by Ana Calin
“I scared the life out of you many times before, and for that please accept my apologies.” He props himself on his elbow with some difficulty, stretching out his other hand in an invitation.
“Come, lay here with me.”
The sound of his voice, dark and soft, seems to seep in through my pores. I square my shoulders, fighting the urge to obey.
“This needs to stop. You can’t go on numbing my will and playing with my head. If we’re to ever have a chance at a real relationship, you’ll want me as myself.”
The haze of hypnotic obedience that made my lids heavy starts to fade, but Kieran’s intense black eyes still dazzle me without the input from his powers. The firelight sends a golden glow on his youthful features. He has the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. I busy myself with arranging objects on the coffee table in an attempt to hide my weakness and hold my ground.
“Very well then,” he says and sets his other elbow on the couch, now sustaining his weight on both of them and displaying his naked body. He’s most certainly aware of his beauty.
“Shame must be a foreign word to you,” I whisper.
“If the sight offends you, feel free to cover me. There’s a coat hanging on the peg by the door.”
He may be regenerating, but he’s exhausted, and so am I. I walk to the peg and take the coat. It’s so heavy it disturbs my balance, exhaustion rendering my limbs weak. When I reach the couch Kieran’s eyes are closed. The last thing he expects is what I’m going to do, I’m sure.
I sit by his side. “Will you make room for me, please?”
His eyes snap open. He draws to the back of the couch, moving onto his side so that half the couch becomes available and enough for both of us if I lie on my side as well. I lower myself slowly, with my back at him, and nestle my head at his chest, pulling the coat over us both. My heart races as my cheek touches his bicep, his skin like silk over hard muscle.
“I thought you said—” he whispers.
“I asked you to stop influencing me, determining my actions,” I interrupt softly. The heat grows between us. “I asked you to let me exercise my free will. And this is what I do with my free will.”
He kisses my temple, his lips dry and warm. “You were always resilient to my influence.”
“Really? It didn’t feel that way to me.”
“How did it feel then?”
“You often made a zombie out of me.”
“And yet you always retained the ability of defying me.”
“It was a struggle, like moving my legs out of quicksand. But sometimes I chose to sink in, because that way it was easier to put up with the things you did with me.” My voice breaks on the last words.
Kieran pushes one arm under my body, the other one curling around me from above. He presses me to him in a tight embrace and kisses the top of my head.
“I deserve the bite of Satan himself for what I did to you, and I’ll fulfil any wish you want in exchange for your forgiveness. I’ll be yours to command. I’ll kill for you, if you wish me to.”
“I don’t require death and darkness, Kieran, I crave light and life. But it won’t be easy. It will take time for me to get over . . . you know.”
“As long as you need. I have centuries, and I place them at your feet.”
A sad smile pulls the corner of my mouth. It’s fascinating how exhaustion makes you feel accepting of anything. “A terrible waste, all those centuries scattered by my grave. Unlike you, I’m fully human. My time on earth is limited.”
The fire rustles in the silence as Kieran’s first tear drips on my temple.
CHAPTER XX
I WANT TO LOSE MY HEAD FOR YOU
Daylight makes it through my eyelids. I shield my eyes and squint around to realize I’m tucked under the coat, alone on the couch. I sit up, and my eyes find the Marquis.
He’s sitting at his desk, wearing a dark suit that compliments his body. He’s as cool and composed as ever, but the moment he looks up from his papers to me, his gaze changes from that of a cold prince to the warm gaze of Kieran Slate. He smiles and stands.
“Good morning.”
I watch as he approaches, the events from last night replaying in my head like a movie on fast-forward until he squats by the couch, taking my hand and kissing it.
“I would have brought you to a cosier room, but I thought you’d freak out if you woke up alone.”
I look around, still afraid of the serpents. “You’re dressed. Did you leave me here alone while you freshened up?”
“I had clothes and water brought here. I didn’t leave you for a second.”
