Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Atticus was mad at her. Really mad.

He wouldn't talk to her. She didn't think she'd miss it, seeing as she was used to silence, but at some point she'd acclimated to his chatter.

Carmine sat in the passenger's seat, her hands flat on her knees, and stared out at the road. They'd passed out of the desert and had begun to wind through mountains. They took strange, twisty roads where they almost never passed another vehicle. She wasn't sure why, but she guessed it had something to do with avoiding cities or authorities.

They never said it in the crypt, but it didn't take a genius to understand that something about her situation was illegal. The authorities wouldn't have shown up at their door otherwise, and the priests wouldn't have scrambled to sell their brides so quickly if they didn't worry about what would happen if they were caught.

I wonder if they gave a discount on me.

She didn't want to be a blood bride, so what did she care that she was the last to go? They always said she was too tall. That she should have tried harder at her music lessons, her budgeting classes, her childcare scores. Everything that might have made her a more desirable bride had either been out of her reach due to lack of natural skill or simply uninteresting to her.

It wasn't that the other brides flew out the door regularly. No one wanted a bride that was too young, since the likelihood of conception increased dramatically after thirty. Like her, most of the brides were there for decades, often from the time before they could properly talk. They had to fill their time with something, and the matron encouraged pursuits that would make them more desirable.

The thought that she was perhaps the least desirable of the lot had always cheered her up. Not now.

Now, sitting in tense silence after experiencing the best night of her life, she couldn't help but think of all those deficiencies, the parts of her that might make a man like Atticus choose someone more suitable.

Carmine dared to sneak a look at him. He sat like a statue in the driver's seat, his jaw clenched and his eyes unreadable. He hadn't spoken to her since she fed from him. No pushing bottles of synth her way. No explaining the route they were on.

No offers to let her drink again.

Her eyes inevitably drifted to the puncture wounds on his neck and the bloom of bruises around it. Her heart rate skyrocketed every time she saw it.

Carmine had never dreamed of feeding from another person before. She'd lived on synth all her life, and then the matron had always drilled it into their heads that their spouses would probably not allow them to bite. The few times she'd pictured it, the act had been purely mechanical — like poking a straw into a drink, or putting one's head under the tap rather than getting a glass. Nothing extraordinary. Just different than how she normally did it.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Drinking from Atticus was everything. Not just because she felt completely full for the first time in her life, and not because it fulfilled an innate urge she'd never acknowledged.

It was him. The way he smelled. The warmth of his skin. The weight of his hands on her waist. The low, raspy rumble of his voice. When the bliss of releasing her venom hit her, some stranger took over her body, flushing her with needs she'd never even known existed.

Arousal. The craving not just for blood, but for touch. For his gruff noises, his hot, puffing breaths, the spotlight of his absolute focus on her and her alone.

She knew all about arousal because she'd read about it, had been instructed on how to stoke it in a partner. She knew that sexual interest came with a series of symptoms like lubrication, elevated heart rate, restlessness, and a higher body temperature. An orgasm was the end goal, and resulted in a rush of endorphins as well as biological material. If she was lucky, the matron explained, sex would be quick, fruitful, and relatively painless.

Why didn't anyone say it was like that?

Carmine wanted to storm back to the crypt and shake the old woman by the hair. If she'd known that it could feel like that, she would have tried to defile herself a decade ago.

The memory of his taste, the sounds he made, how he'd made her feel with his big, rough hands and hungry kisses haunted her every second of the night. As did the stupid word that had ruined it all: defilement.

Her orgasm and the lush meal she'd sipped from Atticus's throat were tainted by that word. As soon as it left her mouth, he'd gone cold and stiff, his expression almost horrified. In a choked voice, he'd asked, "Is that what you're angling for, Carmine? Is that— Did you plan this?"

She was too overwhelmed to try lying, so she'd remained silent, hoping he'd let it go and not notice the guilt written across her face. Of course it only took him a second to put it all together, and when he did…

Well, she supposed he could have reacted in worse ways than giving her the cold shoulder. It hurt, though.

It probably wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't given her a taste of paradise before ripping it all away from her, but she had no one to blame for that but herself.

Drawing her knees up to her chest, she leaned away from him and turned her attention to the passenger's window. If he could be believed, this was the last night they'd be in the RV together. They'd meet whoever Harlan sent and she'd be passed off at dawn.

