15. Cyan
Chapter 15
Cyan
I was so beyond fucked.
Tavi was my blood mate.
I had my suspicions that this was happening when I first met her, but had given it no real thought. The odds, while not impossible, were slimmer than slim. No betting man in his right mind would have taken a chance on this.
But then I tasted her blood and that confirmed it. She tasted better than anything I’d ever had in my life. Her blood was everything my body had been craving because it was chemically perfect for me and me alone.
Everything made sense now, why her pulse and scent had affected me so much. Why all other blood sources had started to lose their appeal. My senses knew on a cellular level what I had been too blind to see.
Drinking any other blood would be nearly impossible now. Since the moment hers hit my tongue, my body would reject any other source. My life as I knew it was over.
I wanted to hate Tavi for this, but she had no control over it either. Fuck, even if she had the power and foresight to orchestrate this, I could never bring myself to hate that adorable, brave little human.
That didn’t make this situation any less fucked up or unwelcome.
After dropping her off in front of the human settlement, I headed straight for the neighboring vampire village, Marrowtown. These vampires, called marrowers, were a different sort, and as clearly indicated by the name of the place, they preferred feeding on bone marrow to blood. And I hoped that very substance would help me in my current situation, at least temporarily.
I parked my motorcycle next to a building so small that it could have been an outhouse. While many vampire homes and businesses were mostly underground, the marrowers took it to a whole other level. This little outhouse building was the only above-ground marker of the town. Easy to blink and miss it.
I opened the building’s door and proceeded down the narrow stone steps, taking care to not slip on the smooth, well-worn stone. Some believed the marrowers were the oldest clan of vampires, and that may have been true. Some lineages could be traced back to splitting off from the early ancestors of humans over a hundred thousand years ago.
Lively chatter began to echo up the stone walls as I descended deeper into the earth. Darkness gave way to flickering warm firelight. While the marrowers had access to electricity and modern comforts like the rest of us, they preferred a more rustic lifestyle. The air grew warm from torches lining the walls, the old-fashioned ones with an actual flame lighting the end of a stick covered in tar.
The door at the bottom of the staircase was warped and had seen better days, the brass handle polished smooth from the thousands of hands that had touched it over the centuries. I let myself through and the dark, empty underground exploded into a loud, lively dining room.
“What have we here?” The marrower behind the bar grinned, looking sinister with his prominent lower fangs. “A topsider burrowing with the voles?”
The room burst into raucous laughter, all twenty or so occupants turned to look at me from their various tables. The sound echoed against the stone walls and ceilings, bouncing around the room with no escape except for the two tunnels at the far side of the room and the door I just came through.
“Yeah, get a good look at this hot shit,” I joked on my way to a barstool. “I’ll be the best-looking fucker any of you will see for the next century.”
There were chuckles and clapbacks that rose up from the crowd, but nothing truly malicious. Marrowers loved to talk shit about those of us who lived above ground, but it was all in good fun.
“What an honor this is,” said the barkeep as I settled across from him, his tone only mildly sarcastic. “What brings you down here, topsoil twat?”
Even in the sour mood I was in, I couldn’t hold back my snort. “That’s a creative one. You been thinking on it all year, Drace?”
“Only about a month or so.”
“Keep telling yourself that, groundhog. Maybe you’ll get inspired next time you pop up to see if there’s six weeks of winter left.”
Drace laughed, leaning on his forearms. He looked like a typical marrower, big and muscular with greyish skin, a large square jaw, and fangs that were bigger on the lower row of teeth than the upper. Apparently, his subspecies had evolved in such a way in order to crush bones and suck the marrow out.
Not that they didn’t feed on blood as well, but bone marrow was what they depended on, and was the center of their culture and way of life.
“Seriously, Cy. You look like shit.” Drace blinked, his massive pupils like two black holes pulling me in. Marrowers had red irises like us, but they looked like thin red circles with how their giant pupils always stared into one’s soul. Probably something to do with how little light there was underground.
“I feel like it,” I admitted.
I didn’t see Drace often, but I’d consider him a friend nonetheless. As strange as they seemed to some, marrowers thrived on community. They helped each other out, and generally weren’t a judgmental bunch. And right then I needed to get some shit off my chest that I wasn’t ready to tell the others in my clan.
“Need marrow?” Drace was already grabbing a clean mortar and pestle to work with.
“Please.”
“Any special requests?”
“Just the good shit. The best you have.”
The big marrower chuckled as he pulled open a slim drawer with an array of spongey bone marrow laid out on a parchment sheet. “I never serve anything less.”
I watched in silence as he worked, first crushing the dried marrow with the mortar and pestle, then adding various ingredients as he continued grinding it down into a powder. He splashed in some liquid that made the marrow hiss and bubble, then added what looked like a packet of dried spices, and then a drizzle of some kind of oil. The last thing he did was transfer the marrow mash to a cast-iron pot, which he held over the open flame of a torch for a few minutes.
When he plated up and set the marrow dish in front of me, it looked similar to the mushy breakfast food Tavi sometimes ate when she first woke up. She called it oatmeal.
Tavi, the reason I was here eating bone marrow at all.
I picked up a spoon and brought the smallest possible taste to my mouth. Bracing myself as I swallowed, I waited for violent stomach spasms or my throat closing up, any physical sign of rejection from my body.
