CHAPTER10
I clenchmy hands into fists. Even with this new strength, all it would take would be two of them, at most, to have me pinned. They could break me like a toy if they wanted.
Ruvan must be able to sense it, too, because he steps forward, physically placing himself between me and the rest of them. “This is the newest member of our covenant.”
“My lord…” the man with the deep gravelly voice starts, and then loses his words along the way. He’s as pale as the snow-capped mountains outside, and just as massive. All his dark brown hair left his head and has taken residence on his chin.
“That is a hunter,” a woman finishes, easing her fiddle to the table. Long strands of pale blonde hair slip over her shoulder with the motion. It’s almost the same color as her eyes—as all of their eyes.
“And she has become bloodsworn with me.” Ruvan folds his hands at the small of his back.
The woman I heard laughing before lets out an incredulous blurt. She pushes her long, dark brown bangs behind her ear. Her hair is short, like mine, on one side. The other half of her head is shaved and marred with scars that trace down her neck, ghostly tracks across the sepia hue of her skin. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deathly.”
So much for his fold not questioning him. I glance at the vampire lord from the corner of my eye. His jaw is clenched. Smugness floods me but I don’t let it show. Doing so would be foolish.
“You…are bloodsworn with a human?” The large man balks.
“And a hunter at that?” The man with the soft voice and dark skin adjusts his circular spectacles as if trying to see me better. His black hair has been tightly braided against his scalp, the remaining pulled into a plump bun at the back of his head.
“I did. She is going to help us break this curse, once and for all. It’s not as if we’re going to take her into the depths while she’s withering from simply existing in Midscape.”
“I admit, it’s logical,” the bespectacled man murmurs. “I just hadn’t calculated it.”
“You didn’t calculate something?” The blonde gasps.
The soft-spoken man rolls his eyes, glancing away and quickly back at her before away again.
“Hunters look out only for themselves.” The pale man with the gravelly voice glowers down at me. He might be built like a small mountain, muscles bulging, threatening to swallow his neck and ears whole, but I often find muscle like that is just for show. Then again, I don’t think I want to find out in this instance.
“She is looking out for herself.” Ruvan’s eyes dart back to me with almost an expectant look. Does he want me to say something? I smile thinly and leave him to flounder among his knights. Ruvan huffs. “I vowed that should she help me break the curse on our kind, we would never cross the Fade to hunt her people again after.”
“You’re going to let them go, free of punishment, after all they’ve done?” The petite woman isn’t laughing anymore. She almost looks like she could cry, or murder something. “Ruvan—”
“It is done,” he snaps. “I would swear more if it meant our people would be free of this blight. We’ve lost too many and only have a few cycles left, otherwise we’re dead, all of us.” Frustration radiates off his shoulders as he half turns to face me. “This is my covenant. You will be working closely with them so do try to be polite, if you can manage the mere basics of decorum. None of them will harm you, per the conditions of our vow.” Ruvan proceeds to introduce them, his palm motioning to each one by one.
“Our fiddle-playing siren is Winny.”
“Quarter-siren,” she says, somewhat coyly, but her eyes are as hard as the gold they resemble.
“Ventos is our muscle.”
The burly man folds his arms over his chest, accentuating his biceps.
“Should you need anything of tactics or knowledge, there are none better than Callos.”
The bespectacled man raises a hand to his right breast, bowing low. Every fold of his clothing is carefully pressed. Not one bit out of place. He is clearly someone who appreciates form over function and doesn’t strike me as being threatening…unless that’s his plan.
“Lavenzia is…”
“The practical one.” She grins widely, fangs on display. The shorter woman is full-bodied. There could easily be untold strength under her curves and, given her scars, there likely is.
“And you have met Quinn.”
He hardly looks at me as he crosses to the table. He fills a golden chalice—not unlike what was on the altar—with water. Then he fills it with three drops from an obsidian vial. The vial is similar to the one Drew gave me. Unnervingly so…
“What’s in the vial?” I ask.
