House of Comarré Omnibus, page 179
part #0.50 of House of Comarré Series
She nodded, but her eyes were sad. “I wish she was still here.”
“Me, too.”
Surprise replaced the sorrow. “You do? Even though you know she probably wouldn’t have liked you very much.”
“I could have changed her mind.” He reached for the car door.
Thunder rumbled over their heads. She glanced at the sky. “There’s a storm coming.”
He nodded, his gaze traveling to her belly. “There always will be. And just like always, we’ll weather it.” He opened the car door just as the first fat drops of rain pelted them.
She slid into the car, but he hesitated, flicking his gaze skyward once again. No matter what Maris thought, no matter who came after them, no matter what price he had to pay, he would keep Chrysabelle and his child safe.
It wasn’t a question of if. Trouble would find them again. And until it did, he’d be waiting. Watching. Prepared to fight. Ready to protect.
From this day forward, last blood would always be his.
Always.
The End
Acknowledgments
Writing never gets easier. There are good days and there are tough days; both are hard, but on either kind of day, my support system never fails me. All those who’ve helped me in some way deserve thanks. My apologies for those I’ve forgotten to mention, please forgive me.
To begin with, I want to thank my Creator for the blessings He’s given me.
This series wouldn’t have happened without my amazing, supportive agent, Elaine. She’s the reason many of the great things in my writing life happen.
Big ups to my editor, Devi, for pushing me to delve deeper into the madness I put on the page and to her assistant, Susan, for always being there to answer my questions. You both rock, as does the entire publishing team at Orbit, including Alex, Ellen, Laura, and Lauren.
I have to also give a shout-out to Nekro, the amazing talent behind the art for these covers. I could not be more indebted for your work on them.
Massive thanks to the Writer’s Camp chicks, Laura and Leigh, for their support, their friendship, and their ability to yell at me with kindness when I’m shopping online instead of writing. To Rocki and Louisa, whose friendship gets me through each day and every trial.
To all my readers, you guys are awesome and the reason I do this!
Lastly, tremendous thanks to my parents and my brother for their continuous support and to my husband for being my number one fan. I couldn’t do this without you.
extras
meet the author
KRISTEN PAINTER’S writing résumé boasts multiple Golden Heart nominations and praise from a handful of best-selling authors, including Gena Showalter and Roxanne St. Claire. A former New Yorker now living in Florida, Kristen has a wealth of fascinating experiences from which to flavor her stories, including time spent working in fashion for Christian Dior and as a maitre’d for Wolfgang Puck. Her website is at kristenpainter.com and on twitter as @Kristen_Painter.
introducing
If you enjoyed
OUT FOR BLOOD,
look for
RED-HEADED STEPCHILD
Sabina Kane: Book One
by Jaye Wells
Sabina Kane is half-mage, half-vampire and all attitude. Despite her red-headed stepchild status in the vampire community, she remains loyal to the vampire leaders who raised her to be an assassin.
When a routine mission uncovers startling secrets that could destroy the uneasy truce between vampires and mages, Sabina must find a way to prevent an all-out war. Helping Sabina navigate this treacherous world are a high-maintenance hairless cat demon, a prognosticating nymph who used to work in faery porn, and a mysterious mage with an agenda…
Digging graves is hell on a manicure, but I was taught good vampires clean up after every meal. So I ignored the chipped onyx polish. I ignored the dirt caked under my nails. I ignored my palms, rubbed raw and blistering. And when a snapping twig announced David’s arrival, I ignored him too.
He said nothing, just stood off behind a thicket of trees waiting for me to acknowledge him. Despite his silence, I could feel hot waves of disapproval flying in my direction.
At last, the final scoop of earth fell onto the grave. Stalling, I leaned on the shovel handle and restored order to my hair. Next I brushed flecks of dirt from my cashmere sweater. Not the first choice of digging attire for some, but I always believed manual labor was no excuse for sloppiness. Besides, the sweater was black, so it went well with the haphazard funerary rites.
