Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
The shades in Elena’s extravagant condo had closed on their own at some point before sunrise so Marisol had missed when night eased into day. The room was pitch black and disorienting. She couldn’t tell if she’d slept, if vivid dreams had bled into her reality, or if fragments of reality had seeped into her subconscious.
She hadn’t been totally awake when Elena stirred at her side. At some point in the night, Marisol had ended up in the middle spot. She should probably feel claustrophobic with two bodies pressing into her, but she’d never enjoyed body heat more in her life. Sticky sweat and all.
When Elena slipped out of her arms, Marisol nearly groaned her displeasure.
“Where are you going?” Marisol asked, prompting Zuri to shift behind her. They’d been sleeping back-to-back and the completeness of the contact was almost as good as being held close.
The light from the spa bathroom was blinding until her eyes adjusted. Adjusted just in time to see Elena’s nude form—a body sculpted by some ancient gods whose names were lost to time—saunter away.
“Do you miss me already?” Elena, wavy hair voluminous and wild, asked when she peeked back into the bedroom. “And here I thought I’d sated your hunger.”
Zuri’s arm hooked around her waist made Marisol relax—even though she hadn’t noticed the tension building in her muscles.
“She’s never met a direct question she didn’t ignore,” Zuri whispered over Marisol’s shoulder, lips pressed so gently to the back of her neck that it forced every coherent thought out of Marisol’s skull.
With a throaty chuckle, Elena tipped her head to the side. “Anyone want to join me in the shower?”
“Or you could come back,” Marisol suggested. “What’s the rush?”
“Think you’re going to get it out of me that easy?” Elena laughed, catching her backdoor attempt to find out her plans. “Maybe I’m more forthcoming when dripping wet,” she said with a voice so sexy it was criminal. And then she disappeared through the doorway again.
Marisol rolled her eyes, but even Zuri breathed her amusement.
“After two hundred and ninety-four years on this spinning rock, maybe I wouldn’t tell anyone what the hell I was doing either,” Zuri murmured, thumb stroking a slow, soothing rhythm against Marisol’s abdomen.
“You’re only thirty-eight and have a tantrum if I text to ask where you are,” Elena shot back over the sound of the shower.
Zuri chuckled instead of disagreeing, but Marisol couldn’t get beyond Elena’s age. She’d known how old she was, but something about hearing it dropped so casually made it feel real for the first time. It was like how she couldn’t really conceive of flying thirty thousand feet in the air while on a plane. She knew she was high off the ground, but couldn’t comprehend just how high. Elena’s age was a huge number. Too big to put into context.
What had she lived through? What had she seen? What the hell did the world even look like that long ago? The questions bubbled up in her throat, but they were too stupid to ask. How would she even frame the question without sounding ridiculous: So, like, the Spanish Inquisition. Zero out of ten?
“You alright, Bambi?”
Zuri’s soft voice pulled Marisol out of her middle school history class. But it was her dark eyes, intently scanning her face, that forced her out of bed. Zuri always looked at her with so much worry concealed behind her intimidating gaze.
Last night had been so good. Something about moving through the world with them—of being invited rather than an unexpected extra—had made her feel more like an equal. She didn’t want to change that with dumb questions that reminded either of them just how much of an outsider she was. And she didn’t want Zuri to think she needed looking after.
Hand extended in invitation, she gave Zuri a slow half-smile. Marisol had never felt particularly sexy or alluring, but she loved how she could change Zuri’s energy with her expression. How Zuri couldn’t stop her gaze from slipping down Marisol’s naked body in open approval.
“Shower?” Marisol asked before moistening her lips, bottom lip intentionally trapped between her teeth way longer than necessary.
“You learn a little too fast,” Zuri decided before flinging off the sheet.
Marisol’s skin warmed and her brain jolted to life like she’d taken three shots of espresso. “I promise to only use this newfound power for good,” she joked before feeling brave enough to give Zuri’s perfect ass a healthy slap when she crossed in front of her.
Shooting her a surprised glance over her shoulder, Zuri smirked. “Be careful, Bambi. You don’t want me to think you’re ready for the training wheels to come off.”
