I'm not going to lie, with all the stuff going on in Ukraine right now, I feel a bit weird posting a story about war and revolution and potential regime changes. Even though I finished writing this well over a year ago now. So before we proceed, I at least wanted to acknowledge what's going on. Putin deciding to invade Ukraine (and I'm leaving the rest of Russia out of this because the vast majority of Russians don't support this) has been gut-wrenching to witness.
My heart aches for the people caught in the crosshairs of this megalomaniac's ambitions and personal agenda, especially when he clearly has no care for the lives he is negatively impacting and/or prematurely ending, and I hope and pray that the conflict comes to a swift and peaceful resolution.
War might be entertaining to read about, but IRL - I hate it with every fiber of my being. Full stop.
CW: sexual innuendo and some blood/gore (though not at the same time)
Reviews are always appreciated! Let me know what you think of the chapter!
Copyright © 2022 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 3
Maternal Instincts
"I think you should take the day off," Vlad announced the following evening. He and Francesca had convened in the kitchen shortly after their sunset training session and were now sharing a bottle of blood.
Frankie was seated herself comfortably on the edge of the island, presently hovering over her warmed, porcelain mug like a sleep-deprived college student would over the first morning cup of coffee – as if it were the single most precious and sacred thing in the world. Before she could bring the rim to her lips she paused at his words, arching a single suspicious brow.
"Because of what happened this afternoon?"
"Partially, but more importantly, you've been under an inordinate amount of stress these last few weeks. Yes – I've noticed," he explained, leaning against the counter. His eyes missed nothing as she finished bringing the mug to her lips, drinking slow and deep. Her sigh of pleasure as the expensive dhampir blood slid down her throat made the corner of his mouth twitch. No one appreciated his reserves quite like she did. "What's more, I feel partially to blame. I had a sort of realization late this morning after we had gone to bed."
"And what kind of realization might that be?"
He took a sip from his own mug, and while the crimson soothed the hungered ache in his belly, it was not the nourishment he craved. He placed the cup down onto the counter.
"You were right."
"I often am," she said with a smirk. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific."
He chuckled, gently maneuvering himself to stand between her parted knees before placing his hands on either side of her as she continued to drink.
"What you so delicately referred to as my politically motivated bullshit early this morning…"
"You mean how you want me to lead this entire rebellion against Augustine on my own so I can prove to the people…"
"…that you're worthy to stand by my side as their queen. Yes. That. While I still believe that you proving your mettle to the aristocracy in particular is important, I should not have laid the whole of that responsibility on you."
"Technically you didn't, though," she pointed out, finishing off the contents in her mug before placing it down next to his abandoned one. She then reached out to rest her arms on his shoulders, desperately struggling to not get distracted by how delicious he looked without a shirt on. "You said that you would be with me every step of the way. It was because I didn't take counsel with you before the Váci Street demonstration that had me leading the people into a trap. That massacre…"
"Was a result of both of our negligence," he interjected, wrapping his own arms around her waist. "If we're going to rule together when all of this is done, we need to be working together now – and more frequently than we have been. Sharing the burden, the responsibility. Together."
"And having me take the day off accomplishes this… how?"
He tightened his hold, pulling her a little closer to him. The way her legs instinctively curled around his waist made his blood run hot.
"You haven't been sleeping through the day – even before Váci. And though you feed when I put blood in front of you, you're not very good about doing it when you're on your own."
"How would you know? Do you have people spying on me now?"
He didn't bother to dignify that with a response, but he did send her a meaningful look.
"You will serve the people, our people, better if you prioritize taking better care of yourself. I don't need or want your hard work with our training going out the window because you're too tired or hungry to stay ahead of your blood-rage. And I don't like seeing you bearing the weight of all this on your own. Not when I could help ease the burden."
"And how are you proposing to ease that burden?" she asked suggestively, leaning in for a kiss but never committing to her mark.
She knew what he was saying was in earnest, but the temptation to play was too great.
He met her teasing with a bit of his own, his fingers slipping up beneath the edge of the lacy black tank top she had worn to bed so he could caress the skin of her back. The feather-light touches both tickled and pleased, forcing her spine to arch so she was now unintentionally thrusting her breasts up toward his face. He let his mouth hover over the delicious swells of flesh for a moment before placing a soft kiss over the left, then the right. Her dreamy sigh was quiet, barely suppressed.
"I want you to go back to your flat and draw a bath…"
"I could do that here… and your tub is so much nicer than mine."
"Yes, but if you do it here, there won't be the threat of your brother coming home at any moment to keep me from touching you…"
And to prove his point, he ran his hands up and down the sides of her thighs, pushing the already short ends of her bottoms further up her legs until they were scrunched at the hip. Then he dug his hands beneath the fabric to the waistband of her panties, curling the flimsy material around his fingers.
The timbre of his voice, coupled with the strategic sweeps and caress of his fingers, the hardness of him between her thighs, the way he showered her décolletage with sensuous kisses – without even deciding to, she dug her fingers into his hair and tilted his face up toward hers. She rested her brow against his.
"What would you like me to do once I get into that bath?" she asked mischievously.
