Blood from Stone, chapter 3

Chapter 3

They’d been walking for nearly five minutes in comfortable silence when Liliana’s curiosity could be ignored no longer. “Hey, Orion.” His gaze met hers and he nodded without a word. She took that as permission to voice her concern. “About Mav? Rick? What’s his deal? I’ve only taken basic psychology, but he smacks of—”

“Dissociative identity disorder,” Orion finished for her. “Maverick has been split for a while. Longer than any of us like to admit. We think he was that way before our father brought him to live with us. We were younger then. He’s always been… Different. But the delineation between Mav and Rick has become more and more solidified in the past year or so.”

Liliana actually stopped dead in her tracks for a moment, having to quicken her pace to catch up with the vampire ahead of her. “You admitted it so readily. What have you all been doing to try to get it, more specifically Rick, under control?”

Orion shrugged, folding his arms behind his head and stretching as he led the way to their destination. “You can’t really controlRick. In Psych 101, they probably covered that alts are generally just exaggerated expressions of some part of the Core’s personality. Rick is part of Maverick. The hungry, angry, batshit crazy part.” He laughed without a drop of humor. “I think we all have a part of ourselves that’s like that.”

Liliana could only nod her agreement, drawing the edge of her lower lip between her teeth as her thoughts raced in a thousand different directions. Orion’s hand settled on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze with strangely warm fingers. She was having a hard time wrapping her head around all the present facts before her, when so many of them contradicted knowledge that had been crammed into her cranium since she could comprehend speech.

They came to a halt before a set of double doors. Orion turned to her, taking in the way she intensely studied the design in the carpet and the way her lips moved rapidly, like she was talking to herself. With a barely perceptible smirk, he respectfully gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. She closed her eyes and ticked off a countdown from five on her fingers. When her eyes opened again, Liliana stood straighter than she had just a few seconds ago.

“You ready to meet the rabble?”

She snorted. “I’d say I was born ready, but we both know how that miscommunication bullshit went down.” She slowly, deliberately clenched her hands into fists. As she relaxed them, Orion could visibly see tension leaving her body. Liliana looked every bit the warrior prepared to do battle. “Bring it,” she said firmly, glad that her bravado kept the tremor from her voice, a veritable hurricane of butterfly wings that she could feel radiating from her stomach.

Orion turned the knob, stepping into the dining chamber and holding the door ajar for her to enter. Following him, her steps didn’t falter. She’d have been lying through her teeth if she’d said the seven sets of eyes that fell on her didn’t make her want to run away screaming.

“Good morning.” Her voice rang clearly through the banquet hall. “I’m Liliana. Liliana Gunnstein.” She bowed her head to the group of them, her arms folded behind her back. She gripped her own forearms so tightly that her knuckles turned white, a dull ache radiating from her injured hand.

The Winterbournes stood, returning her respectful nod. All of them save one. He seemed to be preoccupied with whatever was going on in his headphones. Long blond hair covered his ears, falling over his shoulders and halfway down the heavily tattooed chest that was barely contained by a tank top that resembled hers. She could see the red cord that trailed from his ears, joining together and making its snaking way to wherever the music player was. His eyes were closed and his head tilted back slightly, his body so relaxed that she wondered if he might be asleep.

One of the brothers, his skin darker than she would have expected from the nearly Nordic appearance of the three she’d met thus far, grabbed a scone and chucked it at his sibling. Headphone-boy moved with his eyes still closed, opening his mouth and catching the corner of the breakfast food without bothering to use his hands.

“Damn it, Aubrey! Don’t be such a disrespectful little shit!” The leather-clad man cursed at his brother.

With an affected sigh, Headphone-boy pulled one of his earbuds loose and tucked it into the top hem of his shirt. He pressed large but slender hands to the heavy table, using it to propel himself to a standing position. “Funny to hear words like that from you, Jaxon. You’re a hell of a lot younger than I am.”

He was immensely more imposing on his feet. Covered in ink that flowed into and around other designs in such a way that Liliana couldn’t focus on any one image, Aubrey Winterbourne was built like his twin brothers. One of them had mentioned he was the eldest. He struck her as more removed from the world around him, like he’d rather be swallowed by whatever he was listening to than interact with anyone.

His eyelids slid open, his aquamarine gaze boring into her from across the room. He looked her over from top to bottom, his gaze slow and scorching before his eyes finally settled back on hers. Words rang in her skull, sliding around in her brain like bare flesh against a fur coverlet.

Music isn’t the only thing I’d like to be swallowed by…

Liliana couldn’t fight the heat that rose in her cheeks, but she clenched her fist at her side, refusing to be the first one to look away. Niceties be damned. If she was going to have to be around these men all the time, she wasn’t going to just cower like a proper servant, especially if that traditional stereotype wasn’t to be her role. If Aubrey was older than the rest, he might have had different ideas of what a bloddukke should be.