Gulping around the sudden dryness in her throat, she watched Zuri’s incredible form disappear into the bathroom. Training wheels? What the hell could possibly come next? A barrage of images flickered in Marisol’s mind, returning the moisture to her mouth too fast.
Showering together proved to be exactly as inefficient as Marisol expected, but just as hot. It was nearly an hour before Zuri strolled out with her hair still covered in the stylish black wrap that had kept it dry. While she towel-dried her hair, Marisol wore the same hotel-style terry cloth robe Zuri had put on, though it looked significantly better on Zuri’s curves.
Naked and standing in front of the mirror, Elena used a diffuser to style the waves that always looked so effortless. The scattered products on the vanity proved Marisol wrong. She couldn’t imagine Elena popping into a drug store to pick up mousse on her way home. She couldn’t imagine her doing anything mundane. But Elena hadn’t popped into being as the head of a vampire gang. She hadn’t been born into the life she’d created.
Attention drifting over Elena’s strong body accentuated by curving lines, Marisol tried to imagine her as an ordinary person. When she was wheeled into the ER, her affluence was apparent. Her clothes, her makeup. Even unconscious, Elena screamed wealth.
But the quiet authority couldn’t be rooted in her clothes. Elena was standing a foot away from her in nothing but the blow dryer in her hand and she was… formidable. Doing something millions of people did daily, Elena exuded power.
Was it her body language? Strong legs, toned from centuries of moving with a predator’s grace, were parted. She took up all the space she wanted. She was comfortable. Sure. Unshakable. Confident.
Marisol couldn’t imagine Elena ever wavering. Ever cowering. Ever stammering.
Had she been like that as a child? Or had she honed this persona over decades like a blade over a whetstone? Or had it been a pressure intense enough to reshape carbon atoms that made her into… who she’d become.
“What?” Elena’s unpainted lips quirked into an amused little grin, gaze finding Marisol in the mirror.
It was only then that Marisol realized she’d stopped drying her hair. Straightening, Marisol hung the towel on a gold hook near the door.
“Nothing,” she replied too loudly before trying to remember how to walk without running. They weren’t going to want her around if she acted like some kind of paranormal groupie with a thousand questions.
In the bedroom the size of Marisol’s apartment, Zuri had already changed into skintight jeans and a loose black top. The sight of her didn’t help Marisol’s racing pulse, albeit for significantly different reasons.
“There’s shit in there for you too,” Zuri said when she turned toward her, tugging the wrap off. “Did she fill the closets on that ridiculous private island, too? Probably. She’s only gotten more extra with time.”
Looking at where Zuri pointed with her eyes, because apparently her grandmother had also taught her that it was rude to gesture with her finger, Marisol furrowed her brow. Across the room, beyond the huge sitting area on one side and writing desk and wall of bookshelves on the other, Marisol found the closet. Although closet didn’t seem like the right word.
Big enough to make Carrie Bradshaw fall to her knees and weep, clothes and bags and shoes lined the built-in and individually lit rich wood spaces. The entire right side was obviously packed with the kind of form-fitting things Zuri liked. At the back, sleek suits and tailored pieces obviously belonged to Elena. On her right, the mostly casual clothes were meant for her.
“What in the Fifty Shades is going on here,” she muttered before taking a pair of joggers and a tank top from the wall of drawers at the center of her closet. Could she really think of anything here as hers? She hadn’t worked for it. Hadn’t earned it. She’d only healed Elena by accident and she wouldn’t even have lucked into that without Zuri.
When she returned to the bedroom, it was empty, and the door was open. As soon as she neared, she heard a vaguely familiar voice. Feminine, but low.
The tall brunette with eyes like oxidized blood was standing in the living room with Elena. Marisol might have gotten distracted by Elena’s painted-on, plum-colored suit, but the vampire staring at her made it nearly impossible to think.
Even without vampy senses, she knew in the clenching in her belly and the cold sweat prickling her back that her presence was unwanted. That the woman who’d acted as Elena’s bodyguard the night before was trying not to hiss at Marisol. Apparently she’d been cool with her being in the club, but not Elena’s home.