The sensual husk to her voice nearly killed him.
And then she licked his mouth.
"Whatever you need to do to help you relax," he said, that suggestive undertone of his making her smirk, even with her heavy-lidded eyes.
"Leaving me to take matters into my own hands again, hmm? I'm starting to think you like the idea of me touching myself."
"Oh, believe me, I'd infinitely prefer to enjoy the privilege of being the one to bring you to pleasure, but as that isn't exactly an option at present…"
"Shall I think of you?"
A predatory growl reverberated in his chest.
"You better."
She finally kissed him that time, the pressure of her lips on his its own reward. And then her mouth moved to the side of his neck and every ounce of blood in his body went straight to his cock.
"How many times would you like me to come?"
"As many times as you'd like."
She nibbled lobe of his ear, catching it with one of her fangs.
"Give me a number, Vladislaus."
And then her tongue was tracing the shell of his ear, sending a shiver through him.
"Do you have a personal best that needs breaking?" he teased, though his voice was mostly gravel by that point.
"I even have it categorized – toy or fingers?"
"You are killing me over here, woman."
But he didn't sound the least bit bothered by that, and she chuckled, moving down to kiss the side of his neck.
"And what are you going to be doing while I'm relaxing in a tub all evening?"
"I'm going to pay Lee Feng a visit…"
"And talk shop?"
"Something like that."
"But what if I want you to stay and watch? Help me keep count…"
A noise that was purely animal came out of him at the suggestion and without warning, he grabbed hold of her thighs and suddenly pulled her halfway off the counter, forcing her to lean back so she wouldn't fall. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he propped one of her knees over his shoulder and sank down, fangs out, venom glistening in the luminescent lighting of the kitchen.
Frankie moaned in surprise when he bit into her inner thigh, and then he began to drink from her. A ripple of pleasure shuddered through her, originating at her clit until she could swear even her cervix was quivering. And all he did was bite her.
"Are you… are you going to be gone all night?" she managed to get out, but that was all the conversation she could muster. The pressure of his lips as he sucked, the velvet slide of his tongue as he dragged it over her bleeding flesh… it was almost too much. Almost.
She only barely remembered not to let those walls that kept her dark passenger at bay from creeping inward, but it was a challenge. The pleasure of him always had her insides coiling tighter and tighter.
Although, come to think of it, this was the first time in almost a week that he had fed from her. She always seemed to forget how much she loved the sensation. It was still so new, yet familiar; and the hungry sounds of his slurping and deep intakes of breath between swallows made her instantly wet.
"I'll try to be done in time to come by and bring you back home to train before bed," he promised.
Home.
That's what his flat had become to her.
Their little sanctuary.
"And if I can't make it in time, I'll just sneak into your bed when Rémy finally falls asleep and stay the day at your place. Maybe spank that pert little bottom of yours for being such an insufferable tease."
"You're no king. You're a scoundrel," she crooned, propping herself up on her elbows when he finished feeding from her. That look in his eyes as he lingered between her legs made the muscles in her cunt shudder, as if in anticipation. "You know, I think I prefer you like this."
"Like what?"
"With your head between my thighs."
His chuckle was dark as he tauntingly hovered his mouth between her legs, exhaling over her pulsating sex. The rush of air pulled a small, pleading whimper from her as her insides unspooled, warm and slick. He ran the tip of his nose along that sweet juncture, the tip just barely pressing into her slit, a faint caress against the clothed seam. He inhaled deep of her fragrant arousal, eyes glowing that fiery blue as if he knew by scent alone just how wet she was.
"I love how responsive your body is," he mentioned darkly, a purely male arrogance in his smile.
"You are such a prick," she said with a laugh, but the sound was short lived as he started to absently caress the place where he had fed from her, the bite mark nearly healed already.
Those experienced fingers of his were so close to where she wanted him most, but they never quite met that mark. He never did acknowledge her comment, his eyes fixed on her, as if he were already completely in-tune with the little signs and nuances of her body – and they weren't even blood-bound yet.
"I can't wait to taste you," he confessed suddenly, a possessive edge to his voice. His face dipped again, dangerously close to her sex. The rush of his breath had her gripping the edge of the counter to brace herself. "When I finally take you, Francesca," he promised, placing a kiss over the spot where he had bitten her, "your first three orgasms will be with my head between your thighs. I promise you that."
"First three?"
The look he gave her was positively feral.
"Oh, I am going to take my sweet, precious time devouring you, dragă. I intend to lick you until you scream." She shuddered in anticipation, smothering the moan that was trying to claw its way out of her throat. She was only barely successful, but he still grinned up at her as if he knew perfectly well what his words did to her. "And believe me, I am going to relish every second of it."
Frankie entered the flat she had shared with her elder brother for the last several decades of her life in relative silence. Never had the place felt more foreign to her than it did in that moment. Even with a love-drunk grin plastered to her face, she immediately noticed how the apartment didn't really feel like home to her anymore – just a temporary dwelling, a place she had been able to rest her head at the end of a long night. A place of memory, of the past. But for the first time in an age, even with the shadows of the day's nightmare just barely on the fringes of her mind, she hadn't been able to stop smiling since she had left Vlad's.
