Sacrifice (Bloodline Vampires 1)

With nothing else to do, I go exploring. The house is more or less what I expect. Room after room on the verge of decay, all with peeling wallpaper or fading paint. Dust covering everything. The whole house needs an update in the worst way.

I stop at the back door and stare out over the fields behind the house. A ring of trees mask the fence I know circles the entire property, a tall imposing iron monstrosity designed to deter even the most curious explorer. I’m reasonably sure I can wander anywhere within that fence without worrying about running into the guards, but I’m not willing to test it out. Not yet.

Instead, I turn around and head upstairs. More rooms, most of them bedrooms, but I hit the jackpot in the back corner of the house. I walk through the door and have the strangest feeling I’ve walked into a different building entirely. It’s been converted to a passably modern gym. The walls are painted a new-ish white and the dusty carpet has been torn up and replaced with wood floors which are only moderately beat up. A free-weight set looms in the back corner, stacks upon stacks of weights on the bar. A fancy treadmill is pushed against the other wall, angled to look out the window. In the center is a mat similar to what we had in the colony for sparring.

Huh.

I poke at the treadmill, a bittersweet feeling rising in my chest. There was a time when I would have given my left arm to have access to equipment like this. A chance to properly train. My knee might feel okay right now, but I suspect it’s a false feeling created a side effect from taking Malachi’s blood. No matter what he seems to think, even vampire blood can’t fix something already healed. He’d have to rebreak my knee, and even then I doubt there’s enough structure left to ensure it’d heal properly the second time. No, he’s simply acting the way all vampires do naturally—with casual cruelty.

My neck prickles and I speak without turning around. “I thought you weren’t going to sneak up on me anymore.”

“It’s not my fault your dhampir senses aren’t acute enough to hear me coming, even when I’m not trying to mask my steps.”

I turn to find Malachi’s changed again. He’s wearing a pair of loose pants, and he’s foregone a shirt again. He’s even tied back his long hair. Obviously, he’s here to work out. I clear my throat. “Don’t let me interrupt you. I was just checking out the house.” I hesitate. “Um, thank you for the food. And for cleaning the kitchen so I can actually make it without worrying about giving myself some kind of lead poisoning or some shit from whatever old paint is on the walls.”

He moves a few steps into the room. “Would you like to spar, little dhampir?”

5

I blink. He wants to spar? “What?”

“It would be useful to see your skill level.”

His words are logical, but that doesn’t mean they make sense. “Why do you care what my skill level is? I’m only here for two reasons.” Maybe that’s what his offer is about. A reminder of my place here. I’m not foolish enough to nourish the false hope he’s different from every single vampire I’ve ever known. The odds of that are astronomically not in my favor.

“Indulge me.” The steel in his tone informs me this is less a suggestion than a command.

I could try to push back, but it’d just end in us sparring while I attempt to escape the room. The thought of him getting his hands on me again has my traitorous heartbeat kicking up a notch. “You just want to bite me again.”

“If I want to bite you, I’ll bite you.” He moves closer, backing me onto the mat. “Surely your father didn’t leave you completely defenseless. Show me what you can do.”

I snort. “You have a heightened opinion of my father he doesn’t deserve.”

He clenches his jaw. “Trust me; he deserves everything I think of him.”

Not sure what I’m supposed to say to that, but it doesn’t matter because he strikes. He slows himself down enough I can see him coming—but only barely. I jerk back, and I can actually feel the air displacement against my cheek where his fist moves. “What the hell?”

“Stop arguing and spar, Mina.”

I try for a right jab, but he shifts out of the way. He’s fast, it feels like I’m moving through water by comparison. “Even a dhampir can’t hold their own in a fight against a vampire.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me.” He hits me in the stomach. It’s barely strong enough to knock me back a step. “Again.”

I glare. “This is pointless.”

Malachi arches a brow. “Is it? I already know plenty about you.” When I glare, he jerks his chin at my body. “Your form is abysmal, you have no formal training, and you favor your injured knee even though it’s not bothering you as much as it did yesterday.”