Page 15 of A Shadow of Betrayal

Unfortunately, the man is much stronger than I am and tightens his hold around me, keeping me trapped against his chest as Senior Axford grabs the knife from one of the men dressed in blue. He instructs the other one who is holding the bowl to step closer as he slowly pours a cloudy white liquid into the dish, and I can feel my body start to shake with fear.

“Let me go,” I grit out, trying to twist my wrist out of the man's grip. His only response is a low chuckle while his hand tightens, making his grip on me almost painful. “Let me go right now!” This time I yell, causing Senior Axford to startle and slosh some of the weird liquid onto the floor. He gives me a stern look as he finishes his task, then hands off the pitcher, turning to face me. I can hear Elaine talking to someone behind me, and I’m pretty sure she's asking if there is another way to do this, which makes me feel a little better. I hope there is because this is like some shit out of a weird movie.

“Don't panic, child. It's only going to be a small scratch, and then we will know the best way to train you and whose bloodline you belong to,” Senior Axford murmurs, coming at me with the sharp zigzagged blade in his shaky hands. He starts to chant something, and my infuriatingly attractive captor shoves my hand forward to hover above the golden bowl.

I struggle as Senior Axford brings the shaking knife up, his words hushed, almost inaudible as the blade he holds starts to glow white. The man behind me stiffens in response, and a sound rumbles from his chest that honestly sounds like a growl. He's obviously irritated by my movements, but I don't care.

What if this old guy misses and cuts my hand off? I need my hand!

In my panic, I slam my foot back on Umbra Regalis’ foot, hoping that he will soften the increasingly painful grip he has on me, but it does nothing. If he hadn't grunted a little, I would think the dude was a robot. His arm shifts up from where he was pinning me to him by my waist, moving up over my breasts before his hand circles my neck.

“Hold still, girl,” he growls in my ear. He readjusts his grip on my arm, moving it to hold several inches above my wrist, and I feel bile crawling up my throat. I kick back, still trying to break free, and the man shifts his hips in a split second, barely avoiding a blow to the balls, just as the old man stops his chant and brings the blade down toward my hand.

“No!” I scream, feeling the bite of the blade slice into my skin, running in a perfectly straight line from the center of my wrist to the middle of my palm. It's over almost instantly, but my body doesn't get the memo. I shake like a leaf as Umbra Regalis twists my wrist and squeezes it painfully, making me gasp at the sting of him manhandling my injured arm. Blood trickles from the long but shallow wound, dripping down my wrist to my fingers before finally landing in the murky water below, turning it from a silvery white to a pink color.

I watch in disgusted awe as the pink liquid starts to shimmer and turn colors. Umbra Regalis’ hand loosens the smallest amount, and I wince when I realize his grip has been slowing the blood flow to my hand. But now, blood pools from the cut on my wrist and runs down my fingers in earnest as the pink liquid slowly turns to a shimmering blue color. I hear a sharp intake of breath behind me, and the hand holding me trembles for a moment, but I’m far too worried about my sliced-up palm and wrist to pay much attention to the Viking behind me.

“So much for the perfect record, Regalis,” the man who had taunted him before sneers, standing from his chair to look at the blue mist now hovering around us.

“You would do well to remember who keeps the DeLuca line afloat,” Umbra Regalis rumbles out behind me in response. “I would hate to see your bloodline fall into the hands of the Ivanovs,” he adds, making the man standing near his chair pale and sit down.

“I suppose this shouldn't be a surprise, though I am concerned about how the Regalis line has misplaced such a valuable asset,” Senior Axford mutters, placing down the knife he still held in his trembling hand as he turns his attention to the man behind me. I shake my head a little, my mind reeling as I try to keep up with the conversation next to me while convincing myself that my now throbbing hand is still attached.

“The color is off,” a man points out, standing from his chair with a wheeze and slowly making his way toward us. “The Regalis line is a royal blue, and this shade…” The old man who has come to stand next to us eyes the weird blue shade and narrows his eyes before looking at me. “Is more… indigo.”

“It's blue,” Senior Drakos snaps, shoving up from his chair before he stomps down the steps in my direction. “Meaning the girl is of Regalis descent. Who cares about the particulars? The Ivanovs range in color as well, and you don't see them complaining.”

