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“I’m dhampir.”
He glares. “That’s not what I’m talking about. These two don’t recognize it because they’re babies.” He motions at Malachi and Wolf. “By the time they were born, we’d already started retreating and so dhampirs became more and more uncommon outside of colonies like your fathers; places we don’t go.”
I’m still trying to comprehend how old Rylan must be if he’s calling Malachi and Wolf babies. I’m still not quite sure how long they’ve been around, but it’s long enough to get stuffy and mad, respectively. If I lined the three of them up, I’d assume Rylan was the youngest based on how he acts. Shows what I know.
Malachi’s looking at Rylan with something other than antagonism. “What are you saying?”
“Who cares? Regardless of what I am, I have no magic to speak of so it doesn’t matter.” I try to grab the box again. “None of this matters or has anything to do with the potential pregnancy.”
“Ingesting chemicals the humans have thrown together is dangerous. There’s no guarantee our blood would be enough to counteract it.”
I am half a second from shrieking in frustration. “Then you get your wish and I’m dead. I still don’t see why you’re arguing.”
Rylan leans down and looks at me. Silver flashes over his eyes and the sight of it holds me immobile despite my anger. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Rylan,” Wolf drawls. “You’re not usually such a tease. Spit it out and tell us what she is.”
“I don’t know.”
Malachi curses and Wolf laughs. “All that build up, for nothing. Pity.”
“If I knew what she was, this would be simpler to navigate.” He still hasn’t taken his gaze from me. Finally, Rylan shakes his head. “We can’t risk it.”
That’s about enough of that. I start moving to the edge of the mattress. I can’t let myself believe what he’s saying. When I was young, I dreamed someday my magic would present itself and I’d be able to cast illusions like other dhampirs of my father’s bloodline. Those dreams have long since turned to ash. It’s not happening. Wanting it despite all evidence pointing to the contrary is a recipe for hating myself, and there’s already enough people in this world who hate me. I don’t need to add to their number. I’m not about to start now. “Yeah, you’re still not making any sense, so I’m going to need that pill now.”
Malachi tosses the box to Wolf and catches my shoulders. “Let’s hear what he has to say.” His expression is carefully neutral. “If, when he’s done talking, you still want it, you can have it.”
Frustration sinks its claws into me, but I do my best to stifle it. At least they’re talking to me and no one has set the damn pill on fire or something, so I suppose that’s progress. “Fine.”
“And drink that.” Wolf points at the protein drink. “You’re looking peaky, love.”
“Thanks,” I say drily, but I am feeling dizzy still, so I make myself open the bottle and take a few drinks. It’s warm and less than appetizing, but it’s better than nothing. I twist to look at Rylan. “It doesn’t matter what other theoretical supernatural blood I carry because I have no magic. I’m not even particularly strong or fast for a dhampir. I am utterly average in every way, aside from apparently being particularly tasty.”
Instead of answering, he moves back to lean against the wall and studies me. “What do you know about other supernatural creatures?”
Little more than rumors. My father is so hyper-focused on vampires, he doesn’t care about the other things out there that aren’t human. Why would he? They don’t bother him, they can’t help him accomplish his goals, and so they’re beneath his notice. “Next to nothing. Other than apparently some of them would be strong enough to break the blood ward.” Understanding dawns. I frown. “But, again, for the millionth time; I have no magic. I can’t break a blood ward. I wouldn’t even know how to try.” And I don’t want to try. Not when it won’t change anything. I spent countless hours focusing so hard I got piercing headaches because I was sure if I just focused hard enough, I could manifest my magic. It didn’t work then. It won’t work now.
“Some of them mature late. A quarter century is nothing.”
My chest gets tight and I have to fight to speak through it without yelling. “Stop it.”
His brows draw together and he looks actually confused instead of just icy and terrifying. “I don’t understand why you’re fighting this. It’s a fact. Your blood is not just vampire and human. There’s something else there. It’s familiar, but I can’t place it. The fact it’s strong enough to be tasted means it’s strong enough to manifest.” He tilts his head to the side. “It would explain your lack of magic. The other blood is more powerful than the vampire half of you.”
“You’re crazy.”
His blue eyes are merciless. “Why not try? What do you have to lose?”
I close my eyes and strive to think instead of reacting emotionally. It will hurt if this is all bullshit and nothing changes. It will hurt a lot. But it won’t kill me. If I don’t get out of this house, if Malachi doesn’t get out of this house, my father might.
Really, it’s a simple decision when I lay it out like that.
I exhale slowly and open my eyes. “What do I have to do?”
Rylan glances at Wolf and Malachi, and then refocuses on me. “There are two ways. Pain or pleasure.”
I wait, but he doesn’t offer anything more. “So you want to torture me.”
Malachi snorts. “No, little dhampir, no one is getting tortured.”
“It might be the only answer.” I glance at him, and gods, my chest aches just looking at him. It’s too soon to feel something so strong, but hell if I can push the feeling away. “I’ve had pleasure since I’ve been here, especially in the last twelve hours. Nothing’s happened.”
“Pleasure.” Wolf drops onto the bed beside me and laughs in that slightly unhinged way of his. “You haven’t seen anything yet, love.” He grins, flashing fang. “But it’ll be fun to blow that pretty little mind of yours.”
I had already planned on grabbing every bit of pleasure possible, so I suppose this isn’t exactly a trial. Still… I look over to find Rylan still watching me too closely. Every instinct I have says the other shoe is about to drop. “What am I missing?”
“Those two can’t do it on their own.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to breathe. “I have to be involved.”
I blink. “You wanted me dead—literally dead—twenty minutes ago.”
“Things change.”
“You don’t like me.”