Her lips were still pulsating with the last few kisses she and Dracula had shared before he had left to head into the east side slums. Frankie closed the door quietly behind her, leaning back against it with an indiscernible sigh of contentment. Her life was in transition now, a place of constant flux and dramatic change. But it felt right. For the first time in a long time, things felt right. Even though the rest of Budapest had all but gone to hell in a picnic basket, even though there were still so many worries and fears and issues to be addressed and resolved… none of it really mattered at the end of the day.
Because she was in love.
In love with a king who adored her, worshiped her, respected her… and wanted her to get off thinking of him. She nibbled her bottom lip at the thought, something wicked and hot flaring deep in her belly.
Oh, she could certainly do that.
Eager to get started on the task he had given her, Frankie deposited her things and made her way into the back of the flat toward her bedroom. She was about to start undressing when she entered her darkened room and then halted abruptly, realizing she wasn't alone. A blonde female was seated on the edge of her bed, a look of impatience marring her naturally lovely features.
"Where the hell have you been?" Louise Poincaré demanded, standing suddenly. "I've been waiting for you for almost an hour."
"Wha… what are you doing here? How did you even get in?"
"The male you live with – I assume it's your brother? – he left his window unlocked."
"Where is Rémy?"
"No idea, but you and I need to leave. Now," and the blonde grabbed Francesca by the upper arm, ready to steer her out of the room and back out into the hall when she stopped suddenly, eyes wide in disbelief.
Louise leaned forward, sniffing once, twice. Then she brought her nose to the side of Frankie's neck and inhaled in deep before pulling back to look into the woman's face.
"You've been with Father."
The statement sent what felt like an electrical current through Francesca's body, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes.
Recognition.
Acknowledgement.
She didn't have to utter a word or even nod her head to confirm the woman's statement. Louise could see it immediately in the brunette's eyes as her expression shifted.
"How long?"
"We're not officially together," Frankie countered gently, removing her arm from Louise's grip. "He's still in hiding after all."
"But you've seen him. He's… he's touched you… a lot. I'd recognize that scent anywhere. It's almost like you've been marked or something."
Frankie's brow furrowed a little at that bit of information.
If Louise was able to scent Vlad on her, what was to stop Rémy or any of the others from doing the same?
"You said we needed to go somewhere?" she cued instead, not exactly ready to have this conversation with Dracula's eldest daughter just yet. That seemed to snap Louise out of her stupor as she mentally compartmentalized the information away before snatching Frankie's wrist, pulling her down the hall and toward the front door.
"Jack sent me to fetch you. We need your help."
"Help with what?"
"It's Nicco and Tempi. They were attacked."
A shot of dread speared Frankie through the gut before coiling mercilessly behind her ribs, tightening in her chest.
"By whom?"
The woman sent her an incredulous look as she swung open the front door, motioning harshly with a move of her head for Frankie to exit.
"Who do you think?"
Frankie had never been the squeamish type.
As a mortal, blood had barely fazed her and even as a young vampire, the gore of a kill rarely if ever disturbed. What always got to her, though, were the emotions viscerally displayed in those acts of violence – the hatred in a cut, the rage in a bruise, the unadulterated sadism in flesh peeled back from bone.
She had stomached all that and more in her centuries of living, but something about seeing Niklaus and Tempest sprawled out on those rudimentary tables sent a wave of nausea through her. And anger. An instinctual, territorial, borderline irrational anger.
Niklaus had borne the worst of it, it seemed. The flesh of his chest, abdomen, back, and right leg had been slashed to ribbons. It was a miracle his insides were still intact. But he was unconscious and lying in a pool of his own blood.
Tempest, on the other hand, was still alert, with three gory lacerations on the side of her face and five along the front of her chest, though thankfully those weren't nearly as deep as her brother's.
But she was visibly in pain and unable to heal herself.
Hovering over Niklaus was Sorsha, the matron of the Conium coven of witches that had gone missing recently – though evidently not technically missing. Just in hiding. She had her hands delicately placed over either side of the man's head, a look of concentration on her face as a faint white light emanated from her fingertips.
"What is she doing here?" Frankie asked as she motioned toward the witch, the words coming out a little more accusatory than she had intended.
"I'm keeping him unconscious to spare him the pain," Sorsha explained, not even bothering to hide the acid in her tone. "Believe me, I have no interest in being here."
Jack, who had been tending to Tempest's wounds as best he could, looked up from his work once Frankie and Louise had entered the small room. They had taken refuge in an abandoned warehouse in the south district, safe in lycan territory though not close enough to the stronghold.
"Francesca! Thank God," the man exclaimed in relief.
"I'm fairly certain you should be thanking me, brother. Not some indifferent deity," Louise commented, making her way over to the table where Tempest was laid. She took her sister's hand as Jack sent her a look.
"The fact that you even have an ounce of humor in you given the situation…" he began, but she scoffed off his unfinished comment.
