Angel Blood

32- Cutting Blood Ties

When I was a child, I used to watch enviously as the other kids sparred without me. There were six of us total, and before he was old enough to know better, Sean would try to tug me along to join too.

I recall how small his hand felt on my wrist as he tried to jerk me upward. How his baby-rounded cheeks pulled into a smile as he tried to comfort me when Delia was having a bad day so training was harsh as a result.

The memories arise and just as rapidly I try to squelch them down. I've spent so much time trying to think of anything but my past that they push to the surface with the intensity of a dam breaking open. I swallow as rush unpleasant emotions threaten to leak through the cracks.

"Calli." Warm fingers grip my chin and tilt my head up. An alarmed set of stormy eyes gaze into mine. "Talk to me."

"Hm?" Everything mixes in my chest until only a vague set of numbness remains. My hands slick with sweat so I wipe them on my jeans.

But the dampness keeps coming, so I glance down in confusion. Red streams from a deep wound on my forearm and drips into the palm of my hand.

Sinclair swears under his breath and frantically pulls a rag from the bar and presses it to the open wound. His other hand digs into his pocket as he rapidly pulls out his phone and presses it to his ear.

"Who are you calling?" I ask, but my voice sounds distant in my ears.

"Oliver. And Theo if he'll pick up."

I frown. "Why?"

He sighs. "Someone needs to take care of the body while I get you cleaned up."

I stiffen at the word, my eyes flickering down to the floor even though Sin's body blocks most of my view. A span of crimson tinted platinum peeks through the space between his long legs.

My eyes drift back to the puddle of dark liquid that slowly creeps across the floor, staring so intensely that my eyes begin to unfocus. Sin sighs and tugs my chin back up to look at him.

"Stop that," he scowls.

I squeeze back a gag as it itches the back of my throat. "I didn't mean to kill him," I say, a warm trickle of water trailing down my cheek. It's strange—still, I can't feel anything but a dull sense of dread. "It was instinct and I just wanted to protect so I—"

"Angel." His calloused thumb gently wipes the tears from my cheek. "It's okay."

"Don't you want to know who he is?" I resist the urge to lean my face into his hand.

"The golden eyes and the fact that he's shit at being an assassin tells me enough," he says, then sighs as I tense in front of him. "That's not what I meant. You were far more of a challenge than him, angel."

"I don't care about that. We share the same blood—the closest thing I have to family." I wince as he presses the cloth tighter to my skin to clot the stream flowing from my forearm. "We were supposed to protect each other."

He's silent for a thoughtful moment, then says, "Where was he when you needed protection?" He frowns when I don't say anything. "Do you have any idea how close I was to killing you a few months ago?"

I shrug, balling my trembling fingers at my side. I don't know what's worse: the fact that I just killed the closest thing I have to family or I know that I'd do it all over again to protect Sinclair.

"Hold this," he says, then moves my hand to hold the soggy cloth in place. Sin frowns as my fingers strain to loosely grip it in place. "Doesn't that hurt? You're hardly making a sound."

I shrug again. "Don't feel it."

He curses under his breath and practically shoves me onto the barstool behind me. Well—either that or my knees are far weaker than I realize. "Sit. You're in shock."