Fatal Harmony (The Vein Chronicles Book 1)

  The liquid broke through the ice like lava, uncomfortable in its heat, rivaling the blast that happened what should have been years before.

  It was worse than that as it trickled down my throat, burning my insides as I lay paralyzed.

  Black that I hadn’t noticed dancing at the edge of my vision chose that moment to pounce, giving me reprieve from the pain.

  From everything.

  “Sire we must insist that we dispatch from the mansion,” a grating voice pleaded. “We’re already compromised. Our guards are depleted. The royal guard is en route from Geneva but they’re hours away. Your men cannot protect you here for much longer.”

  I tasted the rage in the air and decided to keep my eyes closed to listen to this play out.

  “My men couldn’t even protect me on the first attack, Sven,” Rick said smoothly, the ice in his voice cutting through the air. “Forgive me if I’m not relying on any of them in regards to my safety, which I’m quite capable of ensuring.” There was a loaded pause as the air turned bitter and musky with the taste of rage. “In fact, relieve my current guard from their duty apart from the ones who actually managed to keep all their limbs and fight with dignity,” he snapped.

  “But sire—”

  “Do you want to be included in that group, Sven? Because if you do, keep arguing with your king.”

  Please argue, Jeeves, I chanted. That would be a glorious way to start the night.

  Silence and the taste of shame quickly retreated as the door shut behind me.

  Drat.

  “I know you’re awake,” a voice observed dryly, though something softer cut through the previous rage.

  I opened my eyes and in one swift movement got up from the bed I’d been tucked in to stand on my bare feet. A quick glance down showed I was naked.

  At least my skin was fresh and free from the burns that had previously clothed me. Though the smell of smoke and charred skin clung to my hair.

  “And I’m not dead,” I observed, watching Rick burst from the chair he’d been reclining in at my bedside. “Because if I was in heaven, I’d have heard you dismiss Jeeves, and the more likely residence of my afterlife would be a lot hotter and less luxurious,” I continued, glancing around the opulent room. The bed I’d been in was larger than a studio apartment in Brooklyn, the rest of the space sparse but expensively decorated.

  “You shouldn’t be up,” Rick growled, coming to stand in front of me. His gaze focused on my chest. “Not when you’ve taken a disturbing amount of time to heal. I fear that blade was spelled.”

  “I shouldn’t be naked either,” I shot back. I wasn’t perturbed by my lack of attire, humans were caught up on it but I was pleased with what god, or depending who you talked to, the devil gave me. For fun, I gave Rick’s stoic face a look. “Unless you weren’t planning on having me up so soon and you were going to do naughty things with my unconscious body.” I tsked. “My my, Your Highness. It always is the royal ones who are the most depraved.”

  His eyes turned glassy and glittered with rage. He clutched my shoulders with force that normally, even in my strongest state, would make me wince, but interestingly, it felt like a gentle squeeze.

  I didn’t have time to inspect that because Rick’s face was in mine. “You were so close to dying, Isla, I could taste the fucking grave on you. You’ve been taunting Hades himself with your sheer proximity,” he fumed. “Do you take anything seriously?” His cultured voice ran over the curse like velvet, a slight accent mingling with his words.

  His fury exploded through the room, hitting the walls and washing back to coat me in its taste.

  “Of course I take things seriously,” I snapped. “Just not insignificant things like life and death. You start worrying about that too much and you’ll find yourself in a grave quicker than you can say necrophilia.”

  His eyes flared and he flinched like he might actually strike me. I waited to see which way the wind would blow.

  He let me go, running his hands through his hair in a decidedly human gesture of frustration.

  I tilted my head at him while I took stock of my body. My naked skin was flawless and didn’t betray an inch of the inferno that had embraced it… how long ago had the battle been? I extended my senses outwards and could still smell the burning of tapestries and hear the cries of injured vampires, or more likely attackers being interrogated. Rick hadn’t changed out of his torn and burned clothes; the black disguised most of the blood, but there was no mistaking the smell.

