by J. R. Ward
“I’ll get it myself. Which way do I go.”
The Jackal put his hands on his hips and stared at the stone floor. Then he strode over and got right in the female’s face.
In Nyx’s face.
“Enough.” He loomed over her. “I have had enough. You’re going to stay here. I’m going to get your pack. And then we’re going to the bathing pool.”
“No, I’m going to—”
“Your desperation to find your sister is making you reckless. If that gets only you killed, fine. You deserve it. But Lucan and Kane are now involved and I will not let you endanger their lives.”
“How does me going back to get my stuff have anything to do with them?”
“Because I’m going to be obligated to save you and what do you think they’re going to do? They’re going to come help me. Or are you saying that they don’t matter. That they’re just prisoners who are expendable. Hmm? Is that how you feel?”
“Of course not,” she spat.
“Then for once in your life, do what you’re told and stay here.”
Nyx crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Going by the way her jaw moved, it was obvious she was grinding her molars, and her eyes were spitting fire.
Except then she muttered, “Fine.”
The Jackal threw up his hands and turned away. “Finally. A fucking breakthrough.”
“FYI, you just cussed. And it was a big one.”
“See what you drive males to?”
As he stalked off, she called out, “I get along with most people, you know.”
“If you believe that, you’re delusional as well as obstinate,” he tossed over his shoulder as he kept on going.
Before he did something stupid.
Like kiss her.
Although that was their deal, wasn’t it. He got her to her sister. She gave him what he wanted.
Fates, that was a tricky bargain, he thought as he left her in the dust. Because it had to just be about the sex. He had to remain emotionless and apart from her, only the physical side of things connecting.
“Not a problem,” he told himself.
Things kept up as they were, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
As Nyx waited by the fire pit, she kept the knife she had almost used on that big Lucan guy against the palm of her dominant hand. Left on her own, her heart beat fast and her eyes skimmed around the secret gathering place, tracking shadows that did not move and contours that remained the same. Underground water easing out of fissures in the walls slicked the stone, and in the candlelight, she could pick out the carving marks that were testament to the effort that had gone into creating the space.
Had the Jackal made this with the others? Over a period of years? Decades? She couldn’t fathom the time lost.
She took out a burner cell phone and looked at the time. Four hours had passed since she had left the farmhouse. It felt like four years. Naturally, there was no signal down here—and she hadn’t expected there to be one—but she had plenty of battery life. And with the lack of notifications, she wondered if Posie had sent anything that hadn’t gone through. Her sister must have noticed her too-long absence by now. Unless . . . maybe Peter was in crisis. Had he died yet?
Probably.
The idea that she’d had to choose between sisters sucked.
Nyx checked the screen on her phone one last time, focusing on her wallpaper. It was a photograph she’d taken back in June, of the front of the farmhouse. Its lights were aglow, the cheerful yellow illumination spilling out onto the lawn and flowing over the peony beds that were in full bloom.
In her mind, she told Posie she would be back soon. But she didn’t say the words out loud because she feared they were a lie.
Then she turned off the unit to save the battery life and zipped it into an inside pocket.
Glancing over her shoulder, she thought she heard footsteps. No. It wasn’t the Jackal coming back, and it wasn’t anybody else, either.
That male drove her nuts. Especially because he was right. She was being reckless, and if she kept rolling the crazy dice, snake eyes was going to come up and get her.
God, she hoped he was being honest with her.
Unable to stay still, she walked around the fire pit three or four times. Stopped and looked again to the tunnel where her host had gone. When he’d suggested he be the one to go get her pack, she’d agreed. Had that been a mistake? Was he even now selling her grandfather’s weapons and ammo on the prison’s black market, or whatever they called it?
She should have gone with him—
The sound of heavy footfalls brought her head up, and when she recognized the scent, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.
The Jackal emerged from the darkness, and he had something in his arms.
“I got some food,” he said as he headed by her. “I figured you must be hungry.”
When he kept right on going, she didn’t immediately follow, and he glanced over the provisions at her. “Are you coming?”
“We’re not staying here?”
“Does it look like there’s a bath where you’re standing.”
Falling into step with him, she peeled her pack from his shoulders and strapped it on. “So where’s this bath place?”
“Close.”
Some distance along, he stopped short. Looked both ways. Triggered something. “We’re here.”
As a section of the rock walling slid back, Nyx recoiled. But not because things smelled bad.
On the contrary, the scent of clean water was as obvious as it was a surprise.
Nyx walked forward, called by the relief from the cloying aroma of earth. As she entered a narrow passageway, she rushed forward, her way lit by candles that flared one by one down at the floor. In the back of her mind, she had the sense that he was lighting her path, willing the wicks to life.
Then she made a corner and faltered as she confronted a dense black space. The sound, though . . . oh, that was gently falling water. And there was humidity in the air—and warmth.
