Blood Descendants (Vengeance and Venom #1)

Chapter 8

I hear her scream. As I run through the dimly lit hallway, Ophelia’s terrified screams reverberate in my brain.

My legs pump harder. Faster. She screams again, and I hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Fight back, I mentally beg her.

I don’t slow as I reach the door at the end of the hall. I turn my right shoulder to it and barrel straight into it. It splinters as I explode through it, and I stumble into the room.

Ophelia gasps, scrambling back on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but her underthings, and her wrists are bound. Blood drips from her neck and her nose. She’s covered in a random constellation of bruises.

And a faceless man turns toward me, a primordial growl raging up his throat.

I get half a second to pull the gun from the back of my pants before he pounces.

Before I can get a shot off, his body lands on top of me—and I jerk up from the bed with a yell .

My right arm is extended, but there’s no gun in my hand.

There’s no faceless man.

And no Ophelia bound on a bed.

“Lana?”

I jump at the worried call from down the hall and flinch harder when, less than a second later, Ares barrels his way into the bedroom. His eyes are brilliant red, his nostrils flared. His eyes scan the room, and the tension in his body says he’s ready to tear the world apart. “What is it?” he growls.

I take a shallow breath, quickly followed by another. “No… nothing,” I barely get the words out. “I… it was just a bad dream. I found Ophelia. There was a man there…” I shake my head, willing the image away because the thought that it might be real makes me want to spiral.

Some of that tension seeps out of Ares, and I feel his eyes shift to me. He’s quiet for a long moment. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I focus on blacking out the dream, erasing it bit by bit. With my eyes squeezed closed, my hands shaking, I force myself to take slower breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth.

“We’re going to find her, Lana,” Ares says softly. “I swear.”

I take three more breaths, embracing the numb darkness filling my mind, and finally nod my head. “Okay.”

There are another few moments of uncertain silence. How do you comfort your fake fiancée, the woman you don’t really know yet have kissed the life out of?

“We’re supposed to be to my sister’s place in an hour,” he says uncertainly. “I can let her know we’re going to be a little bit late.”

“No,” I shake my head and climb out of the bed. “I’m fine. It was just a dream. It’s over. I’m getting ready now.”

He meets my eyes, a look of uncertainty on his face. But I don’t wait for him to argue as I walk into the bathroom, ignoring the fact that I’m wearing nothing but underwear and a tank top.

Today’s agenda is to meet Ares’ sister. According to Ares, there’s no way anyone would believe this if I hadn’t met this sister, the one person in the world Ares is closest with. She’s been told what’s going on, and Ares trusts her to no end.

I stalk into the closet and pull on the first things my hands find. A black skirt that hits mid-thigh and a yellow ribbed top that hugs my body. Standing in front of the mirror, I take in my own reflection.

My hair is a wild mess. My skin is pale, and there are dark shadows beneath my eyes.

But it’s nothing compared to how Ophelia looked in my dream.

I know it’s just a dream.

I know that wasn’t real.

But what if the truth of what she’s going through is worse? What if she’s really being abused and used like that? What if… what if she’s dead?

This is taking too damn long.

I’m sorry, Ophelia , I think into the ether. I’m coming.

We need to speed this up.

I dab on some makeup, making myself look less of a zombie. I tame my hair back into a knot at the back of my head.

And when I look back at my reflection when I’m finished, I finally see someone who looks the part of the billionaire’s fiancée. This woman is put together. This woman has never struggled to pay the grocery bill. This woman has never been talked down to by anyone in her life.

I look down at the massive rock on my finger, where it has stayed put since Ares put it there two days ago. Is this thing going to turn me into a different person?

Would that be so terrible?

I walk out of the bedroom and into the living area to find Ares on the phone. But the moment he sees me, he freezes in place, just for a second, his eyes scraping over the whole of me.

“I’ll take interviews on Monday,” Ares says, sounding surprisingly professional. “Give me five candidates.”

He doesn’t wait for whoever is on the other end to respond before he hangs up. Once again, his eyes shamelessly take every inch of me in.

“What do you say? Can I pass for the fiancée of Ares Hunt?” I ask, lowering my chin and looking at him from beneath my lashes.

Instead of answering me, Ares steps forward, sliding his hand into mine. And he guides me to the entryway, where a huge, gold-framed mirror hangs on the wall. He walks to where the two of us are centered, every bit of us in the length of it.

“What do you say, Vengeance?” Ares asks as I see him look down at me in the mirror’s reflection. “Do we look like we fit together?”

My mind goes somewhere far too dirty, considering this man is a stranger. But the heat in his gaze as he looks at me, the hunger I see there, makes my lower stomach tighten.