"It's the only thing keeping me from doing something more reckless than taking on Uncle Marcus without backup," she all but hissed, face contrastingly soft as she caressed the untouched half of Tempest's face.
Jack shook his head a bit before returning his attention to Frankie.
"Thank you for coming."
"Why aren't they healing?"
"Seems we know where the other matron disappeared to," he explained with a sidelong glance at Sorsha who sifted uncomfortably, eyes fixed on Niklaus.
"This is a witch's doing? But the blood oath…" Frankie began, but the young female witch, with her gaze still cast down, interjected.
"My sources tell me that it took Marcus three days to break Sarah down before he forced her into breaking the blood oath," Sorsha explained. "The pain of that magic ripping through her was evidently minuscule in comparison to what she had endured at his hand."
A shiver ran down Frankie's spine.
She didn't doubt that.
"They say there's another helping him – a red witch with blood-red eyes. No one knows what pit of hell she crawled out of, but she brought a gift with her for Marcus – a collar of bloodstone, only it's been twisted, the true nature of the rock corrupted somehow."
"What is this collar for?"
"I don't know," Sorsha admitted. "All I know is that the moment he placed it around Sarah's throat, she wiped out the entirety of her coven, absorbing their power. The Blood Thorns are no more." A single tear trailed down her cheek, but she never moved her hands from her work to brush it away.
"How do you know all of this?"
"One of the sisters in my coven is a seer. We had been tracking Sarah down since her and the entire Blood Thorn coven went missing. We knew what was happening, but couldn't pinpoint where exactly… not until it was too late."
Frankie looked to Jack and then Louise and Tempest, but all three of them knew her question before she could utter it.
"We've been meeting with certain members of what remains of Father's original court in secret," Jack confessed. "We had hoped to build another front against Marcus and Basilio, something that could infiltrate them from the inside the way Elina had. Tempest was in conference with an old family friend when she was attacked."
"They ratted us out," Tempest managed to say through gritted teeth, in spite of the pain. "And Marcus paid a personal visit with his new pet witch in tow. I barely made it out." She then turned her head to look at the unconscious Niklaus lying prostrate on the other table across from hers and the woman's countenance visibly fractured. "He saved me. And she tore him apart until Marcus told her to stop, declaring that the message had been sent."
"What message?"
"For us to back off," Louise explained, exchanging a series of looks with Jack as she did so. "To stay out of this fight."
"Does Zeke know?" Frankie asked.
"I haven't told him yet," Jack admitted. "I was hoping Sorsha would be able to at least heal them enough so we could relocate, take refuge with Isabella, but…"
"I told you – healing was Elora's forte. Not mine," the witch answered defensively. "And since your sadist uncle killed her, we're shit out of luck."
Jack visibly allowed the venom of her words to roll off his shoulders.
"I didn't know who else to ask," he said, returning his attention to Frankie. "I was hoping your brother-in-law could help us out."
"Jacob is dedicating the evening to working on the blood hex. He said he'd be unreachable for the next two days."
"He still hasn't figured it out yet?" Sorsha asked smugly but a single look from Louise had her shutting up.
"Maybe if you stopped threatening to use him as your stud, he'd be more inclined to accept your offer for help," Frankie snapped, her stare just as cold as Louise's. The witch mumbled something under her breath, but said nothing else. With the silence, Francesca exhaled heavily. "I think it's safe to assume that the red-witch Sorsha was referring to was Lilith."
"It's a fair conjecture, but I don't see why she would side with…" Jack began.
"Normally I wouldn't either, but after what happened this afternoon…" Frankie said with a sigh and she carded her fingers through her hair before reaching into her pocket to fish out her phone.
"What happened?"
"I'm still not quite sure. That demon's involvement in all of this continues to confuse me, but if she's responsible for the power that caused that," and Frankie motioned to both Niklaus and Tempest as she scrolled through her mobile contacts to find a specific number before raising the phone to her ear, "then there might be at least one person powerful enough who can counter it."
"Who?"
"Lyra Kennedy," Sorsha said with a knowing smile, eyes still cast downward. "Blood heir and bastard daughter of the Queen of Hell… This should be fun."
Lyra arrived twenty minutes later, a whirl of red hair, black trench, and attitude. She removed the bag of supplies she had swung over her shoulder as her eyes scanned the room. When she found Frankie, she smiled.
"I should have known this was how you'd end up spending your day off," she announced, making her way over to the brunette. "When Rémy had told me that his majesty had insisted you take some R&R, I had no idea you'd…" But then she paused, noting the look Sorsha was giving her.
The redhead actually hissed in warning at the witch.
"Frankie? What is this trash doing here?"
"I'm helping, you idiot," Sorsha snapped.
"Oh I can see that," Lyra announced, placing her bag on the table at Niklaus' feet. "You've got two vampires bleeding out and not healing. I'm honestly surprised that one in particular hasn't turned to ash yet."
"It's the magic that's keeping them from healing… or from meeting true death," Jack explained, evidently struggling to mask the look of awestruck wonder in his eyes as he took in Francesca's best friend.
Evidently, the attraction was mutual, because Lyra's scorn melted away into a suggestive smirk.
