He opened his eyes, allowing his vision to adjust to the dim light as a group of black-clad males entered the room—making four in total. At the head of the group was Matthias Branstone. Sagan stood a foot behind his father, his intense eyes like shards of ice. His blond hair stood out starkly against the surrounding black of the group’s attire and the darkened gray of the concrete walls.
Matthias took a few more steps. The thud-thud of his polished combat boots echoed off the walls.
“Matthias.” Nathan stretched his face into a grin, then cast a look around the room. “Nice place you got here, although it’s a little bland compared to your other place. Anyway, I apologize for the intrusion.” He shook his chains. “It looks like I’ve got myself in a bit of a bind. If you don’t mind giving me a hand, I’ll get out of your hair and be on my way.”
The corner of Matthias’s mouth raised in a crooked smile. “Looks like we’ve caught ourselves a comedian, boys.” He moved in closer until he was an inch from Nathan’s face.
Nathan suppressed the urge to lean back, although he couldn’t help a slight crinkle of his nose. The man’s breath was heavy and foul.
“You know,” said Matthias, “that day you came into my house, I just knew.” He waved a finger in the air. “I saw the look on your face, and I knew. No one looks at a diamond necklace or a chandelier like that unless they know what it truly is.” He placed his hands on his hips and gave Nathan that familiar shark grin.
A flutter rose in the base of Nathan’s stomach, but he forced a smirk. “Yeah, you’re right, I knew.” He nodded. “I knew it was the sign of a truly whipped man who’d paid a fortune for a bunch of lousy rocks for his missus.”
One of the guys behind Matthias sniggered, resulting in an elbow to his chest from the man with the gray biker beard standing next to him.
An emotion Nathan couldn’t quite read flashed across Matthias’s face before he smoothed it back into a smile. “Ah, again with the comedy. In that case, let’s see how funny you think this is?” He raised a knife—a shiny serrated blade with a black handle.
The flutter in Nathan’s stomach intensified, and his heart pounded against his ribcage. His elbows burned as if someone were holding red-hot pokers against the inside of his flesh.
He jutted his chin. “What’s with the steak knife—?”
Blindingly fast, Matthias slammed the knife into Nathan’s left pectoral muscle.
Nathan gritted his teeth and yanked on the chains.
Matthias’s eyes flared, and his mouth curved into a crooked grin. “Looky, looky what we have here.” He held up the knife triumphantly. The metal had curved and twisted out of shape, the tip mangled into a tiny concertina.
Nathan’s breath hitched, and he looked down at his chest. Not a scratch, not even a bruise to suggest he’d just been stabbed. He clicked his tongue. “Looks like you got yourself some cheap-ass steak knives. I’d ask for a refund.”
“Hmm,” said Matthias. He dropped the knife, and it clattered against the concrete floor. “How about this one?” He held up his other hand, revealing an object that glittered in the weak light.
Several muscles in Nathan’s face twitched.
Matthias leaned closer. “What? No jokes this time?” He twirled the Diamantium blade under Nathan’s nose. Flecks of refracted light danced their rainbows over Matthias’s face.
Nathan flinched away, rattling the chains overhead. The odor of the blade was overtaking his sensibility, crafting a furnace of rage deep in the center of his chest. He held his body back from hazing, but the searing pain in his elbows was nearly unbearable. He focused all his energy on stopping the sensation from piercing through his skin, but another searing pain soon flared to life in both his knees.
“Do you like it? This one’s new.” Matthias sneered. “And when I say ‘new,’ I mean, well . . .” His white teeth flashed as his grin grew. “I bet you can guess what I mean.”
The muscles in Nathan’s neck shuddered. He strained to control his labored breaths, but it felt as if his entire body were on fire. Every muscle twitched and shook.
Matthias chuckled, the sound deep and husky. He drew the Diamantium dagger back but paused. With his free hand, he gestured behind him. “Sagan, come here, son.”
Sagan was hunching nonchalantly against the wall to Nathan’s right, his arms crossed. He pushed off the wall to come stand beside his father.
