Blood Between Us

A vendor with gold rings on every finger waved her toward a stall of herbs. “Baby, come get this vervain before somebody with sense buys the whole basket.”

Nykarie smiled and crossed the aisle. “I need a bundle, not your entire retirement plan.”

“Then stop looking expensive.”

“I look tired.”

“Same thing after dark.”

She laughed, reaching for the herbs.

A scream cut through the market.

Not surprise. Pain.

The lights above the nearest aisle flickered blue. Every conversation died at once. Then a man slammed into a fruit stand hard enough to scatter black pears across the stones.

His mouth was red.

His eyes were wrong.

The vendor beside Nykariewhispered, “Blood-rabid.”

The vampire lunged.

People scattered. Stalls overturned. Glass shattered. The market erupted into bodies and curses, shoulder against shoulder, nowhere to move. Nykarieducked as a bottle flew over her head and burst against a brick wall.

“Move!” someone shouted.

She tried. A wall of panicked shoppers shoved her backward. Her shoulder struck a wooden post. The herb vendor grabbed for her wrist, but a second vampire dropped from the awning, landing between them with a wet crack of bone.

Nykerie’s fingers closed around her father’s charm.

Break it and run.

She snapped the silver.

White light flared across her palm.

The vampire recoiled with a hiss, but the charm burned her skin and died. The warded gate remained sealed. Around her, the market’s protective symbols glowed red instead of gold.

The first vampire turned toward her.

He smiled as if she had just introduced herself.

Nykarieran.

She shoved through a curtain of hanging scarves, ducked beneath a vendor’s table, and came up in an alley between two stalls. Something hit the boards behind her. Wood splintered.

Her breath came sharp. Her shoes slipped on spilled syrup.

Then a hand closed around her waist.

Nykarietwisted, already screaming, but the man pulled her against a cold, solid chest and covered her mouth.

“Don’t,” he murmured against her ear. “Unless you want every hungry thing in this market to hear you.”

His voice was low, smooth, irritatingly calm.

Nykariebit his palm.

He jerked back. “Damn.”

She spun and drove her elbow toward his throat.

He caught it.

The man standing between her and the aisle was tall, dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His skin was deep brown, his jaw sharp, his eyes nearly black except for the thin red gleam burning around the pupils.

Vampire.

Of course.

“Take your hand off me,” Nykariesaid.

He released her immediately. “Better?”

“No.”

“Fair.”

A crash shook the stall. The blood-rabid vampire prowled past the torn scarves, sniffing.

The stranger glanced toward the sound. “You can keep arguing, or you can come with me.”

“I don’t take directions from vampires.”

“Then consider it a suggestion from a man who would prefer not to watch you get eaten.”

Nykariereached for the pocketknife in her boot. His gaze dropped to the movement.

“You’re Dorian Nightshade’s daughter.”

Her hand froze.

The vampire’s expression changed - not fear exactly, but recognition sharpened by caution.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Malik Cross.”

The name meant nothing, but the way he said it made it sound like it should.

The creature in the aisle growled. Malik stepped closer, placing his body between Nykarieand the opening.

“Stay behind me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Your father taught you to be difficult during emergencies?”

“My father taught me not to stand behind vampires.”

“Your father has met some terrible vampires.”

“And you’re not one?”

Malik looked down at her. His mouth curved, but there was no humor in it. “I’m trying very hard to prove that.”

The blood-rabid vampire lunged through the scarves.

Malik moved faster than sight.

One second he stood in front of her. The next, he had the attacker by the throat and slammed him into the brick wall. The impact rattled the bottles overhead. The rabid vampire clawed at Malik’s arm, fangs snapping inches from his face.

Malik’s control broke.

His eyes flashed red. Fangs dropped from beneath his upper lip. He drove his forearm across the other vampire’s chest and snarled, a sound so deep Nykariefelt it in her ribs.

The attacker hissed, “Human.”

Malik glanced at Nia.

That glance carried a warning. A question. A promise he had no right to make.

Then he tore the vampire away from the wall and hurled him into a stack of iron cages. The cages collapsed with a scream of metal.

Nykariestared.

Malik turned back, breathing as though he remembered the habit rather than needed it. A thin cut marked his cheek. Dark blood slid toward his jaw.

“You’re bleeding,” she said.

“Observant.”

“Does it hurt?”

His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Not as much as it could.”

The air tightened between them.

Nykariebecame aware of everything at once: the cold of his body near hers, the spice of his cologne beneath the market’s smoke, the way his fingers flexed as if he wanted to touch her but knew better. She hated that she noticed. Hated more that some reckless part of her wanted him to.

A scream rose from the main aisle.

Malik’s attention snapped away. “We have to go.”

He caught her hand.

Nykarieshould have pulled free. Instead, she let him drag her through the wreckage.

His grip was firm but careful, never crushing. He guided her around broken glass, shielded her from flying debris, and shoved open a narrow door behind a stall displaying jars of preserved eyes.

Inside, darkness swallowed them.

Nykerie’s back met a wall. Malik stood inches away, one hand braced beside her head. Through the thin wood, the market roared.

“Your blood is loud,” he whispered.

She glared. “That is a disgusting thing to say.”

“It’s not an insult.”

“It sounded like one.”

“I’m saying the infected can smell you. So can I.”

The words settled against her skin.

Malik looked away first. “There’s a service tunnel beneath this stall. It leads to the west gate.”

“And the west gate is?”

“Warded.”

“Great. So we’re trapped.”

“Not exactly.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black coin stamped with a silver root.