The Jackal stepped into the darkness behind her. “This is where I go when I need . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Then again, as candles flared in a broad circle around a natural spring, he didn’t have to.
“Oh . . . my God,” she whispered.
From somewhere in the ceiling, a natural flow of water dropped into a ten-foot-wide pool, some kind of heat vent down in the natural basin bubbling the clear water and causing steam to rise up.
“I thought you might like it here.” He put the bundle down. “So, yes. At any rate.”
He sat on the smooth back of an enormous boulder, unpacking bread and what looked like cheese. There was also an old-fashioned milk bottle filled with something the color of a red poker chip.
“This is not fancy,” he said, “but you can have it all.”
Nyx approached him and lowered herself onto the granite “sofa.” “What about you?”
“I can find more for me. It’s more important for you to be strong.”
He leaned to the side and took something out of a hip pocket. Flipping the cloth free of its folds, he made a little table and then laid out the picnic.
“I wish I had something better to offer.” He opened the glass bottle. “This tastes wretched, but it has singlehandedly kept me from getting scurvy.”
He took a deep drink and swallowed. As he closed his eyes, she thought it was a little odd that he was savoring the stuff as if it were wine—
His lids flipped up. “It’s safe.”
“Safe?”
“Untampered with.” He offered the drink to her. “I didn’t make it, so I have to be sure it’s okay for you.”
Nyx took the glass container, her fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”
He nodded and then tore off a piece from the loaf. As he chewed, he closed his eyes again. Then he did the same with the cheese.
“This is all safe as well.”
Putting her
lips to the open neck of the container, she had a thought that his mouth had been where hers was now—and that really shouldn’t have mattered.
As she took a test taste, she frowned and looked at the red liquid. “This is Kool-Aid. Or at least that’s what it tastes like.”
“What is that?”
“I’m not sure whether this has any vitamins in it.” She drank some more. “But it’s good.”
Funny how everything was relative. Back home, she would have given the swill a solid pass. Down here? It was strangely comforting.
“I haven’t had this since back in the seventies,” she murmured. “I used to make it for Posie before her transition.”
“Another sister?”
“Yes, the youngest in the family. Do you want some more of this?”
“No, it’s all for you.”
“I’m willing to share.”
When he just leaned back on the rock wall and extended his long legs, she shrugged and finished what was there. Then she hit the bread, which had been baked fresh and tasted pretty damn good, and the cheese, which had almost no taste but was definitely not spoiled. She ate fast, her hunger much sharper than she’d thought.
Then again, the sense of imminent danger made her feel like she could be interrupted, in a bad way, at any second.
And then the food was gone.
Nyx shifted her eyes to the swirling water because things got too intense when she was looking at him. But as the silence went on, she had to glance over at the male.
His eyes were closed, his breathing even. But he wasn’t asleep.
“Finished?” he said softly.
“Yes.”
His lids opened, but not very far, that vivid blue stare glowing.
“How many people know about this place?” she heard herself ask.
Why does that matter, she thought. Even though she knew exactly why she was making the inquiry.
“Kane and Lucan. Two others. But they won’t come here. I told them to stay out.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Why do you think.”
The female—Nyx—looked to the falling water again, and as the Jackal recognized where her eyes were, he also knew where her thoughts had gone. She didn’t want to speak them out loud, and he respected that, but her scent was giving her away.
“No one will come here. You’re safe,” he said.
“I don’t feel safe.”
“You have your weapons.” He thought of Lucan. “And I’ve seen you use them.”
“I didn’t cut that male.”
“You would have if he’d moved.”
“True.” Her eyes returned to his own. “What is he?”
The Jackal debated playing dumb, but just shook his head instead. “That’s his story to tell, not mine.”
“So he’s not just a vampire.”
“Not my story.” He let his stare drift down to her lips. “Do you want to get into the water?”
“Are you going to stay here?”
“I’ll give you my back. If you want it.”
As he waited for her response, he reminded himself what this was all about. They were using each other, and it was a relief to set those boundaries. Meanwhile, inside his body, down to his very marrow, things stirred, things he had not felt in so long that he had come to believe and accept that they had been killed, casualties of his prison experience. This female had proved otherwise, and he was not losing the opportunity. But more than that, there was the satisfaction that in laying with her, he would hurt another, hurt the one who had done such damage to him. Even if he was the only one who knew it—and he was going to have to keep it that way—the rebalance of power, the reclamation of his autonomy, was nourishment to his blackened soul.
Before he could act upon his instincts, however, something occurred to him.
“Why did your family send you on this suicidal mission?” he asked abruptly. “Have you no brothers? No sire?”
Her brows arched. “Males aren’t the only people who are capable of things.”
“No. This should have been carried out by a male relation of your bloodline. Have they no shame?”
Nyx seemed to need a moment to gather herself. “Wow. You know, in the hundred years since you ended up down here, a lot has changed. They let us girls drive cars and hold jobs—oh, and we can vote. Or, well, if I was a human, I could vote. But still.”