Once again, affection overwhelms me. “Your wounds?”
He unbuttons his jacket and his shirt, revealing his marble pectoral as the fabric falls off his shoulder. Only a thin scar even whiter than his skin reminds me of the gaping wound from last night. My eyes widen.
“Wow.”
“I told you by morning I’d be as good as new.”
“That’s mind-blowing.”
“What you did for me last night, Saphira,” Kieran says while his hand brushes through my hair as far as the tangles permit it, “it started mending other wounds, too. Wounds that don’t show on my body.”
I search his beautiful face and I’d do it forever, but a knock on the door distracts both our attention. Kieran gives me another glance, assessing me up and down, probably to make sure I’m decent, before he permits the visitor to enter.
The double doors open to reveal the head of security Zed with his hands on the knobs. Our eyes meet. His features are as stony and controlled as ever, his bullet-blue eyes as focused, but the scars on his face in the shape of scratches bring back a flash of memory—Kieran’s claws slashing the first attacker.
“It was you,” I whisper, remembering the way he writhed and hissed. A pang of fear goes through me, but Kieran’s protective arm winding around my shoulder brings back a sense of safety.
“Zed only attacked you because of the moon’s influence, Saphira,” Kieran says. “His animal instincts had taken over him, but he’s himself now.”
“You can rely on me to protect you as I did before, Milady,” Zed adds, bending his head, but his body keeps stiff and vertical.
I look him up and down, fascinated by the difference between the animal and the man. “Milady” doesn’t go unnoticed either.
“Call me Saphira.”
He nods.
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding I caused between you and Kieran,” I say.
“No apologies needed. You wouldn’t apologize to a wolf for having provoked him with your presence in the woods either. Plus that we regenerate fast, no permanent harm was done.”
“What do you have?” Kieran cuts in.
“Vivienne Grant,” Zed replies, raising his head and squaring his shoulders like a soldier at his superior’s command. “We found her. She sought haven with relatives in the southern forests.”
“I knew it!” I yelp and spring up to my feet. “Take me to her, please.”
“It wouldn’t bring much,” Zed blocks. “She’s so traumatized she can’t speak.”
“What?” I start walking to Zed, as if that can make things clearer. The man doesn’t move an inch, keeping as stiff and cold as a robot. “What she went through left her with a trauma. She’s shaky and mute and seemingly not in her own body.”
“I have to see her. Right away.”
“We didn’t bring her back, Saphira. We let her stay with her relatives and left guards behind, since bringing her back would put her life in danger. Her presence would attract Basarab and help our cause indeed, but I doubt you want your friend used as bait.”
Kieran clasps my shoulders and turns me to face him.
“Listen, Saphira. The men made sure Vivienne is safe, but for the moment this is all we can do for her.” He turns to Zed. “We’ll discuss the details later.” He addresses me again. “Go get ready. We’re going to talk to Vivienne’s mum.”
“Wonderful!
”
The head of security steps aside and motions me to walk before him. Kieran is already on his way back to his desk. I stand in place and watch him until he faces me again.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I whisper. Our eyes lock, and emotion flows between us. I want to run into his arms and kiss him, but I remember my dirty skin, my crazy hair and the stained ripped dress I’m wearing. I turn and let Zed close the doors behind me.
Two other men wait outside the study and lead Zed and me up the grand stairs, past the huge pointed arch on the first landing to what turns out to be Kieran’s majestic bedroom on the first floor. A huge arched window reveals a view of the rocky fields where serpents crawled and squirmed last night in the terrible fight that I survived only thanks to Kieran. There’s a king size bed, a fireplace and all the decorum of a palace, but it barely looks inhabited.
“He’s rarely here,” Zed says, as if reading my mind. The door is still open behind him. He avoids being alone with me, and I can understand that. I can only hope he’ll talk freely nonetheless.
“How come?”