But none came. The marrow mash actually tasted good, rich and smooth with a light gritty texture. With a sigh of relief, I spooned a bigger portion into my mouth.
“Good?” Drace grunted, watching with his massive arms crossed.
“You know it is. Thank you for this.”
“Sure.” He kept watching me eat. “You have some bad blood or something? Gotta flush out from having one of those sunlight junkies?”
“No, worse.” I finished my meal first, letting the clean spoon clatter to the stoneware bowl before I sat back and met my concerned friend’s gaze. “I’m pretty sure I just found my blood mate.”
Drace’s brows shot up, his face splitting into a grin. “Are you fucking with me, topsoil?”
“I wish I was.”
He barked out a laugh and would have doubled over if the bar wasn’t in front of him. “So you’re telling me…” He pulled in a breath, started laughing again, then tried once more. “You’re telling me you’re down here eating marrow to sustain yourself instead of feeding from the one person who’s blood chemistry perfectly matches your unique biological needs? Do I have that right?”
“It’s more fucking complicated than that but, yeah,” I huffed. “I can’t feed from her. And now I can’t feed from anyone else without wanting to vomit my organs up. So I gotta live on marrow like you fuckers.”
“Ah, poor little topsider.” Drace finally stopped laughing, leaning in closer to speak more quietly. “I hate to tell you this, but marrow won’t sustain you forever. Even among my folk, once a blood mate pairing is found, nothing else satisfies.”
“Oh, great.” I propped my elbows on the bar and slapped my hands to my face. “I’m extra fucked now, fantastic.”
Drace laughed as he straightened. “What are you bitching about, Cyan? Finding your blood mate is a rare and joyous thing. You celebrate it topside too, do you not?”
“We do,” I admitted begrudgingly. “And I might’ve been happier about it in another fifty, maybe hundred years. But I’m not ready to be tied down to one person yet.”
“You don’t always have that choice.”
“Well, I should! Some days I feel like tasting dragon shifter. Other days, a brusang. If I’m feeling vanilla, maybe a human. I should be able to choose who I fuck and feed from, Temkra damn it.”
Drace did not look impressed. His arms were crossed again with one eyebrow arched. “And what is so bad about the blood mate you’ve found yourself with?”
“Nothing.”
The word left my mouth before a response had fully processed in my head, because it was the simplest, purest truth. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Tavi. She was the bravest human I’d ever met, sweet with a bite of fire in her, passionate, and beautiful. When I impulsively kissed her, she tasted like the first full breath of fresh air I’d ever had.
She was perfect in so many ways. Which was exactly why I could not have her as my blood mate.
“So, what’s the problem?” Drace pressed.
I couldn’t think of a way to articulate my thoughts except to say, “Well, she’s human, for one.”
Drace made a disapproving noise. “So your mate will be near the end of her life, or dead before you feel ready to commit?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. She’s not the problem, it’s me.”
“So quit being a fucking problem.”
“Marrowers,” I groaned, rubbing my eyes. “You all have stones for brains, I swear.”
“And you topsiders have done so damn well for yourselves, squabbling over territory and power, that you overcomplicate everything and forget what’s important,” Drace snarled. “A blood mate is a blessing, one that many don’t find in our very long lifetimes. You literally need her blood to keep living, so why fight it? Are you gonna waste away, starving yourself while sticking your cock in others because you didn’t get to choose when you were ready?”
Not many things could truly piss off a marrower, but Drace was getting close. His nostrils flared and he’d begun to pace behind the bar, eyes narrowing as he ranted at me.
He had a point, sure, but there was so much he didn’t know. Our clan business never caught much wind underground, so he had no idea about what happened with Kalix, how badly I’d failed him and Blood ‘til Dawn. Of all the people who deserved a long, happy life with a loving blood mate at their side, I wasn’t even on the list.
“Thanks for the marrow,” I repeated, realizing that I had begun to wear out my welcome. “I’ll take another portion to-go. And I’m staying overday, so I’ll buy a room if you’ve got an empty one.”
Drace’s posture softened just a fraction. “Stay and drink, topsoil. I have beer from that angel brewery. Would hate for you to miss out.”
Now it was my turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you dug a tunnel to the angel territory.”
“I didn’t. My ancestors did at some point.” He grinned proudly. “Wouldn’t surprise me if we have tunnels going into all the territories, even the forbidden ones. Your border magic doesn’t reach this far underground.”
“Well, if you’re offering.” I shrugged. “Might as well.”
“Don’t tell any of your clan mates about this.” Drace procured the bottle with a flourish and started to pour. “I don’t need to be strung up by my tusks for having contraband.”
“More likely, they’ll be knocking down your door for a taste.” I brought the small glass of golden, bubbly liquid to my nose. “Do you have a contact with the winged assholes or did you steal this?”
“I’ve already told you too much.” Drace smirked. “Enjoy it for what it is and don’t ask so many questions.”
“Fair enough.” I touched my glass to his. “Thank you for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of sampling angel-made contraband.”
The marrower grinned. “And it’s still not as rare as finding your blood mate.”
“Oh, fuck all the way off.”
Drace laughed uproariously and poured us more to drink.