Embrace the Dark (The Blood Rose #1)(34)
Author: Caris Roane

Finally she found it. Are you dead?

Okay that came out wrong, but it was close to the question she wanted to ask.

Did she hear him chuckle?

No, I’m not dead. Close, though.

Oh. She felt too weak to be sad. Another question worked in her mind. Is there any way out of this mess?

Not sure. I can’t move.

Are you behind me?

Yes.

She rolled…sort of. More like scraping and pushing with a hand then her knee, maybe a foot. It was so hard to move and her ribs hurt like hell. Finally, she turned over onto her right side, but had to pant through a few more short breaths. Even then, she couldn’t see Gerrod. She couldn’t see anything. There was some kind of veil over her eyes.

With great difficulty, she lifted her hand and pushed the veil away, which turned out to be a wall made up of her hair.

Gerrod came into focus, sitting not five feet from her, and she smiled.

He was so handsome even though he looked like a bowl of cupcake flour right now, perfectly white. She chuckled, or thought she did, because he actually looked like a vampire. Gone was all that deep rich skin tone.

Okay, now she felt sad.

Gerrod. I don’t want this to be the end. We were just figuring things out.

He pathed, but a different language rippled through her mind. English, she murmured along that same amazing telepathic lane she’d learned to cruise so recently.

Chapter Seven

Gerrod closed his eyes. Looking at her felt like sharp glass cutting into his heart. She was right. They had just started figuring things out, like what a human was doing in his world, setting up a bakery in his lands, having the power to reach his personal frequency, why sex between them was earth-shattering.

But maybe the biggest question was why had he held back from her, resisted her so hard? Because in this moment nothing seemed more important than Abigail, this woman who had told him to ‘lighten up’, made him laugh, then took him to bed after the attack at the wedding when his heart was laden with all the unsolvable problems of his realm.

What a surprise she had been from the beginning. He had tried to get rid of her, for several reasons. Although this had been the main one, that she hadn’t been safe in his world.

Was this really to be the end? What would become of his people? Was it possible the Invictus were poised to dominate all the Nine North American Realms?

He opened his eyes once more. Abigail rested her head on her arm, breaths still shallow, eyes shut.

What came to him seemed to arrive on a golden stream of light, flooding his mind and helping him to understand the true state of his heart: Even if he should survive this moment, if Abigail perished, what joy would he ever know again? She had become this great, brilliant sun in his life, shining on everything, brightening the dullest shadow, giving ease to his heart, and great pleasure to his body. Even her blood had a special quality that…

The thought splintered and a new one was born.

Her blood.

Abigail’s blood. Her ‘blood rose’ blood. He had forgotten the unique properties of her blood, that it was impervious to wraith blood.

A plan began to form in his mind, a great deception.

Abigail, he sent.

Hunh? Barely there.

Would you do me the honor of becoming my blood rose?

A long, long pause.

Finally, Are you sure that’s what you want?

Yes. I think there is a mystery here and I intend to embrace it.

Her eyes fluttered open. He tilted his head to see her expression better. Was there a smile on her pale lips?

Would you be able to live if I agreed to become your blood rose?

I think so.

Then of course I’ll agree. But just so ya know, I was coming back, Gerrod. I had already made the decision to come back to Merhaine.

Just like that, it was settled between them, in a dank Invictus prison. Dear Goddess, just like that.

He shook his head. He understood then the greatest part of who she was and why he loved her as much as he did: She would always sacrifice herself for those she loved.

“Wraith,” he called out, but his voice was hardly more than a whisper. He took several deep breaths. “Wraith.” Stronger this time.

The wraith appeared, her red flowing gown moving about as though having a life of its own. Wraiths were always in flight and almost always barefoot. “Did you have something you wished to say, Mastyr of Merhaine?”

“I wish to complete the Invictus coupling you suggested to me earlier, with the human. I will not have her die because I am being stubborn.”

Gerrod?

Trust me.

The wraith’s eyes, all that silver, opened wide. “My mastyr will be pleased. Of course it is very experimental, but we have had profound results. One day, we will prevail.” And there it was, the truth of all this organization. A mastyr vampire had taken the Invictus in hand and now worked to build a force against all the realms.

“Don’t delay,” Gerrod said. “She will not live much longer.”

Her gaze lowered to Abigail. “The human is very weak but the coupling will heal her.”

She sped away, her robes flapping behind like great red wings.

Gerrod, are we to become Invictus?

Trust…me. His vision grew dark and as he slid down the wall, he hoped to hell the wraith took him at his word.

** *** ***

Abigail felt arms pick her up. She glanced to her left. The vampire who had taken her blood, probably joined to the wraith now hovering nearby, held her steady. She whimpered because of her ribs.

“You will grow stronger, never fear,” the wraith said, floating in front of Abigail. “Then you’ll see the true majesty of what we intend to accomplish in the realm world.”

A troll slave shuffled toward her. She bore a silver chain, threaded through iron rings that dangled from each ear. The chain was caught below her chin and clamped together and travelled inside her beige muslin shirt. Abigail didn’t want to know where it ended. The slave waited beside the wraith, her head tipped submissively down, or maybe it was the weight of the chain dragging down her ears.

“Slave, you will take the knife and open the human’s vein.”

The troll stepped close to Abigail, took her arm in her hand, then cut her wrist open, a deep wound that made Abigail cry out. She opened her eyes and saw that the wraith held a bowl beneath her arm. She watched what little blood she had left stream into the pure white vessel.

“Good. That will do.” The raspy voice of the wraith flowed down from above her.

The troll bound her arm with gauze as Abigail looked around. Gerrod lay on the floor on his side. He looked horribly still.