Nykarierecognized the mark from the market’s entrance. Vendor tokens opened the wards.

“You stole that?”

“I earned it.”

“Doing what?”

“Keeping people alive.”

“You expect me to trust a vampire because he has customer loyalty points?”

His mouth twitched. “You’re funny when you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You broke your charm.”

Nykarielooked down at her palm. The silver had burned a red crescent into her skin.

For one second, the noise outside faded. She saw her father’s face, hard and watchful, the scar crossing his left eyebrow. She heard his voice: Vampires lie before they speak. Trust one and you bury somebody.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said.

Malik’s gaze returned to hers. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

The tenderness in his voice struck harder than any threat.

Nykarieswallowed. “I’m scared of being the only person in the room who doesn’t know what’s happening.”

Something shifted in him.

Not pity. Recognition.

“My maker used to lock me in rooms during feeding frenzies,” Malik said. “Said fear kept humans obedient. I learned early that nobody was coming unless I got myself out.”

The confession was quiet, almost careless. But his hand beside her head curled into a fist.

Nykariestudied him. “You were trapped too.”

“Once.”

“And you still became one of them?”

“I didn’t get a vote.”

The anger beneath his words was old enough to have roots.

For the first time, Nykariesaw more than the fangs. She saw the man holding himself still so he would not become the thing everyone expected.

Outside, claws scraped over the door.

Malik’s face hardened. “Stay here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Nia - ”

She stilled. “You know my name?”

“I know your father. People talk.”

“My father talks too. Mostly about vampires.”

“I’m sure I’m a popular topic.”

“He’d kill you.”

“Probably.”

The answer came too easily.

Malik opened the service hatch. Cold air spilled up from below, carrying wet stone and old blood.

Nykarielooked at the tunnel, then at him. “If you’re lying, I will find a way to make you regret it.”

“I believe you.”

“Good.”

She climbed down first.

The tunnel was narrow and slick. Malik followed, close enough that his chest brushed her shoulder whenever the passage tightened. Somewhere above them, the market shook with another impact. Dust sifted from the ceiling.

At the far end, a metal grate blocked the passage.

Malik pushed against it. The ward flared silver and threw him backward.

He hit the wall hard.

“Malik.”

He rose at once, but smoke curled from his palm.

“The gate rejects vampires,” he said.

“Then we’re trapped again.”

“Not if you open it.”

Nykariestared at the lock. A small circle of black iron waited beneath the ward, shaped like a mouth.

“How?”

“Your blood.”

“Of course it is.”

“Put your hand on the lock.”

She hesitated. “And what happens?”

“The gate recognizes human life. It may accept you.”

“May?”

“Nia.”

The way he said her name made the choice feel intimate.

She pressed her burned palm to the iron.

The lock bit.

Pain flashed up her arm. The ward brightened, crawling over her skin in thin silver lines. Malik grabbed her shoulders.

“Pull away.”

“Can’t.”

He wrapped his hand over hers.

Cold rushed through the pain. His power met the ward, not fighting it but bending around her. The silver lines stopped climbing.

“Look at me,” he said.

She did.

His face was close. Close enough for her to see the faint gold flecks in his dark eyes, the blood drying along his cheek, the restraint trembling through his body.

“Breathe,” he said.

“You don’t breathe.”

“I remember how.”

The lock opened with a heavy click.

Nykariestumbled forward. Malik caught her around the waist, and for one dangerous second she stayed there. His arm held her securely. Her palm rested against his chest, where no heartbeat moved beneath the fabric.

The absence should have repulsed her.

Instead, she felt the careful way he held her, as if she were something breakable he had no right to want.

Then the tunnel behind them filled with a furious shriek.

Malik released her. “Run.”

They burst through the west gate into a narrow alley behind the market. Rain had started, cool drops striking Nykerie’s face and washing blood-colored dust from the stones.

For three breaths, neither of them moved.

Then Malik reached for her injured palm.

Nykarielet him.

His thumb hovered above the burn without touching. “You need that treated.”

“My mother can handle it.”

“Your mother is Selene Brooks?”

Nykariepulled her hand back. “You know her too?”

“I know the family.”

“Then you know better than to help me.”

His expression tightened. “I helped you because you were in danger.”

“My father will come after you.”

“Your father already wants me dead.”

A silver blade flew from the alley mouth.

Malik twisted. The blade struck the brick where his head had been.

Dorian Nightshade stepped from the rain, dark coat open, crossbow raised. His eyes locked on Malik, then dropped to Nykerie’s hand in the vampire’s grasp.

“Nia,” he said, voice flat with fury. “Get away from him.”

Malik moved in front of her.

Darius cocked the crossbow.

Nykerie’s stomach fell. “Dad, wait.”

“He touched you.”

“He saved me.”

“That’s how they get close.”

Malik’s gaze never left the weapon. “You should listen to your daughter.”

Darius fired.

Nykariemoved without thinking, shoving Malik aside. The bolt sliced through his shoulder instead of his heart. He staggered, black blood spreading across his shirt.

Her father’s face changed - not with regret, but with grim satisfaction.

“Run, vampire,” Darius said, drawing another bolt. “Next time, I won’t miss.”

Malik caught Nykerie’s wrist. “Come on.”

She looked at her father. At the weapon. At Malik bleeding beside her.

Her father had told her to run from vampires.

He had never told her what to do when one ran with her.

Nykarielet Malik pull her into the rain.

Behind them, Darius shouted her name - and marked Malik Cross for death.

End of chapter one. 7 more chapters in the full book.