Blood Ties by Iris Walker

Author:Iris Walker [Walker, Iris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-30T06:00:00+00:00

She didn’t remember anything after seeing Clay’s blood seep down the wooden block. It was like static, like someone had pulled the cord on her brain and left a giant, gaping black hole in its place. The next thing she was aware of was when she floated back into her body and found herself once more in Fausta’s chambers. She was laying on the bed, freezing cold, her hands like ice, her lips and nose numb. Why am I so cold? she thought distantly. Her hands were shaking, but not with fear. She was shivering. Woozy memories floated by, like she was trying to remember a dream but couldn’t quite grasp it. Something told her that it was better that way. Someone was wiping her face, and each time they brought the silk cloth back, it had a little more red on it, and then her eyes slipped to her hands, and she saw little splatters of paint, dotting her arms and wrists.

Not paint. Blood.

A bolt of panic stabbed through her with as much force as Charlie’s arrow. Had it been real? It couldn’t have been real. It was a dream… just a terrible, horrible dream. Someone made a noise, and it wasn’t long before she realized that it had been her; a terrible, awful moan. And then there was Fausta, holding her, next to her, those icy arms wrapped around Megan’s shivering form. Fausta was whispering in her ear, that cold, sweet breath washing over her face.

“You did so, so well, my girl,” Fausta said, stroking her hair, rocking her on the bed like she was a five-year-old, afraid of the dark. “You have made me so proud.”

Megan heard the words, like hammers in her mind, each one affirming that the horrific events swirling in her thoughts had actually happened, that she’d actually done it. She’d maimed Clay for life, and his blood was spattered on her hands. A reminder, a mark, a stain. She was unclean, she was unfaithful, and she was dirty.

An enemy of the pack, just as her mother and grandmother had whispered to her, just as the rest of the bloodline had muttered behind closed doors. Now, it was true. She started scratching at the skin on her arms, but the blood had already dried and it was just flaking, not coming off. Her movements became more frantic as she clawed at her skin with fervor, until Fausta’s icy marble fingers encircled her wrists and the vampire stopped her easily, ignoring her panicked protests. A moment before Megan started screaming, she smelled that woozy scent of Fausta’s hair, those spices, and felt the vampire’s cold, inhuman lips press to hers. Down she tumbled, losing time, losing direction, falling into the darkness.

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