The Blood is Love (Dark Eyes 2)

Why did Jeremias put me back here?

I look around, half-expecting the beast to come out of the washroom, or to hear footsteps from the tower room above, but there’s only silence.

I open the door to the hall and look out. I’m back in my sleep clothes from earlier, a black lace camisole and a pair of plaid boxers, nothing too risqué for this house, and I head out and quietly go down the stairs. I have no clue what time it is. Hell, I don’t even know what day it is. Jeremias could have had me in that void for a long time.

I can hear faint voices though, and my senses are telling me they’re coming from Dark Eyes. I pass by the dead roses and this time I don’t even say the word, I don’t even think, but the roses automatically start to rise, bleeding crimson.

Huh. That’s a new one. When Jeremias said my magic would be easier to access now, did he mean it would be even when it wasn’t intentional? Guess I have to watch myself a little closer now.

The rest of the house is dead quiet, but the closer I get to Dark Eyes, the more that I recognize Solon’s voice, something that makes my heart flutter instinctively. But it’s not just his voice. It’s Wolf, Ezra, and a voice I don’t recognize. A strange cadence that reminds me of that Onni fellow, but not quite the same.

I pause outside the doors to the club, looking down at myself again to make sure I’m not totally lewd in front of company. My nipples are hard—they always are now—and the top is flimsy, but I think I’ll pass for acceptable. I was drunk and out of line when it came to Onni; I don’t plan on embarrassing Solon in front of any of his other friends.

I push open the doors and walk in.

Four heads look my way.

One of them belongs to my lover, the sight of his deadly handsome face making my stomach do backflips. It’s only been a few days, but fuck, have I missed him. My heart is aching painfully.

But my attention is then stolen by the stranger, a man who immediately gets to his feet, staring at me in a mix of hope and awe, like I’m some angel floating down from heaven.

He’s cute, I’ll give him that much. A total vampire, no doubt, but cute nonetheless. High cheekbones, longish dark hair that’s similar to Solon’s, blue eyes. Actually, he looks a lot like Solon, except a bit younger, a bit shorter and without the facial hair. He’s not in a suit, but a navy-blue Henley and dark jeans, a black leather jacket hanging off the back of his chair. His muscles wear the Henley well.

“Lenore,” the man says to me. He says my name like he knows me.

Before he can say anything else, Solon is at my side in a blur of movement, standing in front of him and blocking me from view of the stranger.

“What happened?” Solon asks me, reaching out and grabbing my arm, then quickly letting go when he realizes he shouldn’t touch me. He swallows hard, the distance hurting him as much as it’s hurting me, his eyes searching mine. “Why are you here? Dressed like this? Are you okay?”

His concern warms my heart and the urge to kiss him is hard to ignore. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t…I don’t know why I’m here. One minute I was with Jeremias, the next…well, I thought he’d put me back in my apartment, but for some reason he put me back here.”

“Jeremias?” Solon and the stranger say at the exact same time.

“Yeah,” I say. “I called to him. I…” I look around his shoulder to the stranger. “Should you be introducing us?” I ask Solon.

He grinds his teeth together. Okay, so I’m guessing this isn’t a friendly visit.

Finally, he says, “Yes. I suppose I should.” With a heavy sigh, he waves his hand at the stranger. “Lenore, this is Kaleid.” He reluctantly adds, “My brother.”

12

Lenore

“Kaleid?” I repeat, staring at the man. He is not at all what I imagined Kaleid would be. And by that, I mean he looks…normal. He doesn’t look like the literal son of Skarde (not that I know what Skarde looks like, but I’m picturing something like a monstrous bat, like Gary Oldman in Dracula). This man looks like some hot Nordic guy with a permanent twinkle in his eye. How could this possibly be Skarde’s right-hand man?

And also, what the hell is he doing here?

Should I be alarmed? I ask Solon, eyeing him. Are you in danger?

The corner of his mouth lifts up. Nice to know you care.

It takes a lot of effort to stop me from rolling my eyes. What time is it anyway?

Six in the morning, he says, and I blink at him in surprise.