A Meet of Tribes (A Shade of Vampire #45)(8)

Every time her gaze met mine, fire burned through my stomach and paralyzed my senses. Her lips were soft and full, almost begging to be kissed. And when they stretched into a smile and revealed two rows of pearly white teeth, I melted.

I smiled back and wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. “I take it you like it in here.”

She nodded and shifted her focus back on the purple flower. Her delicate fingers gently traced the contours of each petal.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

Nowhere near as beautiful as you. I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself cool and composed. I felt like I had to make a good impression and show her my truth, our truth, about this world. With all its faults and cruelty, Eritopia was a good place and worthy of salvation. It felt like my job to make her see that.

After all, she had the power to make it better or break it forever.

“I understand that the whole of Eritopia is like this,” I said, “filled with fascinating flora and home to intriguing creatures—so different from my people back home.”

“You’re not from here?” she asked, a questioning look on her beautiful face.

“No.” I shook my head and smiled. “Eritopia is part of what we call the In-Between, which is a space we pass through when we travel via portal from our world, Earth, to the supernatural dimension, where many of us have roots. This is the first time I’ve been to the In-Between for this long and my first time in Eritopia. I would’ve never imagined Eritopia even existed, otherwise.”

“How did you come here? Why did you come here?”

I liked her curiosity. It gave me a chance to tell her our side of the story. As drawn as I was to her, there was still a part of me that pushed me to use a strategic approach and think of the long-term and her influence on her sisters.

“The Druid brought us here with his magic. My friends and I had gone to a fae celebration in another galaxy and suddenly found ourselves here. Aida, myself, and Vita were told that we are Oracles and that we have the ability to see the past, the present, and the future of everything. We obviously didn’t believe him at first.” I chuckled, remembering my confusion during our first days here.

She cocked her head, listening as I told her about the Nevertide Oracle who had passed her powers to our mothers eighteen years ago, about the visions we’d had so far, and about Azazel’s reign of terror.

“I think Bijarki and Draven can tell you more about the Destroyers. I’m not nearly informed enough on this subject. All I know is that they cause pain and suffering and kill without mercy. There’s no place for them in this world. In any world, for that matter.” I heaved a sigh.

Her eyebrows drew into a frown, passing shadows across her face, and she walked toward me, hands at her sides. As she closed the distance between us, I felt my breath falter and my heart drum frenetically. The more time I spent around her, the more I was torn between mindless attraction and respectful reverence.

“You don’t like Azazel,” the Daughter said slowly as she stopped inches from me.

“I don’t think anyone likes Azazel. I’m guessing the only one who likes Azazel is Azazel,” I quipped, trying to relieve some of the tension I felt lingering in the back of my neck.

“I don’t like him either,” she replied. “I don’t like him because he makes you sad.”

Her candor was disarming, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s okay. I’m not that bothered since you’re here now,” I said to her, drawing my face closer to hers.

My eyes felt locked on hers, and I had the impression of sinking in two pools of vibrant violet, the unknown of her very being pulling me deeper and deeper. She didn’t move, didn’t say a word; instead she held my gaze, and I suddenly found myself wondering what she was thinking.

I was tempted to try a mind-meld, but the rattling above us broke my train of thought. I looked up and saw the rain tapping against the glass panes of the greenhouse and pouring down the sides. The skies were covered with gray clouds being pushed by a strong wind. Lightning flashed in jagged lines.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking up.

“That’s rain. Water pours down from the sky sometimes and nurtures the land.”

“Rain,” she said, letting the word roll off her tongue. “Rain gives life.”

She smiled and darted outside before I could stop her. She pushed the glass door open and ran into the garden out back. Magnolia trees bordered the property in shades of pink and white, trembling beneath the rainfall. Petals dropped to the ground here and there. The wind whistled overhead as the rain intensified, rapping against the soft grass.

I ran outside to find the Daughter laughing. She stood in the middle of the garden with her arms stretched out, happy to receive every single drop that the sky had to give her. It darkened her hair to a gloomy pink. Water trickled over her lips.

I watched her as she spun in the rain enjoying a natural occurrence that drove most of us to shelter. The water soon soaked her dress. The material clung to her curves in a way that made my temperature rise. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to disturb her—she looked so happy and alive.

She sneezed.

The noise surprised her, and she laughed. Then she sneezed again and laughed even harder. I laughed as well, watching a Daughter of Eritopia in the rain. But then the sneezing grew more intense, and she stopped laughing and moving.