“I have offended you,” he said levelly. “For that I am sorry.”
Nyx tilted her head. “But wait, lemme guess. You’re sticking with your dated and sexist position.”
“You expect me to apologize for wanting to protect females? You will not get that, now or ever.”
“‘Protection’ is another word for subjugate.”
“It is? You must explain.”
“You think you need to protect me because I’m weaker than you are.”
“I can most certainly lift more than you can.”
“And that’s everything? Please. Spare me the caveman routine.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Your problem is that you think being able to bench-press a car gives you the right to dictate things that are none of your business.”
“You’ll have to remind me of this when I ensure your safety against the guards.”
“I’ll save myself, thank you very much—”
“It must be nice to know everything about everything. And you accuse me of being an overlord? All you need is a castle and a moat and you’re a medieval knight. At least in your own mind.”
“That’s where it counts most, buddy—”
“Fates, you can’t ever concede a point—”
The two of them were speaking faster and louder, and in the back of his mind, he knew what was happening. Both of them were uneasy with the sexual attraction, unsure of how far to take things, but dearest Virgin Scribe, he was hungry. For her.
And she was the same. Her scent had changed, and everything that was male in him recognized her arousal—and was driven to do something about it.
“—males like you boxing us in, making us feel less than—” She stopped. “What.”
“Do go on.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I enjoy watching you argue with yourself.”
“FYI, you were tossing a few sentences back there yourself, Judgy McJudgerson.”
He shook his head and frowned. “I’m sorry? I am not a magistrate?”
Nyx opened her mouth. Closed it. “Have you ever heard of a meme?”
“Of course. A performer in black and white who doesn’t speak.”
“That’s a mime. A meme is . . .” As she seemed to let her thought recede, her temper appeared to deflate. “You don’t know anything about the Internet, do you. Social media. Microsoft. Apple.”
“Small and supple, you mean? And the latter is a fruit I have long missed the acquaintance of. As for the rest, I’m afraid you have me at a loss.” As they stared at each other, he knew she was tallying his deficiencies with regard to the modern world. “You can stop that right now. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I don’t need or desire your sympathy.”
She looked to the swirling water again. “I just can’t imagine being down here for so long, that’s all.”
As she struggled, the Jackal cursed under his breath. “I have missed much then?”
“In a hundred years, yes.” She cleared her throat. Looked back at him. “By the way, is it okay if I just call you Jack? The ‘the’ thing is a little weird.”
He had to smile. “You may call me whatever you wish.”
“Even if it’s a curse word?”
“Rest assured you would not be the first.”
“That I can believe.”
He found himself wanting to smile. “Tell me, what would you pick?”
“Out of the full catalogue of bad words?” She regarded him with grave seriousness. “I think I would go with . . . ‘boneheaded chauvinistic throwback boomer.’ ”
The Jackal blinked a number of times. “I don’t recog
nize those words as curses. And I’m not sure what this backwards-pitched boomer is?”
Ducking her head, she hid a smile he was desperate to see. “I guess I’m more of a lady than I thought. ‘Twat-waffle’ and ‘fucktard’ just seemed below the belt and inappropriate.”
“Twat-waffle? What is that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not good.”
They fell silent again, but the tension was gone—although not the heat. Therefore, he felt compelled to say, “I would kiss you the now, if it would not offend.”
It was out of an obligation to all that was rational that Nyx tried on a bunch of responses to the kiss question in her head, making a deep cognitive dive. Into Netflix and Spotify.
Emma Thompson, ca. Sense and Sensibility: You must cease and desist all such lustful thoughts, you beast.
Emma Stone, ca. Zombieland: Over your dead body.
Julia Roberts, ca. Pretty Woman: Big mistake. Huge.
Cardi B, in any situation: Bitch, please.
All of those worked. Unfortunately, what was more likely to come out of her mouth was straight-up Jennifer Lawrence: I volunteer as tribute.
Eight hours, Nyx thought. Wasn’t that what the gentlemale in the prison clothes had said? Maybe ten.
So it was going to be a very long time until she and Jack could get going to the Wall.
And talking was overrated, wasn’t it.
“I’ll do the kissing,” she muttered. “Thank you very much.”
With that, she crossed the space between them with her lips, putting them on his. And as the softness of his mouth registered, she was surprised, but that made no sense. All mouths were soft, even if they came attached to big, strong bodies. And what do you know. In spite of his obvious arousal, he didn’t jump her. Instead, Jack stayed where he was, reclining against the smooth rock, letting her set the pace as she explored and . . . enjoyed.
Tilting her head, she deepened things, running her tongue along his lower lip. Then she licked inside of him.
The shaking that rose up from his body was erotic. The way his breath caught was hotter than hell. The taste of him and the scent of him and—
He pulled back sharply, his glittering blue eyes finding hers. There was a flush on his face and the cords in his neck were straining, like he was forcing himself to stay put.
