Blood Tribute (Blood Grace)

One A Profane Bargain

ONE

A Profane Bargain

I

Nora knew where to go looking for the Hesperine—in the place where one of his kind had slaughtered her parents.

She hiked down through the woods with only the moons to light her way through the ghostly birch trees. She tried not to jump at shadows. Hesperines were always lurking in the darkness, yet impossible to detect. Until it was too late.

Seeking one out was a death wish. But what did she have to lose?

Nothing. Everything.

Her breath came faster, and the chill of oncoming autumn bit into her chest. The Hesperine would hear her heart pounding. He would smell her fear.

But the heretic wouldn’t be able to sense the magic in her father’s knightly dagger. The scabbard dug into her leg, securely hidden under her skirts. As long as she wielded Arceo, the Blade of Protection, the relic would keep the Hesperine from manipulating her thoughts with his profane magic.

But he could still drink her blood.

She swallowed hard. It was the only way. Her plan depended on him sinking his fangs into her.

To strengthen her resolve, she glanced behind her at Castra Gloria, visible on a craggy rise above the golden treetops. Her beloved, decrepit fortress was all she had left. She could not lose it, too. She could not let her family’s legacy end with her.

She was a woman, ineligible to become a holy knight. And incapable, it seemed, of fulfilling her most basic duty of securing one for a husband. There was only one way the Knightly Order of Andragathos would let her keep her inheritance. She, the last and least worthy of her line, must somehow prove herself worthy to be a dame in her own right.

By the gods, she would kill the Hesperine with her own hands. And she would survive it.

Nora faced the darkness and pushed forward.

When she came to the edge of the clearing, the familiar scene was a shock. Disjointed memories from six months before flashed through her mind. Her father’s body falling. Her mother’s scream. Her own blood…

Nora stood paralyzed for a moment that she could not afford to waste. She had barely survived that night. She must be braver if she didn’t want to meet the same fate as her parents.

Her heart in her throat, she picked up her leaden feet and marched into the open. Brilliant fallen leaves crumbled beneath her footsteps. With a mundane knife, she cut her palm, biting back a hiss of pain.Nora held out her shaking, bleeding hand to make herself bait for the Hesperine.

Nothing happened. Moments passed as her blood dripped onto the ochre carpet of birch leaves. Treacherous relief slipped through her, chased by anger.

His kind had destroyed her family, but now he wouldn’t deign to appear. Perhaps he, like everyone else, had deemed her unworthy.

How dare a reviled heretic dismiss her? She might be a failure as a lady and a daughter, but she would teach her enemy to take her seriously. Let him underestimate her. She would use that to her advantage, and the Hesperine would eat his words when she carved out his heart.

“I know you’re here,” she called out. “The least you can do is hear me out.”

The wind swept gently through the spruces and mountain pines, as if mocking her.

She watched for any shadow that moved. “I know what you want, and I’ll give it to you—willingly. If you meet my terms.”

Hesperines were bestial, but cunning. With their preternatural strength and speed, they could easily take human blood by force. And yet, they preferred to use their powers of persuasion to ensnare willing victims. He would not be able to resist her offer, she was sure. She only hoped he wasn’t in the mood to play with his prey.

When he appeared out of thin air in front of her, she jumped out of her skin.

He looked nothing like the illuminations in the sacred tomes. He was no snarling, creeping creature with corpse-like skin or long fangs dripping with blood.

His beard was neatly trimmed, her foolish brain noticed, his complexion rich and dusky. He wore a short, elegant robe and trousers, not even stained with the gore of his last meal.

He looked…human.

Except he was far more beautiful than any mortal. Proud, dark brows, a chiseled jaw. The physique of a god. She couldn’t stop staring at his full lower lip and the elegant bow of his upper one, expecting him to bear his fangs at any moment.

He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

His voice was deep, his accent musical, but with a guttural edge. He sounded so sincere, as if he wanted with all his heart to reassure her. He could whisper in a woman’s ear and make her do anything he asked.

But not this woman.

“I am not afraid.” She dropped her knife in the grass.

His gaze never strayed from hers. “Are you Nora?”

Her heart kicked against her ribs. How did he know the name only her family called her?

She lifted her chin and infused her voice with boldness she didn’t feel. “I am Lady Honora of Gloria. Although my forefathers were dedicated to destroying your kind, I only want peace and safety for my people. I am prepared to negotiate a truce with you.”

He lowered his hands slowly. “There is no need to negotiate. I’ve come to finish what my brother started.”

“Your brother?”

“He was the Hesperine who was here that night.”

She was looking at the brother of her parents’ murderer. And he intended for her to be next.

But if she could turn the tables on him, justice would be all the more poetic. She could avenge her parents and secure their legacy with one kill.

A hint of pain appeared on the Hesperine’s face. “This…is the place where it happened, isn’t it?”

