Queen (Bloodline Vampires 3)

He smooths my hair back, expression intense. “Don’t ask us not to take care of you, little dhampir. It’s too much to demand.”

“You’re being unreasonable. I’m not saying don’t take care of me. I’m just asking for you to stop keeping information from me. What harm can information do?” The question isn’t fair, because information can do a good deal of harm and we all know it. But I am not a child.

Still, he relents and drops his hands. “He’s contacting his mother.”

10

After dropping that bomb of an information piece, Malachi refuses to answer further questions, stating that it’s Rylan’s business and if he wants me to know, he’ll tell me. We end up in the shower again to wash off the blood, but we keep it brief. Later, when I’m tucked safely between Wolf and Malachi, silently tracking Rylan’s continued pacing with my mind, I allow myself to think about what Malachi did and didn’t say.

I thought these three were the last of their bloodlines. In hindsight, that seems very naive. Malachi, yes. It’s known that he’s the last one. Everyone knows it. But while my father might have extensive information on the seven bloodlines, it’s not information he ever shared with me.

Rylan still has family alive.

I open my eyes to find Wolf watching me. Malachi’s body is loose and relaxed at my back. Impossible to tell whether he’s actually asleep or if he’s merely giving us a measure of assumed privacy. I swallow hard. “Do you have family alive, too?”

“Sure.” He shrugs as much as someone can while laying on their side. “There’s a few cousins. My parents and sister are no doubt still rampaging through Europe and leaving chaos in their wake.”

He says it so casually, too casually. Wolf talks about his family the same way I recited what my father did to my knee to keep me from running. No one keeps their words totally emotionless unless they’re hiding something ugly beneath.

Sadness swamps me, even as I tell myself I’m being silly. Surely I wasn’t expecting any of these men to have the idealistic childhood of which I was deprived? I know better. My father might be a monster, but there’s something to be said about power corrupting. Immortals don’t manage to stay alive for hundreds of years by being nice and kind. Doing so is as much as inviting enemies to come in and cut off their heads.

I shiver. “You’re not close.”

“No.” Another of those shrugs. “My parents were even more unhinged than I am; it didn’t make for a restful childhood. I haven’t seen them since I left a very long time ago. It’s better for everyone that we don’t congregate often.” He won’t quite meet my gaze. “I take great pains to ensure I don’t cross paths with my sister more than strictly necessary.”

I can relate, though it makes me sad. I reach up and cup his angular jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.” His grin is quick and sharp. “Careful, love. Someone might see that big heart of yours and try to take advantage.”

“I don’t have a big heart.” Sometimes I think I don’t have a heart at all. All my life, I’ve never known peace. First, because I was raised in my father’s compound as a powerless dhampir, which translated to a useless dhampir. Then, when I was sent to Malachi as a sacrifice, all I could focus on was gaining my freedom. But even that wasn’t enough because my father’s been hunting us ever since we broke the blood ward around his old house. Every step of the way, I’ve been looking out for myself first.

Maybe if I hadn’t been, Wolf and the others wouldn’t have been taken.

“Get that look off your face.” He presses his thumb to the spot between my brows. “You could use a little less worrying. Malachi and Rylan are both too brilliant not to figure this out.”

The right words, but the wrong tone. I frown. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

“Wolf.” His name is barely more than a rumble from Malachi. A warning.

I sit up. “We just had this conversation. Why are you still keeping things from me?”

“I—”

Wolf stretches out and props his head on his arms. “What he’s trying to figure out how to bend over backwards to avoid saying is that there’s a distinct possibility that Rylan’s mother will take the questions about seraphim as an excuse to hunt you down and kill you.”

I flinch. Judging from what everyone has told me about seraphim, I can’t exactly blame her for wanting me gone, but… “I’m getting heartily tired of having a target painted on my chest.”

“Get used to it, love. Those that remember what your people did when they held power will either want to use you or kill you.”