18. Talia

CHAPTER 18

Talia

M y eyes are heavy as I jolt awake, the fog clearing seconds after I sit straight up in bed, my heart pounding, something inside of me solidifying so sharply that tears come to my eyes.

It takes me a moment to remember where I am, the smell of Zachariah cocooning me as I look around his chambers. I'm alone in his bed, and I blow out a breath remembering that he'd gone to Conclave.

His departure isn't what woke me though. I know that in my bones.

I'm almost terrified to look down, despite what I feel connected and strong and thriving inside of me.

A tether to Zachariah, one that is unclouded and unburied. One that I can feel right now, with him on the other end of it at Conclave, content and peaceful and calm.

I glance down at my left wrist.

"Fuck me," I mutter out loud, my heart racing at the sight of the once faded mating mark now fully visible in whorls of black ink against my delicate skin.

Zachariah's mating mark.

My once-upon-a-time-mate has now become my present mate, my stupid, traitorous heart giving itself to him, offering itself up on a silver fucking planner.

Earlier tonight, I'd been terrified that I'd lost him, that notion overtaking every other logical thought in my mind as I took him in this bed, made love to him, bit him, and allowed him to bite me.

I love this male more than I've ever loved anything, but that doesn't immediately wash away the terror I feel at the thought of being heartbroken again. Can I trust him enough to feel secure? Trust him to never push me away again for the sake of a mission? Trust that he'll never again make choices for us under the guise of being in my best interest ?

My heart says I can…but my mind?

It's a mess—a tangled, anxious mess.

I hurry into my own chambers, slipping into my fighting leathers and grabbing my weapons bag, needing to get the hell out of this residence if only to clear my mind.

I need to hunt.

I need to drink in the fresh night air and sort out my chaotic thoughts.

I know I accepted this bond with my love for him. Know we're tied again, fate giving us a second chance to get this right.

But are either of us really in a position to do this properly this time?

The question plagues me as I grab a motorcycle from the well-stocked garage in the king's residence, silently thanking whoever owns it as I speed through the gates, heading down the night-drenched street with no real hunting destination in mind.

I just have to get away.

I need to be somewhere I don't have a chance of running into Zachariah and risk him seeing the mark without my mind fully clear. I need to remember the huntress I am and to figure out how to be both the female I've grown into and the mate I can be to him.

I can be both, right? We can get it right this time, can't we? We just have to communicate better. I need him to assure me he won't keep me in the dark anymore, and he needs my assurance that I won't shut him out because of what he'd done to me in the past.

We need to start anew, but how am I supposed to do that with my mind as chaotic as it is right now?

No, I need time.

Just a night or two. That's all I needed. And maybe a good hunt. A couple nights away would do me wonders, allowing me to set my priorities straight?—

Zachariah materializes in the middle of the street, and I slam on my brakes, the smell of burnt rubber smoking around me as I come to a halt just an inch before him.

His hands hit the handlebars, and he reaches over, killing the ignition as I flip out the kickstand and dismount.

I take off the helmet, resting it on the seat as I look up at him, anger and confusion grounding me in the present moment. "Zachariah," I chide him. "I just need some time?—"

"I don't have to do anything," he says, his voice cold and more callous than I've ever heard it before. "And you have such little time left, Talia."

I tilt my head at the way he said my name, so familiar but?—

Something hot and sharp spears into my left side. I glance down in shock at the dagger sunk to the hilt, Zachariah's fingers closed around it.

"Why?" The word is a broken whisper, my heart racing, the pain blinding and searing as blood spills from the wound.

I drop to my knees, glancing up at Zachariah, his image going fuzzy around the edges before his skin starts to ripple over his face, his features shifting into Conrad's.

"Nifty trick, right?" he says, crouching down to be eye level with me. "You'd be surprised what powers can emerge from your arsenal when you stop feeding like you're on a diet." He grabs the dagger and yanks it from my side, more blood gushing from the wound.

A whimper escapes my throat and my body trembles as I cover the open gash. My hands are immediately soaked in blood.

"Relax," he says, shaking his head at me. "I'll have you healed in a few minutes. I just want to talk."

"About what?" I gasp, anger sweeping away the pain for a few blissful seconds. I grapple for my power, only gathering wisps of it here and there, thanks to the wound he delivered. If I could cling to it, I could turn that dagger in his hand on himself?—

"Trouble with your powers, Talia?" he asks, looking at the blood-soaked blade. "Night Thistle is such a wonderful thing," he says, looking at the blade lovingly. "Though you should be grateful I only put a small dose on this. Can't have you using those pretty powers of yours against me. Not until you've heard me out, at least."

I furrow my brow, trembling on the cold asphalt.

"As much as I've enjoyed our game of cat and mouse, I think it's time we stopped playing with each other. I told you that night at the auction I wanted you, and that still stands."