"I don't believe we've been introduced," she said, her eyes then flicking to Louise who had a similar expression as her brother, though it was a little more subtle.
"This one is still bleeding out over here," Sorsha chastised. "You can save the pleasantries for later."
But Lyra had folded her arms across her chest and propped herself up to lean casually against the table at her side.
"He's not going anywhere, and neither are you until I say so." She then looked to Frankie. "You going to introduce me?"
Francesca rolled her eyes, struggling to suppress her smile.
"You're shameless. You know that, right?"
"But they're so pretty. You always get the pretty ones and you never share. It's honestly unfair," Lyra teased.
"I'm Jack. And these are my sisters – Louise and Tempest. That one there is our brother, Niklaus."
A flash of recognition flickered across the woman's aquamarine eyes as she did a double-take, looking back at Niklaus for a beat when she realized… she had seen this man before. She straightened.
"Wait… you guys… you're…"
"The Dracul Sânge," Frankie confirmed. "All but one, anyway."
"Shit – does he know…"
But Lyra's question was cut off with a hard look from the brunette.
"No. Jake still hasn't cracked the spell on the blood hex, so – like I said over the phone – what happens down here stays down here. Understood? Don't even tell Carmen. The last thing I need is Vesper overhearing and something accidentally slipping out."
"Is she always that bossy?" Louise asked with a sly grin.
Lyra chuckled, starting to unpack the supplies she had brought with her.
"Usually worse," she answered with a suggestive smirk of her own, but her amusement faded a fraction when she noticed the disapproving look at Frankie's face. "What?"
"Stop flirting."
"Me? Flirt? Never!" she exclaimed dramatically, earning a pained chuckle from Tempest who then whispered,
"I like her."
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Jack chimed in as conversationally as he could. "We tried inferí to see if that would at least close the wounds up, but if there's magic in these…"
"Normally inferí would be the better of the options, but these were made with no ordinary magic," Lyra explained, doing a quick look-over at Niklaus. Whatever she saw made her expression darken and she returned her attention to the friend at her side. "You failed to mention that she was involved."
Frankie was finishing removing the different items from Lyra's pack, spreading them out on the table – different herbs, minerals, and other strange ingredients.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you until after the fact."
Lyra gripped the edge of the blood-soaked table to steady herself, taking a deep breath.
"You know what this means if she's involved."
"I know," Frankie answered calmly. "But there's nothing we can do about that right now. Just focus on the task ahead. We'll deal with the rest later."
The redhead reluctantly submitted, nodding once before that shadow over her face dispelled, replaced with a look of determination.
"We're going to need crushed black tourmaline, white oak ash, some yarrow …" and she rattled off a few other seemingly random ingredients as she removed the mortar and pestle from her bag. As Frankie laid out the items, Louise stepped forward. Without uttering a word, she picked up the pestle and began to grind the ingredients as Lyra poured them in, only speaking when asking a clarifying question on how fine Lyra wanted the powder.
Francesca eventually took a moment to just step back and watch, silently offering to take Jack's place as vigil over Tempest when she noticed the way he continued to stare at Lyra. He made no protestations, abandoning his post the moment Frankie had taken his youngest sister's hand. He asked questions about the ingredients and the spell Lyra planned to use, he and Louise attentively listening as both Francesca and Tempest looked on with knowing amusement.
"Should I be worried?" Frankie asked in low tones so only the woman next to her could hear.
The youngest daughter of Dracula chuckled softly, but offered no reply.
After the components had been properly blended, Jack and Louise both took a step back to give Lyra some space as she began to mutter an incantation over a wooden bowl she had placed beside the mortar. The redhead then took a small dagger from her pack and ran the tip of the blade over her palm. Her blood oozed slowly at first until it then began to flow freely from the wound, filling the basin about a third of the way before she pulled her hand back. Then she added some unidentified oily liquid from a bottle, followed lastly by the ground-up ingredients. She mixed them slowly with her hands.
"What is she doing?" Tempest asked.
"Blood magic," Sorsha explained, even as Lyra continued to chant quietly to herself. "One of the oldest and most dangerous of magicks. It can go dark very quickly if the practitioner isn't skilled."
"What happens if it goes dark?"
The witch snorted derisively.
"What do you think? You know, for an immortal, you're awfully ignorant."
Tempest flipped the witch off in response, earning an amused chuckle from her brother and sister.
When Lyra had finished chanting, she took a stack of thin strips of linen and placed them into the bowl, pushing them down so they'd soak up the contents.
"Place these directly over the wounds. And don't worry if you can't cover them completely. The magic is strong enough that the tincture just needs to get into the bloodstream. The cloth will help hold it in. You two can help me with Mr. K.O. over here while Sorsha keeps him unconscious. Frankie, you'll need to take care of the little one."
"I'm not little," Tempest insisted.
"My apologies, your grace," Lyra conceded with a hint of mirth.
"She is a bit vertically challenged," Louise replied with a wink.
"I am not!"
But while Jack and Louise both laughed quietly amongst themselves, Frankie had gathered up a few strips of the soaked cloth with another warning glare at the others before announcing,
"You two – stop teasing your sister."
