Veil of Midnight by Lara Adrián Read Free Book Online Page A

to Mira’s room and peered inside at the sleeping child who rested peacefully on the bed. Just a normal little girl in pink pajamas, her soft cheek lying against the thin pillow, breath puffing rhythmically out of her delicate cherub’s mouth. On the rustic little table next to the bed lay the short black veil that shielded Mira’s remarkable eyes at all times when she was awake.

    “Sweet dreams, angel,” Renata whispered low under her breath, hopeful words.

    She worried about Mira more and more lately. It wasn’t just the nightmares that had set in after the attack she’d witnessed but Mira’s overall health that concerned Renata the most. Even though the girl was strong, her mind quick and sharp, she wasn’t well.

    Mira was rapidly losing her sight.

    Each time she was made to exercise her gift of precognitive reflection, some of her own eyesight deteriorated. It had been fading steadily for months before Mira had confided in Renata about what was happening to her. She was afraid, as any child would be. Perhaps more so, because Mira was wise beyond her eight years of age. She understood that her value to Sergei Yakut would evaporate the moment the vampire deemed her of no more use to him. He would cast her out, perhaps even put her to death if it pleased him.

    So on that night, Renata and Mira had made a pact: They would keep Mira’s condition a secret between them—take it to the grave, if need be. Renata had taken the promise one step further, vowing to Mira that she would protect her with her life. She swore no harm would ever come to her, not from Yakut or from anyone else, human or Breed. Mira would be safe from the pain and darkness of life in a way that Renata herself had never known.

    That the girl had been trotted out to entertain Sergei Yakut’s uninvited guest tonight only added to Renata’s current irritated state. The worst of her psychic reverb had passed, but a headache still lingered at

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    the edges of her senses. Her stomach hadn’t yet stopped pitching. Small waves of nausea lapped at her like a slowly receding tide.

    Renata closed Mira’s door, shivering a little with the roll of another body tremor. The long bath she’d just come from had helped ease some of her discomfort, but even beneath her loose-fitting graphite-colored yoga pants and soft white cotton jersey, her skin still tingled, raw with the crackling electricity that swam underneath her skin.

    Renata rubbed her palms over the sleeves of her shirt, trying to chase away some of the fiery sensation still traveling along her arms. Too wired for sleep, she stopped by her own room only long enough to retrieve a small cache of blades from her weapons trunk. Training always proved a welcome outlet for her restlessness. She relished the hours of physical punishment she inflicted on herself, glad for the rigorous training exercises that wore her out, toughened her up.

    Since the terrible night she found herself plunged into Sergei Yakut’s dangerous world, Renata had honed every muscle in her body to its peak condition, worked slavishly to make sure that she was as sharp and lethal as the weapons she carried in the silk-and-velvet wrapper now clutched in her hand.

    Survive.

    That simple guiding thought had been her beacon from the time she was a child—even younger than Mira. And so alone. An orphan abandoned in the chapel of a Montreal convent, Renata had no past, no family, no future. She existed; no more than that.

    And for Renata, it had been enough. It was enough, even now. Especially now, navigating the treacherous underworld of Sergei Yakut’s realm. There were enemies all around her in this place, both hidden and overt. Countless ways for her to misstep, to misspeak. Endless opportunities for her to displease the ruthless vampire who held her life in his hands and end up bleeding and dying. But never without a fight.

    Her mantra from her early childhood days served her just as aptly here: Survive another day.