The Harvest Moon, a glowing orange sphere, still loomed in the sky. Plenty of time before sunrise. In the distance, traffic hummed like white noise in the City of Angels. I took a moment to appreciate the calm.
Memory of the phone call from my grandmother intruded. When she told me the target of my latest assignment, an icy chill spread through my veins. I’d almost hung up, unable to believe what she was asking me to do. But when she told me David was working with Clovis Trakiya, white-hot anger replaced the chill. I called up that anger now to spur my resolve. I clenched my teeth and ignored the cold stone sitting in my stomach. My own feelings about David were irrelevant now. The minute he decided to work with one of the Dominae’s
enemies—a glorified cult leader who wanted to overthrow their power—he’d signed his death warrant.
Unable to put it off any longer, I turned to him. “What’s up?”
David stalked out of his hiding place, a frown marring the perfect planes of his face. “Do you want to tell me why you’re burying a body?”
“Who, me?” I asked, tossing the shovel to the ground. My palms were already healing. I wish I could say the same for my guilty conscience. If David thought I should apologize for feeding from a human, I didn’t want to know what he was going to say in about five minutes.
“Cut the shit, Sabina. You’ve been hunting again.” His eyes glowed with accusation. “What happened to the synthetic blood I gave you?”
“That stuff tastes like shit,” I said. “It’s like nonalcoholic beer. What’s the point?”
“Regardless, it’s wrong to feed from humans.”
It’s also wrong to betray your race, I thought. If there was one thing about David that always got my back up, it was his holier-than-thou attitude. Where were his morals when he made the decision to sell out?
Keep it together, Sabina. It will all be over in a few minutes.
“Oh, come on. It was just a stupid drug dealer,” I said, forcing myself to keep up the banter. “If it makes you feel any better, he was selling to kids.”
David crossed his arms and said nothing.
“Though I have to say nothing beats Type O mixed with a little cannabis.”
A muscle worked in David’s jaw. “You’re stoned?”
“Not really,” I said. “Though I do have a strange craving for pizza. Extra garlic.”
He took a deep breath. “What am I going to do with you?” His lips quirked despite his harsh tone.
“First of all, no more lectures. We’re vampires, David. Mortal codes of good and evil don’t apply to us.”
He arched a brow. “Don’t they?”
“Whatever,” I said. “Can we just skip the philosophical debates for once?”
He shook his head. “Okay then, why don’t you tell me why we’re meeting way out here?”
Heaving a deep sigh, I pulled my weapon. David’s eyes widened as I aimed the custom-made pistol between them.
His eyes pivoted from the gun to me. I hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremor in my hands.
“I should have known when you called me,” he said. “You never do that.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” His calm unsettled me.
“I know why.” He crossed his arms and regarded me closely. “The question is, do you?”
My eye twitched. “I know enough. How could you betray the Dominae?”
He didn’t flinch. “One of these days your blind obedience to the Dominae is going to be your downfall.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t waste your final words on another lecture.”
He lunged before the last word left my lips. He plowed into me, knocking the breath out of my chest and the gun from my hand. We landed in a tangle of limbs on the fresh grave. Dirt and fists flew as we each struggled to gain advantage. He grabbed my hair and whacked my head into the dirt. Soil tunneled up my nose and rage blurred my vision.
My hands curled into claws and dug into his eyes. Distracted by pain, he covered them with his palms. Gaining the advantage fueled my adrenaline as I flipped him onto his back. My knees straddled his hips, and I belted him in the nose with the base of my hand. Blood spurted from his nostrils, streaking his lips and chin.
“Bitch!” Like an animal, he sank his fangs into the fleshy part of my palm. I shrieked, backhanding him across the cheek with my uninjured hand. He growled and shoved me. I flew back several feet, landing on my ass with a thud.
Before I could catch my breath, his weight pinned me down again. Only this time, my gun stared back at me with its unblinking eye.
“How does it feel, Sabina?” His face was close to mine as he whispered. His breath stunk of blood and fury. “How does it feel to be on the other end of the gun?”
