From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(14)

Sovann glanced up at him and nodded faintly. “Of course, Jail. I hadn’t realized she was to meet with you. Forgive me for delaying her. I’ll see you tomorrow, Emily.” There was warmth in his voice as he spoke her name and Emily felt a twinge in her chest at the sound of it.

“Right behind you, Jail,” Emily whispered not bothering to respond to Sovann. It didn’t seem right to treat him as a friend with her earlier thoughts of meat.

“Ahh, how about right beside me, as friends should walk,” Jail countered and offered his arm to the open air beside him.

“I don’t think we will fit through the door that way,” Emily objected dryly.

“We will turn sideways at the door. Take my arm, Emily,” Jail said proffering his arm once more.

You were in my head. I thought you said you didn’t do that. Emily prodded through a mind link as she took his arm gently, a faint smile creasing her lips. Perhaps Jail wasn’t too bad after all. At least he knew a bit of fear and respect.

I suppose it’s a good thing I lied, considering how deeply you were considering turning Sovann into a snack. You were supposed to come to me if the instincts returned, Jail scolded as he opened the door and led them both out.

I wanted to eat him, not f*ck him, Emily replied in amusement. The first weeks of her maturity had been incredibly difficult. The primary instincts for a Blight were to kill and mate, though they only mated with superior creatures. Unfortunately, Jala only surrounded herself with superior creatures. It had been Jail that had helped her through that trial and kept her from molesting the several available and no doubt willing males she was around. Even Madren had been a temptation to her, though he was only a half-blood, and she had no doubt whatsoever that he would have been willing.

The agreement was for instincts that you didn’t agree with, Jail reminded her sternly.

What makes you think I didn’t agree with the instinct to eat Sovann? He has been rather obnoxious lately with his blood drawing and such, Emily pointed out calmly.

Truthfully, you don’t disagree with that desire at all? Jail asked and the disapproval was thick in his voice.

I don’t think I would miss him, Emily replied. She searched inside herself looking for any scrap of regret and shrugged the shoulder that he was closest too. While he couldn’t see the gesture, he could feel it through her contact with his arm.

Your mother would be disappointed, Jail said coldly and Emily felt guilt crash against her.

In the beginning her mother’s words had always echoed in her mind, but they had grown less frequent lately and the louder whisper of the other voice had begun to influence her. I think it’s because they are closer now, and there are so many. It’s hard to separate myself from them, she explained to Jail, the remorse at last flooding through her. Jail was right. Her mother would be disappointed. She had wanted a beautiful daughter, not a monster. Help me learn to ignore them, Emily asked with a light squeeze on Jail’s arm for emphasis.

Gladly, if it will keep you from eating my friends. Jail’s voice had lost a bit of its tension and she could feel the muscles of his arm relaxing – the nice firm muscles of his arm. Her gaze roamed from where her hand rested on his forearm up the path to his broad shoulder. He was impressive in form. Aspects be damned, Emily, Jail said, it really is f*ck or fight with the Blights, isn’t it. Not saying it’s not flattering to be admired like a piece of meat, but with a Blight doing it, it’s flattering and frightening at the same time.

Emily chuckled softly and let out a long sigh. Sorry, Jail, I didn’t realize I was slipping this much. You really are quite tasty looking though. The arm beneath her hand tensed again and she chuckled again.

Please don’t ever say that again, Jail requested gently, and paused in his steps as a figure left the main house. By the coloring and dress Emily guessed it was Wisp’s brother, though she had never met the man before. He moved past them with barely a nod and headed straight toward a massive white horse. “Safe journeys, Victory,” Jail muttered as he watched the man ride off.

“Bugger safe journeys. May his horse trip and roll on him. It would serve him right for riding something that damned big,” Neph snapped as he approached from the house as well. All mystery surrounding the departing man’s angry expression vanished from her mind at the sight of Neph. The surly Delvay had a habit of putting that expression on people’s faces.

“May I ask what that was about?” Jail inquired softly, his eyes locked on Neph.

“Bloody Fionaveir wanted Jala to return to the city with her people. He says it is by Lutheron’s orders. I was kind enough to point out that none of us here have tattoos that read I’m Lutheron’s bitch as he does. Then he demanded to speak to Jala and I said I’d send him straight to her. At that point Wisp started screeching something about not killing her brother,” Neph explained and waved a hand in dismissal.

“I thought you were supposed to have political training. Did the thought of diplomacy ever once cross your mind, Neph?” Jail asked in a tired voice.

“Nope, not once,” Neph replied as he drew a cigarette out of his coat pocket and glanced in Emily’s direction. “More therapy, eh?” he asked.

“How do you always know where I am?” Emily hissed in frustration. No one else ever seemed to have a clue as to where she was, but Neph did. It was infuriating to her and no doubt the largest reason she hated to be in the man’s presence.