Page 80 of Blood from the Marrow
Chapter Thirty-Two
A week wentby in a blur of forced proximity and Hel’s attempts to train the Aglion based on Sabina’s journals. Some things had seemed impossible to Marisol, like Judith being able to project a defensive aura that extended several feet around her. But with enough trial and error, they’d made so many things work. Whether it would be enough to stop the invading horde of vampires Marisol couldn’t stop imagining… Time would only tell.
By the time evening rolled around, Marisol’s entire body was a tightly wound spring. Every muscle coiled with tension she couldn’t name. It was frustration and exhaustion and something that made her want to scream or run or break something with her bare hands. By the time she made it to the shower, her stupid brain identified the thing bothering her.
Clara’s presence was a constant itch under her skin. She was always hovering at the edge of her vision, working up the courage to talk to her. Marisol had successfully dodged time alone with Clara by always sticking close to Hel when they were training. Despite obviously being safe with them, the Aglion were still openly afraid of vampires. Marisol tried not to picturewhat it was like to live with such intense fear of everyone and everything outside their insular little group.
The careful dance they’d been doing all week was wearing Marisol raw, and she needed somewhere to unleash the torrent building inside of her. After towel-drying her hair, she wasn’t any closer to unwinding and nowhere near ready for sleep.
She found Zuri drinking white wine and sitting in a chair in the ballroom—or the capital of Fangtown as Zuri called it. Scores of vampires watched while Elena demonstrated a leg-sweeping move with a huge male vampire as her model.
Marisol took one of the many empty chairs that had been lined up along the wall to make room for the lesson. As soon as she sat, Zuri handed Marisol her glass. She rarely liked drinking when her emotions were so scattered, but Marisol took the glass and drained it without tasting the undoubtedly expensive wine. The move earned a surprised chuckle from Zuri.
“Well, fuck, Bambi.” She smirked. “Now you’re going to have to refill my drink.”
Marisol did her one better and returned with a new bottle and an extra glass. When she sat down again, Elena had flipped the huge vampire over her shoulder and slammed him on the ground like he wasn’t twice her size. She dropped to one knee and mimicked biting his throat.
“It’s annoyingly hot.” Zuri said what Marisol had barely started thinking. “She knows it too.”
They were more than halfway through the bottle when Zuri asked, “You want to talk about it?”
Marisol didn’t meet her waiting gaze. “Nope.” She picked up the bottle and poured out the rest in generous servings.
They watched Elena beat the shit out of a dozen vampires in the name of education. In a tank top and leggings, Elena’s muscles rippled and her olive skin glistened with a sheen of rare sweat.
All Marisol’s tipsy brain could think about was how strong, powerful Elena had locked herself away all that time. How she’d nearly let herbrooding vampire fuckery, as Zuri called it, consume her.
“She really put us through it,” Marisol said as if she’d been holding the conversation with Zuri rather than herself.
“What?”
“Elena,” Marisol said, like that clarified things. “She was such a… shit.”
Zuri laughed. “Jesus, Bambi. Don’t make me wash your mouth out with soap.” She looked over at Marisol, eyes gleaming. “She was a shit,” she agreed after a beat. “What do you want to do? Send her to her room without dessert?”
An idea formed in Marisol’s hazy brain and she remembered the closet in a room she guessed Narine used for private parties. “Come on,” she said to Zuri and walked away without waiting for a response so that it was clear she’d issued a command, not a request. From the pocket of her sweatpants, she pulled her phone and searched for a video on how to sanitize sex toys.
When Elena walked out of the shower an hour later, Zuri and Marisol were waiting for her in nothing but matching straps. Towel wrapped around her body, Elena stopped short. Eyes wide in genuine surprise, she scanned them from head to toe, attention snagging at their hips.
“What’s this?” Elena dropped the towel she’d been using on her long, wavy hair.
Marisol walked toward her first, fisting her hand in her wet hair. Exploiting every inch of her meager height advantage, she made a fist and yanked Elena’s head back. Lips hovering over Elena’s mouth but keeping out of reach, she whispered, “Punishment.”
Elena groaned, straining against Marisol’s hold, making her pull tighter. “This doesn’t feel like punishment.”
“It will,” Marisol promised before biting Elena’s bottom lip.
Marisol knew she had found the perfect emotional release when Elena rewarded her with a startled gasp. She knew that Elena was going to let her use her exactly how she needed to. That she didn’t have to be sweet. That she could drown her fear and anxiety in Elena’s kiss. Bury it between Elena’s strong thighs.
“On your knees,” Marisol demanded in something like a growl.
When Elena hesitated, Marisol tightened her grasp on her hair. Elena sucked in a breath that turned into a moan, but she didn’t kneel.
To her own surprise, Marisol reflexively grabbed Elena by the throat, blunt nails digging into her perfect skin.
Elena smirked, eyes half closed. And then Marisol squeezed harder. If Elena were human, there would be thin streams of blood running down her neck, Marisol was sure.
“You have a lot of work to do to make up for your behavior,” Marisol muttered against Elena’s full lips. “Get down and open your mouth.”
