Page 16 of Blood from the Marrow
Brothers and sons joined them for the procession back to their room. Nia would return to them the next evening, although it would take a few days to regain her full strength. It could take up to an anxious fortnight for their new sister to wake.
“That was significantly less bloody than I expected,” Marisol said, hand in Elena’s as they walked through Sayah’s great room and toward the ballroom. “It was really beautiful.”
Zuri, walking next to Marisol, nodded. There had been a few non-vampires in attendance during the ceremony—an honor bestowed on very few. Nia had demonstrated a great deal of trust in Elena to allow it.
“It’s a rather elegant design,” Elena agreed. “Nia used her daughter’s blood to give her enough strength to spill nearly all of her own. She will quite literally be blood of Nia’s blood. A connection even more complete than a biological parent.”
“A little narcissistic maybe,” Zuri said with a half-smile, “but I guess it’s kind of poetic.”
Elena tipped her head to one side. “Vampires are world-renowned for our egos.”
“What about witches?” Marisol asked, eyes wide like she’d just realized she had a thousand questions.
Zuri brushed her shoulder. “We’re born, baby, not made.”
“Not chosen, you mean.” Elena called back to an old argument they hadn’t visited in years.
“Bambi, Count Charisma thinks the world is littered with nepo-babies. Just because we inherit our gifts rather than trolling the streets looking for attractive people to spend the rest of our lives looking at.”
“It does seem a little less special if anyone can join the club,” Marisol replied with the weakest attempt at an insult Elena had ever heard. It was so weak that it penetrated her skin and seeped through her sternum and dripped into a sliver of her heart not covered in scar tissue.
Zuri laughed with her eyes and the rise in her chest and the relaxed slope of her shoulders. “We’re going to work on that trash talk, babe.” She snaked her arm around Marisol’s waist and tugged her close while they walked.
In her life, first or second, Elena had never felt more complete. She wouldn’t have them in her life without the tempest that brought them, and it was hard to be grateful for that. But she couldn’t deny that things felt more like providence than misfortune.
Together, they were a blend of moon and sun, of fire and water, of earth and air. They were the balance Elena had craved for centuries, the harmony she’d never dared dream of. They’d brought her something better than a love worth dying for. They’d given her something worth living for.
She let them walk ahead of her into the ballroom. Converted into a lounge fit for Dionysus, the design was an obvious tribute to Jezebel. White sheets thin as gossamer hung in panels, creating a score of semi-private areas. Furniture, different fromthe night before, was all powder blue and gold indulgent elegance.
In a sea of shadow, Marisol and Zuri were blinding. Even without trying, they drew attention. Attention Elena both wanted to delight in and repel. They were hers, and no one here would dare tread upon her claim, but blood rushed to her hands and curled them into fists just the same.
“Now it all makes sense,” Narine said when she appeared at her side.
When Elena looked at her and waited for her to explain what she meant, Narine laughed.
“Why you’ve been hiding away all these months. Why you turned down my hospitality.” She grinned, eyes dark and heavy with innuendo. “You’ve got it bad for those gorgeous specimens.”
Elena forced her features into a mask, but they both knew it was too late. Her affection was etched into her skin.
“You didn’t mention that you were back with Zuri.” Narine took a sip of wine. “I don’t blame you. I prefer humans, but a witch’s unpredictability can be fun.”
Even if Narine would never trespass on what was hers, and she preferred to take human males to bed, Elena didn’t like how her gaze lingered on Zuri and Marisol. How she followed the curve of Zuri’s hips when she sat in an oversized armchair. How the corner of her lip twitched when Marisol slid into her lap.
“Perhaps the next time you grace me with your presence, you’ll bring them.” She dragged her lingering gaze away from them and turned it to Elena, gold goblet to her red lips. “I’d love to get to know?—”
“Your time would be better spent making sure your territory isn’t a breeding ground for insurrection.” Elena’s tone was a steel trap snapping hard enough to crush bone.
Narine’s aura shifted away from amusement and into shame. “Elena,” she said, so quietly the sound was barely more than the movement of her lips. “I don’t have the words to describe how I feel about my failure?—”
Elena raised a hand and willed the topic away. She was as happy that evening as she ever remembered being. Her skin was almost warm from the surge of gratitude in her chest. There was no reason to spoil it with concerns now dead.
As if the universe wanted to remind her she had better things to do with her time than think of the past, Zuri found her with her gaze and moved Marisol’s hair to one side to kiss her neck. Marisol immediately relaxed into her, closing her eyes and parting her lips. Zuri didn’t so much as blink while she held Elena’s gaze. Gods, she always knew exactly what to do to her.
“Did he say anything to you?” Narine moved closer, lips to Elena’s ear so she could whisper even more quietly.
“What?” For a disorienting heartbeat, Elena couldn’t remember what the hell they’d been talking about. Couldn’t figure out why she was standing there instead of sitting with Zuri and Marisol.
“Baylor,” Narine said with an edge of impatience. “Did he say anything about who he was working with? If there was a female?—”