“It sucks, actually.” Despite my tough talk, my heart hammered against my ribs. I glanced to the right and saw the shovel I’d used earlier lying about five feet away. “Listen—”
“Shut up.” His eyes were wild. “You know what the worst part is? I came here tonight to come clean with you. Was going to warn you about the Dominae and Clovis—”
“Warn me?”
David jammed the cold steel into my skull—tattooing me with his rage. “That’s the irony isn’t it? Do you even know what’s at stake here?” He cocked the hammer. Obviously, the question had been rhetorical.
One second, two, ticked by before the sound of flapping wings and a loud hoot filled the clearing. David glanced away, distracted. I punched him in the throat. He fell back, gasping and sputtering. I hauled ass to the shovel.
Time slowed. Spinning, I slashed the shovel in a wide arc. A bullet ricocheted off the metal, causing a spark. David pulled himself up to shoot again, but I lunged forward, swinging like Babe Ruth. The metal hit David’s skull with a sickening thud. He collapsed in a heap.
He wouldn’t stay down long. I grabbed the gun from his limp hand and aimed it at his chest.
I was about to pull the trigger when his eyes crept open. “Sabina.”
He lay on the ground, covered in blood and dirt. The goose egg on his forehead was already losing its mass. Knowledge of the inevitable filled his gaze. I paused, watching him.
At one time, I’d looked up to this male, counted him as a friend. And now he’d betrayed everything I held sacred by selling out to the enemy. I hated him for his treachery. I hated the Dominae for choosing me as executioner. But most of all, I hated myself for what I was about to do.
He raised a hand toward me—imploring me to listen. My insides felt coated in acid as I watched him struggle to sit up.
“Don’t trust—”
His final words were lost in the gun’s blast. David’s body exploded into flames, caused by the metaphysical friction of his soul leaving his flesh.
My whole body spasmed. The heat from the fire couldn’t stop the shaking in my limbs. Collapsing to the dirt, I wiped a quivering hand down my face.
The gun felt like a branding iron in my hand. I dropped it, but my hand still throbbed. A moment later, I changed my mind and picked it up again. Pulling out the clip, I removed one of the bullets. Holding one up for inspection, I wondered what David felt when the casing exploded and a dose of the toxic juice robbed him of his immortality.
I glanced over at the smoldering pile that was once my friend. Had he suffered? Or did death bring instant relief from the burdens of immortality? Or had I just damned his soul to a worse fate? I shook myself. His work here was done. Mine wasn’t.
My shirt was caked with smears of soot, dirt, and drying blood—David’s blood mixed with mine. I sucked in a lungful of air, hoping to ease the tightness in my chest.
The fire had died, leaving a charred, smoking mass of ash and bone. Great, I thought, now I have to dig another grave.
I used the shovel to pull myself up. A blur of white flew through the clearing. The owl called out again before flying over the trees. I stilled, wondering if I was hearing things. It called again and this time I was sure it screeched, “Sabina.”
Maybe the smoke and fatigue were playing tricks on me. Maybe it had really said my name. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. I had a body to bury.
As I dug in, my eyes started to sting. I tried to convince myself it was merely a reaction to the smoke, but a voice in my head whispered “guilt.” With ruthless determination, I shoved my conscience down, compressing it into a tiny knot and shoving it into a dark corner of myself. Maybe later I’d pull it out and examine it. Or maybe not.
Good assassins dispose of problems without remorse. Even if the problem was a friend.
BY KRISTEN PAINTER
House of Comarré
Blood Rights
Flesh and Blood
Bad Blood
Out for Blood
Last Blood
Forbidden Blood (e-only novella)
PRAISE FOR HOUSE OF COMARRÉ
“Prophecy, curses, and devilish machination combine for a spellbinding debut of dark romance and pulse-pounding adventure.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL (Starred Review)
“Gripping, gritty, and imaginative. If you love dangerous males, kick-ass females, and unexpected twists, this is the series for you! Kristen Painter’s engaging voice, smart writing, and bold, explosive plot blew me away. Prepare to lose some sleep!”
—LARISSA IONE, New York Times bestselling author
“Kristen Painter brings a sultry new voice to the vampire genre, one that beckons with quiet passion and intrigue.”
