Page 144 of Tainted Souls
“War happened.” He shrugs, but the casual gesture doesn’t match the tension in his jaw. “Choices were made.”
I don’t probe, instead pondering on the intricacies of the Malvagi. They might not look monstrous like the feral Veltri, but that’s exactly why humans should fear them. They could get close to them without them realizing, until it’s too late. They might already have. “Could they be working with the Veltri already? What if the mole is one of them? A Malvagi.”
He dismisses my concerns with a simple shake of the head. “They don’t set foot in Northcross, not even Mythcrest. They are spread out far across the globe, in places where vampires have been written off as Aevrane problems.”
“What about the Corvi?”
His expression shifts, becoming a tad more guarded. “The Corvi are elitists, treading the edge between vampire and witch.Unless you wield siphoning magic or are mated to someone who does, you do not and will never belong.”
Saul mentioned how a Noble can only truly die to a siphoner, which means the same goes for Ace. I frown, trying to understand more. “Are they hybrids?”
“No,” he says. “Fampyrs don’t exist. Not yet.”
I pause. “If love between a human and a vampire is possible, then why not between a witch and a vampire?”
He regards me quietly, his ashen eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. “Perhaps some lines are meant to stay uncrossed.”
The words linger in the air, but I’m no longer focused on them. I find myself looking into his eyes, studying them. I’ve wondered about it for so long but never quite gotten the chance to ask. The question tumbles out before I can stop it: “Why are your eyes gray?”
He chuckles, leaning in ever so slightly, enough for his shoulder to brush against mine. His gaze never falters, as if he’s challenging me with it. Daring me to keep asking. To keep probing.
Finally, his lips part. “Why is the sky blue?”
“Really?”
As annoying as his perpetual enigma act is, I let it go, not wanting to flatter him with any more of my interest in his genetic makeup.
I start to do the deductions in my head. He can’t be a dhampir like my brother and I. Witch-vampire hybrids, apparently called fampyrs, don’t yet exist. Unless there’s more I don’t know about, Ace must be one of them—a siphoner. The very thing that can destroy even the most immortal of vampires.
The idea unsettles me greatly, because it means he’s able to kill even those that are otherwise unkillable.
But with power like that, there must be a catch, which might also be why he’s reluctant to tell me.
He reaches into one of his utility pockets and pulls out a silver case, the same one I’ve seen him use many times before. He flicks it open and extracts two cigarettes, placing one between his lips before offering the other to me.
“No thanks,” I say automatically. “I don’t smoke.”
His eyebrow arches slightly as he lights his own cigarette, inhaling deeply, then exhales a stream of smoke that curls upward. “You might want to reconsider. We won’t be able to feed properly for some time.”
The weight of what he’s saying starts to sink in. There’s no blodas, no bloodmaids, not even an animal in sight. I could go out to hunt by myself, maybe even get a fix sorted at one of Redmoore’s outposts, but I doubt he’ll let me.
Besides, fatigue is pulling at me from all possible sides.
I stare at the cigarette still held between his fingers, extended toward me. “I’ll manage.”
His expression remains the same, but something in his eyes shifts. “You were so certain before, weren’t you? That you’d never be like us. Never crave blood the way we do.” He takes another drag. “Until you did.”
The memories of what happened with Oliver and Lily flood back. I can’t afford to be starving, even craving, tonight. Not with our alliance on the line. With a reluctant sigh, I take the cigarette from him. Our fingers brush briefly, his cold against my lukewarm.
He leans in, cupping his hand around the flame as he lights it for me. I inhale awkwardly, fighting the urge to cough as the harsh smoke fills my lungs.
“Gentle pulls,” he advises, watching me with something that might almost be amusement. “Don’t force it.”
I try again, this time taking a smaller drag.
The smoke burns less, and I exhale slowly, watching the gray wisps dissolve into the air between us. The nicotine hits mysystem almost immediately, a slight buzz that takes the edge off my fatigue as well as the constant low-grade thirst that’s been my companion since I first tasted vein.
“Better?” he asks.