“He mostly spends his nights as a serpent. But things might change now, since you and him . . .” He clears his throat and changes the subject. “Please, put on something sober. You and Kieran are going to the lunatic asylum to talk to your friend’s mother.”
I spin around. “Why the asylum?”
“That’s where Mrs Grant has been since the events with her daughter and the burning of her house.”
The news strikes me like a punch. “Excuse me?”
“She was hysterical, impossible to control, they said.”
“They, who’s they?”
“The police, led by your friend, Jeremy Simmons. They had to restrain her and turn her in for special care at the asylum.”
I’m alarmed, and I can’t move fast enough. I take a shower and put on an elegant cream-colored two-piece suit and glossy high heels. My hair finds structure in a wound golden tail, but the make-up fails me. Last night took its toll, and no matter what I do, the eerie effect of the golden eyes reflecting in the mirror won’t lessen.
Zed and Joyous escort me to the curb, the latter holding the door as I get in the back of the car by Kieran’s side. He looks fresh in his suit, his marble face flawless and his smile dashing, his attitude very different from the man’s who used to drive icy fear into my bones with a mere glance. The knowledge that he still has that power, that he can hypnotize me into obedience or dread anytime, unsettles me.
“Is everything all right?” He takes my hand his. I look down at it, my heart beating in the rhythm of my crush.
“I’m still wary of you, Kieran.”
“Saphira, I’ll die before I hurt you again.” He squeezes my hand, and I look up into his black eyes that show pain.
“Maybe you won’t hurt me by doing what you did before, but how can I be sure that you’ll never use your hypnotic powers on me again?”
“I promise that I’ll never influence you. Not anymore, not like that.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean ‘not like that’?”
His gaze turns wise. I realize just how old he actually is. “I hope you’ll still allow me to try and convince you of things, just like any other person.”
“You’re not Any Other Person. It’s unfair to demand Any Other Person’s privileges.”
“I’ve said it before, and I can’t resist saying it again—you’re a very special woman, Saphira.”
I’m not so sure, but I’m flattered nonetheless. I nestle at his chest, breathing in his bittersweet scent that stirs me in my crush. I try to get a grip on my feelings and keep a cool head.
“Kieran.” I lick my lips, searching for the right words to put this. “You say you’ll never hurt me again. But you came to Northville with the iron purpose of hurting my father. You planned an epic revenge. Is that still your plan?”
Kieran holds my chin up and looks me in the face.
“Would you consider that I hurt you if I took revenge on your father? Even though I’d keep you very far from that revenge?”
I gulp down the knot in my throat. “I don’t know. How far can I be kept from it, considering that he’s my father.”
“He tortured children, Saphira.”
The words make my back crawl like bugs. I swallow hard. “What do you intend to do with him?”
“First answer me this. Don’t you believe your father should pay for what he’s done?”
“I believe that’s better left in Providence’s hands. No evil deed has ever gone unpunished one way or another.”
“Well, it’s been decades since what happened to me, and your Providence hasn’t yet seen fit to punish your father and his pack.”
“No, not yet. But are you sure you want his blood on your hands? Blood is heavy, Kieran, no matter if it belongs to the just or the evil.”
He laughs a bad laugh, and for a moment it seems the villain Marquis is back. “I have so much of that weight on my hands, Saphira, it should have pulled me down to hell until now. You know this.”
“I do. And it’s the very reason I’m worried and unsure. You and I, our connection . . . It’s happening fast, it’s relentless, and I want it badly, but I can’t live with the idea that you take lives.”
His gaze freezes on mine, and for a moment I fear this last point brought us to a dead end.
“You’re asking me to relinquish revenge on your father in exchange or for the sake of this closeness?”
“For the sake of it, of course. Listen, Kieran.” I squeeze his hand in both of mine and hold his gaze. “My father and his pack, as you call it, committed terrible crimes. We have the opportunity to unmask these monsters. You’re richer and more powerful than all of them together, I’m sure your means can beat theirs if they try to corrupt the press and the police. We can bring it all to light and nail them the right way.”