Matthias put a hand around the back of Sagan’s neck, pushing him directly in front of Nathan, and held up the dagger between their faces. Sagan’s blond hair glowed like a halo in the incandescent light, the rainbow flecks skittering over his blank, stony face completing the angelic appearance.
Nathan’s tongue all but vibrated in its eagerness to sense the boy’s emotions and intentions, but he clamped his teeth shut with such force he risked cracking a tooth. He had no interest in giving these Erathi scum the satisfaction of seeing his true form, although he feared he wouldn’t have a choice for much longer. A shudder racked through his body as his control began to slip.
Nathan’s eye’s flitted to Matthias, who was peering at him over Sagan’s right shoulder.
“How about you do the honors, son?” Matthias held the crystal blade between Nathan and the youth. “Let’s see what color this one bleeds.”
An inscrutable emotion twitched across the younger man’s face. Sagan looked at the dagger but made no move to take it. Just like that day in the Branstone’s house, the tips of Matthias’s fingers turned white against Sagan’s neck.
Nathan laughed and shook his head. “Seriously, Branstone, I didn’t think you were the type to make a child do your dirty work.”
Sagan’s gaze flew to Nathan’s, and this time fire flashed behind the ice. Finally, an emotion Nathan understood. Without looking at the crystalline dagger, Sagan wrapped his fingers around the hilt and lunged.
Nathan roared.
The agony of the blade sliced through his left pectoral muscle and pierced through his back. Nathan’s head rocked forward, giving him a clear view of the vibrant teal liquid streaming from his chest and coating Sagan’s hand, which was still clenched around the dagger’s handle. Either the boy had terrific aim and had carefully avoided both Nathan’s heart and poison glands, which would have killed him instantly if punctured, or the boy had missed a fatal opportunity.
“Oooh, would you look at that pretty blue,” crooned Matthias. He barked a laugh and slowly clapped his hands. “Nice work, son. Brecker, hit the light.”
A scuffle of shoes on the concrete, then the room was bathed in darkness.
A dazzling blue glow pierced through the black. Nathan’s glowing blood trailed down his torso and dripped into blue splotches on the floor. Sagan released the dagger, streaks of teal leaving an abstract pattern on his hand.
Matthias chuckled. “I’ll admit, this never gets old.”
Nathan’s body shuddered once again, the clatter of chains the only sound breaking the hush in the concrete torture chamber.
He no longer wanted to defy his inner monster. His body demanded he haze.
Drawing in a gulp of air, he raised his head. Sagan’s features were illuminated in blue light. His face was still locked in a stolid guise, but some expression in the boy’s eyes made Nathan pause. He couldn’t quite work out exactly what it was, but it was raw.
Matthias ordered the light be turned back on, and yellow incandescence flooded the room again.
Sagan stood, statuesque, his blood-coated hand dripping a new puddle of teal onto the ground by his foot. Whatever Nathan had seen in his icy eyes a moment ago had completely disappeared.
Matthias put a hand on Sagan’s shoulder and pushed him to the side.
Nathan dropped his gaze to his own bare feet, now splashed with blue. After a few heartbeats, Matthias’s ugly mug pushed its way into his view.
“Don’t pass out yet, slith. I wouldn’t want you to miss what happens next.”
“If it doesn’t have anything to do with your Era
thi face being kicked in, I’m not interested.”
Matthias laughed lightly through his nose. “You know, I’ve always liked that word, Erathi, but only you shifters ever call us that.” He crouched down and rested his forearms on his knees. “Here’s a bit of trivia for you, slith. Do you know what Erathi means?”
Nathan grinned. “Of course I do, although most translations that come to mind include the word anus.”
A flicker of annoyance flashed across Matthias’s face before his features settled into a tight-lipped smile. “Hilarious. But no. It means ‘unbound’ or ‘unfettered.’” He spread his hands wide to emphasize each word, like an enthusiastic storyteller.
“I think I like my translations better,” said Nathan with a head tilt.
