As planned, she’d be going in alone. She gave him the thumbs-up sign, hoping he understood she was good with all this. Even though he undoubtedly heard her pounding pulse. One last look, that’s all she wanted.
One chance to say good-bye.
She twisted the latch, pushed the heavy metal door open, and stepped into the corridor. A faint coppery scent lingered. He’d definitely had blood recently. The solars gleamed, providing enough light to navigate the grungy passage. Now all she had to do was remember the direction Fi had taken her last time. Slowly, she picked her way through the labyrinth of the ship’s interior. Mal’s dark, spicy scent erased the blood smell the farther she went. She followed it until at last her surroundings looked familiar.
Mal’s room was just ahead.
She went very still and tried to listen over the staccato rhythm of her pulse. All quiet as best she could hear. A few deep breaths and she found a measure of calm, enough to move forward.
The door was open. Mal lay on his bed like he’d fallen there and hadn’t moved. Which was probably exactly what had happened. She stood at the threshold of his room, studying the figure of the man she’d once thought she’d have a future with. The solars penetrated the room’s dark only so far, but what light there was outlined the hard angles of his body so that he seemed carved in stone. Or maybe “trapped” was a better word.
Her hands cradled her stomach as her heart clenched. This was a man she’d forever be linked to, no matter what he did or how he ended up.
She stepped into the room and held her breath. But of course, he didn’t move. He was a light daysleeper, but this wasn’t daysleep; this was drugged oblivion. She exhaled. In the soft wash of the solars, he seemed almost… peaceful in repose. Not at all like a man tortured by the voices of his victims. Although maybe it wasn’t such torture now that he was giving into them. The thought made her heart ache anew. She bit the side of her cheek to quell her emotions. Had he given in? Or had Dominic sent the blood in time?
She prayed he hadn’t killed again. If he had, there’d be a new ghost, wouldn’t there? “Hello,” she whispered as she checked the room for the sudden appearance of a spectral being.
But none came. And although the lack of response wasn’t a promise of his innocence, she still took comfort in it. She moved closer, trailing her fingers over the bed. A bed he’d once tucked her into so she could recover from blood sickness and an injured ankle. She looked over her shoulder at the chair where he’d sat and watched her.
Amazing that those memories were now her happy ones. They raked through her, stirring up new pain.
She glanced back at him. He’d almost seem human if not for the unnatural stillness that held him. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, one hand firmly gripping the hilt of one of the daggers at her waist. Her heartbeat was almost back to normal now, the steady thump of it gone from her ears. She inched her free hand forward until her knuckles touched his. He was warm, further proof of the blood he’d ingested. Human blood purposefully diluted with animal blood to make him weaker. Purposefully doped to keep him subdued. She knew how necessary both measures were and yet she frowned at how much they bothered her.
Because it spoke to how much she loved him. To how much she knew he’d sacrificed for her. His voices were right about her. She’d caused him a lot of trouble that he didn’t deserve. And now, because of that, he was going to miss out on his second chance at being a father.
She threaded her fingers through his and blamed her off-kilter emotions for the tears burning her eyes. Stupid pregnancy hormones. But those hormones didn’t stop her from leaning down and pressing her lips to his. The lingering warmth almost undid her, crumbling the edges of her resolve.
“Oh Mal,” she whispered. “Why did it have to come to this?”
She couldn’t let him go this easily. Fi was right. She had to find a way to fix him and soon. Or the only thing left would be to kill him. And killing him just might kill her too.
“Why would you say that?” Tatiana stared at the powerful young vampiress before her. “Why would you call me mother?”
Daciana’s mouth gaped open. She’d come to stand beside Tatiana, but was visibly trembling. Tatiana worried for her. Showing weakness was never a wise choice where the Castus was concerned.
The woman’s smile widened into something grotesque. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m your daughter. I’m Lilith.”
Daci gasped.
“No, you’re not.” Tatiana shook her head. Fear gripped her core, wrenching down until tiny frissons of pain spiked through her bones. This thing before her was not Lilith. “My daughter is only a baby. You’re an adult. Even at the rate she was growing, she wouldn’t be your size.” She stared at Samael. “What have you done with my child?” She pointed at the woman. “Who is this?”
“She is who she says she is.” He stared at the new female vampire. “We fed her our blood. Turned her into the vampire you could not. Turned her into something… more than we expected.” The tone of his voice didn’t match his words. It was weak and shallow and full of… fear.
The Castus were afraid of this creature.
Tatiana’s belly went cold. She looked at the woman, unable to find traces of the sweet baby she’d rocked in her arms. “You’re Lilith? Prove it.”
The woman’s nostrils flared, perhaps at Tatiana’s disbelief, but then she unbuttoned the top of her black leather pants and tugged them down to reveal one stark white hip. “Look. Here’s your proof. Remember the birthmark?”