I swallow once and actually look at the two of us in the mirror.

Ares is all danger and darkness. Black on black, he looks the bad boy and the billionaire right now. His hair is wild in the most purposeful way, those curls teasing my fingers. He wears diamond studded earrings tonight and a silver chain around his neck, matching the hoop in his nose.

And there I am next to him, black heels, little skirt. Huge diamond on my finger. Pain and rage in my eyes, scars on my hands from the fights I’ve won.

“Yes,” I answer honestly, shocked when I believe myself. There, that woman in the mirror, looks exactly like she belongs on the arm of that man.

My spine straightens just a little, and my chin lifts.

“Don’t let that crown ever slip,” Ares says, his voice low and a little rugged. My eyes meet his. How is it possible for someone to be this sincere, this intense, while also looking like he’ll be the end of me? “You’re Lana fucking Kincade. Don’t ever let the world forget it.”

I’m left without words, but Ares doesn’t ask for more. He pulls the door open and pulls me after him.

I hadn’t thought of it even once before reaching the ground floor, but I’m exceptionally relieved when, instead of heading to the parking garage and climbing onto the motorcycle, we walk out in front of the building, and the black SUV is waiting for us, Billings at the wheel.

Ares pulls the door open for me. I climb inside, settling into the plush seat.

Ares climbs in after me and pulls the door shut. With ease, the driver merges into the traffic.

“What are you doing interviews for?” I ask when the thought crosses my mind.

Ares sits with his hands resting on his knees. And I’m trying to get a read if he’s relaxed. His pose certainly should look it, but he rubs his palm over his pants twice, almost a sign of nervousness.

“Things are about to get busy,” he says calmly. He scans the darkening evening, his brows furrowed slightly at the remaining light in the sky. “Stepping back into Augustus’ world is going to take up a lot of my time. I’m going to need someone to help manage my own properties.”

“An assistant?” I question. And it’s totally wrong of me that I bristle at the idea of him hiring a female assistant.

Ares shakes his head. “They need to be a lot more than that. I need someone smart, savvy. Someone who thinks like I do.”

I haven’t quite figured out what that is yet. I swear, the man is a walking contradiction sometimes.

It takes me a minute to register where we are as the car slows.

Riverside Drive.

Wealth. So much damn wealth tied to Ares Hunt.

I’m expecting something spectacular, but my imagination is far too simple, I realize, as the driver pulls over and up to the curb.

There aren’t many freestanding homes left in Manhattan. But that’s exactly what this is. I blink three times when I climb out, taking it in.

It looks like a castle. While most everything in this city gets dirty and is nearly impossible to keep clean, the white exterior of the house is pristine and fresh. I don’t know architecture, but this looks like a cross between gothic and Greek to me. It rises six stories high, dozens of windows dotting the exterior. And there’s so much detail carved into each feature.

“There are only two occupied freestanding homes left in Manhattan,” Ares says as he places a hand at the small of my back. “The Hunt House is one of them.”

There, above the front door, I see a stone accent. And those exact words are carved into it: Hunt House. The line below it reads Est. 1907.

“Your family built this house?” I gape in awe. “And has owned it the whole time?”

“It’s never left the family,” Ares confirms as he steers us to the front door. I kind of expect some fancy butler to appear. But Ares just enters a code at the door and pushes it open.

Oh, I like this place.

The entryway is its own massive room. Black and white checkered tile crosses the floor, and the walls are painted a color so dark I can’t tell if they’re black, blue, or green. Beautiful picture frame molding is precisely placed everywhere. A crazy modern chandelier dominates the space overhead. And a glorious staircase leads out of the room, the walls transitioning to a brilliant, stark white as they ascend.

Movement from the right pulls my eyes, and I look over to see a woman standing from a grand desk. I’d guess this was a formal parlor, somewhere intended to entertain company, but it’s obviously a personal office right now.

The woman has gorgeous curves, it’s hard not to notice that right away. As she walks around the desk, I realize she’s fairly short, definitely several inches shorter than I am. Her features are calm, composed. She sports short, choppy hair that looks like it probably cost a fortune. It’s a warm blonde color, but the purposeful dark roots are a giveaway that her natural hair color is closer to Ares’.

“So glad you could make it,” she says with a warm smile. “ I’ll admit, I’ve been anxious for this moment since Ares told me his plan a few days ago.”

A few days ago? Ares and I only met a few days ago.

She pulls Ares into a hug, and the difference between them is almost comical. Their size. Their appearance. Their entire demeanors are wildly different.

