Page 42 of Queen Takes Blood
The alpha grunted sourly, making Seti laugh.
Tlacel held himself very still, carefully not looking at me. He had to be fathered by either Itzcoatl or Tecuani. House Zaniyah always called jaguars, so I could see the jaguar-aspect god responding to that gift in Mama’s bloodline. He also felt like water to me. A cool, clear spring that bubbled up from the earth with joy and grace. Sometimes a sinuous river, winding and weaving as he danced, other times a deep, silent lake that could pull a man down to the depths without a sound.
I ignored the frantic, shrill screech deep inside me. The voice demanding I admit to what I am. Who must have sired me.
I wasn’t bright and warm like the sun, nor graceful and sinuous like the feathered god, nor blessed with water or storms or even a jaguar’s stealth.
Unbidden, the words I’d said to my brother just moments before reverberated through my skull like a gong.
I am darkness, pain, and death.
I was sired by Xipe Totec. The god who wore a flayed human skin.
Goddess, help me.
Seti let out another knowing chuckle. “Ah, here comes our fourth now. Behold the Night Drinker, Our Lord Flayed.”
I didn’t want to look, for fear that I would see my own features staring back at me. I heard a man’s heavy footsteps as he strode into the courtyard with confidence. My nose twitched, automatically cataloging scents before my brain even caught up. Rotten meat. Decaying flesh.
A human, fresh and still very much alive, weeping softly, a light, fearful step. Feminine.
My heart beat a heavy, slow beat that reverberated through my skull. Slowly, I turned my head and looked at my sire. Bare-chested, he wore only a pair of simple, loose trousers. A piece of torn leather flapped over his head and around his shoulders. Rotting, falling apart. Not leather. Skin. Human skin. The piece strained across his much wider shoulders. Thin strips dangled at his sides and beneath his arms. His victim’s empty limbs flapping uselessly in the breeze.
His hand was fisted in the hair of a woman, his fingers palming her head effortlessly. She tore at his arm, crying and muttering curses at him, but he didn’t even acknowledge her struggles.
No. That wasn’t true at all. His eyes burned with a vicious madness that chilled my blood. He liked the pain of her nails raking his arms. He allowed it because he enjoyed it. He could have slit her throat when he saw her and slung her lifeless body over his shoulder.
He liked that he bled. Very much indeed. His eyes burned like black pits, eager for suffering and blood. No Blood with a living queen would drink a human’s blood, but even a powerful queen couldn’t quench all of his thirsts.
He intended to feast on the human’s pain.
And this same mad glee lives in me.
22
TLACEL
Oh, my brother. My heart wept for him. Horror leaked through his bond before he managed to lock his emotions down tightly.
Looking at this fourth Blood, he saw everything that he feared in himself come to life. A monster who lived to torture innocents.
Tension strained through me. One of the other three Blood had sired me. I wanted to know for sure before we killed them. I wanted to look into my father’s eyes as his life bled away.
“We have guests, Zuma,” Seti said. “A little family reunion. Meet your long lost son, Itztli Zaniyah, and his brother, Tlacel.”
Zuma hacked a glob of phlegm on the pavers, glaring at my brother and then me. “I refuse to step down. I won’t lose my position.”
I jumped up from the seat—afraid that I’d taken his place at the fire—and backed closer to Itztli. “My apologies, Blood. I’m not familiar with your hierarchy or protocol.”
Tecuani snorted. “He doesn’t give a shit about protocol. None of us do. He’s afraid his son will take his place at our queen’s side.”
“She can’t have more than four Blood,” Itzcoatl muttered, sparing a sharp look up at me and then his alpha. Trying to decide which one of them had fathered me. “If she doesn’t kill one of us outright, we’ll duel for the right to stand at her side.”
That quickly, the tension straining in my shoulders eased into grim acceptance. I was no warrior. I wouldn’t embarrass myself in hand-to-hand combat, not after practicing with Itztli my entire life, but I had no hope of defeating an older, more experienced warrior.
So I need to make sure the queen kills my sire before she takes me.
“Then let us take this issue to your queen.”
