Last Blood
Hesitantly, Damian opened the bathroom door and stepped to the side. “Get Chrysabelle in bed. I’ll take care of the portal.”
Without another word, Mal carried Chrysabelle into the next room, Lilith toddling along at his side. He led her to a chair. “You sit here.”
She shook her head, reaching for him. “No. You stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Halfway to a full-on pout, Lilith threw herself into the chair. Then she crossed her arms and stared at him angrily. He sighed. He remembered that look from Sophia.
Shaking his head, he eased Chrysabelle onto the bed, then started undoing the elaborate leather gear she wore. The outfit was the last thing he’d expected her to wear, but she looked like a warrior goddess in it. Maybe that was the point. And now they both knew she really was a warrior. At least the daughter of one.
Half angel. He shook his head again.
Velimai walked in as he unbuckled the last strap. She stopped dead in her tracks and pointed to Lilith, mouth open in wonder.
“Explanation to come, but first I need something for Chrysabelle to sleep in.”
Velimai nodded, eyes still on Lilith. She went to the dresser and came back with a slip of white silk that seemed more like something he should be taking off Chrysabelle than putting on her. The fabric snagged on Velimai’s rough skin as she handed it over. When he took it, her hands started moving.
He grimaced. “You know I don’t understand signing.”
Velimai crooked her fingers and held them up to her mouth like fangs, then made an hourglass shape in the air and gave him a questioning look.
“Tatiana?” He loosened Chrysabelle’s top.
She nodded.
“Contained. Permanently.” He tugged the sheet over Chrysabelle before slipping the leather free. As soon as they were off, her belly swelled beneath the covers.
His mouth opened and he stared. “How… she didn’t look pregnant at all in the Garden.”
Velimai signed something else.
Mal growled. “Damn it, fae, go get your tablet.”
Rolling her eyes, Velimai left, her hands moving the whole time.
“Everything okay?” Damian came out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel.
“Other than that I can’t read fae sign language, yes.” He glanced at the bathroom. “Portal gone?”
“Completely.” A quick look at Lilith and he tossed the towel over his shoulder. “What was it like?”
“Beautiful.” And informative, but Damian would never be privy to the information Chrysabelle had received.
“I’m sure it was, but I meant killing—”
“She’s not exactly dead but she is contained. I’ll explain soon.” Mal adjusted the covers over Chrysabelle as he canted his head toward Lilith. Her crossed arms hung limp near her waist and her chin bobbed toward her chest. “I guess I need a bed for that one too.”
“There’s a guest room a few doors down. I can put her in there and then meet you downstairs.”
“Good.” Mal turned off the bedside lamp. “Then we’ll talk there.”
Damian scooped Lilith up and took her to the other room. Mal met Velimai on his way down the steps and brought her to the kitchen with him. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the bar on the way in. Velimai found glasses as Damian joined them at the table.
Mal filled the glasses, but Velimai ignored hers to scrawl on her tablet. The child is Lilith?
“Yes, that’s her. She ate fruit from the Tree of Life and it killed off her vampire side, leaving her mortal one intact. She survived it because she was born both vampire and human, never sired. She’s a hundred percent human now. And the only family she has left is here in Paradise City. That’s why we brought her back.”
Velimai nodded. Tatiana?
“She also ate fruit from the Tree and it also killed off her vampire side, but because her human side was already dead, she had no choice but to remain in the Garden if she wanted to live. There’s no death in the Garden. But if she leaves it, steps just one foot beyond its borders, she dies.” Somewhere down deep, the beast shifted uncomfortably at the reminder.
Velimai’s brows rose as she got up from the table, her lips pursing in a satisfied way. She leaned against the counter, taking slow sips of her whiskey.
“It’s done then.” Damian held his by the rim, turning it, but not drinking. He stared into the amber liquid as if he expected it to do something.
“Yes. Finally.” Mal tossed his back. The burn felt good. Reminded him that he was back on solid ground. He tipped his glass toward Damian. “Only works if you drink it.”
Damian kept his hand on the glass, shifting his eyes to look at Mal. “Now that Tatiana’s taken care of, what are your intentions with my sister?”
Mal almost smiled, but didn’t. “You mean am I going to make an honorable woman out of her?” Drain her.
“Yes.” Damian wasn’t amused.
Mal refilled his glass. “Absolutely. And I think she agreed while we were in the Garden, but she passed out before I could confirm it. I can’t force her to marry me.”
Damian sat back. “So you’ve asked her?”
“Several times.”
“And she’s said?”
“No. Not now. I need to think about it.” He downed the shot, mollified that the truth had sucked the anger out of Damian. “All her usual avoidance techniques.”