“Saphira, I survived being engineered into a monster and used as a killer only for the sake of this revenge. It’s what kept me going. You’re asking me to throw away my reason for breath.”
I caress his cheek. “I want to be your reason for breath. But I’m realistic, and I know such fantasies are childish. But I’m asking you to relinquish revenge is because I believe you and I can have a fresh start. The past is the past, but we cannot be together if the poison of vengeance seeps into our present, continuing to shed blood and tears. I want to live out my love for you freely. I want to lose my head for you, and feel good about it, too.”
Kieran stares at me as if I’m turning into gold with every word. When he kisses me, he’s thirsty and deep and passionate. I’m dizzy when he breaks the kiss and joins his forehead to mine, both his hands on my face.
“For this favour, Saphira, I’ll not only consider dropping revenge, but I’ll turn that childish fantasy into reality. I’ll make you my reason for breath.”
My heart jumps, but I don’t want to be stupid. “I’m not asking—”
“No, you’re not,” he interrupts. “Because you’re mature and reasonable, and I love that about you. But fantasy, Saphira, is not only for children. Fantasy wouldn’t be imaginable if it weren’t possible.”
I smile and stroke the back of his hands. “And you’re the living proof.”
The car stops, ending the magic moment Kieran and I share. Zed Stone Mask opens the door to the sight of the lunatic asylum, a grey desolate castle guarded by a black gate made of wrought iron. Its spires rise high and seem to pierce the clouds, thunder adding the final touch to a creepy landscape. After only a few steps my high heels slump into a puddle of mud, but Kieran catches me before I sprawl full-body onto the ground.
The yard is huge and barren but for the patches of yellowish grass, some of the lunatics strolling like ghosts here and there, accompanied by bulky nurses—their physique must be a hiring requirement for security reasons, surely.
At the grand entrance we realize the place is even heavier guarded than we expected. Men in “Securit
y” jackets line the walls beyond the imposing entrance doors. I can see them when they open to let out two policemen in uniforms. One of them places a hand on Zed’s chest to stop him.
“This is as far as you come, sir,” he tells Zed, who looks him up and down with his cold blue eyes. Then, as if asking for permission to break the guy’s bones, he looks at Kieran, whose arm is around me. More men in black, members of his staff, are backing us.
“We’re here to see Mrs Grant,” Kieran addresses the man who stopped Zed, since he seems to be the one in charge.
“Ronald Lord Barkley would have to approve the visit,” the policeman says.
“Then let me see him and request approval.”
The policeman cranes his neck theatrically, making a show of what bothers him as his gaze sweeps over the men behind us.
“Mrs Grant is in both hospital and police custody, Monsieur le Marquis. She might be a target for whoever set fire to her house.” He stresses “whoever” to mark his suspicion of Kieran himself. “So we’ll allow only one, or maximum two people at a time to see her, such as you and Miss Lothar. But we won’t allow a whole bunch of action heroes like your men by any means.”
He’s trying to ditch Kieran’s security. Something’s wrong with this picture.
“It’s quite generous of you to allow the Marquis and me to go in at the same time,” I intervene. “But I think it would be best if I requested approval to see Mrs Grant alone.”
Kieran squeezes my arm, and whispers through his teeth, “What are you doing?”
“Excuse us,” I tell the policeman with a polite smile and draw Kieran aside. With well-rehearsed moves his men make a wall between the policemen and us, creating the necessary private sphere.
“There’s no way Mrs Grant will talk to anybody but a person she knows and trusts,” I whisper under my breath. “Plus that I have a feeling he’s trying to get you in a vulnerable situation.”
“There’s no way I’m letting you inside this place on your own.”
“Why not? Mrs Grant knows me, she’ll open up to me much faster than if you’re there to monitor our conversation. Lord Barkley has also known me since I was a kid, he’ll take less time to give his approval.”
