2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 by Vicki Keire Read Free Book Online

blood gave one hot violent throb at his nearness. Him. It was all suddenly, horribly clear. The fire in my blood, the wanting, the whispers leading me here. To him. In this twilit dreamscape, the fire was becoming an inferno, and this angry young man could help. Need you , I tried to say, but I was on my knees dry heaving into the fountain instead. Heat raced through me. I arched my back like a cat, my fingers claws in the fountain’s edge.
    “Your blood is on fire.” He sounded horrified, like a television doctor right before he calls for the crash cart. “You’re Shadow-sick. You’re burning out.”
    Shadow-sick. That sounded major. “I don’t know what that means,” I admitted through clenched teeth. “I. Need. Something .” It was all I could manage before I dry heaved again. Instantly, I felt strange hands spanning the nape of my neck.
    “Shadow-sick. Did you…” He hissed angrily the second he touched me. His hands rested against my neck, radiating coolness and calm. But his tone was bottled murder. “I bet you call it practicing , or something cute like that. Did you ‘practice’ summoning any Shadows today?” Normally I’d meet sarcasm with sarcasm, but since the angry half-naked tattooed man was saving me from burning alive, I decided to let it slide.
    “For hours,” I admitted. He inhaled sharply. “I practiced with Ethan over and over. To learn to defend myself.” Now that the wave of sickness had passed, I felt euphoric and slightly drowsy. “The bad angels are trying to kidnap me,” I told him conspiratorially. Might as well bat for crazy, too.
    “Don’t move,” he ordered. I didn’t. He stood behind me, his hands splayed across my upper back where wings would be, if I had them. I felt the fire cooling to a bearable level. The burning sensation moved inward as it ebbed, like he’d caught electric eels and was reeling them in through my veins. His fingers trembled more and more against me as the fire disappeared. His breathing became more labored. Finally, he dropped his shaking hands. I sat back on my heels, feeling strangely hollowed out.
    He collapsed on the edge of the fountain, not looking much better than I felt. “You’re wildly untrained. I’m sure this Ethan person means well, but he isn’t one of us.” Then, a bit angrily, he muttered, “You really need a teacher.”
    I looked up at him sharply. “One of us?” I echoed. “A Nephilim descendent? Is that what you are?” 
    He wouldn’t answer. “For now, only use the Shadows if you’re being attacked. Do you understand?” He pulled me up. This close, I could see his face: fine sharp bones, high and angled upward. Dark, almost black hair, and eyes even darker. Only then did I really notice his tattoos. They were moving, the ink of his strange symbols and markings gleaming as if alive. His forearms rested against mine, my whole hands held under his. As his tattoos moved, my blood cooled more and more. “Do you understand?” he repeated.
    “Who are you?” I whispered, frightened now.
    “You’re only dreaming,” he said. “Your blood called to mine in the Dreamtime because you needed me. You were burning out. That’s the only possible explanation. But you must never come here again.” He looked up at the scintillating twilit sky. “He’d like nothing better than to trap you here, with the rest of us.”
    “Who?” I demanded. “Where is here?”
    “I’ll find you. It’s what I do.” His hand covered my eyes. “Time to wake up.”
    “But I don’t even know…”
    “Wake up,” he repeated.
    “…your name.”
    “Caspia? Wake up.”
    “But…”
    “You’re having a nightmare. It’s ok. Wake up.”
    I opened my eyes to the faint light of dawn through my bay window. Ethan was level with me, kneeling beside the bed. Confused, I reached out and touched his face. “What happened?”
    He stroked my sweaty forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m worried you’re sick or something. You were talking