Bond Deeper Than Blood
“What did you do to Dracula?” I ask Beck.
“I healed him with some opal-root water Marlon gave me when I returned the twins,” Beck says, his sharp gaze thick with warning.
Just to test him, I reach forward to brush a hair out of Mercy’s eyes. He spikes my way, gripping her shoulders.
“Did you give Mercy opal-root water too?”
“No,” he clips out. “I performed a blood halfectomy.”
Laurent prowls closer. He must sense my growing desire to rip Beck’s hands from Mercy’s shoulders.
“What’s a blood halfectomy?” I demand.
“It means I’m a vampire now!” Mercy says with a loud giggle. “I’m going to teleport to Aunt Loey and then to Uncle Jude.”
I snap my glare up to meet Beck. “What. Did. You. Do?”
Laurent clutches the back of my neck in a comforting move that also feels like he might grip me to keep me from killing Beck.
“It’s something they did a lot when children were dying left and right from the typhoid fever. Elders would suck the infected blood out and replace it with theirs,” Beck says. “It’s similar to the way we heal humans when they are hurt.”
“But,” I growl.
“But because they’re infused with so much elder blood, their small bodies require it to live.” He holds up a hand when I scoff. “It’s not that unlike a transfusion that she’s already used to, except this time, it only happens once every year.”
“Until…” I rise to my feet.
Beck sighs. “Until around the age of sixteen. Then, I’ll have to turn her or she’ll die.”
“You motherfuck—”
“Mommy,” Mercy interrupts. “I’ll be a vampire like you and Laurent and Beck and Aunt Loey.”
I want to kill Beck for telling her all this shit.
“Honey,” I start, but Beck shakes his head, stopping me.
“We can take care of her,” Beck says. “She’ll live and then she’ll remain with us for eternity. It’s a gift, darling. Accept it.”
Laurent nods at me. My mind pulsates with confusing emotions. But seeing Mercy so alive and well and happy sends joy right to the forefront of my mind.
“Ready to take a walk under the stars, little one?” Beck asks, grinning at Mercy.
“Yes!” She squeals when he scoops her up and places her on his shoulders. “Let’s go!”
“We’re not done talking about this,” I warn Beck. “I have a lot of questions.”
“I presume you will,” Beck says.
“When we get married like Mommy and Laurent, can we get a Ferris wheel at our wedding?” Mercy asks Beck as they exit the room.
Married?
I start for them, but Laurent is quicker and stronger. He holds me back despite my snarling.
“Let me go!”
“Nope,” Laurent murmurs. “Not after that bomb she just dropped.”
“He better not be filling her head with sick, perverted fantasies!”
“He’s not a pervert. Calm down.”
“She thinks they’re getting married!”
He kisses my temple. “That’s because they are. When he finalizes the blood-halfectomy when she’s sixteen, they’ll become mates for life.”
“Over my dead fucking body!”
“Castilla,” Laurent rumbles. “It’s the way the procedure works. He gave her most of his blood for her life. He runs in her veins now. One day, he’ll have to complete the process or she’ll die. If she dies, he’ll become feral and overcome with rage.”
“I will not have him hurting a sixteen-year-old girl,” I snap. “You know what Griffin did to me. I can’t let that happen again.”
“Shh,” he murmurs, nuzzling my hair. “Beck has never had sex. Ever. He has a body of a child himself.”
“He’s like eight hundred years old or something!”
“Which means he’s had plenty of practice in restraint. He won’t hurt her. Being that she’ll one day be his mate, he’ll protect her with everything in him. And one day, when she’s old enough, he’ll court her like the old ways.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Beck has a library full of books. I’ve learned a lot about the history of our kind.”
“You swear he won’t touch her until she’s eighteen?”
He laughs. “I can assure you he won’t even think of her as a romantic prospect for at least another sixteen years. On her twenty-first birthday, he’ll begin the courting process.”
“What if she says no?”
“He’ll have to work harder to woo her. Some of the books said the courting took decades until the female was won over.”
“Why is he spending time with her now? Is he trying to get a head start?”
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “She calls him Uncle Beck right now. To her, he’s a protector and nothing more. He doesn’t see her as a future wife. Just the girl who he’s destined to give up his life for if necessary.”
“This isn’t romantic to me,” I grumble. “I don’t accept it.”
“It’s not your love story to understand.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. Beck has only been kind to me, Laurent, and my daughter. He’s definitely old-school and gentlemanly. I’ll be reading up on those books and watching him like a hawk, though. A mother can never be too careful when protecting her young.