“I’ve been dying to meet you, Lana,” she says as she releases Ares and turns toward me. Her expression, her tone are still warm, but she extends a hand.

I’m actually a little relieved she didn’t come at me with a hug. I’ve never been much of a hugger. Maybe that’s the effect of growing up with a father who is a boxer and always being around fighting.

“Lana, my sister, Florence,” Ares introduces unnecessarily.

I shake her hand. “It’s really nice to meet you,” I say honestly. Everything about the woman is elegance and class, but there’s something undeniably warm and comforting in her presence.

“Oh, the pleasure is mine,” she says as her eyes rake over me. I feel her evaluation, but not her judgment. “I had to meet the woman reckless enough to walk into a vampire party, knowing her best friend disappeared from there, and walk out of it pretending to be a vampire’s fiancée.”

When she puts it like that, it sounds a little insane.

Footsteps above pull my eyes to the stairs, and a moment later, a woman wearing the best cross between business and bohemian enters the foyer.

“Lana, this is my wife, Clementine,” Florence introduces as she wraps an arm around the woman with admiration and pride.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Clementine says with a London accent and a warm smile. She’s significantly taller than Florence, lean and lithe. Her warm brown skin is damn near glowing, and her curly hair has me jealous.

“You too, Clementine,” I say as I shake her hand as well. But the strength in her grip, the way her skin feels just a tad too cool, makes my brows furrow in question.

“Bitten,” she offers in explanation. “Going on three years now.”

“I thought you said…” I begin to dig, but cut myself off before I can come across as rude. “Never mind.”

“There will be plenty of time for all the questions you’re dying to ask later,” Florence says with a knowing smile. “Dinner should be ready. Let’s eat.”

She turns, heading up the stairs, Clementine right behind her. Ares places a hand at the small of my back, and we follow his sister and sister-in-law.

Every floor is the most gorgeous mix of class and modern. The Hunts have impeccable taste. I could spend an hour on each floor just taking in every detail, every perfectly placed art piece. This place could truly be a museum without changing much at all.

But we ascend two stories before walking into a moody living room. Attached is a blocky, huge dining table with seating for ten. And just behind that is the most grandiose kitchen I’ve ever seen. Inside, there is a man moving from pan to plate, a flurry of action.

I approach the table, and like he’s a true gentleman, Ares pulls a seat out for me. I sink down into it and note that Florence is watching our interactions with rapt interest. The smallest of smiles pulls on her lips as she watches her half-brother sit beside me .

The moment we’re seated, the servers descend. Golden platters filled to the brim with mouthwatering dishes are laid out before us. It’s a feast that could feed a dozen, no question. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten in too long.

“Someone needs to eat up,” Clementine says with a smile, and I feel my face blush. I didn’t think anyone would hear it. But when you’re dining with two vampires…

“Why don’t you tell us about yourself, future sister-in-law,” Florence says as she dishes up her food. She says the last of it with a wink.

I pile on some of the delicious looking food and glance over to Ares. What has he told them? What haven’t I told him yet that I should? “Um,” I say, swallowing and gathering my thoughts. “I’ve lived in this city my whole life. I’ve barely even left Manhattan, if I’m being honest. And I love it here. I really can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Classic New Yorker,” Florence smiles, raising a glass to my words.

I smile, liking this woman already. “My parents split when I was just a kid, and I lived with my mom until I was a teenager. I lost her and my younger sister at the same time, and then I went to live with my dad.”

Beneath the table, Ares’ hand comes to my thigh.

I haven’t told him that part yet. About Emmie.

I swallow once and try to push all those thoughts away.

“I’m so sorry, Lana,” Florence offers with sincerity. “Losing your mother… It’s indescribable if you haven’t experienced it. But your sister, too?”

I nod. “Thankfully, my dad is great. Was… great,” I correct myself. Damn. This is why I don’t like talking about myself. “Anyway. I lived with him. He owned a training gym. I kind of fo llowed in his footsteps. I’ve been a trainer for the last few years. My dad passed away a few years ago, but it’s nice, I still get to work at the gym, so I feel like I still have a little part of him.”

“That’s beautiful,” Clementine says, setting her glass back on the table. I note it’s filled with a thick, red liquid. Blood. “I try to remind Florence how lucky she is that she’s surrounded by decades of ancestors in this place. Not all of us have mementos.”

So, Clementine has lost family, too.

“Well, no wonder you’re brave enough to be with my brother,” Florence says with an evaluative smile, one that comes out approving. “You’re the toughest fucking woman in New York.”

I can’t help the laugh that comes out and the smile that pulls on Florence’s face tells me this was her goal.

