Page 50 of Blood from the Marrow
“And where the hell does Hel come in?”
“They met during the invasion of Normandy.” Elena remembered the coded letter. She could still feel the thin material under her nervous fingertips.
“Tale as old as time,” Zuri replied with a smirk.
“They recognized each other’s true forms on the beach. The vampires hidden in the ranks were supposed to wait for sunset to follow the advancing troops, but?—”
“Neither of those two could wait.”
Elena nodded. “The cloudy skies weren’t nearly as much cover as Lib expected. Covering herself as best she could, she was exhausted when she dragged herself to the sand. Hel had already clocked her, as you like to say, and dragged her under the hull of a boat that had been blown out of the water.”
Zuri’s eyes widened. “Fuck, is that kind of hot?”
“Waiting to see whether you can outlast the sun or be reduced to ash?” Elena shrugged. “That is not my kink, I suppose.”
“Shut up,” Zuri joked, a change so drastic from all their previous interactions that Elena felt the shift in her weakening knees. “It’s romantic. What does that have to do with Lib’s accent?”
“Hidden together in close quarters for a few hours, Hel came up with the idea of pretending Lib’s vocal cords had been damaged during the invasion somehow. The number of casualties and injuries sustained on that single day had been staggering. Apparently, getting a medic to make a record of an injury that didn’t impede her ability to pull a trigger was simple. From there, they fought their way through France until theycould slip away from their respective official duties and slither behind enemy lines together.”
Elena didn’t want to tell Zuri the rest. Librada had not been forthcoming with details, but over the years Elena understood that what she and Hel had seen and done had been harrowing. Neither had gotten over it, but it was Hel who’d departed emotionally when they returned home. Hel who hadn’t been able to separate her love for Lib from atrocity. Who’d tried to find meaning in the disorder of life by retreating to a Lilith cult. Lib had done her best to follow, but she couldn’t stand to be cloistered the way she’d been as a nun in her first life.
Tragically, it had been the first and last time Lib had offered her heart to another for safekeeping. Elena never wanted that kind of solitude for her blood daughters. Her only solace was that they had each other.
Zuri’s gaze drifted to the crypt door. “What do you think Hel looked like in a uniform? Those muscles straining against her clothes.”
“Hilarious,” Elena replied dryly, a spike of heat blazing up her spine even when she knew Zuri was baiting her.
Zuri moistened the full lips Elena missed like air. Like nourishment. Like home.
“It’s not even just how hot she is,” Zuri continued and Elena dug her nails into her own palms. “It’s all the fucking top energy.” Zuri’s body released a flood of dopamine so strong, Elena nearly choked on it. “I bet she could throw me?—”
Elena rushed forward, pinning Zuri to the door frame with her hand around her neck and her leg between her parted thighs. Before Zuri could harden her face into a mask, Zuri’s expression was molten desire. Skin flushed and eyes rolled back and lips parted to release the faintest groan. It was the spark that burned away the fog clouding Elena’s thoughts.
“You’re mine,” Elena said through gritted fangs.
Zuri’s dark eyes glinted with her fearlessness. With every ounce of power she had over Elena. “Just decide that, did you?”
Elena squeezed harder and Zuri couldn’t resist biting her own lip even if her expression remained resolute.
“You have been so far up your own ass, you don’t even know where I’ve been for days… weeks even,” Zuri snarled, pushing against Elena’s hand as if daring her to go further. Knowing that Elena wouldn’t dare hurting her. “Maybe I’ve had half of Miami?—”
“You haven’t,” Elena said with complete confidence. She would have detected the scent of anyone else on her skin.
“Yeah, well maybe I should,” Zuri threatened in a tone that sounded too much like the truth.
“You wouldn’t do that to Marisol,” Elena said, knowing immediately it had been a mistake.
Zuri grabbed her wrist and pulled her off. “Oh, you want to give a fuck about Bambi now?” Anger raged so hot, she was incandescent. She shoved Elena backward. “You’re fucking breaking her with your bullshit, Elena, or can’t you tell? Are you too consumed with your own self-pity to notice how you’re wearing her down?”
Stunned, but feeling the truth in her shredded gut and ravaged heart, Elena could only shake her head weakly. “I didn’t intend to?—”
“Yeah well, intentions count for shit, Elena.” Zuri wiped away tears before they could form, but Elena couldn’t stop her own. Didn’t even try. “Whatever you meant to do by pushing us away like this isn’t fucking working.”
Elena opened her mouth but all she could taste was the salt of her own regret. She couldn’t find a way to defend herself. To explain her convoluted plan to protect them from herself. Zuri was right. It hadn’t worked. She hadn’t counted on themremaining steadfast. Of loving her more than she’d ever loved herself.
“I can’t believe I have to tell someone who’s lived several fucking lifetimes to grow up and get their shit together.” Zuri dried her face but her emotion broke through, unstoppable as the tide and the rising moon and the love Elena hadn’t managed to quell. “It’s going to be a long lonely life if you don’t?—”
Elena rushed forward again, but this time with her hands lightly holding Zuri’s face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unsure how to put into words how badly she’d mishandled and misjudged and miscalculated. “I thought I was…” She lost her broken reasoning in Zuri’s glistening eyes. “I’m sorry.”