—L.A. BANKS, New York Times bestselling author
“Painter scores with this one. Passion and murder, vampires and courtesans—original and un-put-downable. Do yourself a favor and read this one.”
—PATRICIA BRIGGS, New York Times bestselling author
“Kristen Painter’s Blood Rights is dark and rich with layer after delicious layer. This spellbinding series will have you begging for more!”
—GENA SHOWALTER, New York Times bestselling author
“The romance is tense and fresh… I highly recommend this if you enjoy fantasy and want an original take on vampires.”
—USA Today’s Happy Ever After on Blood Rights
“Exciting and interesting!”
—RT Book Reviews on Bad Blood
Thank you for buying this e-book, published by Hachette Digital.
To receive special offers, bonus content, and news about our latest e-books and apps, sign up for our newsletters.
Sign Up
Or visit us at hachettebookgroup.com/newsletters
Glossary
Anathema: a noble vampire who has been cast out of noble society for some reason
Aurelian: the comarré historian
Castus Sanguis: the fallen angels from which the othernatural races descended
Comarré/comar: a human hybrid species especially bred to serve the blood needs of the noble vampire race
Dominus: the ruling head of a noble vampire family
Elder: the second in command to a Dominus
Fae: a race of othernatural beings descended from fallen angels and nature
Fringe vampires: a race of lesser vampires descended from the cursed Judas Iscariot
Kine: a vampire term for humans, archaic
Libertas: the ritual in which a comarré can fight for his or her independence. Ends in death of comarré or patron
Navitas: the ritual in which a vampire can be resired by another, to change family lines or turn fringe noble
Noble vampires: a powerful race of vampires descended from fallen angels
Nothos: hellhounds
Patronus/patron: a noble vampire who purchases a comarré’s blood rights
Remnant: a hybrid of different species of fae and/or varcolai
Sacre: the ceremonial sword of the comarré
Signum: the inlaid gold tattoos or marks put into comarrés’ skin to purify their blood
Vampling: a newly turned or young vampire
Varcolai: a race of shifters descended from fallen angels and animals
Contents
Welcome
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
“Me, too.”
Surprise replaced the sorrow. “You do? Even though you know she probably wouldn’t have liked you very much.”
“I could have changed her mind.” He reached for the car door.
Thunder rumbled over their heads. She glanced at the sky. “There’s a storm coming.”
He nodded, his gaze traveling to her belly. “There always will be. And just like always, we’ll weather it.” He opened the car door just as the first fat drops of rain pelted them.
She slid into the car, but he hesitated, flicking his gaze skyward once again. No matter what Maris thought, no matter who came after them, no matter what price he had to pay, he would keep Chrysabelle and his child safe.
It wasn’t a question of if. Trouble would find them again. And until it did, he’d be waiting. Watching. Prepared to fight. Ready to protect.
From this day forward, last blood would always be his.
Always.
The End
Acknowledgments
Writing never gets easier. There are good days and there are tough days; both are hard, but on either kind of day, my support system never fails me. All those who’ve helped me in some way deserve thanks. My apologies for those I’ve forgotten to mention, please forgive me.
To begin with, I want to thank my Creator for the blessings He’s given me.
This series wouldn’t have happened without my amazing, supportive agent, Elaine. She’s the reason many of the great things in my writing life happen.
Big ups to my editor, Devi, for pushing me to delve deeper into the madness I put on the page and to her assistant, Susan, for always being there to answer my questions. You both rock, as does the entire publishing team at Orbit, including Alex, Ellen, Laura, and Lauren.
I have to also give a shout-out to Nekro, the amazing talent behind the art for these covers. I could not be more indebted for your work on them.
Massive thanks to the Writer’s Camp chicks, Laura and Leigh, for their support, their friendship, and their ability to yell at me with kindness when I’m shopping online instead of writing. To Rocki and Louisa, whose friendship gets me through each day and every trial.
To all my readers, you guys are awesome and the reason I do this!
