Page 33 of Blood & Bedlam

I study how her body moves against mine, how her muscles televise her strikes and meet them with answers that keep her constantly moving, constantly honing her own responses. She’s going to be up against someone old, far older than I most likely. The Torini Clan want this to be an exhibition of their power, and knowing they won’t get another state-sanctioned opportunity to take out a piece of my family is going to have them pulling out all the stops.

Camille twists, leveraging her weight to climb up my side, but it leaves her own exposed, and a quick jab breaks the bones in her ribs. Her cry guts me, but I push down my instincts, the ones screaming at me to halt this immediately, to protect. I remind myself that going easy on her would be to condemn her and making sure she feels pain in this moment conditions her to respond correctly when there’s a body bent on taking her life pinning her.

She’s beautiful in her counterstrike, claws digging straight into my chest, rupturing bone to clasp my heart. With a wrench, she pulls. The moment the organ severs, I lose all power over my limbs, the chilling darkness surrounding me as I drop to my knees. Cami pushes against me, sending my corpse sprawling to the ground in full sunlight. As the light leaves my eyes, I see her toss my heart into a pile on the grimy floor. Pride forces a smile to my face as my vision fades. The world falls away, replaced by the vision of Mina, sleeping peacefully the morning I left her to head to the front. The last living memory I had of her, and in that moment, there is blissful oblivion.

The quiet is short-lived as magic stabs through my chest, regrowing my missing heart, reconnecting tissues and pathways. My eyes fly wide, and for a moment the world is in Technicolor, my beast pushed to the forefront of my being. He knows what is happening here, knows we aren’t in direct threat, and so he’s easy to pull back—for once.

I sit up in a pool of my own blood and glance down at the gaping hole in my chest slowly healing over my freshly pumping heart. My eyes find Cami, who stands with her hands on her hips, talking with Fleur and Drake, assessing and breaking down the fight.

“It was a good use of technique, but you hesitated on the first strike. Severing the muscle will give you a few seconds of nonuse until it heals,” Drake instructed, dragging his fingers over the curved muscle that would have rendered my arm useless and saved Cami’s ribs had she bitten deep enough.

I stand, still a little woozy from the entire ordeal, and take a few tentative steps. Waking after death is always a surreal experience, and doing it several times in the same day is starting to take its toll, but I don’t care. These drills are essential to the survival of Camille. The room is empty except for Fleur, Drake, Camille, and a stoically quiet Tully. The shifter stands guard near the door of the sparring chamber, watchful eyes assessing the scene.

“How are your ribs?” I croak on my approach, my voice hoarse and gruff with my beast. Cami lifts her shirt to show me the fading bruise. “Good, again. This time with your fire,” I instruct, gesturing for her to come to me as I make my way back into the bloodied chalk circle. The three of them exchange a weary look. Fleur clears her throat.

“Perhaps you should take a moment to rest,” she says, but there’s a command there too. I push my hair from my eyes, taking sweat with it as I go, then rest my hands on my hips.

“I’m fine. Again.” But Cami doesn’t move.

“We’ve been at this for hours. You’ve had your heart ripped out eight times. No need to push the magic holding you together,” Drake jokes, but there’s a bite of concern to his words that makes me bristle.

“I wasn’t aware that the limits of my immortality was something you’ve become an expert in, Son.” I bite too harshly. I know that he doesn’t deserve my ire even as my words fall against him.

Drake doesn’t relent. He folds his arms over his large chest and cocks his head. “It doesn’t take a genius to understand that magic has limits; just because you haven’t hit them before doesn’t mean you won’t or can’t. It’s nearly sundown, and this is unnecessary. If you’re looking for another reason to avoid going home, we can find one, but not this way.”

All the air flattens from the room. His words land like a bomb, shattering my frayed self-control.

“Watch your tongue,” I growl. I don’t miss the way Cami’s muscles tighten, or Fleur’s power wells up around us as she tries to diffuse the situation. Drake looks calm and relaxed, probably because he knows he’s struck a nerve, and that pisses me off more.

“No. Not when it comes to the safety of this family,” he answers simply.

“Drake—” Fleur barks, her eyes bulging at the shock of seeing him call me out like this. He waves her off and focuses his stare right on me.

“Don’t ‘Drake’ me, Fleur. This is out of hand, and we all know it. If none of you are going to speak up, I will.” He rolls his eyes at her, then pins me under his gaze before addressing me directly. “I took an oath when I Bonded to Claire, to protect the Blood. I’ll do that, even if it means calling you on your shit when you’re acting insane. That’s my duty, Vladimir. And it includes you, whether you like it or not. Since Reine entered the picture, you’re acting reckless, and it’s going to get one of us killed. I understand what’s at stake, having a mortal as your Bonded, and I even respect your choice to not turn her—given your history with the Blood—even if I think you’re wrong. But you’ve had enough for today. Go home.”

Every part of my body goes rigid at his words. My aura pulses around us, threatening in a way I can’t rein in.

“What the hells did you just say?” I take a step forward, but Drake doesn’t budge, and he doesn’t back down. His head is tipped down at me, but we both know I could shred him apart with hardly any effort. Because he’s Bonded to my child and I do love him in his own right, we both know that I never would. Normally.

But now?

I can’t regulate myself, and rage pushes me closer to the edge of my fraying control, so soon after death.

“You have perfect hearing, Dracul. I know you heard me.”

I bristle, the tips of my nails lengthening with my anger. His words are slicing me to the bone, and everyone in this room knows it.

“Perhaps that’s enough for one day, all around. If Lady Camille needs to train a little longer, I’ve got the time,” Tully offers, pushing off the wall and striding between us all.

“I could use a quick rest before we start again. This altered sleep schedule has been difficult to adjust to,” Cami admits, the softness in her voice enough to quell my rage as I take her in. She has been working tirelessly, training and honing her technique on a daylight schedule, preparing herself to work under harsh conditions.

“That’s enough for now.” I swallow, clearly outnumbered.

“Good. I need to get home to Kendra, grab a few hours of shut-eye before the Council meeting.” Fleur nods, with one more inquisitorial look in my direction. I tip my chin in affirmation that I’m good.

“Let’s go, princess,” Tully teases, bowing his large frame and sweeping his arm out toward Cami. With a scoff and an eye roll, she brushes past him, following Fleur out the door until only Drake and I remain. Shame sits in my gut, hot and heavy. I know that I should apologize, but even my throat stalls as it works around the words. We stand there, twenty feet apart, long after the chamber door slams shut.

There’s blood everywhere, bits of my flesh and Camille’s on the floor, a pile of my own body parts stacked up outside of the circle. When she returns, Cami will burn them, and any trace of our blood from this room, to ensure it’s never used against us, but for now, it’s a macabre setting to the dressing-down I’m owed from the eldest member of the Third of my Blood.