“I don’t know anything about her,” the woman said with very little inflection in her voice. “She cannot be trusted.”
Before Elena did more than part her lips, Zuri appeared out of nowhere and stood in front of Marisol, a coffee mug in her hand. A mug that she shoved into Marisol’s hand.
Blocking the vampire’s direct view, Zuri’s energy was a sonic blast radiating destruction. “Can’t be trusted?” Her caustic laugh was terrifying even when standing out of firing range. “I must have fucked up my timelines.” She turned her head like she was possessed, nearly knocking Marisol over with her eye contact. “Marisol, babe, why didn’t you tell me Elena almost died on your watch? Or right.” She turned to the unreadable vampire. “That was you, Librada.”
“Zuri—”
Elena couldn’t stop whatever train Zuri was on, and Marisol wasn’t sure she wanted her to. In the last two weeks, she’d learned that she had no clue what she was into. That her type was apparently borderline murderous. What the hell is that?
“The only person who has proven themselves untrustworthy is you.” Zuri’s words came slowly and deliberately, like she was weaving a curse. Slow and deliberate and chilling.
Librada’s face morphed into something terrifying and inhuman. With her mouth open wide and displaying fangs that were every bit a lethal weapon, she lunged in a soundless attack. Moving faster than Marisol’s ocular nerve could transmit the message to her brain, Elena gripped the back of Librada’s shirt.
The sickening tearing of fabric was followed by Zuri barreling forward like she intended to actually fight a freaking vampire. It was suicide, Marisol knew in her gut, even if the rest of her was processing too slowly. Instinct made Marisol surge forward, body alive with an electric hum that coursed through her veins, pushed at her skin, and erupted from her shoulder blades.
“Stop,” Marisol shouted while diving between Zuri and Librada, mug landing on the tile with a crash.
Her voice was foreign to her own ears, deep and bouncing off the high ceilings. Energy rushed from her chest, her palms, her mouth. She was outside of herself. She was Lilith suspended in the sky. She was light and ferocity and willing Librada not to take another step toward Zuri.
Like she’d run straight into an invisible wall, Librada dropped to her knees. Eyes wide and bleeding with fear, Librada looked up at her like a supplicant rather than an assailant. All the anger in her body was gone, replaced with… awe.
“This is who she is.” Elena helped Librada to her feet, even as her mouth hung open. “And I trust her,” she added, eyes fixed on Marisol and dripping with something like pride or affection or both.
Marisol was still trying to decipher the world around her when Zuri was suddenly shoving Marisol to one side. All at once she realized what she’d done and her body went numb below her knees.
“Come at me one more time, parasite.” Zuri was a solid six inches shorter than Librada, but that didn’t seem to factor into her decision-making. She was staring down a running chainsaw inches from her face without breaking a sweat.
A rush of belated adrenaline wracked Marisol’s body, making her hands shake while she resisted the urge to puke. Why had she stood in front of a freight train and expected to survive? Had she pushed Librada down or had that been a result of shock? She couldn’t think.
“I’ve never seen…” Librada stretched a tentative hand to where Marisol guessed her wings had been. The wonder etched in her face made her appear mortal when her fangs disappeared. Like she was a wide-eyed young woman in her early twenties, not a supernatural being.
At Librada’s lack of engagement with her threat, Zuri relaxed her shoulders the tiniest fraction. “I told you I didn’t trust her,” she snapped at Elena, whose expression was unreadable.
“You did levy the most offensive insult.” Elena’s jaw was tight and her body stiff. “For a daughter to turn on their mother?—”
“And yet someone tried to fucking kill you and your two prize guard dogs were nowhere to be found,” Zuri said like she was back to looking for a fight. “Strange, huh?”
The accusation snapped Librada back to herself and the hardening in her eyes made Marisol hold her breath. This conversation would not end anywhere but in disaster.
“I would open my own throat before harming Elena,” Librada replied when she took a step forward, showing off her height advantage again. But this time, she wasn’t angry. She was heavy with regret. With palpable pain.
