was the remains of her witch friend. He glared at her ruthlessly, his lips drawn in a hard tight line, and turned away. He was gone in a second.

Christian held Victoria close against him as the limousine sped down I-95 to his house. While she slept, he telephoned Enhard.

"Enhard, it's Christian. The witch is dead."

"Did you do it?"

"No." He didn't elaborate.

"Good, that will help with your brother." Enhard paused. "Before you go, I spoke to one of the high priestess delegates after you left about Le Sang Noir. They call it the Cruentus Curse. What I learned may surprise you. She told me that its power can only be freely given, which means it can't be taken by force, nor can the witch who controls it be killed for it as the power will die with her. It's passed on to direct descendants and even then, it's sporadic. This thing goes back centuries, Christian, it goes much, much farther than we ever thought."

Enhard's revelations floored Christian. There was no way Lucian could ever possess its power, Victoria would never ever give it to him freely ... unless he had something planned to force her to do so. The thought scared the hell out of him because he was familiar with Lucian's ruthless tactics. He would have to protect her at all costs. He stroked her cheek and felt her stir beneath his fingers.

Victoria's eyes opened and Christian's worried face swam into focus. Her body ached and she felt like throwing up. She could feel the memory of the witch's magic infecting her system like a virus. She didn't deserve to be touched. She was a monster, a hideous soul-sucking monster! Christian's arms tightened around her.

"Kiss me," she whispered, shamelessly taking the small comfort he offered. "Make me forget ... please."

She pressed her open mouth urgently against his, tasting his hot breath, desperate for anything to offset the dark chill inside of her. Christian's entire body froze, his teeth the only part of him moving, and he ground his lips into a hard line. Victoria dragged hers from his suddenly unyielding ones and trailed them up his jawline to his ear. A muscle in his cheek ticked as she exposed the long delicate column of her neck to him.

Unable to help himself, he pressed his lips to her neck, drinking in the smell of her as his razor-sharp incisors shredded the inside of his mouth. His lips parted of their own volition and for one agonizing second, the taste of her sweetly forbidden skin invaded his mouth in a hot rush. He'd never wanted to give in to what he was so badly in that moment ... but all it took was one instant of weakness. Christian tore his lips away from the banquet of her warm flesh, tasting his own blood on his tongue and terrifyingly wanting more, a brutal reminder of what he was.

He held himself perfectly still as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he said hoarsely.

"No," she said. "My blood takes care of itself."

"Tell me," he said, stroking the backs of his fingers down her smooth cheek, his touch agonizingly tender.

"Christian," she said. "I'm ... I'm a monster."

"You are no monster." He laughed hollowly.

"But I am. Christian, I killed her. I killed the witch. And I enjoyed it, or the blood did, but it's still me." She spoke in a rush as if she wanted to get it out and looked away.

"Tori, she attacked you. You defended yourself and she lost. That was it," he said.

"You don't understand. I took her magic into myself, and even though it was filthy and cloying, I
liked
it. I liked the feeling of power, and when I killed her, I liked it even more! I loved it. It was so easy ... I reveled in taking ... the
taking
..." Victoria gasped, unable to finish. "The blood takes and
feeds
... and I am helpless against it."

Christian was quiet. He knew that she had only defended herself, and she was lucky that her blood had fought back. Lena would have been merciless if she had captured Victoria, and Lucian would have been far, far worse.

He understood her suffering more than she knew given the finite rules of his own hunger and the way it dominated every instinct. But he also understood her fear—the curse of Le Sang Noir was infinite power at unsustainable cost. Eventually, it would grow to control her if she gave in to it, as it had her ancestor, the duchess.

"You won't become her, Tori. You're nothing like her, and you're not powerless against the blood," he said after a long spell. "You know that. It doesn't own you. You control it, not the other way around. It's like my thirst—do you think it's easy for me when we're together when I can smell your blood calling to me every time we touch? Of course it's not, I have to fight to suppress it but I would never give in to it, I won't let myself," he said.

"I know. It's just ... exhausting."

He watched her, the emotions playing across her face as she considered telling him something else that was obviously bothering her.

"The witch on the mountain seemed to know who I was, and she mentioned that someone else was interested in me, specifically a 'he.' It's Lucian, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What are we going to do?"

"Nothing, for now. He will already know that his attack failed. Leave him to me. I will deal with Lucian." His voice shook with suppressed fury.

"Christian, there's something else." She paused. "I need my amulet. I forgot it in Canville. I tried to summon it but couldn't. It's ... the key to controlling the blood. I can't find it anywhere." Her face was panicked. "If it has been taken, I don't know what—"

"I have it." Victoria's elated gaze snapped to his. "I put both in my safe at the house before I went to Paris, I know how much it means to you and I didn't want to leave it lying around. I'll get it for you."

"I'm so glad! Things got so rushed that I stupidly left it behind. You don't understand how close I came ..." Her voice choked as she recalled what had happened on the mountain when the blood magic had taken over without the amulet's protective power restraining it.

There was so much that she didn't yet understand about the blood, the magic, and the amulet. The journal only had so many answers. She'd need to look harder to find some of her own before the blood destroyed her.

Victoria stared out the window at the brightly colored lights flashing by from houses decorated in the spirit of the season. It was Christmas Eve. Wasn't this a time when things were supposed to be happy and joyous? Instead, everything felt like it was closing in, a giant net she couldn't escape. The knot tightened in her stomach. She closed her eyes.

"I'm scared."

Christian stared at her drawn face as leaned her head against the window. They both had every reason to be afraid. Lucian was more than close ...
too
close. Christian had barely made it in time to save her from the witch, with Lena lurking nearby in the woods. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he'd been a few minutes late.

In Victoria's vulnerable state, Lena would have been merciless. The next time, neither of them would be so lucky. Now that Victoria had killed the witch, the key to Lucian's grand plan, no doubt he would be furious. And fury drove people to do irrational, unpredictable things. Christian knew more than anyone how ruthless Lucian could be.

One thing was certain. Lucian would stop at nothing now.

HOW COULD ONE little ticket ruin everything?

Gabriel and Angie's unexpected Christmas present had astounded Victoria; a ticket to a New Year's Eve masquerade ball at the Rainbow Room in Rockefeller Center. It was an exclusive event by invitation only, and Victoria had argued that it was far too extravagant, but Gabriel had told her that it was nothing, a combination get well after her snowboarding accident and Christmas present. He had also told her in no uncertain terms that the tickets, courtesy of their parents, were not returnable.

Victoria had mentioned the ticket to Christian two days ago, and she'd been completely blindsided by his response. The minute she had said that it was going to be a masquerade ball at the Rainbow Room in Rockefeller Center, it was like he had become possessed, telling her in no uncertain terms that he forbade it.

The minute his patronizing words had left his lips, the room had become fraught with tension. She'd stared at him as if he'd been speaking a foreign language.

"Is this about Gabriel? Honestly Christian, get over it. Gabriel likes me but he knows that we're just friends, and that's all we are ever going to be. I do have friends other than you, you know, and just because he's asked me to a party in New York doesn't mean you need to go all Tony Soprano on me."

"It's not about Gabriel," he insisted fiercely. "I don't want you to go there."

"Then what is it about, Christian? These are my friends. Who do you think you are anyway?" Victoria said hotly.