Ares squeezes my thigh beneath the table again before reaching for his cutlery and digging into his food.

“That’s about it for me,” I say, because I don’t really want to dig in deeper. “What about you two. How did you meet?”

Florence and Clementine automatically look at each other, and the look in each of their eyes sparkles and softens at the same time. Damn. No one would question the love between the two of them.

“I work in pharmaceuticals, I’m sure Ares told you that,” Florence says. “And we do all the things you’d expect. Research on treatments. Chemicals. Drugs. But when Ares Resurrected…” She looks over at her brother, studying him with a level of curiosity I’ve never seen so deep on another. “It didn’t feel real. It didn’t make sense to me. This result of, what? Magic? Science? Ares let me take some of his blood, and on the down lo w, I created a new division at the company. There are only two other employees in it, aside from myself. We study vampirism.”

Shit. That’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Through Ares, we connected with other vampires, took other samples,” Florence continues. “So far, we’ve found common genetic markers, which is fascinating when considering the origins of vampirism. And the DNA…” she shakes her head, a smile spreading on her lips. “You wouldn’t believe how incredible it truly is. There is so much more data than there should?—”

“The mad scientist is coming out,” Ares cuts off his sister, looking up at her with a teasing smile.

“Sorry,” Florence apologizes with a chuckle. “I just love the science. Anyway, we were hoping to study not just the Born, but the Bitten as well. So, Ares helped in seeking out some connections.”

“Ares and I met at the same hospital,” Clementine says, giving a soft, appreciative smile to her brother-in-law. “I never exactly felt good stealing donor blood, but I didn’t feel better about feeding off of people either. He explained what his sister was doing and asked if I’d be willing to come talk to her. I didn’t have anything to lose, so I agreed.”

She looks back at her wife, and it isn’t too hard to figure out the rest from there.

“I never believed in fate before,” Florence says as she looks at the woman who is her polar opposite in looks. “But I have from the minute she walked through the door. I was done for. The fact that my brother was a vampire, and then the love of my life was another kind, and I was studying them… The rest was easy.”

Clementine lays a hand over Florence’s before looking back at me. “I was turned in London a year before I came to New York. My sire was this kind woman. She was just lonely. I was lucky when it came to the Debt. She never took advantage of me. But she was killed by another vampire, an old flame of hers. I got scared, didn’t know if he was going to come after me as well. Since I didn’t have any family left, I decided to start somewhere new. I’d always wanted to see Broadway, so New York seemed to be calling my name.”

“Wow,” I admire. “Your story…” I shake my head, my entire soul filled at hearing it all. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Way to show us up,” Ares says, taunting his sister.

“Who doesn’t love a good fake-to-real love story, though?” she taunts him right back.

The way her words make me blush.

And the next hour passes easily. Light talk laced with dark humor and jabs. The dynamic between Ares and Florence makes it obvious how much they care about each other. And how deeply in love Clementine and Florence are. And despite everything, I actually feel at ease here with them all. I don’t feel like an outsider to so much love. They invite me right in with an open door.

As the night grows later, I wander after Florence with dishes, putting them in the sink. There’s staff waiting in the wings to swoop in and take care of it all, but it says something that Florence clears her own dishes.

“You’re the perfect fit for him,” she says as she leans against the counter. She folds her arms over her chest and fixes me with those penetrating eyes. “I want you to know that. Ares, he’s had plenty of reasons to block everyone out of his life, to guard his heart. There was that leach back in high school and then sweet Mila. I was never sure what kind of woman would fit into his life. But you’re perfect, Lana. Your toughness, yet your femininity, your no bullshit demeanor. I haven’t seen the light in my brother’s eyes like this. Maybe ever. So, thank you for putting it there, whether you meant to or not.”

My heart is doing gymnastics in my chest. My brows furrow as I look over my shoulder, back at Ares, who chats comfortably with Clementine. “Really?” I ask, completely unsure.

How could someone like me ever be the perfect fit for a man like Ares Hunt?

“Really, Lana,” Florence says without a trace of hesitation in her tone. “Don’t doubt yourself for one second. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better person for my brother if I tried. I know this is technically for show for that asshole who sired him, but if I had to pick someone for him for real, you fit the bill exactly.”

And without another word, leaving that massive weight on me, she turns and walks out of the kitchen.

What the fuck?

Aren’t siblings supposed to put up a huge fuss when you tell them you’re in a fake engagement? They’re supposed to be worried to death about their blood. Not go and give the fake fiancée a huge seal of approval.

Taking two seconds to try and catch my breath, unsuccessfully, I turn and follow her back out to join my fiancé at the table.