  It couldn’t have been more than an hour, two at the very most since the explosion, and even with my abilities, I wouldn’t be feeling like I’d just drained a college football team. Especially when my skin had been punctured by not one but two copper daggers, which slowed the healing process. Not to mention the second one had brushed my heart in such a way that I’d thought I’d be faced with the king of the underworld right now, not the angry and broody king of our race.

  “Speaking of life and death, how am I on this side of the grave? I don’t doubt my strength, but even I can’t survive and heal from injuries like copper to the heart and being barbequed like a steak,” I said, memories of the last moments of my consciousness flowing through me.

  I momentarily stilled as that cold washed over me.

  Jonathan.

  I’d seen him. Almost touched him.

  That meant I’d crossed the veil into the otherworld. If my skin had come into contact with his…. I shuddered as the prospect of it both excited and terrified me.

  The ice of the grave had me in its clutches, but then there was heat.

  My head snapped up as Rick watched me intently. He hadn’t answered me, instead observing me as I added it up.

  “Your blood,” I said, my voice a muted whisper.

  He nodded once.

  The simple nod tore through centuries of history I’d rebelled against learning in school.

  Blood of a vampire couldn’t heal, despite popular belief. There was a reason why we fed from humans; we needed the life force of their blood, the same force that didn’t flow through ours. We were technically dead, although our bodies operated on an accelerated healing process and were able to digest food and drink. Because of that, our blood needed to be mixed with live blood in order to sustain us.

  Sure, I’d known Rick’s blood could hypnotize a human, but heal a vampire? That was something else entirely.

  “You want to elaborate on that?” I asked finally.

  He stepped forward so his body brushed my naked skin. The heat of it burned through his clothes. He’d fed recently.

  “This knowledge could be the signature on your death warrant, if you utter it to anyone else,” he warned.

  I blinked at him. “The ink on that’s been dry for centuries,” I told him.

  His eyes hardened. “Not here. The walls have ears,” he said finally, stepping back.

  “And knives,” I added. “If tonight’s attack was anything to go by.”

  He nodded. “The war has emerged from the shadows.”

  It was not a nice thought. “Seems to be,” I agreed. “Did you get any intel?”“Not from the attackers. They all burned.” His voice vibrated with fury. “What I could get out of them in their death throes was little more than pleading.”

  I scoffed in distaste. “It’s good to know the vampires fighting for the other side are complete and utter cowards.” Pleading? In the face of death. That was just embarrassing.

  The king nodded. “Most behind this rebellion are. But cowardice is more dangerous than bravery in times such as these.”

  My tangled thoughts jumped around more than normal while digesting that information. “Duncan,” I said suddenly. “Is he okay?”

  On cue, the door burst open and a bloodstained Scotsman stepped through it. His suit, which had been gray earlier that night, was almost entirely a dirty brown, with the distinct metallic smell of blood. His hair was matted with soot and who knew what else, and his face had been haphazardly wiped to
get the worst of his red mask off.

  “Are you psychic or something?” I asked, relief palpable in my tone. I didn’t have many friends, so I really didn’t need the ones I did have dying on me.

  He grinned. “Nope, been waitin’ out there to make an entrance.” He winked at me. “And securing meself a date for later this evening.” His eyes went over my naked pale skin. “Unless you’re offerin’?”

  Rick was gone from in front of me and back in a breeze, thrusting a shirt at me with a pointed gaze at Duncan.

  I shrugged into it unhurriedly.

  “Well, Em, you sure know how to throw a shindig,” Duncan declared, his eyes on my fingers as they fastened the white shirt that reached my midthighs.

  He met Rick’s steely gaze once I’d covered up all the interesting bits. “Not that I’m complaining, but I almost lost a good friend of mine tonight, which I think I would’ve been very fuckin’ brassed off about.” He gave me a soft look. “Glad you’re healed and not in the ground, lassie.”

