Page 89 of Blood Match
Marcus pulls a face. “There’s always a chance they’ll let you lead, especially if they know you have a match.”
“It would be unprecedented. Those of us who have it never stay in positions of power. We’re compromised.”
“But not if you have a blood match, Darick.” He seems determined to see the fucking bright side.
“Presenting Rowan as my match before I have a way to protect her is going to put a target on her back. I need to buy some time until I can figure out a solution.”
That’s if she’ll even accept that we’re a match. She might be quite happy to tell me to fuck off and starve.
We don’t discuss this further; the others are filtering back to the boardroom.
I return to the meeting table, my expression one of calm indifference. As I take my seat, I catch Rowan’s eye for a brief moment. There’s still hurt there, and it cuts through me, but I force myself to look away. I can’t afford to show any interest in her, not here, not now.
Arabella calls the meeting back to order. “Let us continue our discussion of recent events and the concerns that have brought us together today.”
I lean back in my chair, determined to keep my composure this time.
Seraphina speaks first. “We know the abductions are a result of the Bloodbane, and vampires needing witch blood to survive.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath from someone. My own muscles tense, but I remain impassive, determined not to let my emotions show.
Lucien’s smooth voice cuts through the tension. “High Priestess, while there may have been a time when such…regrettable incidents occurred, I assure you, things have changed.”
I try not to snort. Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. I know Lucien’s involved in far more than just a few random abductions. This runs deeper, much deeper than he’s letting on.
But what can I do? I have no proof, nothing concrete to back up my suspicions. If I accuse him now, I’ll only make things worse for everyone involved. So I sit, silent and seething, as Lucien continues to weave his web of deceit.
“We’ve made great strides in synthetic blood alternatives,” he lies glibly. “The need for…other sources has greatly diminished.”
I catch Marcus’s eye across the table. While the technology behind synthetic blood has been advancing, I’ve heard nothing about us being able to synthesize witch blood. But if Arabella is aware of the lie, she shows no sign of it.
Goddammit!
I have to find a way to topple Lucien off his perch. It’s impossible to believe that anyone else is fooled by his scheming. I have to find a way to expose him. I’ll dig deeper, push harder, do whatever it takes. He won’t get away with this, not if I have anything to say about it.
“Be that as it may,” Seraphina responds, “our witches are still disappearing, so this ‘synthetic’ alternative of yours may not be much of an alternative at all. I’d suggest you look for another solution.”
Lucien glowers at her, not used to being put in his place.
I watch as one of the other witches, Morgan Shadowmaster, I think his name is, speaks out, his eyes flashing with anger. “You vampires think you can simply take our people to meet your need for blood. It’s barbaric and unacceptable.”
Arabella raises a hand, her voice calm but firm. “That isn’t always the case. There have been blood unions between vampires and witches that are consensual – even happy. Several matings have been very successful.”
The reaction from the witch contingent is immediate and explosive. I can practically feel the waves of disgust and outrage rolling off them. Lysandra’s face contorts with revulsion.
“Fuck that!” barks the tall male called Thaddeus. “I challenge you to show me any witch who would willingly accept such a union. It’s…unnatural!”
I feel Rowan’s eyes on me and wonder if that’s how she feels.
Unnatural.
It didn’t feel unnatural when I had her stretched out before me, begging me to take her.
Stop thinking about that now!
The heated conversation flows around me, stray words snagging my attention but mostly passing me by. As I scan the faces of the witches, something catches my eye. Rowan’s grandmother, the older witch who’d accompanied her, isn’t quite so vocal in her distaste. In fact, she’s watching me with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable. Her eyes, wise and knowing, seem fixed on me.
I shift in my seat, trying to maintain my aloof facade. I force myself to look away from the old witch, my gaze inadvertently landing on Rowan. She’s staring at her hands, her face flickering with emotions I can’t quite decipher. Is she thinking about our encounters? About the way her blood calls to me?