13. Chapter 13

13

Chapter 13

Darick

I slam the door of my study, my hands shaking as I struggle to contain the beast within. The taste of that witch's lips lingers, a sharp contrast to the blood I just consumed. Centuries of control, shattered by one kiss.

Pull yourself together, Drake!

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I head to one of the wide bookshelves, running an eye over the many spines packed in neat rows.

"The answer might be here," I mutter, wishing I didn't sound like a madman. It wouldn't be the first time I've looked here. Yet, I yank out ancient tomes, desperate to know more.

The Bloodbane.

What do we know about it really? I've heard stories, seen its effects on others, but never imagined it would claim me. I pore over faded texts, searching for any mention of a cure, a precedent, anything to explain this maddening connection I've felt with the witch.

Page after page yields nothing but frustration. I hurl a book across the room, watching it crash against the wall.

"There has to be something," I growl, reaching for another volume. My eyes scan frantically, latching onto a passage about blood allergies in vampires. It's vague, unhelpful, but it's all I have.

Face it. You have nothing.

If there was anything in here, it would have been shared by now. I'm not the first to face this.

A knock at the door interrupts my frenzied research. I smell him before I hear his voice. Marcus.

"Darick?" he calls, concern lacing his tone. "Are you alright? The staff said you had some kind of…episode."

I hesitate, unsure if I can face him in this state. But if anyone can help me make sense of this, it's Marcus.

"Come in," I rasp, my voice hoarse with thirst. It shouldn't be having this effect on me – there's been more than one time in my life that I've had to go without feeding for this long. It's never pretty, but something is different this time.

You're desperate.

I push the thought aside.

The door opens, and Marcus steps into the room, his eyes widening as he takes in the chaos of my study and my disheveled appearance.

"What happened?" he asks, closing the door behind him.

I meet his gaze, forcing myself to keep mine steady. "Thought I'd do some research."

He runs a look around the room. Books are scattered everywhere, pages of notes discarded on the floor. "Research?"

I lean against my desk, trying to appear casual and failing dismally. "It's getting worse, Marcus."

He raises an eyebrow. "The Bloodbane?"

I nod, clenching my jaw. "I tried more of the stored blood. My reaction was…extreme."

Marcus's expression remains neutral, but I catch the flicker of concern in his eyes. "You know what this means, Darick. Those afflicted by the Bane…they don't tend to fare well within their clans."

"You think I don't know that?" I snap, then immediately regret it. "Sorry. I'm just…"

"On edge?" Marcus offers drily. "Understandable, given the circumstances."

I run a hand around the back of my neck, massaging tight muscles there. "I can't let this threaten my position. The clan needs strong leadership, especially with Lucien stirring up trouble."

Marcus nods, his tone matter-of-fact. "True. But you can't lead if you're starving. We need to find a solution."

"I know." I turn away, unable to meet his gaze. The memory of that scent, the intoxicating pull of her sweet blood, floods my senses. I want to tell him, to confide in my oldest friend. But the words stick in my throat.

"What aren't you telling me?" He knows me too well.

"Nothing," I lie, making my way to my desk and sinking into my seat. I slump back in it, trying not to look defeated.

"Darick," Marcus says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You're not alone in this. Whatever you're holding back, it might help us figure this out."

I close my eyes, torn between the need for secrecy and the desire for help. When I open them again, I see Marcus watching me, patient and loyal as always.

"There's something else," I begin, then hesitate. How much can I reveal without raising uncomfortable questions? If I can hear her thoughts, she can hear mine. Has she overheard clan plans?

Fuck!

I can understand why she reacted so badly when she heard me in her thoughts. She's given me a clear path into their most secret places. But I've done the same to her.

"Something else?" Marcus presses.

I stare back at him. "I—" I begin, but I'm cut off by a sharp knock at the door. Dammit. "Yes?" I call.

"Lord Drake." Sebastian, my principal manservant, walks in. "You have a guest."

"Who is it, Sebastian?" I respond, already having a sinking feeling. Sebastian's lip is curled in distaste.

"Lord Marlowe. Would you like me to send him away?" Sebastian looks like he'd be delighted to do it.

And I'd like nothing more.

"No," I heave a sigh, waving a hand. "Send him in." Despite my current state of mind, I can't avoid him. And I'd like to see what he has to say about the night with the witches in the grove.

Minutes later, Sebastian is back and I watch as Lucien saunters into my study, arrogance oozing. Sebastian closes the door behind him, leaving us. Marcus stands silently by my side, a silent sentinel.