“We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?” Marisol asked with a shaky voice. She moved between Librada and Zuri again, but this time stood at their sides so she could look them in the eyes when she spoke. “I can’t pretend to know anything about how any of this works, but it seems to me that everyone here wants the same thing. To find out what happened to Elena and why.” She took a steadying breath. “And we probably shouldn’t waste time fighting each other when there’s someone out there who means her harm.” She glanced at Elena, who was regarding her with a flicker of amusement.
“Librada has been at my side since nearly the beginning of my second life,” Elena said after an unnerving silence. “I trust her, Zuri.” She stepped into her personal space, but didn’t reach out for her. “In centuries, she’s never acted against me.”
Taking a step back, Zuri rolled her eyes. “What’s a few hundred years to someone who might live forever?” She turned her back on all three of them. “Sounds like it would be pretty fucking easy to bide your time.”
Marisol looked down at the broken ceramic mug, but didn’t get the chance to clean it before Zuri spoke again.
“It’s her mess, Bambi. Don’t you dare pick it up.” She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s sit outside and strike while the wings are hot.”
Unsure of who was scarier, a pissed-off Zuri or two vampires, Marisol took Elena’s unspoken cue and followed Zuri outside.
The sprawling, wrap-around terrace had been impressive at night, but under the clear spring sky it was unbelievable. She hadn’t realized that they were in the penthouse until daylight proved they were soaring above their neighbors.
Apart from the private lap pool, outdoor kitchen, and several seating areas, there was a glass encased atrium that looked like Elena had transported the soul of Zuri’s cabin to the modern high-rise. An earthy contrast to their sleek surroundings, there was no doubt it was where they were heading.
Muttering something about hurricanes, Zuri pulled open the glass door and stepped into the instantly calming space. Flowering plants and vines obscured their view and the thick glass walls blocked out all the city sounds. The scent of jasmine and rose blooms was so strong, Marisol wondered whether it was being pumped in through the vent keeping the climate temperate.
Zuri plopped down into one of two soft brown leather chairs positioned across from each other. She didn’t wait until Marisol had sat before saying, “Alright, let’s tap into your angel juice. It couldn’t have gone too far.” She scooted to the edge of her seat.
“Do you want to take a breath first?” Marisol breathed a nervous laugh. “You almost?—”
“No sense in dwelling,” she shot back. “That past?—”
“Past?” Marisol raised her brows. “It just happened. My heart is still pounding.” She leaned forward. “Do you really think one of Elena’s vampires could have tried to hurt her?”
Zuri looked like she was going to respond with something snarky before relaxing into her seat and actually considering the question. “I don’t know,” she decided with a sigh. “Librada and Sofia have always been around, but I can’t say we’ve ever shared a bottle of wine and gotten to know each other. What I know about them, I know through Elena’s stories. Elena’s cartel shit is her own.” She crossed her legs. “Or at least it used to be.”
A question flew out of Marisol’s mouth before she could stop it. “How come you’re here, then? Instead of with your coven.”
Hurt flashed in Zuri’s eyes before she clenched her jaw. “It’s complicated.”
“More complicated than trying to figure out?—”
“Yes.”
Marisol leaned over far enough to take Zuri’s hand and peel it off her chest. “Don’t shut me out. If you want?—”
“My coven is falling apart, and I may not even have one much longer. A witch on her own is at her weakest, and I don’t really want to think about that, okay?” she said in the same cadence as a wax strip being ripped off sensitive skin.
Marisol felt Zuri’s pain pushing against her own ribs. She didn’t let herself filter her thoughts before replying, “But you’re not alone.” She squeezed the hand curling around hers. “Not if you don’t want to be. I mean, we know I’m not a witch, but I’m something and I’m with you. If you want me.”
Studying every inch of her face, Zuri watched her until the edge melted from her expression. Until her gaze was as gentle as her touch when she thought Marisol was asleep. She believed her, Marisol realized with a heart-stopping jolt. She believed her vow, and she wanted her.
“Yeah,” she agreed, voice so low and so soft. “You’re something.” She looked at Marisol for another silent eternity before easing out of her hold. “Now come on. Let’s work on figuring out how to pull your trigger so you can knock more vamps on their asses should the need arise.”