He sounded vulnerable. Wounded. Did he expect her to fall for that?

“Yes,” she answered, “this is the place where your brother ambushed my family on our way home. I watched him murder my parents. I would have died, too, if a Knight of Andragathos had not sent him fleeing with a fatal wound. But if you came here looking for revenge, you won’t find it. I am prepared to let you leave alive, if you will do the same for me.”

All trace of emotion left his expression. His stillness was far more frightening than his deceptive words. Now she saw the predator in him.

She envisioned how she would reach for her dagger if he sprang upon her. She had Arceo’s protection. That kept her calm enough to say what she had rehearsed. She was a terrible liar, but now she must put on the best performance of her life to deceive a Hesperine.

“I will give you my blood for three nights as tribute,” she said with dignity. “After that, you will leave, and no Hesperines will enter my lands again for as long as I hold Castra Gloria. Do you deem that a fair resolution to the bloodshed between our kin?”

He was silent for a long moment. Would he see through her promise and realize she was trying to trick him? Or would the temptation of her blood overrule his reason?

“I didn’t come here for your blood,” he said at last, his voice low and dangerous.

Her fury returned in full force. It was one matter for every eligible suitor in the Knightly Order of Andragathos to reject her. But for a bloodthirsty monster to stand here and tell her he didn’t want her was a new low.

She thrust her hand out again, flexing it to bring forth more blood. “Isn’t this enough for you? Would it not satisfy you to feed on the daughter of your enemies?”

His hands closed over hers before she could react. The controlled strength in his grasp made her knees go weak. He curled her fingers around the cut on her palm.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said.

So he was tempted. There was still hope her plan might work.

“Why refuse what is yours for the taking?” she asked. “I know you prefer the blood of the willing to feeding by force.”

“You understand nothing.”

“Enlighten me. If you have a different tribute in mind, tell me what you want.”

He didn’t release her hand. “I came for you.”

Her mouth went dry. “If not my blood…then what do you want from me?”

He barely leaned toward her, but the space between them seemed to shrink to nothing. She found herself tilting her head back to look at him. His reflective eyes caught the moonlight and glowed gold. He didn’t smell like blood and death. His scent was warm with spices and musky with masculine sweetness.

“I am here to take you away from the mortal world,” he said. “Forever.”

Her breath halted in her throat. Her carefully constructed plan crumbled. What he wanted was so much worse than her blood.

“You want to turn me into one of you?” she breathed.

“You owe it to my brother.”

She should have known a Hesperine would have a more twisted vengeance in mind. Not even her death would be enough for him. He wanted her, the last descendant of her devout line, to live forever as a heretic.

She yanked against his hold, scrambling away. He let her go so easily that she stumbled.

“I would never transform you by force,” he said. “It seems I’ll have to make you realize you want the Gift of immortality.”

Oh, gods. He did intend to play with her.

“Give me your blood, as you offered,” he demanded. “Then, if you still wish to banish Hesperines from your lands, we will never set foot here again. But if, after three nights with me, you cannot deny you want what I’ve shown you…you will let me transform you.”

She had no trouble imagining what he planned to show her to change her mind.

“I am only offering you my blood.” She hated how unsteady her voice was. “You will not take anything else. I want you to swear on your goddess.”

“What does an oath in her name mean to you? Your people persecute us for worshiping her.”

“Your kind are devoted enough to follow her into cursed eternity. Swearing by her means something to you.”

“I will expect your oath in return.”

“Very well. I, Lady Honora of Gloria, swear to give you my blood for three nights, in the name of Andragathos, God of Virtue and patron of my line.”

“I, Firstblood Daryavesh, swear by Hespera, Goddess of Night, that I will only take what you offer me willingly.”

Deceptive Hesperine. That was not the promise she had asked of him. But the loophole he had left himself would win him nothing. Her blood was all he would get. She would die before she dishonored her parents’ memory by offering a Hesperine her body.

Letting him bite her was defilement enough. But if she had to pay for her failures in blood, so be it.

“First, I will show you what the Drink is really like.” He took a step forward.

On instinct, she backed up, only to trip against a boulder embedded in the grassy hillside. The Hesperine caught her and eased her down to sit on the stone.

She was about to sit here where her parents had been martyred and accept a heretic’s bite.

Should she draw Arceo and try to end this now? Could she kill the Hesperine without letting him do this to her?

No, she was not foolish enough to try. She was neither a mage nor a warrior. She didn’t stand a chance against the Hesperine unless she went through with her plan. She must survive his bite.

Three nights. Three doses of the Sunfire Poison in her blood. The knights applied the alchemical mixture to their blades, but without combat training, she must be creative. She had drunk the potion, turning herself into her weapon.

