Silk Over Razor Blades

Jason moved in a blur of grey streaks. One moment he stood near the door, the next in front of Tristen. ‘Wait,’ he began. ‘Just think—’

  Tristen’s fangs shot down from his gum line. ‘I am thinking.’

  ‘But Kallisto! She’ll know.’

  ‘How? You?’

  ‘No!’

  Despite her shielding, Lenina felt a quick stab of terror to match the colour draining from Jason’s face.

  ‘I won’t tell her. I’ve never met any vampire more capable of shielding his thoughts than you, but she’s the First Majestic. If she suspects, she’ll peel your mind like an onion until she finds the truth.’

  ‘Why should she suspect? She loves me.’ Tristen actually smiled. His chest puffed out as he gestured with the dagger.

  ‘Please, Tristen. Lenina is the Vessel. You can’t kill her.’

  ‘Shut up. You only care about saving your own neck.’

  Jason’s cheeks reddened. ‘Kallisto won’t hurt me if she knows I found the Vessel. She’ll let me off, but only if we take Lenina to Red Fang. Right now. Before she finds out.’

  ‘She won’t find out.’ Tristen snarled then touched his mouth, causing his fangs to recede.

  Lenina spread her fingers on the table. The adrenalin flooding her body made her skin tingle, but she didn’t dare relax. Instead she watched Tristen’s face and the twitch in his eyebrows as he glared at Jason.

  ‘I’ll wear make-up,’ she whispered. ‘Nobody will see the mark. Anyone who does won’t know what it means.’

  ‘And Saar?’ His gaze snapped to her.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Can you hold him back? Stop him taking over?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘He’s more than two thousand years old. The original recipient of the blessing. No matter how strong you think I am, he could swat me like a fly. You know that. You think he’ll just sit inside you and never come out?’

  Lenina licked her lips. ‘I’m learning to control it. I’ll get better.’

  As she spoke the scent of peppermint rolled through the air. It struck her like a physical blanket and smothered everything until she could barely think for the surge of lust heating her body. It came with the memory of Tristen’s hands on her body, his lips on her throat, the tickle of his hair against her cheeks, the heat of his breath against her most intimate parts.

  Tristen green eyes narrowed. His lips pursed. ‘You can’t even keep me out.’

  Her lips trembled. ‘I can. Give me a chance.’

  ‘Saar won’t give you a chance. All those memories and you still don’t get it? He had no mercy or compassion. He trampled weak things and blamed it on Set, but it had nothing to do with any god. It was him. He was evil.’

  ‘He didn’t start that way.’

  ‘But he will come back that way.’ Tristen side-stepped Jason and leapt over the table.

  Lenina darted around it and sharp pain in her scalp warned her of the near miss. When she looked back, two braids dangled from Tristen’s fingers.

  ‘Help me.’ She darted glances at Jason.

  He dry-washed his hands. ‘He’s my sire. My link to Set.’

  ‘I don’t know what that means.’

  ‘It means he does as he’s told,’ Tristen snapped. ‘Or I’ll kill him.’

  ‘Just like that?’ The savagery of it caught her off guard.

  ‘It’s what Saar taught us. After Mosi he didn’t want anybody else thinking they knew better than him.’

  ‘Please, Jason. Please.’

  The scruffy man hunched his shoulders. ‘If you really are the Vessel, you can protect me, yeah? Helping you is like helping Saar.’

  Lenina wavered.

  Tristen laughed. ‘Yes, admit you’re the Vessel and I’ll kill you for sure. Deny it and Jason won’t help.’ More laughter. ‘Spoilt and selfish, that’s what you are and there’s nobody left to bail you out. What now?’

  Lenina hesitated. With an angry vengeful vampire on one side and another confused one on the other, allies were hard to come by. She closed her eyes and opened her mind to Jason, breaking down the mental barricade between them. His thoughts and feelings tumbling across the gap like an avalanche. She met the rush head on and ushered him through.

  Jason gazed at her and visibly straightened. He pressed his lips into a thin, grim line and gave a curt nod. Even his shoulders lifted and when he moved, the air felt thick with his confidence. Without speaking, he grabbed her arm and shoved her against the wall. Then he turned, put his back to her and faced Tristen with his arms outstretched. ‘You leave her be.’ His tone resembled steel.

  Tristen gave a low, disbelieving chuckle. ‘Don’t be stupid. You can’t fight me.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m protecting her.’

  ‘Why? She doesn’t care about you.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to. It’s the right thing, yeah? We promised to look for the Vessel. All of us.’