After that, there was no telling what would happen to her.

The thought terrified her. She didn't want to leave Atticus. Even when he was angry, he was at least familiar. His presence comforted her. He made her feel safe for the first time in her life. The thought of separating from him made her want to throw up the precious gift he'd given her.

Would Michael be nice? Or would she be passed off and find herself in a worse situation? What if she never saw Atticus again?

Something clawed at her insides when she imagined getting into a car without him. Something ugly and fearful. Something that screamed.

Atticus's anger had sucked all the air out of the RV, and that thing in her couldn't stand it. She understood seducing him came with risks, but Carmine underestimated how it would feel to be rejected, let alone endure his quiet sort of wrath.

Fuck no, he'd said. Why hadn't she taken the hint?

Her stomach turned again. Would she be able to try again with another man? A day ago she wouldn't have hesitated, but now she imagined it'd be a bit like answering the question, "If you were trapped under a boulder, would you cut your arm off with a spoon to survive?"

Yes, if her only other option was a slow death. But she didn't want to.

Carmine turned her face into her arms. Her hair slid over to create a curtain between them. She missed her veil. She missed being able to hide — not just her face, but everything about her. He'd seen her unveiled, inside and out. Her veil wouldn't have erased the fact that he knew more about her than anyone in the world, nor wipe away the memory of his touch, but it would have been a comfort, at least.

"Carmine."

She jumped. Her muscles coiled tight. He sounded gruff. Cold. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Adrenaline made her head swim and her palms sweat. Is this it?

Any minute now he'd tell her that he'd lied, that something awful was coming and she was powerless to stop it. He'd tell her how repulsed he was by her attempt to seduce him and that she'd be lucky if he didn't tell her groom.

Unconsciously holding her breath, she gripped her arms so hard, her claws bit into her skin.

"We're coming up on an EVP checkpoint. I've already got pre-approval with the guard — he's a friend — but if we get stopped, just act normal and don't say anything."

She had no idea what normal meant. If he wasn't so angry at her, she would have asked him. Instead, she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. You're okay. It's just a checkpoint. He's not getting rid of you.

Yet.

The checkpoint turned out to be little more than a small building with a gate attached to it that was lowered over the road. It blazed with light. Carmine squinted at it from over her arms, but otherwise didn't move. She barely breathed when Atticus pulled to a slow stop in front of the gate.

A moment later, a man with dark skin and a wide, gleaming smile strode out a door. He was adjusting something that looked a little bit like a cowboy hat on his head as he made his way to the driver's side window. Dressed in a crisp gray uniform and shiny badge, he looked perfectly at ease when he knocked on the window with a knuckle.

"That you, Caldwell?"

Nodding, Atticus replied, "Hey, John. You get my message?"

"Yup."

"Everything good?"

"Business as usual, ‘cept we've got a supervisor in town," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Gotta make sure we earn those Sovereign-given benefits, I guess."

"Is that gonna be an issue for us?"

"Nah. You're a citizen. You can cross over." Carmine couldn't see much, but when she caught a glimpse of the brim of his hat, she thought he might be peering around Atticus to peek at her. "Who's that with you?"

Atticus shook his head. His tone changed, but Carmine had no idea what it meant. "A friend."

There was a pause. She desperately wished she could have seen Atticus's expression when John drawled, "Ah, I see how it is. Well?—"

"Garcia."

Carmine looked up to find a tall figure standing in the doorway of the building. It took her a second to figure out what she was looking at, mostly because she'd never seen a being like them in person before.

Their skin was forest green, their ears pointed, and their hair shorn close to the scalp. The collar of their uniform was higher than John's. Or maybe it was just buttoned all the way up. Either way, it covered their entire throat. When they began to stride over, Carmine was amazed by the liquid grace they moved with.

That's an elf.

She knew they were headed to elvish territory, but for some reason she never considered that she'd see one of them.

John cleared his throat and stepped back from Atticus's window. "Captain," he muttered. "I was just giving these folks the all clear. The driver's a citizen."

"I see." The elf stopped by the front wheel. Carmine sat up a little so she could watch them through the windshield. Quick, dark eyes assessed the RV before locking onto Atticus. A brow arched. "Camping?"

