A Crown of Blood [18+]

Chapter 19

Magic whispered beneath his words in an ancient language I didn't understand. Was it my magic? The witches? The vampire and the pieces it took when it feasted on the blood of others?

"You're always one to make a scene, aren't you?" Damon whispered.

I wanted to speak—wanted to tell him that I had a flare for the dramatics when I wasn't melting into the shadows—but my words were lost to the ache in my throat. Those damned chains were still there, still holding me tight as punishment for my blood, and all I could do was reach for him with my mind, hoping that he felt me.

Damon. Damon. Damon.

His grip tightened, and I heard the alpha suck in a breath as if startled—as if he heard me. The male growled deep in his throat, his scent overpowering my senses when he leaned in, warm breath fanning my face as instinct rushed between us.

"You will wake, Halina," Damon ordered, more wolf than human in that moment. The command rippled through my body in its own powerful spell, and I welcomed the need to obey his words. The wolf raised her head with gratitude and an edge of excitement, until finally, my throat worked and my blood sang.

"Tell... me... that... vamp... is... a... shish...kabob..." I moaned, and my stomach clenched with another wave of nausea. When I opened my eyes, the bedroom came into focus, and I saw Damon and the grandeur and New York City outside the floor-to-ceiling windows all bright and shiny. Like someone turned my eyes from Standard to Ultra HD. "Did we get it? The amulet?"

"Yes," he answered, the word catching with his breath. The feeling of his fingers in my hair turned my shallow breaths unsteady. Acting on instinct, I leaned into his touch. Damn, that felt good. Selfishly, I tucked the sensation of the male and his wolf into the back of my mind to revisit later.

With a sigh, I sunk deeper into my pillows, realizing the sharpness of my vision and the knot in my stomach had to do with the supercharged magic still flowing out of my system. "Job well done, wouldn't you say?"

"Would it have killed you to be subtle?"

"You expect me to be subtle around murderous vampires?"

I couldn't recall much of what happened with the vampire, Richard; only that I'd never felt such power before, and that without the monster unleashing herself upon the vampire, I would not be alive. The combination of a hybrid with the Hallowed Star was lethal.

So lethal, I realized, the thought washing over me like ice water, it might not be worth keeping me alive.

No, that was utter nonsense. My paranoia went out of control now that I was back home.

Home. Ha. What utter bullshit.

But it was home, wasn't it? Not just a haven for the supernatural, or discarded abominations like myself? But a place that I knew before the monster pulled my reality apart, before Mom cast me out, when I had warmth and the semblance of a family. Even out in the forest, I felt the tug of the city. The space and wilderness were nice, yes. But they were nothing like the magnetism of New York.

"I can't expect the subtlety I myself would not have," Damon said, interrupting my thoughts. "I know that my pack controls much of this territory, but vampires are slippery. And—" he caught himself, blinking when he realized he might have disclosed something top secret, "—I don't trust this city's ability to keep secrets."

I stiffened, both stunned and honed in on his every movement. The wolf's primal curiosity surfaced, momentarily taking hold of me, and she studied the male front of us: of his preternatural stillness; the flutter of his pulse at his throat, and the way he breathed in our scent, his own wolf's need to know us rising into his hungry gaze.