  ‘Don’t do this. You’re still of my line.’

  ‘If you believed any of that you would have let Mosi shiv you. You’re no better than the rest of us, just looking out for himself. This woman ain’t like that.’

  Though the words swelled Lenina’s chest, they also dropped a lead weight into her belly. His faith in her was startling, a beacon in her mind as bright as a lighthouse. Fascinating. Humbling. Terrifying.

  ‘You know me, Jason.’ Tristen pointed with the dagger. ‘I won’t hesitate. Last chance. Step aside.’

  Lenina touched Jason’s shoulder. A familiar static charge leapt off his body and he reached back to squeeze her fingers. An instant later his scream splintered the tense silence. Pressing her hands to her ears, Lenina could only watch as Jason fell to his knees. He clutched his head. Blood poured from his nose and ears.

  ‘Stop it!’ She stared at Tristen’s eerie, glowing eyes. ‘Leave him alone!’

  The shrieks stopped.

  Lenina risked bending down. ‘Jason?’ He didn’t speak, just whimpered.

  ‘I Kissed him, Lenina. The sire-child link is great for keeping people in line. I could do that all day. It costs nothing. If you care about him at all, you leave him alone.’

  Worm-like, Jason writhed in a puddle of his own blood. Though he tried to stand, his limbs shook. His eyes rolled back in his head.

  Lenina straightened. ‘Leave him. He’s only doing it because I asked.’

  Tristen snorted. ‘He’s doing it to save his own skin. You heard him, he wants protection.’

  Rolling on the carpet, Jason’s grey eyes swivelled to meet hers. The touch of his blood-slicked fingers against her toes made her cringe. ‘Help me,’ he begged.

  ‘See? It’s all about him.’

  She looked down again, inched away from the hand groping her foot. The crestfallen look on Jason’s face changed to one of wonderment as she positioned herself over his body, standing between him and Tristen. Her hands balled into fists. ‘Then I’ll protect him.’

  Lenina hesitated when Tristen’s laughter cut across her bold statement. A coil of warmth took root in her belly and spread through her body. It linked to Tristen and she could smell the mint on his breath, feel the firm pressure of his hands on her hips, his lips slanting across hers.

  The power of the sensory memory stole her breath. She stumbled.

  ‘Okay, you made your point. Stop it.’

  More laughter.

  Eyes closed, she fought off the growing need to throw herself at his body. The burning urge to feel his naked skin beneath her fingers. Gritting her teeth didn’t help. Neither did tightening her fists until her nails bit into her palms. Then something hard struck her back. Her eyes flashed open in time to see Jason spring off the floor and tackle Tristen around the middle.

  The rush of lust died and she heaved herself to the surface like a drowning man breaching the waves. Both men rolled together, toppling dining chairs as they went. Tristen jerked free, ending the one-sided scuffle as quickly as it began by shoving his dagger into Jason’s chest. He leaned
on the hilt while Jason screamed and drummed his heels against the floor.

  ‘I warned you,’ he muttered.

  Jason opened his mouth but no sound came out, just a small bubble of dark blood that burst and slid down his chin. One weak hand fluttered near the dagger hilt. Through the link they shared, Lenina felt it all. Clutching her own chest, she shouldered Tristen aside and knelt near Jason’s head.

  ‘You can heal it.’ She tried to make the words an order rather than a desperate plea. ‘Heal it!’

  ‘He can’t. Not the heart. Not after what Mosi did to Saar. That wound weakened every single one of us. Where do you think the stake “through the heart” myth came from?’

  Jason gave a wet gurgle, his last attempts to speak. From one trembling hand Lenina saw sand pour from his fingertips. No . . . the sand came from the fingers themselves, and as more hit the floor, she realised his hands were crumbling away.

  Her gut twisted like a giant fist had plunged inside to grab a handful of intestines. Liquid fire burned through her veins and every scrap of pain she felt doubled. Tripled. The space Jason inhabited ripped free of her mind with a sound like the wet tearing of flesh from flesh.

  ‘Not again, please!’ The voice from her mouth sounded nothing like her own.

  Saar’s anguish, Saar’s fear, Saar’s remembered agony rolled through Lenina’s head until she could no longer separate them from hers. He watched and felt Kiya die and she joined him.

  Jason’s presence vanished from her head. As if death had flicked a switch.

  Lenina sprawled on the carpet gasping, watching the last ravages of vampire death turn Jason into a pile of sand, packaged in dirty, smelly clothes.

  The pain stopped.