"Darick," Lucien purrs, his eyes gleaming with barely concealed malice. "What a pleasure to see you looking…so well."

I don't look well at all.

I force myself to remain outwardly calm despite the hunger gnawing at my insides. "Cut the pleasantries, Lucien. I know you were behind the attack on the witches."

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "Oh? And what evidence do you have to support such an accusation?"

"I was there," I growl, my patience wearing thin. "I saw your men."

Lucien chuckles, the sound grating on my nerves. "My men? I'm flattered you think I have such influence. But really, Darick, you should know better than to make such bold claims without proof."

I clench my fists, wanting to lash out. The thirst intensifies, making it harder to focus. Lucien's eyes narrow, and I realize he's studying me intently.

"You seem…distracted, old friend," he says, his tone making a mockery of his words of concern. "Not feeling quite yourself lately?"

My heart races. Does he know? I've had my suspicions since the last gathering of the Assembly. But the only one I've told is Marcus. Unless one of the servants…

Shit.

It's not like I've hidden some of my behavior. Tonight's lapse is a perfect example. I force myself to maintain eye contact, not giving an inch. "I'm fine, Lucien. Your concern is touching but misplaced."

He takes a step closer, and I resist the urge to recoil. "Are you sure? You look a bit…pale. Even for a vampire." His gaze flicks to the empty blood glass on my desk. "Having trouble keeping things down?"

I feel Marcus tense beside me, ready to intervene if necessary. I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I said I'm fine. Now, cut to the chase. What are you here for?"

"Just a social visit, Lord Drake. After our last conversation, I thought we should settle our differences."

I give a snort. "You mean pour oil on troubled waters, Marlowe?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say they're troubled…unless that's how you feel?" He raises an eyebrow. His eyes are calculating.

"I'm not troubled at all." I rest back in my seat, an elbow on the armrest, a picture of calm detachment. "In fact, I'm feeling more settled every day. Settled in the knowledge that it's only a matter of time before I figure out what you're up to."

"Why would I be up to anything? I'm simply concerned about the welfare of our people."

"You've never been concerned about anything except your own welfare." I give him a level stare. Memories of battle cries and dying men's screams still fill my head whenever I look into those cold, flat eyes.

"Ah, now I'm hurt." He chuckles. He's hovering at the edge of my desk. I don't offer him a seat. He looks around the room. "You know, this place hasn't changed a bit since I was last here. What was that…a century ago?"

"Probably more."

"Pity I don't get more invitations to visit." He glances at Marcus.

"That's because I don't want you here. Pity you can't take the hint."

What the fuck does he want?

Somehow, I'm pretty sure I know what he wants. He wants to gauge my strength. He wants to see how I react to him appearing unannounced. He wants to throw me off balance.

I won't give him the satisfaction.

"Now, if you have nothing of substance to say, I suggest you leave." There's ice in my voice.

Lucien's smile widens, revealing the tips of his fangs. "Of course, Darick. Far be it from me to overstay my welcome." He turns to go but pauses at the door. "Oh, and do take care of yourself. It would be such a shame if anything were to…weaken your position within the clan."

With that parting shot, he's gone, leaving me fighting down rage. I've really been struggling to control my temper lately.

I turn to Marcus as soon as Lucien's gone, my jaw clenched. "He's testing me."

Marcus nods, his expression grim. "Hoping to get a rise out of you. He's probing for weaknesses."

"Do you think he knows?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. "About the Bloodbane? That I have it?"

Marcus's eyes narrow. "We should assume he does. Lucien has eyes and ears everywhere. It's safer to prepare as if he knows everything."

I slump back in my chair, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "We need to put some plans in place."

"I agree," Marcus says, his voice firm. "We need to shore up our defenses, keep our vulnerabilities hidden. I'll see to it personally."

With a nod, he leaves, and I'm alone again with my thoughts. They immediately drift to her – the witch. Her scent, her taste, the way her pulse quickened when I was near. I don't even know her name, and yet I'm consumed by thoughts of her.

And now there's a new concern. If Lucien suspects anything, she could be in danger, too.

Why should I care?

Because any attack on a witch could lead to trouble for us. That's all it is. But even as I think the words, I know that I'm lying to myself. There's more to this.

The stored blood is useless now, and I know deep down that only one thing will satisfy this craving.

Her blood.

I need to see her again.