wanted to ignore his brother’s unspoken plea but he couldn ’t . Instead, he pushed himself to his knees and crawled over to his fallen and bloodied brother.
“How many more?”
“Four or five,” Jiro managed to answer through clenched teeth, his skin mottled and purple and the vessels in his eyes broken making him look like he had the plague. His silver-green eyes were brilliant with pain and tears and his color was ashen beneath the blood and Feryn knew he looked just as horrible.
Feeling her consciousness returning before she was ready, Malorie pushed her fingers into the cold ground to release the energy she could feel pulsing in her numb body. The earth shook as a tree burst through the ground and shot upwards, the roots curling deeper and deeper into the soil. As her thoughts calmed, she squinted her eyes open and looked up, way up, to see the mature tree that hadn’t been there moments before. With a smile, she let her eyes drift shut for a while longer, trying to find her center as her head continued to pound.
Groggily, feeling like ass, Malorie was still lying on the ground a few minutes later unwilling to open her eyes again as the memories of Feryn and his vampires and how much it had hurt to kill them echoed in her head. She could still feel the months of agony that followed as his body and soul recovered. But it was his first vampire he created, the last one he had destroyed, that bothered her the most because the creature could have been her twin. When he said goodbye, he had called her Malorie.
She was almost certain that the memory was mostly accurate, from the creation of the vampires to their destruction, but there was no way the vampire could have been her. It was like the memory of the girl from the opera house. It was a manifestation of her fear that Feryn was going to end up destroying her in the end when he no longer needed her. Hell, he had destroyed a part of himself to get rid of the vampires so what would he be willing to do to be rid of her?
Well, she wasn’t a vampire so there really wasn’t anything to worry about. He bound her to him but the converse was true as well: he was bonded to her, wearing her mark just as prominently as she wore the mark that curled along her skin. She just needed to adapt to their relationship, to his intensity.
Something nudged her ribs and she pried her eyes open and wished she hadn’t as blinding white light pierced her brain. It was freezing outside and she was lying in the middle of a forest and her tree was as majestic as any of the old trees there. She tried to stand up but she couldn’t get her body to obey such a complex command and ended up bringing her hand up to her eyes to shield them from the bright light. “Where am I?”
“Central Park, miss,” the man answered, his voice firm, deep, authoritative. Crap, a cop.
“I, um,” she turned her head, wincing when the stiff muscles screamed in protest. “I was mugged.”
“Really.” He didn’t sound like he believed her but what kind of person went out in the middle of winter wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt? Obviously something happened and a mugging made perfect sense.
“Yes, really,” she bit out through chattering teeth. “Some jackass hit me in the back of my head and that’s all I remember.”
The light faded a little, or she was just getting used to it, as the cop kneeled down and put a hand around her arm. The desire to flip him on his ass and run was almost enough to give her the strength to move. Instead, she let him haul her to her feet and prayed the world would stop spinning madly out of control. He started to let her go but when she teetered his strong arm was back, holding her steady. “Are you okay, Miss? Do you need a doctor or something?”
“No doctors,” she said with a shudder, remembering the brief time she spent in the hospital Christmas Eve. “Just give me a moment and I’ll be fine.”
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he said with kindness
“How many more?”
“Four or five,” Jiro managed to answer through clenched teeth, his skin mottled and purple and the vessels in his eyes broken making him look like he had the plague. His silver-green eyes were brilliant with pain and tears and his color was ashen beneath the blood and Feryn knew he looked just as horrible.
Feeling her consciousness returning before she was ready, Malorie pushed her fingers into the cold ground to release the energy she could feel pulsing in her numb body. The earth shook as a tree burst through the ground and shot upwards, the roots curling deeper and deeper into the soil. As her thoughts calmed, she squinted her eyes open and looked up, way up, to see the mature tree that hadn’t been there moments before. With a smile, she let her eyes drift shut for a while longer, trying to find her center as her head continued to pound.
Groggily, feeling like ass, Malorie was still lying on the ground a few minutes later unwilling to open her eyes again as the memories of Feryn and his vampires and how much it had hurt to kill them echoed in her head. She could still feel the months of agony that followed as his body and soul recovered. But it was his first vampire he created, the last one he had destroyed, that bothered her the most because the creature could have been her twin. When he said goodbye, he had called her Malorie.
She was almost certain that the memory was mostly accurate, from the creation of the vampires to their destruction, but there was no way the vampire could have been her. It was like the memory of the girl from the opera house. It was a manifestation of her fear that Feryn was going to end up destroying her in the end when he no longer needed her. Hell, he had destroyed a part of himself to get rid of the vampires so what would he be willing to do to be rid of her?
Well, she wasn’t a vampire so there really wasn’t anything to worry about. He bound her to him but the converse was true as well: he was bonded to her, wearing her mark just as prominently as she wore the mark that curled along her skin. She just needed to adapt to their relationship, to his intensity.
Something nudged her ribs and she pried her eyes open and wished she hadn’t as blinding white light pierced her brain. It was freezing outside and she was lying in the middle of a forest and her tree was as majestic as any of the old trees there. She tried to stand up but she couldn’t get her body to obey such a complex command and ended up bringing her hand up to her eyes to shield them from the bright light. “Where am I?”
“Central Park, miss,” the man answered, his voice firm, deep, authoritative. Crap, a cop.
“I, um,” she turned her head, wincing when the stiff muscles screamed in protest. “I was mugged.”
“Really.” He didn’t sound like he believed her but what kind of person went out in the middle of winter wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt? Obviously something happened and a mugging made perfect sense.
“Yes, really,” she bit out through chattering teeth. “Some jackass hit me in the back of my head and that’s all I remember.”
The light faded a little, or she was just getting used to it, as the cop kneeled down and put a hand around her arm. The desire to flip him on his ass and run was almost enough to give her the strength to move. Instead, she let him haul her to her feet and prayed the world would stop spinning madly out of control. He started to let her go but when she teetered his strong arm was back, holding her steady. “Are you okay, Miss? Do you need a doctor or something?”
“No doctors,” she said with a shudder, remembering the brief time she spent in the hospital Christmas Eve. “Just give me a moment and I’ll be fine.”
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he said with kindness
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