"A road trip to pick up a friend," he answered, smooth as could be. "She's moving."

The elf's eyes didn't waver from Atticus. "What's in the trailer?"

"Just some boxes with her stuff."

"I scanned your RV. Is there a reason your vehicle is registered to the Neutral Zone if you're from the EVP?"

"I flew over there to pick her up," he answered with a casual flick of his fingers. "Seemed easier to rent an RV and trailer when I got there than lug them across the continent."

"Mind if I look inside the trailer?"

"Be my guest. You're gonna think I'm an idiot, though. I overestimated how much shit she'd have, so it's mostly empty." A wry note entered his voice. If she didn't know the truth, Carmine would have believed him without hesitation. "She just left temple life, so I guess I should have known, but I've got a sister, so…" He shrugged.

The elf's expression didn't get any friendlier. They gestured for Atticus to get out of the vehicle.

Something in Carmine's chest went unbearably tight as she watched him unbuckle his seatbelt and open the door.

She must have made some kind of noise, because Atticus's head swiveled around to look at her. "Hey," he murmured, "it's okay. I'm not going anywhere, okay? This is routine stuff."

Carmine had no way of knowing if that was true or not, and she hated seeing him hop out of the RV. She hated watching him disappear, the elf and a tense John trotting behind him.

There was some noise, the sound of voices, and then they reappeared. It couldn't have taken longer than two minutes, but it felt like an eternity. She watched Atticus's face like a hawk as he climbed back inside. He looked totally unbothered.

Leaning an elbow out the open window, he asked, "We good to go?"

"One more thing."

The elf appeared again, but they didn't stop walking when they hit Atticus's window. This time, their eyes were trained on Carmine. "Miss, could you step out of the vehicle, please?"

Carmine's gaze flickered to Atticus. If she couldn't see the white-knuckled fist on the seat, hidden from the Patrol officers, she would have thought he was completely unconcerned. "She's shy," he said, tilting his head toward her. "Temple girl, remember? Might be best to just talk through the window."

The elf offered him a cold, close-lipped smile. "I'll be nice. Miss, if you could step out. I only want to ask a couple questions."

Carmine swallowed and glanced at Atticus again. He met her gaze. Something dark and inscrutable snaked through his eyes, but he nodded. "Everything's okay, doll. Don't worry. I'm right here."

Her hand trembled when she unlatched her belt and reached for the door. She wasn't even sure why, only that she perceived some danger in this situation. Not for her, but for Atticus.

She'd barely touched her slippers to the road before the elf gestured for her to step a bit away from the RV. Carmine felt all eyes on her as she shuffled over. Knotting her fingers in front of her, she waited for the elf to ask their questions.

"What's your name?" The elf's voice was almost unrecognizable. It was softer, lower. Gentle, almost. Carmine looked up in surprise and found the elf had their back to the RV. The headlights cast them in a soft yellow glow that scattered into a hundred different colors when it touched their skin and shorn hair. The cold captain was gone, replaced by someone with bright eyes and a deep frown.

"Carmine."

"Pretty. You got an ID, Carmine?"

"I… Yes, a chip." I think.

"Good. Can I see?"

Since she didn't think it would hurt anything, she held out her left hand. The elf unhooked a small scanner from their belt and hovered it over her palm. After a moment, there was a low beep. The elf squinted at the screen.

In her work, Carmine had scanned hundreds of ID chips, but it'd never occurred to her to scan her own. The matron got her one when she was fourteen, but seeing as she never left the crypt, she didn't have cause to use it. She'd simply forgotten it was there.

Recalling the hundreds of records she'd pulled up over her career, Carmine wondered what the captain would see there. Vaccination records and birth year, probably. No bank accounts or driver's license. Nothing important.

"Carmine Safi. Current residence is Mooresville, North Carolina, Neutral Zone."

Carmine Safi.

She blinked rapidly. Decades of being told she had no family, no family name, had scrubbed it from her memory, but as soon as it left the captain's lips, she remembered. Safi. Her father's family name.

It was a bittersweet thing to remember, and to know that it had been lost for so long, hovering just out of sight. Old grief thumped her hard, right in the center of her chest.