Lastly, tremendous thanks to my parents and my brother for their continuous support and to my husband for being my number one fan. I couldn’t do this without you.
extras
meet the author
KRISTEN PAINTER’S writing résumé boasts multiple Golden Heart nominations and praise from a handful of best-selling authors, including Gena Showalter and Roxanne St. Claire. A former New Yorker now living in Florida, Kristen has a wealth of fascinating experiences from which to flavor her stories, including time spent working in fashion for Christian Dior and as a maitre’d for Wolfgang Puck. Her website is at kristenpainter.com and on twitter as @Kristen_Painter.
introducing
If you enjoyed
OUT FOR BLOOD,
look for
RED-HEADED STEPCHILD
Sabina Kane: Book One
by Jaye Wells
Sabina Kane is half-mage, half-vampire and all attitude. Despite her red-headed stepchild status in the vampire community, she remains loyal to the vampire leaders who raised her to be an assassin.
When a routine mission uncovers startling secrets that could destroy the uneasy truce between vampires and mages, Sabina must find a way to prevent an all-out war. Helping Sabina navigate this treacherous world are a high-maintenance hairless cat demon, a prognosticating nymph who used to work in faery porn, and a mysterious mage with an agenda…
Digging graves is hell on a manicure, but I was taught good vampires clean up after every meal. So I ignored the chipped onyx polish. I ignored the dirt caked under my nails. I ignored my palms, rubbed raw and blistering. And when a snapping twig announced David’s arrival, I ignored him too.
He said nothing, just stood off behind a thicket of trees waiting for me to acknowledge him. Despite his silence, I could feel hot waves of disapproval flying in my direction.
At last, the final scoop of earth fell onto the grave. Stalling, I leaned on the shovel handle and restored order to my hair. Next I brushed flecks of dirt from my cashmere sweater. Not the first choice of digging attire for some, but I always believed manual labor was no excuse for sloppiness. Besides, the sweater was black, so it went well with the haphazard funerary rites.
The Harvest Moon, a glowing orange sphere, still loomed in the sky. Plenty of time before sunrise. In the distance, traffic hummed like white noise in the City of Angels. I took a moment to appreciate the calm.
Memory of the phone call from my grandmother intruded. When she told me the target of my latest assignment, an icy chill spread through my veins. I’d almost hung up, unable to believe what she was asking me to do. But when she told me David was working with Clovis Trakiya, white-hot anger replaced the chill. I called up that anger now to spur my resolve. I clenched my teeth and ignored the cold stone sitting in my stomach. My own feelings about David were irrelevant now. The minute he decided to work with one of the Dominae’s
enemies—a glorified cult leader who wanted to overthrow their power—he’d signed his death warrant.
Unable to put it off any longer, I turned to him. “What’s up?”
David stalked out of his hiding place, a frown marring the perfect planes of his face. “Do you want to tell me why you’re burying a body?”
“Who, me?” I asked, tossing the shovel to the ground. My palms were already healing. I wish I could say the same for my guilty conscience. If David thought I should apologize for feeding from a human, I didn’t want to know what he was going to say in about five minutes.
“Cut the shit, Sabina. You’ve been hunting again.” His eyes glowed with accusation. “What happened to the synthetic blood I gave you?”
“That stuff tastes like shit,” I said. “It’s like nonalcoholic beer. What’s the point?”
“Regardless, it’s wrong to feed from humans.”
It’s also wrong to betray your race, I thought. If there was one thing about David that always got my back up, it was his holier-than-thou attitude. Where were his morals when he made the decision to sell out?
Keep it together, Sabina. It will all be over in a few minutes.
“Oh, come on. It was just a stupid drug dealer,” I said, forcing myself to keep up the banter. “If it makes you feel any better, he was selling to kids.”
David crossed his arms and said nothing.
“Though I have to say nothing beats Type O mixed with a little cannabis.”
A muscle worked in David’s jaw. “You’re stoned?”
“Not really,” I said. “Though I do have a strange craving for pizza. Extra garlic.”
He took a deep breath. “What am I going to do with you?” His lips quirked despite his harsh tone.
“First of all, no more lectures. We’re vampires, David. Mortal codes of good and evil don’t apply to us.”