Matthias looked at him for a long moment, then stood up. “Brecker, Harold, I think it’s time to bring in Aphrodite.”
A squeak of rusty hinges penetrated the quiet room, and two pairs of feet shuffled out.
13
Handbook For Gentlemen
“So, I suppose now is the time I show off my superior masculinity and win you a stuffed toy.” Thane grinned down at Violet as they weaved through the crowd.
Violet grinned back. “What makes you think I want a stuffed toy?” Oh gosh, her lips were still sticky from the cotton candy she’d eaten earlier. There was a high risk the sticky sugar would solidify her stretched lips in place, like Jack Nicholson’s Joker.
“Come on,” he coaxed, “you wouldn’t want to deprive me of my role in this date, would you? This would be a failed date otherwise.”
“Ah, so that’s what’s wrong with this date.” Violet sidestepped a child covered in melted ice cream. “For the past twenty minutes, I thought it was the nausea from the Hurricane ride.”
He laughed. “You’re right. Maybe I should have suggested the deep-fried Oreos and the maple bacon funnel cake after the rides that make you puke.”
Violet smiled; the sound of his laugh made not smiling impossible. “Well, lucky for you, the night is still young, so there’s plenty of time to make it up to me.” She stopped in front of a booth covered in balloons. “Let’s see how good you are at darts.”
“No, no. The first date handbook states, ‘The gentleman gets to choose the game, and the lady gets to choose the stuffed toy.’”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. These rules have been meticulously constructed over the centuries to ensure the gentleman makes a good first impression.” He winked, linked her arm in his, and gently steered her away from the dart booth and back into the crowd.
The Hurricane ride must have started up again; a sudden burst of shrill screams drowned out the brassy chiming of the merry-go-round music. Cigarette smoke mingled with the aromas of hot popcorn and fried food.
She glanced at her hand resting on Thane’s bicep. He’d placed his other hand on top of hers, the heat of his palm radiating over her skin. His hip gently bumped hers as they walked, and when an icy wind picked up, she couldn’t help leaning into his side.
So this was what it was like to be on a first date—just like in those stupid romantic movies Lyla had always made her watch. Violet used to think the concepts were ridiculous—fairytales made up for all those suckers who wasted their money on movie tickets and romance novels. But now she understood how magical it was. Being here, with Thane, it was like a small spark had ignited in her heart.
“So,” said Violet, “this handbook for ‘gentlemen,’ who supposedly wrote it? Mr. Darcy? Or—Ah!” She stumbled over a box of spilled popcorn, crunching scattered kernels under her shoes. Thankfully Thane gripped her arm tighter and avoided what could have been an embarrassing tumble.
Stupid shoes! Her cheeks burned. She never should have let Autumn talk her into wearing these ridiculous wedge sandals. Who cared how much they suited her outfit? Her feet were freezing! If her toes fell off from frostbite before she got home, she was going to gift wrap them as a thank-you present for Autumn. It would also be payback for Autumn’s ridiculous giggling and frequent mouthing of “He’s so hot” when Thane had arrived at their room to pick her up. The worst part was when Autumn had shouted, “You two are gonna make beautiful babies!” down the dormitory hallway as Violet and Thane were leaving.
She bit her lip at the memory, once again catching the taste of that rebellious cotton candy.
Thane unlinked his arm from hers, then drew her into a closer, warmer embrace. “I don’t think Mr. Darcy wrote this particular handbook,” he said, continuing to guide her through the crowd. “That guy took too damn long to let a lady know how much he liked her.”
She glanced up and met his brown eyes. He smiled, and something in her chest fluttered.
“Ah, now, this is a man’s sport,” he said, looking over at a shooting gallery booth. “Which toy is your favorite?”
Ten minutes later, Violet wedged three stuffed bears under her arm and two bunnies in her shoulder bag as they walked away from the shooting gallery.
“How are you feeling? Still nauseated?” Thane asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“No, I think I’m—whoa!”