Her gaze wandered over the captain's shoulder, back to Atticus. He was watching her. The unaffected mask was gone. His eyes were wild, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. Those broad shoulders were hiked up to his ears and his dark brows lowered at a sharp angle. He looked like he might leap out of the RV at even the smallest signal of distress.

Carmine shuffled her feet. She wanted to go to him. To tell him her name. Instinct promised her that if she got close enough, the ache in her chest would go away. He'd chase it off somehow. He'd make it all better, then take her away to some place soft and dark and close, where they could indulge in one another forever.

"…certified mortician."

She blinked and forced herself to focus on the captain. "Yes?"

"Is that what you're coming to the EVP for, Miss Safi? Are you looking for a new job?"

She licked her lips. "I… Yes. I want to start a new life here." It was true enough.

The elf clipped their scanner back onto their belt. They took one step closer. Even though they lowered their head, Carmine still had to crane her neck to meet their gaze. "Miss Safi, you can tell me anything right now, okay? I'm not going to judge you or get angry. I'd like you to be honest with me."

"Okay."

"Do you need some help?"

Electricity snapped down her spine and jolted every nerve. Her eyes opened wide. I could ask for help.

She looked into the elvish captain's dark gaze and realized she could escape. Right at that moment. She could say yes, tell them everything — that she'd been a blood bride, that she didn't want to be, that all she needed was a chance to live on her own. It was a risk, but was it any bigger than trusting Atticus?

If her heart beat any faster, she thought it'd pop. Just burst like a bloody balloon in her chest.

"If you're in danger, even if you just don't want to be near the man in the RV, I can walk you inside the station over there and you'll never see him again," the captain murmured. "I'll protect you. Make sure you get some help."

You'll never see him again.

The elation crashed, leaving her shaken and a little queasy. She glanced at Atticus again. She didn't think he could hear them, but he seemed to sense something was off anyway. He'd leaned over. His expression was stark, the tendons of his neck pulled taut.

I'd never see him again.

That thing in her screamed so long and loud, it blocked out everything else.

"I'm okay," she heard herself say, from some great distance.

The elf's face creased with worry. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Carmine wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. Everything was a risk. No one could be trusted. But…

"He's mine. I want to be with him."

"He's yours?"

"He's my anchor," she lied, mostly to herself.

The elf didn't look entirely convinced, but they did take a step back. "I saw a bite, but… Isn't he a vampire?"

"I'm neutral," she replied, glancing around reflexively, like someone might pop out of the woods and snatch her the moment the words left her mouth.

It took a second for the elf to understand what she was saying. "Oh. So you can— Oh." They ran their gloved fingers through the short bristles of their hair. "So he's your consort?"

"My what?"

"Your mate."

"Oh, um…" Carmine brushed her hair over her shoulder, hopefully hiding her blush from everyone, including Atticus. An anchor was supposed to be forever, and in her fantasy she liked the idea of never letting Atticus go, but reality was a different matter. Carefully managed, anchors could be temporary, and she and Atticus certainly had no claim on one another. Especially after she'd blown whatever chance she had the previous night.

"It's new. Depends on if he wants to be."

The elf made a face. "So odd."

"What is?"

"The idea that you might not know. Or that you might make the wrong choice." They shook their head. "Elves are different."

Carmine blinked owlishly up at them. "Well, you are green."

When the elf smiled, they flashed two sets of razor sharp fangs. "You've got me there." They jerked their head toward the RV. "You sure?"

"Yes." Gods, I hope so.

"All right then." They stepped aside.

Carmine hustled around them, eager to get back to the relative safety of the RV, but she didn't dare meet Atticus's gaze as she clambered back into the passenger's seat. She'd only just clipped herself in when there was a knock on her window.

When she lowered it, the elf gave her a long look and said, "It was nice chatting with you, Miss Safi. I hope your new life works out. I'm sure you'll find a job as a mortician here. Gods know we need more good people willing to tend to the dead."

Carmine offered her a small smile. "Thank you. For that and— and for the other thing. I really appreciate it."

The elf patted the door. "No worries. Have a good night." They looked past Carmine and nodded. "You drive safe."

Atticus's voice came out a little lower than normal when he replied, "Wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

"And Miss Safi?"

"Yes?"

"You need anything, you go to Patrol. Ask for Captain Bennet. They'll find me. Understood?"

Carmine's throat went tight with gratitude. "Understood."