  “Me too,” I replied cheerfully. “I plan on my death being a little more exciting than at a stuffy monarchy party.”

  He turned his attention back to Rick. “Even though she’s still up and about, I’m most motivated to ask who the fuck did it and who you’ve pissed off since we last saw each other.”

  Rick walked to the corner of the room and pressed a button, a bar unfolding from the wall.

  Nifty.

  He poured each of us glasses of whiskey. Duncan drained his before I’d even gripped the crystal properly. He darted back over to the bar to snag the bottle instead of going through the motions of pouring.

  “What? I’m Scottish,” he said to Rick.

  Rick took a sip of his own drink. “You know who this is, Campbell.”

  “What? Those new world order pricks? Last I heard they were an annoying mosquito.”

  “Fuck, you’re just as bad as Isla,” Rick muttered.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Duncan said as he swigged from the crystal tumbler.

  I nodded. “As you should. Not a higher one can be paid.”

  Rick wasn’t finding us amusing. Assassination attempts had him very testy.

  “As you can see, they’re a little more than a mosquito now,” Rick gritted out. “It’s fair to say that it’s not a small faction of rebellious vampires, nor is it exclusive to our race. Evidenced by the fact that both the wolves and witches experienced similar attacks tonight.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered, thinking of Sophie, but then deciding these assholes may have been doing her a favor by dispatching the witch queen.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Rick muttered. “Especially with the intel you’ve uncovered, Isla. Using their newest abominations as weapons is going to bring about a war the likes of which will rival the Uprising.”

  I raised my brow. Not that I didn’t think this was serious, but perhaps I hadn’t been treating it like it was anything… big. History’s battles like the Uprising showed magnificent and bloody battlefields that rippled through the species and filtered even to human’s books.

  I’d thought such rebellions were tucked in the past, the blood sunk into the soil and half-forgotten in lieu of a society that may still shed blood on a regular basis but wouldn’t go to war. We considered ourselves superior to humans, who were always warring over trivial things. Yet there we were, and I hadn’t even realized it to be so. I wondered idly if it had been the same for those in the war which decimated numbers on all sides before treaties were signed. Books always wrapped events up neatly, like a story that flowed with cohesion. Reality was rarely the same, splintered events clashing together with randomness until they culminated in a war. Until the bodies piled so high that all you could see was death.

  “Wait a second,” Duncan cut into my thoughts. “You’ve got Isla collecting intel?” His eyes flared and he glanced to me. “You said you weren’t here by choice.” Then his bottle smashed to the floor and he and Rick were a blur of bodies until they emerged with fresh blood coating their faces, fangs extended as they clutched each other’s necks.

  I sat back on the bed, crossing my legs and sipping my drink. I’d been in enough battles, plus I didn’t have enough testosterone to be involved in theirs.

  “What kind of shit have you got on Isla to force her to be your fuckin’ little soldier? ’Cause I know she’d rather file down her own fuckin’ fangs than become an employee of the monarchy,” Duncan hissed, voice slightly garbled from Rick’s hand at his throat.

  “Her survival is her primary motivator,” Rick rasped back. “Considering this faction has decided to make her one of their most wanted targets. My employ comes with my protection.”

  I raised a brow at that.

  “Your employ didn’t save me from the witch and her little monkeys who almost killed me. It was little old me who saved myself,” I cut in, unable to help myself. Oh, and the slayer I slept with, but I decided to keep that little gem to myself.

  Rick’s eyes cut to me. “That’s because the protection detail I had on you was busy chasing down the man who planted explosives in your apartment. Which they succeeded in diffusing.”

  I glared at the king. “You’ve had people following me?”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I’d failed to think of the possibility. Ice washed over me at the thought of the king’s royal guard witnessing me and Thorne in any way shape or form.