“The Ivanovs let their Umbras mate with anything with a heartbeat, diluting their line and making it alter in color,” Senior Axford states, his lips curling in disgust as he looks at me. “Which would explain the color shift.”

“What I want to know is why she is here. The Russians reported a similar thing happening with one of their lines, and with the sudden increase of Demons crossing over the veil…” a man starts, then shrugs, leaving his sentence unfinished while standing from his chair and taking a step in our direction. I keep my eyes locked on my wrist, trying to ignore my spinning head. I'm not one who tends to shy away from blood, but I think all the stress, plus getting magically knocked out and kidnapped is starting to get to me.

Oh… and not to mention the discovery of Demons and magic. Yeah, still trying to wrap my mind around that one. “There hasn't been a lost soul discovered since the Shadow Wars, and yet, we discover two so close together? What is happening to cause this?” the man asks, crossing over to peer at the blue contents inside the bowl. He looks to be a similar age to Senior Axford, his wrinkles having their own wrinkles and his skin so thin you can see the prominent veins underneath.

“The veil has thinned and Demons are coming in at an increased rate. Maybe this is the Umbra magic at work to help even the odds? Perhaps the ones found have only come into their magic because of the disruption from the Demon magic? Maybe the girl isn't of the Regalis bloodline at all. Perhaps she is a new one created by the Demons themselves. We should talk to Senior Petrov and find out the bloodline of the boy they found last week.”

Those words pull a snort from the man standing behind me, his hand no longer gripping my wrist but still firmly wrapped around my neck, keeping me secure against his strong chest. I lean into him, no longer caring what he or the other men in the room think as I try to get my vision to stop swimming.

He’s warm, soothing my frazzled mind as I relax into his hold, feeling oddly… safe. I frown and shake my head, trying to clear it a little. No, that’s not right. He’s definitely not safe! What the hell is wrong with me? Crap, is this a side-effect of whatever magic the old man just used on me? Why do I feel so out of control of my body right now?

“You disagree, Umbra Regalis?” Senior Axford asks, giving the man behind me a disapproving look.

“I do,” Umbra Regalis says simply. “Why would your magic randomly alter a person's genetic makeup and then leave them to fend for themselves? And why would the Demons’ magic create a Hunter?” The man chuckles darkly, and I can feel the sound vibrate through his chest, making me shiver a little in his grasp. “This isn't the first time in our history Demons have crossed over in excess, and it most certainly won't be the last. There was no discovery of lost Umbra souls with any previous Demon Wars, so why would you believe it would happen now?” he asks, pausing to let his words sink in before he scoffs and shakes his head.

“No, the odds are there was a recessive gene that happened to wake in the girl. She has always been of the bloodline; the Elders just didn't have the power to discover it and left the poor girl and her family to suffer.”

“Are you questioning our power?” one of the Seniorem Elders asks, leaning forward in his chair, eyeing Umbra Regalis with contempt. There is a long pause, and I can feel the muscles in Umbra Regalis’ chest shift and move, his fingers flexing just the smallest amount around my throat and making me hold my breath.

Oh god, please don't choke me because you are pissed at an old man, I mentally beg the Viking, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Wanting to get away from him, I lightly press against his firm hold and suck in a startled breath when the man's big arm winds itself around my waist and tucks me even closer to his chest.

Oookay… guess I'm staying right here. I grit my teeth in annoyance but stay put, still feeling sick.

“Not at all, Senior DeCanto. I’m merely pointing out the obvious answer to our question.”

“You make several good points, Umbra Regalis. But be careful with your words. To go against the Elders is to go against our very core beliefs. Which is the very highest of treason,” Senior Axford murmurs, his shoulders relaxing when Umbra Regalis nods, his chin brushing against my hair. “You may hold the Senior Regalis seat, but you have yet to be blooded in by the Seniorem. Do not push farther than your title allows.”

My head spins as I try to keep up with this conversation, but I swear this room went from freezing cold to boiling hot in a matter of seconds. Sweat beads at my forehead and above my lip and I want to reach up and swipe it away, but I'm worried about the damn hand Umbra Regalis has wrapped around my neck!

The sharp metallic smell of blood and the musky scent of whatever is in that water makes my stomach revolt, and this time I can’t stop the contents that crawl up my throat. Turning to my side, I lean forward, throwing up all over the old gray stone next to my feet and making everyone but Umbra Regalis jump back from me to avoid getting splashed.

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