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|Bad Blood(Blood Coven Vampire,book 4) by Mari Mancusi|
literally—and isn’t about to let go. Sometimes it’s good to have a twin. I turn to my boyfriend. “Magnus,” I hiss. “What the hell is going on here?”
He shuffles from foot to foot, staring at the ground and refusing to meet my eyes. “Um, well, I don’t know,” he stammers.
“Bull. You do know.” I put my hands on my hips. “You totally know. And you didn’t tell me.”
“Okay. Fine,” he admits. “I knew the council was putting some feelers out, looking for a potential blood mate. But I had no idea they’d settle on someone quite so soon. I only learned this afternoon that she had passed all the background checks and was flying in. And I felt it was a bit harsh to break the news to you over the phone. Not to mention it would totally ruin our evening.”
My stomach lurches. Our evening. In other words he wanted to make sure he got some hot sexual action before filling me in on the fact that our entire relationship was suddenly going to change, big-time. I see how it is. Love me and leave me. Bang me and bounce. Screw me before screwing me.
“Don’t you think it’s information I’d probably prefer to know before we did what we were planning to do this evening?” I demand. “I mean, a blood mate?
Does this mean we’re . . .” I swallow the lump back down into my throat. “Are we breaking up?”
Magnus grabs me, cupping my cheeks in his hands so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “Sunny, calm down!” he commands. “Stop jumping to crazy conclusions. Of course we’re not breaking up. Don’t be ridiculous. I love you. And that’s not going to change. Everything will be as it was before, except that I’ll have a blood mate.”
I squirm away. “A blood mate is like a freaking soul mate, Magnus,” I remind him. “What, are you going to be like a Mormon vampire? Have two wives or whatever?” As soon as the words leave my lips I regret them. It’s not like Mag and I have ever discussed marriage. I’m still in high school for goodness’ sake. And I don’t think vampires usually get married technically anyhow. Especially since they’d literally catch on fire from setting foot in a church. But still? A blood mate and a girlfriend? I’ve never heard of such a thing. From what I understand, in the vampire world, you can mess around with girls, boys, whatever, while you’re a newly reborn undead, but once you turn one thousand, it’s time to commit to the vampire you’ll spend eternity with. Your blood mate. And then it’s time to put away childish mortal romances.
“A blood mate fills a very different role than that of a wife,” Magnus insists.
“It’s more of a civil partnership. Sure, sometimes that partnership is a romantic one—like Rayne and Jareth’s is—but that’s not always the case. And it won’t be with Jane and me, I promise you. She’ll simply aid me in running the affairs of the Blood Coven.”
“I could do that!” I cry. “I could help you run the coven just as well as she could.”
Magnus shakes his head. “Don’t be silly, Sunny,” he says. “Jane has been handpicked from a large pool of potentials for her advanced intelligence and expertise in diplomacy and political science.” He ruffles my head in that patronizing way I hate. “You haven’t even graduated high school yet.”
I squeeze my hands into fists. This is so unfair. Back before Magnus was Blood Coven leader—when everyone assumed Lucifent would stay alive and in control of the coven forever—I was selected to be Magnus’s blood mate. Okay, technically Rayne was, not me, but we’re twins, which is close enough in my book. If only I hadn’t freaked out about the whole vampire thing and forced Magnus to turn me back into a human. Then I’d still be his blood mate and Jane wouldn’t even be a blip on anyone’s radar. Sure, I didn’t have the stupid polisci degree, but I could have helped the coven in other ways. For example, I make a damn good vegetarian quiche.
Oh, who am I trying to fool here? The vampire council doesn’t want a qualified vegetarian quiche-maker as their Master’s partner in crime. Unless I could somehow make it out of blood. Which would totally ruin its consistency. Not to mention its vegetarianism.
I feel the tears well up in my eyes. I so have to get out of here—before I lose it in front of everyone. Especially stupid Jane. The last thing I need is for that tacky vampire wannabe bitch to see me cry.
“I’ve got to go,” I mutter, pushing past Magnus and walking as fast as possible without breaking into a run.
“Sunny, wait!” Magnus calls after me. “Come back.”
I almost turn around. Almost. But then Jane’s voice cuts through the crisp October night.
“Mag-nus,” she whines. “I’ve flown all the way from England today and have killer jet leg. Can you take me to my hotel room already?”
Sure he can. In fact, he’s already got a great one reserved. 4
It’s nine o’clock on a Friday night and I’m supposed to be having the best night of my life, snuggled up with my perfect boyfriend under luxurious five hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and a feather duvet at a five-star hotel. Instead I’m squashed in my own not-so-luxurious, not-so-thread-counted, flannel-sheeted bed next to my sister, Rayne. Instead of the cries of ecstasy I’d imagined I’d utter tonight while in Magnus’s arms, I’m just plain crying. My face is blotchy, my eyes are red, and I’m wearing an oversized, black T-shirt, courtesy of Rayne, that claims Zombies Make Better Boyfriends—which, while may be true in theory, isn’t exactly all that comforting at the moment. Nor is my dear sister.