Blue Blood (Series of Blood Book 3) by Emma Hamm (books to read this summer .txt) 📕

with her words. “We’re only interested in virgins, and you, my dear, are not one of those.”

His cheeks heated. “Oh. Ah, well then— I—”

Bluebell burst into peals of laughter.

“You’re a fine looking man, Jasper. Any woman would be lucky to have such a comforting person around them. It just won’t ever be me.” She smiled.

He was struck once more by her otherworldly beauty. He wasn’t certain he would ever be able to look her in the eyes, she was so blinding. Any man who fell in love with her would have an uphill battle to fight.

“Ella—” he began.

But he was interrupted by a loud clanging.

“The goons are back,” he muttered.

“Don’t call them that if you like your head where it is.”

He stood and walked to the front of his cage. If they were going to harass the prisoners again, Jasper fully planned on breaking the Shapeshifter’s hand. Fear would not control him. Tall, strong, and angry, he filled the spaces between the bars.

Four figures walked towards him. Three, he recognized; the other, he did not. Shadows coiled around the unknown figure and hid it from his gaze. Jasper’s chest broadened as he straightened to his full height. His wings made a soft whirring sound when they slid across his back. They remained flat against his spine, most did not find Fairies to be intimidating. He kept them close to his hands, just in case he needed Fairy Dust.

“Jasper,” Ella’s voice warbled, “get back. It’s him.”

He didn’t respond. Even if she weren’t so frightened, he would have known who the fourth figure was. Malachi had finally come.

“Maybe we should be careful.” Bluebell’s words cut through him like a knife. She was terrified.

He knew she was right. If Malachi killed him, he would be gone to this world. Bluebell would be drained by Malachi until none of her magic was left. Jasper wasn’t certain she would even go to the same afterlife as he.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he told Bluebell as quietly as possible. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“I trust you.”

Jasper held back an angry growl as Malachi stepped into the light. He was everything Wren described and more. Of questionable race, his dark hair was slicked back to trail down his spine. The long rope of his braid swayed with every movement as his glittering eyes looked Jasper up and down.

Malachi bowed gracefully. “Welcome.”

“This is not a welcoming place,” Jasper growled. “Why have you brought me here?”

The powerful man tsked as the three guards fanned out behind him. To Jasper’s satisfaction, they did not stand too close to his cage.

“Are we skipping past the pleasantries already?” Malachi asked. “I had hoped we might get to know one another.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But I got to know your friend so well. Wren is a lovely person. I did very much enjoy her presence.” Malachi’s voice was laced with double meanings and lies. The man’s charm fairly oozed.

It was no wonder he had so many people under his thumb. Even if they knew what his final plan was, Jasper had no doubt Malachi could convince a number of people to follow him.

“I have no wish to know you. When I leave this place, I will take your head with me,” Jasper snarled.

“It’s a pity that you are already threatening me. I am not going to kill you, Jasper. You should not be planning to kill me.”

Malachi gestured with his hands while he spoke. His nails were perfectly trimmed, Jasper noticed. They were the hands of a man who avoided hard labor. Long, lean fingers with no callouses, no marks. Just smooth skin.

What kind of man had baby soft hands?

When Jasper did not respond, Malachi’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a thin line. No longer the cajoling, charming man, he became a calculating warrior who was not to be crossed.

“Fine, you want to play this game the hard way. I see that now,” Malachi said.

“I play no games with my life or anyone else’s.”

“Now that’s a limited view. We all play this game we call life. You are on a chessboard whether you like it or not.” Malachi stepped forward to tap his finger against the iron bars. Each tap produced a small curl of smoke. “I’m curious, are you a knight? Or perhaps a rook?”

Jasper leaned forward until his cheeks nearly pressed into the iron. “I am not playing your game.”

Malachi met his gaze for a long moment. He was searching for something. What, Jasper had no idea. Three heartbeats later and Malachi made another tsking sound with his tongue.

“A knight it is then. Tis a shame, I thought you might be more than just another body to throw away.” Malachi shrugged. “Ah well, the pieces never fall where one expects them to fall. I shall move you on my board where I see fit.”

Jasper could not say a word without it turning into an angry roar. Already his fists were clenched to prevent them from touching this man’s slick skin.

Malachi cast a critical glance in his direction. “No response to that, Jasper?”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about your little band of friends and the Five. I know you’re trying to keep me from my purpose. And I know that no matter what I ask you to do, you are going to do it,” Malachi snapped his fingers, “whenever I ask.”

“That will not happen,” Jasper snarled.

“I think it will.”

Malachi lifted his hand. It was a slow movement, quiet and unassuming. Yet as his hand passed through the air, an image materialized before him. Jasper did not want to look at the faded colors and moving lines. He did not want to see what this dark man wanted him to see.

But when he turned away from the glowing swirl of light, he heard her voice.

“Jasper!”

He squeezed his eyes shut for the barest moment before he turned to stare at the image. Lyra. The only person he ever loved was reflected before him. She was tied