Bad Blood - By Kristen Painter Page 0,2

you.

“There you go again, telling me what to do.” She shook her head and looked away but not before the reading lamp caught the glitter of angry tears in her eyes. “I hate this life. Always on guard, always waiting for the next attack. It’s no way to live. I’m done with it. Done waiting for Tatiana to show up again. I’m taking control and doing things my way, and you can’t stop me.”

“Chrysabelle, please—”

“Shut up, Mal. Every time you patronize me, I just want to stick something sharp through you.”

Smart girl. “I wasn’t patronizing you.” He backed up a step, her demeanor more serious than he’d seen before. “There’s not a sword hidden in that cane, is there?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I’ll put money on maybe.”

The shadow of a smile danced across her face, quickly replaced by stern determination again.

It was enough of an opening for him. He kneeled at her feet. The position grated against every fiber of his being but seemed the perfect way to show his sincerity. It also put him in striking range. If she chose to lash out with a hidden blade, she could do him real harm. Even kill him. “I am sorry that putting my blood into your body has upset you so much. My intention was to save your life, not further complicate it. You must know that.” An apology. Someone’s in love.

“I do,” she said with a heavy sigh. She lifted her hand like she might touch him, then dropped it back to her lap. “I appreciate that you and Creek saved my life, but I wish you’d found another way. What happened to me happened because you two interfered, plain and simple. And now, once again, I am left to deal with the consequences of your actions. You don’t think. You just do. Both of you.”

At least she was mad at Creek, too. “I don’t blame you for being upset, but as far as saving your life… there was no other way that we could see. So you know, I would have done anything to make sure you lived that night.”

She stared intently into his eyes. Almost challenging him. “Why is my life so important to you?”

The true answer that came into his head made him dizzy. He couldn’t say what he felt. Wouldn’t give it words like the voices in his head. She’d threatened to kill him once already. She didn’t need ammunition. “For the same reasons you wouldn’t let me remain mortal and age to death. We’re… friends.” What a strange way to describe what they were. “More than friends. There was no way I was going to watch you die knowing I could have prevented it.”

She narrowed her eyes, assessing him. “Dominic’s mortality potion made you soft.”

Yes, the voices chimed. No, he wanted to say. Knowing you has given me a heart again. It was a weakness, but one he was willing to bear. Fool. Fool in love. “Then he’s the one to blame for giving it to me in the first place.”

She stared at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. “I refuse to be scared anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.” He hated that she was. Then stay away from her.

“I need to find my brother. He’s the only family I have.”

“I know.” An impossible task, the way he saw it.

“I need the Aurelian for that.”

She was too determined for him to keep her from doing it. “If you think you’re going without me—”

“After what happened last time, you shouldn’t even ask.”

“So what’s your plan?” He almost didn’t want to know.

She held up one finger. “First, to see the Aurelian.”

“How are you going to get there without the signum on your back?”

“Dominic has a signumist. I’ve already sent him a message that I’m coming to talk to him tonight. I don’t know if the man’s any good, but I’m hoping he can put the correct sequence of signum into my skin again.”

Mal’s jaw dropped open and he sank back onto his heels. “Bloody hell. You’re in no shape to undergo something like that. Are you crazy?”

“Crazy mad, and I’m in fine shape.” Her hands tightened into fists, and a tarnished spark lit her eyes. “Once I get to the Aurelian, I’ll obtain the information I need, then slip out of the Primoris Domus undetected and find Tatiana.”

The name of his ex-wife and the woman who’d put him under his curse was like salt on an open wound. “Why would you want to find

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