They sensed something was going on between their eldest brother and the blood doll, but the other Winterbournes knew better than to interrupt Aubrey. He was just flexing, putting on airs like he was an aloof, indifferent jerk. They knew he had no intentions of harming the woman, especially since he’d been informed of her adverse reaction to vampire bites.

Feeling the air near her shift, Liliana drew one of the knives she kept on her forearm, gripping it firmly in her hand and holding it up near her shoulder. The rest of her body was completely still, despite the unsettling presence of Aubrey Winterbourne standing behind her, his chin less than an inch from the point of her blade. His laughter was a series of staccato gusts of warm air against the flesh of her throat. Smooth fingers trailed down her arm from shoulder to elbow, gripping with just enough force to make her war against the urge to squirm from his grasp.

“I may be a child in comparison to your old ass, but I’m far from helpless, vampire.” She spat the last word like an insult, turning her head to look up at him over her shoulder. “You don’t fucking scare me.”

He gently pushed away the hand that held her knife, wrapping his fingers around hers and sheathing the weapon. His hold on her wrists lingered for seconds longer than was comfortable and she felt his breath hot on her ear. “Your fear isn’t the scent that’s rolling off you in waves, Liliana.”

Well, if there was no point in lying… “You’re right, Aubrey. Everything about you screams ‘my type’, right down to being an arrogant prick. Would you like a cookie? Or was the scone Jaxon tossed at your face sweet enough to go with that salt you’re trying to rub in my wounds?” She twisted her arm from his hold, turning to face him fully. “And so help me, God, if you try to make any jokes about ‘rubbing’ I’m gonna clock you square in the nuts.”

The sudden silence in the room was oppressive. Had she gone too far? Had she overstepped the line between disrespect and just serving back what she was dealt? Just as Liliana was beginning to doubt herself, the seven brothers exploded with laughter. They howled and cackled before finally settling themselves. She expected anger, admonishment, someone calling her out for language unbecoming of a lady.

Instead, Aubrey clapped his hand down on her shoulder, a good-natured and lopsided grin on his cupid’s bow lips. “You’ll do just fine here, Liliana.” He gave her a wink and tapped his ear. “And now, I’m going to go back to not being able to hear what’s going on in that head of yours.” He stuffed his headphone back in and returned to his seat, walking there at a normal human pace. She knew it was for her benefit and wasn’t ashamed that her gaze was glued to his broad back for the duration. If he made the effort to show off for her, Liliana felt it was her duty to acknowledge it.

The rest of the rabble quieted as one of them got to his feet. Like Jaxon, his skin was a creamy cinnamon tone, his dark curls neatly coiffed to one side of an undercut alluding to what she could only guess was Hispanic heritage. Unlike the rest of them, he was dressed professionally. A white button-up shirt was tucked neatly into grey slacks, matching suspenders accentuating the way the fabric hugged his toned torso like a second skin. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the pristine white of the cloth contrasting sharply with the hue of his flesh. She was taken aback as he removed a pair of glasses, cleaning them with a cloth napkin before resting them back atop his sharp nose.

His molten honey stare almost made Liliana fidget, as if she were about to be punished for hiding some misdeed she’d performed in the past. “Allow me to welcome you to our home, Liliana. Your home now, as well. I apologize for the mishap last night. The ones who were meant to be responsible for getting you settled have been… Dealt with.”

She almost patted herself on the back for not swallowing nervously, trying not to let her mind wander to what had befallen those who’d displeased their masters. Were the Winterbournes now her masters, as well? Years of conditioning told her yes, but everything in their demeanor disagreed.

“Thank you,” she said simply, feeling he had more to say.

“I’m Leonard.” He gestured to the man beside him, who had to be his full brother. “This is Jaxon. You’ve already met Orion and Oberon. Mav made his presence known to you this morning. And now you’ve had the joy of being introduced to Aubrey. That leaves—”

“The baby-bat,” Aubrey murmured, eyes closed once more.

“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that,” the vampire in question got to his feet. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He was taller than the others, but immensely leaner. His eyes were almond shaped and a coffee brown deep enough to drown in. He bowed his head respectfully to her, long, thick bleached blond hair falling forward to frame his face as he did so. “I’m Draven.” Liliana’s eyebrows rose up to nearly meet her hairline, but he cut her off before she could make a comment. “My mom was a total fangirl for Brendan Lee. It’s better just to not talk about it.” He sighed.

She bowed her head lightly to him in return. “Pleased to meet you, Draven.”

With a ghost of a smile on his lips, he sank back into his seat. Orion’s hand found the small of her back, leading her to an empty chair that sat roughly in the middle of the seven men. “The gang’s all here, so let’s dig in before these bastards eat all the food.”

Liliana laughed, feeling less apprehensive than she had just a few moments ago. “That’s logic I can get behind!”