Free Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) by Kristen Painter

unlimited. She’d already sent Octavian ahead to find suitable accommodations and procure a car and driver. Although he was kine like the rest of her staff, he showed remarkable efficiency and a genuine willingness to please her. Both qualities she admired greatly.
    Coming up with lodging would be a good test for him. Unlike the Continent, with its wealth of secret vampire-friendly hotels, the Southern Union had none. She was an Elder now, after all. She couldn’t be expected to remain cramped up in that ridiculous airplane hangar like the last time.
    What else would she need? The Nothos hadn’t been as successful as she’d hoped on the last trip, but better they die than her. She’d take at least a dozen this time. Weapons, naturally. She lifted her right arm and admired her gleaming new hand. She couldn’t wait to see Malkolm’s face when she duplicated his beloved headsman’s sword.
    Her comar should come, too. No point in being without a blood source if she didn’t have to, despite how much she hated having that creature around. So pure and light with that damnable glow, like some freakish reminder of everything she could never have. Gah. But there was no denying the power his blood gave her.
    Maybe she should get Nasir a comarré before they left. Her fingers trailed down Nasir’s chest.
    His eyes fluttered open and he smiled as he reached for her, pulling her under him.
    She faked a protest. ‘It’s almost dusk, and I have much to do.’
    ‘Yes, I know,’ he whispered against her neck. ‘I can feel the night coming. But
enti qamari
– you are my moon. I could stay forever in your arms.’
    Fates help her, she might have to guard herself around this one. ‘You flatter me.’
    His mouth moved lower. ‘I speak the truth.’
    A soft moan escaped her throat. ‘I … oh … we need to … yes, right there … talk … mmm.’
    ‘About what, my sweet?’ He scooped two fingers into asmall indigo pot on the nightstand, then drew a path from hip to hip.
    Stars burst over her skin. ‘About … Oh. Oh! Um, about a trip.’
    ‘I will go anywhere you wish.’ His tongue felt like silk. ‘Anywhere.’
    ‘And … and … I’m going to buy you a present.’ The stars spread across her body in a wave of heat and light. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Bloody hell. She really needed to keep this one alive.
    ‘You are too good to me. Now, no more talking.’ His wicked mouth curved into a smile that sent trembles of anticipation through her. ‘I am very, very busy.’
    Waves of pleasure washed over her, thinning her resistance to the rare pockets of happiness entwined with the painful memories from her past. They surfaced in a rush, and unable to hold them at bay any longer, she wept.
    Mal’s world narrowed to the arena and the fringe beneath him that somehow,
somehow
had Chrysabelle’s blood in his system. Deep in the most primal part of him, Mal’s being screamed that she belonged to him. She was his and his alone, and no other vampire who laid a fang on her should be allowed to live.
    Smelling her on Ronan painted his vision red and nearly released the beast he’d tried so desperately to control.
    Now the beast pulled against his mental chains, the voices chanting along with the crowd for Ronan’s death. They hated Chrysabelle, but they loved death and destruction more.
    Over and over, his fists destroyed Ronan’s face in a blind fury.
Kill, kill, kill.
    However Ronan had come by Chrysabelle’s blood, no way had it been with her approval. She’d never knowingly allowRonan to drink from her, not after her last encounter with the arrogant fringe. Whatever Ronan had done—
    The perfume of Chrysabelle’s blood hit him anew, catching him in midpunch and pushing a wave of need through him so strong he nearly collapsed. The voices whined. Only blood warm from Chrysabelle’s veins had that kind of effect on him.
    Whispers of ‘comarré’ filtered through from the forgotten crowd and brought his head up.