"What?"

His features shift again, shaping into a handsome face that I recognize from the night Zachariah and I had set a trap for him at the silent auction at the museum. He was the stranger that had hit on me, the harmless human I thought simply had a boatload of confidence in order to approach me.

His features shift back to his normal self, a malicious smile shaping his face. "I understood why you turned me down then, with your little flock of hunters following you around like lost puppies, especially the one you've always doted on." He rolls his eyes. "It's the reason I haven't been able to approach you lately. You haven't been alone, except for tonight. And I think the sooner you realize that you were running toward me instead of chasing after me, the better off you'll be."

I swallow hard, feeling my consciousness doing its best to slip away to alleviate me of the pain. I cling to my senses, doing my best to stay awake.

"I know you've enjoyed my little Easter egg hunt. You and your new friends," he continues, grinning like this is all some amusing game. "I certainly enjoyed creating the pointless mission to keep you all busy. Although, I thought you would catch on quicker. You're valuable to me, with your skills and your power. I wanted you centuries ago and I want you now. I've watched you for months, Talia, and you would be a formidable asset at my side. To our cause." He sighs. "You see, I would treat you as an equal." He bends down, dragging a finger down my cheek. "I would've never gone into stasis without you. I would've let the world burn around us if it meant I got to keep you. You would be privy to everything, and would act as a weapon, an asset, not some ankle weight shackling me to one place like he treats you."

"Don't believe me?" he continues, reaching into his pocket as he retrieves the small statue of his late wife that he'd stolen from the museum. "Let me prove it to you, shall I? You see this?" He grips it in a fist, breaking the stone and letting it crumble to the ground next to me, revealing a corked vial. "This is what I was after all along, a rare vial of Night Thistle my dear late wife happened upon while she was playing with her potions. Only vampires at full strength can withstand this," he says. "And we're already working on duplicating it. Soon we'll be able to turn the power back into the right hands. Eliminate any vampires who are a threat to the true future of our kind, regardless of age or power."

He's insane.

I loosen the grip on my wound, knowing the more blood I let spill the quicker the poison will be free from my veins. If I can hold on long enough to grab my power again and snatch that out of his hand, I can put an end to this.

"Don't you see that you're on the losing side? With my inner circle, and the force of the Sons of Honor at our back, you and your hunters and that pathetic excuse for a king stand no chance. We already have more supernaturals on our side than you even know about, and the last thing I want is to see you killed in a bloody battle that you have no business being in."

I shake my head, whimpering again at the rush of pain that splits down the center of me.

"Conrad," I say, hating that this is what he's turned into. "You're better than this. You used to be?—"

"Don't do that," he says, his smile falling. "Don't pretend like you ever cared for me. You're better than that. We were acquaintances at best, especially once you turned down my attempts to court you."

"What happened to you? Conrad, we used to be friends."

He crouches down, his hand cupping my cheek, pain lining the features on his face. "I know," he says. "Don't you know that's why I'm doing this? I didn't want to hurt you. I had to, don't you see? If I didn't injure you, you would've immediately launched into a fight and you wouldn't listen to me. I need you to understand, your place is on our side. Your place is with me ."

I swallow hard, a cold sweat popping on my brow. "You keep saying our?—"

Gravel crunches as another vampire steps out of the shadows, wending in. For a split second, I think Saint stumbled upon me, and I'm overcome with relief, but as the moonlight drenches him, I can tell it's not Saint.

It's Samuel.

"Talia?" Samuel asks, grinning down at me. "What's it been, a few centuries? I knew Conrad spoke about your little chase, but seeing you is a whole other thing. You looked better the last time I saw you."

I try to muster a snarky retort, but I'm so damn weak, the blood loss and the poison doing everything to render me absolutely useless.

Why do I always have to go off on my own?

Conrad glares up at Samuel. "Enough of that," he snaps. "Heal her."

Samuel slides his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. "Now why in the hell would I heal Zachariah's mate? He'll be weakened beyond repair the moment he feels her die." He smiles, eyes brightening.

Conrad stands up, stomping toward Samuel. "You promised. This was part of the plan."

Samuel laughs, and I realize that he's just as convincing as he's always been, drawing people into his plans and inspiring a twisted loyalty that I'll never understand.

I feel so damn bad for Saint and the others.

And the weaker I feel, the more I realize I'm losing my shot.

Zachariah and the other hunters have been searching for Samuel for a very long time.

And I'm done taking on this fight alone.

I dig deep inside myself, snatching up that mating bond that I wanted to deny for so long, jerking it to attention and mentally whispering Zachariah as I watch no less than thirty bloodmad vampires stumble in behind where Samuel and Conrad are still bickering.

Fuck me, we're all going to die.