  Though the fact that I was still undead meant they obviously hadn’t. No matter how fond of me the king seemed, I knew he wouldn’t blink at executing me. That character trait was one of the primary reasons why His Highness was growing on me.

  That and he had a great ass.

  Rick gave Duncan a pointed look. “Better to let me explain without trying to choke me. You can try again once you’ve heard the whole story.”

  Duncan gave him a look before he released him. “I’m only doing this because you’re my mate, not that fuckin’ blue blood runnin’ through ye veins. You know I couldn’t give a shite about that.”

  Rick rubbed his throat. “Precisely why you’re the two vampires I can trust at this point in time.”

  I laughed. “Well that’s just sad. Duncan and I are the last people anyone should be trusting.”

  Duncan grunted in agreement.

  Rick shook his head. “Honesty, which you’ve disguised as insolence, makes you part of a very small circle that, after tonight, has gotten smaller.” His eyes went faraway before anchoring him back in the room.

  He focused on me. “Yes, you were being followed. For about one day. By happy accident it was the day the bomb was planted in your apartment. Then every time they attempted to do so they’d find themselves back at my compound, unable to articulate as to why,” he said, voice tight.

  I restrained a smile. I was so sending Sophie a Sephora voucher.

  “It seems there’s much more to you than meets the eye,” Rick continued. “When it became apparent that you could take care of yourself, I assigned your guards to monitor unusual activity at your apartment instead. Even then they found themselves unable to tell me about the comings and goings of your visitors.”

  Good thing. Or else Thorne’s head would not be attached to his shoulders and I would be subject to some very uncomfortable questioning.

  “So your fury is unfounded,” Rick continued evenly.

  I glared at him. “Not unfounded whatsoever. I take great offense at having anyone but Scott follow me. And that’s because I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I can’t kill him, so I’ve gotten used to him.”

  “Who is Scott?” Rick clipped.

  I rolled my eyes. “No one you need to worry your pretty little head about. You just need to remember that if you have me followed again, you won’t be just worried about this little war. You’ll be worrying about the lives of the soldiers who could be protecting you instead of dying because you’re a stalker who doesn’t even have the guts to do the stalking himself.”

  I
actually heard him grind his teeth. “It wasn’t stalking. It was protection.”

  Duncan clapped him on the back. “I’d quit while you’re ahead, Your Highness. Or behind. No use arguing with a regular woman under the best of circumstances, and this isn’t the best of circumstances and Isla isn’t a regular woman. She’ll likely grind them balls to dust if you keep going much longer,” he stated. “Plus, I think, if I weren’t mistaken, she was the one who almost died protecting your royal ass tonight.” His tone was a pleasant mixture of teasing and homicide.

  Rick’s eyes burned on mine.

  “You’re welcome,” I said cheerfully. “I’m sure you’ll bump up my salary for that one. Or at least my silence on the big bad king being saved by the little good Isla.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked, cracking the marble fury on his face. “I don’t pay you anything.”

  I grinned. “Exactly. That’s why I’m expecting a very generous raise.”

  He shook his head. “Is there ever a chance of staying on point with the two of you, even in the face of a war?”

  “Fuck no” was Duncan’s response as I shook my head.

  Rick rubbed his neck. “Well, let’s try. For our continued survival more than anything. Should that be a good motivator?”

  He took our silence as affirmation.

  “Right. So to fill in those who don’t have the knowledge about the precarious situation we find ourselves and our race in—”

  The buzzing of my phone cut the conversation short, even on vibrate and in my purse which somebody had thoughtfully placed on the chaise across the room.

  I hopped over to the sofa, holding up my finger to the very grumpy-looking king.

  Side note: even with bloodstained ruins of a custom suit and covered in soot from an explosion, he was practically sinful. Who was I kidding? He looked better than he ever would.

  His emerald eyes darkened in warning.

  “The precariousness of our race can take a pause,” I said, glancing down at Scott’s name flashing on the screen and the multitude of missed calls from him.