"Yes, Mother," Jack chuckled and Frankie rolled her eyes, not even bothering to correct him.
They all quietly went to work, wrapping the blood-soaked linens around wounds.
Sorsha continued to hold Niklaus under in the realm of unconsciousness, whereas Tempest had to brave the excruciating pain with full and blinding lucidity. To her credit, she never cried out or screamed, but she hissed and whimpered occasionally, tears tumbling down her cheeks as Frankie did her best to be as gentle as possible.
Once her wounds were covered, Frankie asked, "Now what?"
"Now we wait at least five minutes for the tincture to do its job," Lyra explained, she, Jack, and Louise finishing up on Niklaus.
"Five minutes?!" Tempest cried, gritting her teeth as the pain of Lyra's spell oozed from the cloths and into her open lacerations.
"There must be something we can do to ease her pain," Frankie insisted, but Lyra only shook her head.
"Unless Sorsha can hold the minds of two of the Dracul Sânge at once…"
"I'm not that powerful," the witch replied. "I'm having a hard enough time holding onto him."
"Distract me," Tempest begged, gripping Frankie's arm.
"What?"
"Distract me," she pleaded. "Talk to me. Tell me why I can smell Father all over you."
Frankie blanched, stealing a brief but telling look in her friend's direction before she braved a glance back at the woman at her side.
"You've seen him, haven't you?" Tempest continued, the hope in her eyes unable to be concealed in spite of the pain she was in.
"She's done a lot more than that," Lyra muttered to herself, though loud enough for the others to hear.
"What?"
"Really Lyra?" Frankie said with a disapproving glare.
"Oh, don't really Lyra me! You think I didn't notice the shit from this morning coming down the sire bond?"
Frankie blushed.
"You didn't have any visions accompanying those emotions, did you?"
"No, thank God – but I swear, the sexual tension between you two is bad enough without me getting this weird tingling sensation in the back of my skull every time he bites you …"
"HE BIT YOU?" Louise all but shouted. "But… but your blood…"
"Apparently it doesn't affect him," Lyra answered nonchalantly, as if it were old news. "Something to do with Mariella Bernardini branding him or some shit… I'm surprised you don't know all of this already."
"Father's been branded?" Tempest asked, surprised by this revelation.
"Yeah – he's got the de Chacier lion on his chest, right Frank? The companion to the dragon she's got on her chest," and Lyra vaguely motioned to the spot on herself as a reference.
"I had no idea!" Louise said, slumping up against the table at her side. "I didn't even know for certain that you had been in contact with each other until this evening."
"Neither did I," Tempest added. "We knew there were some vague insinuations about the two of you meeting before the whole broadcast situation, but we didn't… Jack, did you know?"
"Zeke and I have known for a while," Jack confessed, earning a nice smack on his arm from Louise.
"And you didn't bother to tell us? We've been gallivanting about the city for months now and he's been in Budapest this whole time? Are you insane?"
"We've been keeping track of his movements with Antón's help…"
"OF COURSE Bernardini knew! That conniving old man!" Tempest groaned, as if she was finally putting the pieces together. "Lou – please smack him again. I can't reach from over here."
Louise obliged before Jack could get out of the way, earning a chuckle of amusement from Lyra who looked on in silence.
"You should have told us," the blonde female insisted, shoving her brother's shoulder roughly for good measure. Then she whirled around to look back at Frankie who had remained notably quiet during this exchange. "How long? How long have you known him?"
"Over a year now," she confessed.
Louise's knees trembled beneath her and she gripped the table at her side.
"What? How?"
"I didn't know who he was right away, and we only really acknowledged his true identity and my role in the prophecy barely two months ago, but…"
"So if you've known each other that long, and if your blood isn't a hindrance, why aren't you blood-bound to each other yet?" Tempest interrupted, apparently well enough to move into a sitting position on her own now, though she winced while doing so.
Frankie looked to her friend for help but Lyra said nothing.
"It's… complicated."
"Why? What's complicated about it? I mean, come on! His scent is all over you," Louise insisted.
"Is it the blood-rage?" Jack asked sympathetically.
"That's a part of it, but he and I are working on that."
"You are? How?" Tempest asked.
"We train – twice a day if we can find the time. For at least two hours in the evening around dusk, and then two more in the early morning before dawn. He's been helping me get a better hold on that side of me since France."
"He went to France with you?"
It was Niklaus who had spoken then, the man apparently conscious now, though still weak.
Louise was immediately at his side as Sorsha took a few steps back, finishing off the careful release of his mind.
"How are you feeling?" Lyra asked him, but he merely shooed off her question with a faint motion of his hand as he turned his head to more fully face Francesca.
"We'll talk about me later. Father went to France with you… he met your family."
"Unofficially, if we're going to be technical about it," Frankie admitted with a bit of a smile. "The only ones who knew who he truly was were my uncle and my maker. Although I got the impression that Alayna had figured it out by the end of the trip."
"So he's still technically in hiding," Tempest clarified. "That's why we haven't been able to feel him."
