BloodSworn (17 page)

 
Chapter Nineteen

M
errick
woke to the sound of Trina sliding out of bed. Curious to see what she would
do, he held still and feigned sleep. Nothing could have surprised him when she
pulled off her shirt and started working out in just a tank top.

Predictably, his dick paid special attention as well. After
a good twenty minutes, the glaze of lust finally cleared from his eyes enough for
Merrick to notice the smooth way she moved, the efficient kicks and punches.

She’d had special training, some fancy name Weston would
most likely recognize.

She had talent.

In most settings, she would be lethal.  

Then he saw her shoulder, and all emotions died.

The mark of ownership marred the smooth skin of her
collarbone from neck to shoulder. The bite mark was so brutal he was surprised
she’d survived.

Feeling betrayed, he realized she was the one the vampires
wanted. At the beginning, the thought had crossed his mind, but he’d dismissed
it.

Trina would never allow herself to be controlled. She had
too much spirit.

When the workout ran down and she turned toward him, Merrick
closed his eyes and deepened his breathing. He couldn’t face her until he had
everything sorted out in his head. He wasn’t ready to give her up so easily. He
just needed to figure out the riddle that was her.

What could she hope to gain by being here? The vampires were
searching for her, so they obviously didn’t send her to spy on them. The
witches wanted her as well, rather urgently if he had a guess. Why?

He heard the rustle of her clothing and the sound of the
door clicking shut as she left. Beast gave a little mournful whuffle, wanting
to follow her, but Merrick ignored him.

* * *

Trina refused to feel guilty for sneaking out without waking
Merrick. He looked so peaceful and way too sexy for her own good. She needed
space from him and what he made her feel. He tangled everything up inside so that
she couldn’t think straight.

No doubt he would try to keep her in their room all day and
out of trouble. She entered the kitchen cautiously, remembering what’d happened
last time.

Only to find the room empty of all but a teenager. The
tension eased from her shoulders, and she smiled. “Hello.”

The young boy gave a short scream and whirled. He clumsily
yanked a knife from his jacket. When he brandished it in her direction, it
appeared too dull to cut water.

When he saw her, he lowered his arm and cleared his throat.
He tugged down his shirt with one hand, fingering the knife with the other.
“Hello.”

“I’m Trina.”

“Drew.”

The boy didn’t move, and she smiled to put him at ease. He
was the boy Merrick warned her about, the boy she was supposed to keep her
distance from. The witch apprentice. He stared at her teeth as if he expected
her to eat him for breakfast, and she couldn’t turn away from his terror.

“You’re not one of them, are you?”

Trina cocked her head. “Them?”

“Shifters.” He said the word like they were the spawn of Satan,
raised from hell just to make his life miserable. She understood fear, but this
seemed like something more.

“No, I’m not.” She walked farther in the room and grabbed a
box of cereal, helping herself. “You must be new here, too. Sneaking down to
breakfast?”

He gave a hesitant nod as if expecting a trap.

“Same here. Yesterday, I caused a small riot. I thought it
might be easier to grab something quick before the sun rose and the training
session ends.”

Since she’d entered the Den, it seemed that her every breath
spread disaster, each touch wreaked havoc. She wasn’t a klutz, she wasn’t
accident prone, but around the graceful shifters, she might as well have been a
toddler learning to walk.

The boy didn’t return her smile, but he didn’t bolt from the
room as she expected. She was on her second mouthful when the boy followed
suit. They were halfway done, each silent, lost in their own thoughts when the
fragrance of moss soured the mouthful of food she had just taken. She couldn’t force
herself to swallow. She was afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

She had to be wrong.

They couldn’t be here.

Not inside the Den.

She only had seconds to react, get away, but she couldn’t abandon
the boy or leave the shifters vulnerable. Not when they were there for her.

The boy, attuned to her, stopped eating and stood. Trina
shook her head, and quickly grabbed him, pulling him into a crouch behind the
counter. She painfully swallowed her lump of food and raised a finger to her
lips.

Drew nodded, the frightened expression back on his face. She
reached up, groping the tabletop for her bag. And cursed to see that she’d left
it at the end of the counter. She duck-walked forward, silent and swift. When
the boy made to follow, she waved him away.

She wasn’t sure she could trust her senses, not after the
last few days, not after being wrong so many times. The shifters must be
disturbing her magic somehow, their nearness throwing her out of whack. It made
no sense that a vampire could just walk past a den full of shifters and not be
caught.

Unless someone had let them in.

Trina had one guess who.

The she-bitch that wanted her Merrick.

The room’s temperature dropped at least ten degrees, and the
hairs on her arms stood on end. She wanted to widen her senses but knew better
than to unleash her magic.

She would only become a larger target.

She snatched her bag to her chest, half-expecting someone to
reach over the counter and lift her by the scruff of her neck. No one did, and
she scurried backwards, trembling as the smell of moss grew stronger.

The boy had his blade out, ready to bolt, and Trina prayed
that his nerves held or he’d get them both killed. She grabbed his wrist and gently
pushed down the knife. Her touch eased him, his muscles shook then steadied,
and he nodded to her.