When Hesperines were slain, their bodies disappeared in a flash of light. To prove her deed to the Order, she would have to remove a trophy from him while he was still alive. After his third feeding, the poison would take effect, rendering him too slow and weak to fight her while she removed his heart.

She watched him uncurl her fingers, one by one. His nostrils flared, and his pupils expanded, turning his irises to gold rings.

He lifted her hand toward his mouth and licked her cut. It should have stung, but all she felt was the slow stroke of his tongue across her skin.

His hands tightened on hers, and if it was possible, he went even more still. As if held himself in check by a thread.

Before her eyes, her wound healed.

“What—?” she sputtered. “How?”

It seemed to take him a moment to find his voice. “A Hesperine’s bite does no harm to a human. It has healing properties.”

He swept his tongue over her palm again, licking away the blood that lingered on her skin.

She felt her cheeks heat and knew her hopelessly pale complexion turned a betraying shade of red. She always blushed too easily. She knew she was too expressive. It was one of her greatest flaws.

He pulled back, licking his sensual lips. Her first look at his fangs should have made her quail. But the sight of his unsheathed canines only made her face flush hotter. And the darkness wouldn’t hide her response from his night vision.

It was not his strength and speed or even his magic that were the greatest threats to her. The true challenge would be surviving his seduction.

“This is what I will show you first, Nora. What the Drink is really like. Then tell me if you still believe the knights’ tales of horror.” He rested her arm across her lap, wrist up, and pressed his fingers to her racing pulse.

She must not allow herself to forget how dangerous he was. But in that moment, she was not sure whom she feared more: him, or herself.

His mouth met her skin again, evoking a flare of sensation on her sensitive inner wrist. With her free hand, she clutched at the boulder to support herself. When he sucked gently, heat crept down her neck and across her breasts.

He paused. “The Drink is not an act of violence. It is a sacred ritual.”

He firmed his grip on her forearm and held her wrist against his mouth. Her heart seemed ready to burst from her ribcage. There was no turning back now.

But no agony came. She felt the tips of his fangs prick her, then their hard lengths sinking into her flesh. But the sensation that spread through her body was anything but painful.

First a sparkling awareness that sent gooseflesh over her skin. Then a deeper warmth emanating from his lips and tongue. A sweet ache flowed down her arm, and she bit back a moan.

She knew he was pulling her lifeblood out of her, and yet the power of his bite seemed to pour into her as well, overwhelming. All the heat flowed to one destination, pooling low in her belly.

She had never let any male do this to her. She never gave in to such base desires, except in her solitary moments, when she banished her lust with her own hands. Her appetites had always been unbefitting a holy knight’s daughter, but she had managed them. Until tonight.

How was this possible? Could he be using magic on her? She squeezed her thighs together. The scabbard strapped to her leg reminded her of the truth. This was no manipulation of her mind. This was all her.

With nothing more than a bite on her wrist, the Hesperine was undoing all her years of self control.

She tried to breathe through the flood of awareness coursing through her body. Her nipples pressed tight against the gown, and her nails dug into the stone. But she didn’t push him off of her. She had to keep their agreement.

A voice in her mind, one she had tried to silence her whole life, whispered the truth to her. She didn’t want him to stop.

He lay across her lap, his jaw taut, fastened to her wrist as if his next heartbeat depended on it. She felt the inexplicable urge to bury her fingers in his long black hair. Would he keep drinking until he drained all the life out of her? Would she let him?

Suddenly, he pulled his fangs out of her with a grunt of effort.

It was over. But no sigh of relief escaped her. She bit back a whimper of frustration.

He pressed his tongue to her wrist again. His licks knit her skin together and sealed his bite, leaving two pinpoints of exquisite sensitivity where his fangs had pierced her.

Suddenly he was standing out of arm’s reach, so fast she didn’t see him move. They stared at each other, their breaths loud in the quiet night.

No blood stained his lips. She stared at his fangs, still fully extended from his gums. Fangs that had just been in her flesh. She pressed a hand to her wrist, where those twin spots of sensation on her skin felt like an indelible mark.

“Tell me, Nora. Were the horror stories true?”

She said nothing. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Did it hurt?” he asked her.

Her hand tightened on her wrist, her core still throbbing.

“Remember our agreement,” he said. “Can you deny that a Hesperine’s bite is nothing like you imagined?”

She clenched her teeth. Two more nights. Then she could end their agreement with her blade.

“No,” she confessed. “I cannot deny it.”

Then he did the most dangerous thing of all. He smiled. That arrogant tilt of his mouth transformed his deadly expression into something far more devastating.

“Tomorrow night,” he promised, “I’ll show you more. Unless you’re afraid for me to rob you of your assumptions.”

She lifted her chin. “I will meet you here after sunset.”

Assumptions were not all he intended to rob her of, she was sure. But their bargain would end with her maidenhead intact—and his heart on a platter.