  Tristen crouched and touched the golden sand. For a moment, Lenina thought that he might feel a hint of remorse, but he simply stood and wiped his hands against his jeans.

  ‘I didn’t think it would hurt so much.’ He might have meant a paper cut.

  ‘You felt it?’

  ‘He was part of me. His death takes something from me, same as you. But I can handle it.’

  His blasé attitude made her want to punch him. ‘How? There’s a hole where he used to be, like an open wound. Was it like this when Mosi died?’

  He stiffened. ‘Worse. Then Saar died. I felt that too.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He was the conduit between Set and the rest of us. Those he made directly got the worst of it. That’s why Majestics like Kallisto need him; they think he’ll bring back the power they lost.’

  ‘Will it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t care. I choose weaker, alive and free, over stronger and living in fear. You wouldn’t understand.’

  But she did. She knew it keenly in that moment because she then felt Tristen’s mind touch hers. Like water filling an empty cup, awareness and knowledge of him flooded her mind and filled the space left by Jason.

  He gasped.

  She shivered. ‘What’s happening?’

  A smile grew on his lips as he gazed at her face. ‘Your link is mine now. I didn’t know that could happen. Incredible.’

  Panic seized her. ‘Why? No, please. I don’t want you in my head.’

  He inhaled, deep and slow, as if consuming her thoughts through his nose. ‘You’ve been holding out on me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know more than you think about Saar. You found a book,’ he frowned. ‘By Xerxes? I don’t know that one, but there’s a few. Stupid humans trying to get rich by selling our story. We kill them, obviously.’

  Lenina turned her attention to the mental wall, rebuilding it with the same concrete slabs she’d once used with Jason. She’d barely lain the first blocks before Tristen swatted them away, a minor flex of his will.

  ‘Stop. You don’t know what you’re doing. It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘Get out of my head!’

  ‘But I like it here. I can see everything you’ve been trying to hide. You really did love Nick.’ The grin widened. ‘But you’ve got a thing for long hair and green eyes, rather like Saar. Pity . . . for you. No wonder it was so easy. You barely put up a fight.’

  Remembering her almost instant attraction to Tristen only made Lenina feel worse. Guilt wormed through her until she saw and felt nothing but her own terrible choices. ‘Please don’t.’

  ‘Nick suffered by the way. You drained his blood without any hold on his mind. He definitely suffered. It was the perfect tribute.’

  Tears burned in Lenina’s eyes. ‘Stop it!’

  Tristen’s presence was a physical weight against her skull as he riffled through the storage boxes of her life.

  ‘Your mother looks good for her age. Grace, is it? I can see where you get your looks, certainly not from your father.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Your brother looks more like Ray. I still say he’s familiar. Remind me what he does?’

  ‘None of your business.’ Hopping from subject to subject was too difficult to keep track of. With each new fact Tristen discovered, Lenina felt him worm a little deeper into her head. His mental probing dug deep, like super-fine needles piercing the very heart of her memories.

  ‘A bus driver. Ex-military. Infantry soldier. Very nice.’

  ‘Leave him alone!’ Lenina glared at Tristen and fantasised about hurting him. Imagined plunging her hands into that wide, mocking grin, and tearing it away from his face. Watching his blood fill the air like rain.

  The room took on a magnificent level of colour. The edges of the dining chairs and the sofa turned hard and sharp, near-blinding in their brightness. She could smell everything, from Thorne’s sweaty body to the dry mustiness of desert sand. She heard low voices from the house next door and the blare of a distant car alarm. Like a river bursting its banks, something barely held in check finally spilled over the sides of her control and ran free.

  Saar.

  Lenina snarled. Surging off the ground, she dived at Tristen and delivered a sharp jab to his stomach. When he doubled over, huffing with pain and surprise, she swung her left fist into his chin, cracking his teeth together. Saar bellowed in the cavern of her mind. He thrust out, using Lenina’s body to pursue the man threatening his family. To destroy him as he’d once destroyed Kazemde. His feelings tangled with hers, but Lenina didn’t care. In that moment she was happy to use anything, to let the ancient being wield her body like a puppet if only it would help her escape.

  When Tristen backed away, Lenina followed, aiming a kick at his lowered head. Tristen caught her ankle and twisted it. With a cry, she went down, turning into the fall to ease the pressure in her foot. She landed on her back, one leg bent beneath her, the other extended up.

  He coughed. A small chip of something hard and white flew from his mouth. ‘How did you do that?’