"He must be wearing that concealment charm Mariella made," Louise chimed in. "It's the only way he could stay so well hidden in plain sight."
"Do you love him?" Niklaus suddenly asked, not at all interested in the path his sisters had been moving the conversation.
Frankie had to have him repeat the question, not trusting that she had heard him correctly. When she realized she had, the woman exhaled slowly, leaning back against the table where Tempest now sat, the young woman slowly helping Lyra peel off the magic-soaked bandages from her body. The redhead was still silent as the grave as all of this transpired. Even Sorsha said nothing as she in turn checked the progress of Niklaus' wounds.
"Yes, I do love him," Frankie admitted after some deliberation.
"And does he love you?" Louise asked.
"He's confessed as much to me, yes." Francesca used her hand to mask the smile that was now tugging at her lips, trying to appear as if she were deep in thought, but she couldn't conceal the light in her eyes. Not from them.
"So if your blood isn't an issue, and you're already making progress on your blood-rage… and you two love each other…" Tempest cued.
"Not to mention, the two of you have been living together for the last month and a half," Jack added with a wry grin.
"How on earth did you know about that?"
"Antón."
Frankie muttered an oath, but couldn't conceal her smile that time.
"That meddlesome Italian."
Jack laughed in response and Lyra found herself unable to keep from smiling at the sound.
"So what's the hold up?" Niklaus asked through gritted teeth as Sorsha helped him sit up slowly so she could check his back.
"Blood-binding is permanent," Frankie reminded him. "There's no undoing it once that link has been made – something I know that all of you understand better than anyone else in this room," she added with a pointed look for each and every one of them. "I care very deeply for your father, but I still have things I'm working through, personal demons and fears and reservations… and he's been incredibly respectful of my desire to wait, far more understanding than I could have dreamed. I can only hope the rest of you will grant me that same courtesy."
Tempest scooted toward the edge of the table so she could wrap her arm around Frankie's, resting her clean cheek against the woman's shoulder affectionately.
"Of course we will," Dracula's youngest insisted soothingly. "We're just excited, that's all. To hear that you've not only been in contact with Father, but that the two of you actually like each other… hell, that he likes you enough to have you live under the same roof as him…"
"That's definitely unexpected," Louise agreed. "He usually kept his consorts in separate chambers at minimum."
"Father likes his space," Jack explained when he saw the question in Frankie's eyes.
"Yeah, but it's about time he let someone in," Niklaus retorted, stiffly swinging his legs over the edge of the table after stretching his newly healed limbs. "And personally, I'm glad it's Francesca."
"Hear hear!" Jack called out, rapping his hand on the table in approval.
"So am I," Tempest added sweetly, still holding onto Frankie's arm.
All eyes then turned to Louise, the others waiting for her to provide her own endorsement, but the blonde merely shrugged, folding her arms in front of her.
"The jury is still out for me," she said, ignoring the booing from her brothers, though she did smile a little when Frankie chuckled at her response, rather than take offense.
"So have the two of you fallen into bed yet? Or…" Niklaus suddenly asked, but before Frankie could respond, or even blush in embarrassment, it was Tempest that time who materialized over to him, smacking the back of his head roughly. "OW!" he growled, snapping his teeth at his younger sister. "That was uncalled for! I'm still healing, woman! Be gentle!"
She wasn't even fazed by his display of temper, mocking him with a playful pout.
"Oh, you poor baby!" and she smacked him again for good measure.
As the two continued to bicker, Sorsha made her way over to Francesca's side.
"If I'm not needed, I'd like to return to my coven."
"Of course," Frankie said with a nod. "Though before you go, I've been meaning to ask – where did you disappear to? After Elora was murdered…"
"I gathered what Conium and Cictua sisters I could and we went underground… though if Sara really has become Marcus' puppet, we cannot stay there for long."
"Has a new matron for the Cictua coven been named yet?"
"No… we're waiting for the next full moon."
"Won't doing that kind of ritual draw attention?"
Sorsha only shrugged, a vague look of concern in her eyes.
"Have you considered fleeing the city?"
"Some of us tried shortly after your declaration of war, but the lycans wouldn't let us in within an inch of their territory. That ex-boyfriend of yours has been a continued pain in my ass."
Frankie chuckled.
"You threatened me and those I love several years ago," she reminded the witch. "He and I may not be together anymore, but he's still loyal."
"Lucky you," Sorsha grumbled, though it was evident the words "you fucking bitch" still lingered unsaid on the tip of her tongue.
"I'll make a deal with you," Frankie announced, lowering her voice as the two of them continued to watch the Dracul Sânge interact, the four siblings recounting the details of their recent run-in with Augustine to Lyra, who was listening with genuine interest.
"I'm all ears," the witch replied.
"How familiar are you with the Feng territory?"
Sorsha chuckled darkly.
"I heard a rumor you killed Astrid last night."
"I wish I could take credit for that kill, but it belonged to another," Frankie said, brow furrowed a little. "Her brother, Lee, has taken over the shadow network – and agreed to grant us access to the Oradea tunnel. If you can get your sisters and whatever witches you can to that part of town, you're welcome to use the tunnel to escape into the Carpathians."