He arched a brow. “Don’t they?”
“Whatever,” I said. “Can we just skip the philosophical debates for once?”
He shook his head. “Okay then, why don’t you tell me why we’re meeting way out here?”
Heaving a deep sigh, I pulled my weapon. David’s eyes widened as I aimed the custom-made pistol between them.
His eyes pivoted from the gun to me. I hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremor in my hands.
“I should have known when you called me,” he said. “You never do that.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” His calm unsettled me.
“I know why.” He crossed his arms and regarded me closely. “The question is, do you?”
My eye twitched. “I know enough. How could you betray the Dominae?”
He didn’t flinch. “One of these days your blind obedience to the Dominae is going to be your downfall.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t waste your final words on another lecture.”
He lunged before the last word left my lips. He plowed into me, knocking the breath out of my chest and the gun from my hand. We landed in a tangle of limbs on the fresh grave. Dirt and fists flew as we each struggled to gain advantage. He grabbed my hair and whacked my head into the dirt. Soil tunneled up my nose and rage blurred my vision.
My hands curled into claws and dug into his eyes. Distracted by pain, he covered them with his palms. Gaining the advantage fueled my adrenaline as I flipped him onto his back. My knees straddled his hips, and I belted him in the nose with the base of my hand. Blood spurted from his nostrils, streaking his lips and chin.
“Bitch!” Like an animal, he sank his fangs into the fleshy part of my palm. I shrieked, backhanding him across the cheek with my uninjured hand. He growled and shoved me. I flew back several feet, landing on my ass with a thud.
Before I could catch my breath, his weight pinned me down again. Only this time, my gun stared back at me with its unblinking eye.
“How does it feel, Sabina?” His face was close to mine as he whispered. His breath stunk of blood and fury. “How does it feel to be on the other end of the gun?”
“It sucks, actually.” Despite my tough talk, my heart hammered against my ribs. I glanced to the right and saw the shovel I’d used earlier lying about five feet away. “Listen—”
“Shut up.” His eyes were wild. “You know what the worst part is? I came here tonight to come clean with you. Was going to warn you about the Dominae and Clovis—”
“Warn me?”
David jammed the cold steel into my skull—tattooing me with his rage. “That’s the irony isn’t it? Do you even know what’s at stake here?” He cocked the hammer. Obviously, the question had been rhetorical.
One second, two, ticked by before the sound of flapping wings and a loud hoot filled the clearing. David glanced away, distracted. I punched him in the throat. He fell back, gasping and sputtering. I hauled ass to the shovel.
Time slowed. Spinning, I slashed the shovel in a wide arc. A bullet ricocheted off the metal, causing a spark. David pulled himself up to shoot again, but I lunged forward, swinging like Babe Ruth. The metal hit David’s skull with a sickening thud. He collapsed in a heap.
He wouldn’t stay down long. I grabbed the gun from his limp hand and aimed it at his chest.
I was about to pull the trigger when his eyes crept open. “Sabina.”
He lay on the ground, covered in blood and dirt. The goose egg on his forehead was already losing its mass. Knowledge of the inevitable filled his gaze. I paused, watching him.
At one time, I’d looked up to this male, counted him as a friend. And now he’d betrayed everything I held sacred by selling out to the enemy. I hated him for his treachery. I hated the Dominae for choosing me as executioner. But most of all, I hated myself for what I was about to do.
He raised a hand toward me—imploring me to listen. My insides felt coated in acid as I watched him struggle to sit up.
“Don’t trust—”
His final words were lost in the gun’s blast. David’s body exploded into flames, caused by the metaphysical friction of his soul leaving his flesh.
My whole body spasmed. The heat from the fire couldn’t stop the shaking in my limbs. Collapsing to the dirt, I wiped a quivering hand down my face.
The gun felt like a branding iron in my hand. I dropped it, but my hand still throbbed. A moment later, I changed my mind and picked it up again. Pulling out the clip, I removed one of the bullets. Holding one up for inspection, I wondered what David felt when the casing exploded and a dose of the toxic juice robbed him of his immortality.