“What is it?” The words were only a breath of air, and she
held up her hand.

She licked her lips and mouthed one word. “Vampire.”

The boy blanched, pressing his back against the counter.

Then she heard a sound she dreaded.

Footsteps.

She rummaged inside the bag until her hand settled on the
rowan stake she’d fashioned. The boy looked disappointed when she pulled it
out, as if he’d expected a grenade. Then she plucked out her Athame.

Vampires were wicked fast, something that increased with
age. From the slight vibration in the air, this one was one of the oldest she’d
ever met. Not the king, but damned close in age and power.

Without magic, they were screwed. She’d never be fast enough
to get near him. She wouldn’t allow the vampire to take the boy and couldn’t
allow herself to be captured.

She reversed the knife, but instead of handing it over, she slashed
the end of her finger. Pain flashed from the deep wound. The boy’s eyes
rounded, and he frantically shook his head. She pressed the pommel in his hand
and liberally coated the stake with her blood.  

Careful not to lead a trail back to the boy, she scrambled
around the counter and heard someone inhale slowly as if relishing her scent.
Vampires didn’t need to breathe…unless they caught the scent of their prey.

The boy reached for her, but she slipped away from his
grasping hands, waving him away. She pointed at the source of the sound and
signaled him to stay. She hoped he understood.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she waited for the
vampire’s first move.

“I can smell you, blood whore.”

Trina winced then forced her shaky legs to stand, the stake
at her side but not hidden. “That’s original, coming from someone like you.”

Too pale eyes swept over her, and the chill intensified
until she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. His
attention came to rest on the stake, and a hint of a smile cracked his lips.

“Do you think you can take me?” A raspy laugh scraped
against her spine. He lifted his hand, urging her closer, his confidence
eroding away hers. He wanted her within reach. Once he got his hands on her,
she would never be free again.

Vampires took their victims’ blood in order to control them.
Hunger swirled behind his eyes, and he licked his fangs. His heart thumped
once, twice in excitement then fell silent.

His smile rose slowly, his fangs glistening with saliva that
could cause either pain or ecstasy depending on the vampire’s will. She
shivered, and the wound on her shoulder throbbed in remembrance of her flesh
being torn away, mauled like an animal. 

Sweat loosened her grip, and she shifted nervously. With a
smooth grace she had no way to duplicate, he copied her move. His back was
toward the counter, angling her so the door was behind her.

An easy escape…unless you were cornered by a vampire. If she
turned to run, he’d be on her in seconds.

It was a trap.

A good one.

Memories rose of being caught by a vampire, his fangs
piercing her shoulder. Flames of pain had ripped through her body as the
monster tore through her flesh and stole her blood.

She wouldn’t let that happen with this one.

The tissue of her injured finger knitted together and the
blood clotted. If she was going to move, she needed to do it now. She wasn’t an
equal to a vampire, not without her magic.

Hoping to take him by surprise, Trina launched herself at
him, the stake aimed for his heart. He caught her easily, his cold fingers bracketing
her wrists like metal and just as bitterly cold. The grip was brutal, and she
was half-surprised her bone didn’t snap. The stake she’d spent days carving and
a fortune to purchase fell from nerveless fingers.

Moving quickly, she brought up her other hand, her goal to reach
any exposed skin and infect him.

He captured her second hand, stopping her fingers just
inches from his throat. The vampire smiled as if he’d expected her move. Those
rotten teeth repulsed her, but it was his fetid breath that nearly kicked her
on her ass, sucking all the air from around them so she could barely fill her
lungs.

His lips curled in distaste. “You are an abomination. If I
had a choice, you would be put down. You’ll outgrow your usefulness soon enough,
but for now, you are too precious to the King to taste.” Fangs gleamed in a
parody of a smile. “Maybe I should wait for your shifters, and you can watch me
feast. Payment for keeping you hidden.”

Fear spiked until the beat of her heart threatened to explode
in her chest. She threw her body backwards in a desperate attempt to break his
hold. She wouldn’t allow him to harm those who had helped her. “My powers would
never have awoken if your king hadn’t attacked me.”

Instead of answering, the vampire subdued her as easily as a
fisherman capturing a fish, pinning her arms to her sides and holding her
immobile. His creepy room temperature grip stole her warmth, his clammy skin
like a touch from beyond the grave.

Not willing to concede, she slammed up her knee into his
groin, but her blow had no effect. His pecker had probably rotted off a long
time ago. She tried to bring up her elbow, but couldn’t get enough momentum to
be effective.

She drew back and head-butted him. He grunted, and his grip
tightened until all she could think about was getting enough oxygen to stay
conscious.

“Don’t worry, soon nothing will matter at all. Things will
go back to the old ways. We were created to take what we want, no one will be able
to stop us. You will return us to older times where we will reign once more.”
The whiteness of his eyes captured her until she couldn’t tear her gaze away. His
immense age pressed down on her. Shapes took root in those pale blue eyes, luring
her to peer closer, and she cursed herself for underestimating his power.