"At what price?"
"Help Jacob translate the spell to break the blood hex – as much of it as you possibly can," Frankie replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You do that, and you and your people can leave the city while I finish cleaning up this mess – go wherever you want. I don't particularly care. Help me to help them," and she motioned with her head toward the siblings in front of them, "and I give you my word, you'll all be out of here before the next full moon. Away from Budapest, away from Augustine, and away from whatever Lilith did to Sarah."
Sorsha didn't answer at first, mulling the proposal over quietly to herself. Her face was a mask of undecipherable emotion, but at long last, she extended her hand to Francesca, though her attention remained suspiciously fixed to the back of Lyra's head.
"You have a deal."
"I'm going to need you and Jake to ward the estate before they take up residence," Frankie was saying as she and Lyra walked side by side through the empty street a half-hour later. "I wish they'd stay out of this altogether, but it's clear that isn't going to happen."
"Evidently," Lyra said with a bit of an amused snort. "By the way, how did you find out about Vilkova? Are we certain Augustine doesn't know about it?"
"Vlad took me there that night we discovered my blood has no effect on him," Frankie explained. "He and I were talking about eventually using it to set up another headquarters or safe house if things go south or the alliance is compromised, but its low on the priority list. But really, it would be the perfect location."
"Won't having his kids set up shop out there be kind of dangerous? Especially with the blood hex still in effect?"
"It's a risk, but they need a safe place to stay that's off Augustine's radar and away from Isabella. The lycans have sacrificed enough and if I can spare them any more of Marcus' attention, I will. The estate is technically within city limits, but it's not on any of the maps. If we can shield the place with magic, we can keep it concealed from unfriendly eyes…"
"And we can also use the tunnels underneath that Jack had mentioned to keep our movements hidden. It's not a bad plan. Does Tristan know about the tunnel system?"
"No – I haven't had a chance to tell him. But Zeke more than likely does. I'm hoping that when Jack mentions it, he'll know to send someone down there to make sure the passageways are still intact."
Lyra sighed, readjusting the pack over her shoulder.
"It should be doable. I'll talk to Jake when he gets back tomorrow. Though for his sake, I'm hoping he won't need to talk to that Sorsha bitch to finish the translation."
"Normally, I'd agree," Frankie conceded, "but for all of Sorsha's conniving, she's not the same woman I met a few weeks ago. With two matrons gone, not to mention an entire coven out of commission… I think coupling with a Gealach prince to create more pureblooded witchlings is the last thing on her mind right now. She didn't even try to negotiate that in to our agreement."
"She probably knew better than try," Lyra said with a smug grin. "Glad at least some of those witches are capable of learning."
There were some chuckles on both sides and then a comfortable spell of silence as the two friends continued on their way. Both women remained tuned to their surroundings, eyes constantly scanning the area as they progressed down one block after the other.
After a while, Frankie disrupted the quiet.
"I never did thank you for helping tonight… I know exposing yourself to your mother's brand of magic is not always pleasant for you."
"Lilith is a cunt," Lyra replied bitterly. "But I'm glad I was able to help. Besides, it's the least I can do for my future queen," she added with a teasing wink.
Frankie rolled her eyes.
"That's not funny."
"Oh no, you're right. It's not funny. It's fucking hysterical!" the redhead proclaimed. "By the way, that Jack fellow is fine as hell…"
"He's off-limits, Lyra Kennedy. I mean it."
"What about Louise? She's got a bit of that dominant, stuck-up bitch vibe, but I haven't been with a woman in a while and that body of hers is just…"
"They're all off-limits, Lyra. I'm serious."
The woman pouted.
"What? You don't want me as a prospective daughter-in-law?"
"You'll make it weird."
"I will not! I take offense at that!"
"Oh please, you're as bad as Eduardo!"
"Now that is a boldfaced lie!" Lyra declared. "I don't have a sick need to fuck every person in your family."
"You slept with Rémy," Frankie reminded her with an impish grin. Lyra glowered.
"That was one time… decades ago, in fact, and I've regretted it ever since!"
"So has he," the brunette said with a laugh. "Although I can't tell which I prefer – the days when you two were indifferent toward one another, or the present, with you at each other's throats at nearly every turn."
Lyra snorted.
"You afraid that if I fall into bed with one of your kids, it'll make family gatherings even more awkward than they already are?" she teased.
"To own the truth, I'm more worried about Vlad finding out that I've been lying to him for over a year than I am about anything else. And you sleeping with one or more of his children isn't going to be half as salacious as him finding out that his eldest is blood-bound to the queen of the werewolves."
The redhead choked on air at this bit of news, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Shut up! Which one?"
"Zeke."
"Wait, so does that mean Anna-Sophie is…"
"Technically his granddaughter? Yep."
Lyra laughed until she cried.
"Oh, please let me be present when that bomb gets dropped on him! I need to see Vlad's face when he realizes the unclean hybrid is his grandchild!"
"If you promise not to fall into bed with Jack and Louise, I'll consider it."
The amusement in Lyra's countenance faltered a little as she pouted.
"You're no fun."