I glanced over at the smoldering pile that was once my friend. Had he suffered? Or did death bring instant relief from the burdens of immortality? Or had I just damned his soul to a worse fate? I shook myself. His work here was done. Mine wasn’t.
My shirt was caked with smears of soot, dirt, and drying blood—David’s blood mixed with mine. I sucked in a lungful of air, hoping to ease the tightness in my chest.
The fire had died, leaving a charred, smoking mass of ash and bone. Great, I thought, now I have to dig another grave.
I used the shovel to pull myself up. A blur of white flew through the clearing. The owl called out again before flying over the trees. I stilled, wondering if I was hearing things. It called again and this time I was sure it screeched, “Sabina.”
Maybe the smoke and fatigue were playing tricks on me. Maybe it had really said my name. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. I had a body to bury.
As I dug in, my eyes started to sting. I tried to convince myself it was merely a reaction to the smoke, but a voice in my head whispered “guilt.” With ruthless determination, I shoved my conscience down, compressing it into a tiny knot and shoving it into a dark corner of myself. Maybe later I’d pull it out and examine it. Or maybe not.
Good assassins dispose of problems without remorse. Even if the problem was a friend.
BY KRISTEN PAINTER
House of Comarré
Blood Rights
Flesh and Blood
Bad Blood
Out for Blood
Last Blood
Forbidden Blood (e-only novella)
PRAISE FOR HOUSE OF COMARRÉ
“Prophecy, curses, and devilish machination combine for a spellbinding debut of dark romance and pulse-pounding adventure.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL (Starred Review)
“Gripping, gritty, and imaginative. If you love dangerous males, kick-ass females, and unexpected twists, this is the series for you! Kristen Painter’s engaging voice, smart writing, and bold, explosive plot blew me away. Prepare to lose some sleep!”
—LARISSA IONE, New York Times bestselling author
“Kristen Painter brings a sultry new voice to the vampire genre, one that beckons with quiet passion and intrigue.”
—L.A. BANKS, New York Times bestselling author
“Painter scores with this one. Passion and murder, vampires and courtesans—original and un-put-downable. Do yourself a favor and read this one.”
—PATRICIA BRIGGS, New York Times bestselling author
“Kristen Painter’s Blood Rights is dark and rich with layer after delicious layer. This spellbinding series will have you begging for more!”
—GENA SHOWALTER, New York Times bestselling author
“The romance is tense and fresh… I highly recommend this if you enjoy fantasy and want an original take on vampires.”
—USA Today’s Happy Ever After on Blood Rights
“Exciting and interesting!”
—RT Book Reviews on Bad Blood
Thank you for buying this e-book, published by Hachette Digital.
To receive special offers, bonus content, and news about our latest e-books and apps, sign up for our newsletters.
Sign Up
Or visit us at hachettebookgroup.com/newsletters
Glossary
Anathema: a noble vampire who has been cast out of noble society for some reason
Aurelian: the comarré historian
Castus Sanguis: the fallen angels from which the othernatural races descended
Comarré/comar: a human hybrid species especially bred to serve the blood needs of the noble vampire race
Dominus: the ruling head of a noble vampire family
Elder: the second in command to a Dominus
Fae: a race of othernatural beings descended from fallen angels and nature
Fringe vampires: a race of lesser vampires descended from the cursed Judas Iscariot
Kine: a vampire term for humans, archaic
Libertas: the ritual in which a comarré can fight for his or her independence. Ends in death of comarré or patron
Navitas: the ritual in which a vampire can be resired by another, to change family lines or turn fringe noble
Noble vampires: a powerful race of vampires descended from fallen angels
Nothos: hellhounds
Patronus/patron: a noble vampire who purchases a comarré’s blood rights
Remnant: a hybrid of different species of fae and/or varcolai
Sacre: the ceremonial sword of the comarré
Signum: the inlaid gold tattoos or marks put into comarrés’ skin to purify their blood
Vampling: a newly turned or young vampire
Varcolai: a race of shifters descended from fallen angels and animals
Contents
Welcome
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