  Sweat beaded on her forehead. She felt more of it gather on her skin beneath the over-sized sweatshirt. ‘Leave my family out of this.’ Her fury ebbed when Tristen twisted her foot, forcing her to flip on to her stomach or suffer a broken ankle.

  ‘How? Lessons from Saar?’ Still holding her foot, he crouched over her back. His free hand snagged a handful of braids and dragged her head up, forcing her spine into a painful curve. ‘You forget, he taught Mosi. Mosi taught me.’

  Lenina laughed. Deep inside, Saar laughed too. His amusement rolled out through her mouth and gave her voice a deep, rumbling edge.

  Tristen heard it and paled. ‘He’s really there. In your eyes.’

  She smiled. Saar joined her.

  ‘They avoided each other for nearly a thousand years. You don’t think Saar learned a few more tricks in that time?’

  Understanding dawned in Tristen’s face. He opened his mouth but Lenina didn’t wait. She pressed her palms to the floor and pushed, easing the pressure on her back. With the slack, she extended her leg, shoving the trapped foot deeper into Tristen’s body. He reeled back and she rolled with him, leading with her knee to ride his body across the floor. Triste
n wrenched his body from side to side. The white glow in his eyes intensified and she felt him hammer her senses, trying to fill her mind with lust. Like swatting a fly, Saar batted it away.

  ‘That won’t work,’ Lenina muttered. ‘He doesn’t fancy you.’

  Tristen eyes widened. ‘If you let him control your body, he’ll take over completely.’

  ‘As if you care.’

  ‘I do, I—’

  She pressed one hand against his throat. When she spoke Saar’s voice came out. ‘No. You. Don’t.’

  He gagged, fighting to swallow past the steady pressure on his Adam’s apple. ‘He doesn’t care about you either. All he wants is power. You think he’ll look after your family when Red Fang show up?’

  ‘My family are dead,’ she snapped.

  Tristen gasped. ‘They’re not! That’s him talking.’

  Lenina blinked. Shook her head.

  In the back of her mind Saar growled and tightened her fingers on Tristen’s throat.

  , he seemed to say.

  ‘No,’ she rolled her shoulders. ‘He’s right. Mum and Jordan . . . Dad . . . he’s coming here.’

  The memory of her frantic phone call with Ray stopped Saar dead.

  He considered the images with intense curiosity.

  ‘Yes.’ Ignoring Tristen’s startled looks, Lenina fought to regain control of her body. ‘He’s coming here.’

  Her fingers flexed on Tristen’s throat. Shades of red coloured the area about his jaw and nose. His eyes watered and returned to their usual green colour.

  Saar roared and Lenina yelped at the sheer weight of his power. She felt him snatch control of her fingers again and squeeze tighter. The muscles of Tristen’s neck spasmed under her hand and she heard the frantic flutter of his heart as it begged for oxygen.

  ‘Stop it.’ She fought to regain use of her hands.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘No!’ She threw herself backward, rolling off Tristen’s body and into the wall. ‘Enough killing.’

  Wheezing, touching the imprint of fingers at the base of his throat, Tristen sat up. ‘I knew it.’ His voice trembled. ‘We’re all going to die.’

  ‘No, I can control him. It’s going to be okay.’

  ‘It isn’t.’ Still coughing, he thrust out one hand. His fingers flexed, aimed at the pile of sand that had once made Jason’s body. The dagger, still lying amongst the dirty clothes, leapt into the air and slapped into his palm.

  Lenina tensed. Time slowed to a crawl. White noise filled her ears, blocking out everything but the steady thud of her heart.

  Feral fury etched deep furrows on Tristen’s brow as he lunged, leading with the dagger. His arm arched high, then curved down, a powerful stabbing motion directed at her heart.

  As when fighting Jason hours before, Lenina moved with the smooth grace of one with far more experience. She had an impression of incredible speed as she scooped one hand beneath Tristan’s advance, closing her fingers on his wrist. Her thumb found a pressure point beneath the heel of his palm, pressing down until his fingers jerked and released the dagger. Her other hand swooped in. Caught it.

  Saar roared.

  A flick of her fingers flipped the dagger into a reverse grip. Opening Tristen’s stance with his trapped hand, Lenina stabbed with the other, driving the blade into his chest.

  Time resumed its normal speed.

  Tristen stopped. ‘I’ll heal.’ His stare settled on hers, wide and fearful.

  ‘Not the heart,’ she whispered, pulling the deadly blade free. Blood oozed free in slow pulses. Tears blurred her vision. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  Saar gave a satisfied purr.

  Tristen slumped to the carpet.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight