Page 40 of Blood

Fuckity fuck.

“Are you done now?” Memphis tilts his strange-shaped head to the side and eyes me curiously.

I do a mental inventory, making sure I’m one-hundred-percent done with my internal freakout. Only when I’m positive I can have a coherent conversation without bursting into laughter or tears do I nod once.

“Yes. I think I am.”

“As I was saying,” Memphis gives me a pointed, irritated look, “as the Queen of Hell, you’re able to free anyone from their prison—including the Fomorians. Only you are capable of doing such a task.”

“Because I’m the queen?” I tentatively ask.

“Because you have Lucifer’s blood running through your veins,” Memphis explains. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you that the process is...risky. Lucifer ensured it would be that way, so no one would get any ideas about trying to free the Fomorians themselves using a vial of his blood.”

“How risky?” Alex barks, suddenly alert. His hot breath wafts against my sensitive earlobe, and shivers dance across my skin.

Memphis’s voice is unexpectedly grave. “There’s a seventy-five percent chance that Violet will die attempting it.”

I suddenly can’t breathe. Not because I’m having an existential crisis again—but because Alex is hugging me so tightly that my breath is being siphoned from my lungs.

“No fucking way. You’re not doing it,” Alex snaps at me.

“Didn’t you hear him? There’s a twenty-five percent chance that I’ll succeed!”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Alex shakes his head, something I feel more than see as his nose brushes against my hair. “Your mates will kill me if I allow you to do this. And I...I can’t...” He breaks off with a growl. “You’re not doing this.”

“It’s not your choice, Alex.” I try to keep my tone gentle, because I know Alex is simply afraid for me, though I doubt the stubborn bastard will admit it. “It’s mine.”

“Who even knows if the Fomorians will help you?” Alex demands. “They’re probably furious at Lucifer for locking them away. And you’re his damn daughter! They’ll kill you!”

“They won’t,” Memphis supplies. “I’ve seen what would happen if the spell works correctly. The Fomorians will help Violet on her quest to reclaim her throne.”

“Not helping,” Alex seethes. I can practically feel the force of his glare thrown at the ugly monster.

“But I’ve also seen hundreds and hundreds of futures where Violet dies attempting the spell. And if that happens, then the world will descend into chaos.”

Damned if you do; damned if you don’t.

“Is there a way for me to win without the Fomorians?” I query timidly. I’m not an idiot, despite what everyone wants to believe, and I don’t have a death wish. If there’s a way for me to win this battle without risking my life and the lives of my mates, then I’ll do so in a heartbeat. I don’t want to die. Not now. I want to grow and love and live. I’ve been trapped in a bubble of fear and inadequacies for far too long; I’ve only just learned what it means to spread my wings and fly.

I’m sure there’s a bat joke in there somewhere, but I don’t feel like winging it right now. You can just write this failed joke straight into my obatuary.

“The chances of you winning without the Fomorians’ help is...” Memphis’s eerie red eyes glaze over, and those strange lips of his scuttle into what appears to be a frown. “Point zero zero three four percent.”

“And with the Fomorians?”

“Seventeen percent.”

I really, really don’t like any of those odds.

“Violet, please.” Alex’s voice takes on a desperate plea I’ve never heard before. I feel his face nuzzle against the side of my neck. His lips glide over the smooth skin there, and I can’t help but shiver at the feel of him. “Please don’t do this. Please.”

Instinctively, I lower my hands to his arms still around my waist and rub at the skin there. I can’t help but study the intricate tattoos coloring his porcelain flesh. What do they all mean, if anything? I find that I want to take the time to study each and every one and discern their meanings.

When the fuck did that happen?

How did I go from wanting to bite his head off to daydreaming about touching his tattoos...with my tongue?

“I have to, Alex.” My voice is a mere whisper. “I need to do this to stop Zeus.”

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