A cloud of bubbles drifted across the path. They danced in the air, rainbow patterns swirling on their curved surfaces. A few brushed Violet’s face, tickling her skin when they popped on impact. Young children were laughing and squealing in the center of the bubble cloud. They jumped and waved their chubby little hands to pop as many as they could.
Violet glanced up when Thane chuckled.
“Look at them,” said Thane. “It’s amazing that something so fragile can bring so much joy.” He reached out an index finger to pop a bubble floating toward his face.
Violet took the three bears out from under her arm. “Here, do you mind holding these?”
Thane gave her a quizzical look but did as she asked. She reached into her shoulder bag for her camera and fiddled with the settings on the LCD display until she found the one she needed.
“Do you mind popping another bubble like you did before?”
Thane quirked an eyebrow but complied. Violet raised the camera to her eye, and the shutter clicked several times as Thane popped a few more of the soap globes.
“Perfect. I think I got it,” said Violet. She scrolled through the photos she’d taken. “Check this out.”
Thane leaned closer as she held the camera out for him.
She’d captured the bubble mid-pop. Half of it was still intact, glossy and rainbow, whereas the half closest to Thane’s finger had shattered into a million tiny droplets.
“Wow,” said Thane, his voice low.
“Do you mind if I get a few more shots?”
“No problem.” He held up the three toys. “These guys will keep me company.”
Violet giggled and stepped into the world of bubbles.
She took photo after photo, adjusted some settings, then took some more, taking careful note of the light, the color, the movement. She captured children in mid-jump and the babies in their parents’ arms who tried to eat the bubbles.
Worried she was taking too long, she glanced back at Thane, but his attention was elsewhere.
A tiny girl bundled in a giant red jacket stood near him. Her eyes were red and blotchy, and her little hands were balled into fists as they wiped away an endless stream of tears. Thane had knelt down to her level. Violet couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the little girl was nodding in response.
Violet crouched and raised the camera to her eye, adjusting the lens to focus past the bubbles around her. The shutter clicked, capturing Thane handing the little girl one of the stuffed bears. She hugged the toy close and smiled through her tears.
A moment later, a man and a woman came into view. By the relief on their faces, Violet figured they’d just found their lost child.
The man picked up the little girl, who held up her new toy and pointed to Thane. He and the girl’s parents exchanged a few words, then the little family nodded and smiled before contin
uing on with their night. The little girl waved at Thane over her dad’s shoulder right up until they disappeared into the crowd.
“That was a nice thing you did,” said Violet when she walked back over to him.
He shrugged. “The kid was lost and upset. Anyone would have done the same.”
“Not everyone,” said Violet, childhood memories flickering through her mind. She switched her camera off and placed it on top of the two toys in her bag.
“Did you get what you wanted?” Thane asked, jutting his chin at the camera.
Violet looked up at him. “Yeah,” she replied, “more than what I expected.”
The gold flecks in his brown eyes were radiant. For several heartbeats, he just looked at her. No one had ever looked at Violet the way Thane was looking at her now. The longer she held his gaze, the more she felt it piercing through her barriers, glimpsing the delicate piece of her she’d tucked away long ago, out of everyone’s reach. The part she hid away for fear of being shattered completely.
He reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckle, and his light touch sent shivers through her body. In that moment, she and Thane were the only people in the bubble swarm, the only people on the planet, the only people in the universe.
He took a step closer, erasing the gap between them.
A sliver of doubt cut through Violet’s thoughts.
“Thane?”
“Yeah.” His palm now rested on her cheek, and his thumb gently stroked her tingling skin.
“I, um . . . I’ve never done this before.” Violet’s words were barely a whisper. Her cheeks and neck blazed hot with embarrassment.
“Done what?”
“This,” she said, gesturing a finger between them.
A small crease appeared between Thane’s eyebrows. “Do you mean kissing?”
Another shiver trembled through her body. “I mean everything. This whole dating, flirting, romance stuff. And yeah, even . . . kissing.” Her voice had dropped so low, the last word was almost inaudible. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she say kissing like a normal person? He’d said it so casually. How could he say it so casually?
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