“Oh, that’s what you were doing with Violet’s back? But hang on, where are Violet’s mother and sister now?”
“I have no idea. I might’ve helped them escape, but they didn’t trust me. We parted ways shortly after. It was safer for all of us to separate anyway.”
“But surely you of all people can track them down with Violet’s scent? Didn’t you get a whiff of it before you put the shield on her?”
“Violet was still going through puberty back then, and her permanent scent was underdeveloped—not effective for tracking.”
“Hmm.” Sagan paused before asking the next question. “So . . . does Violet know about any of this? About her mother and sister?”
Guilt punched Nathan in the gut. “No,” he said in a low voice.
Sagan sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Aw, man. That’s brutal.”
“It was better for everyone if she didn’t know.”
“I doubt Violet will see it that way. Are you planning on telling her?”
“Maybe.” The moment Violet found out, she’d want to track down her family, and the only way to do that was to remove her shield. Once the glands were removed, the procedure couldn’t be done again. Not only Violet but her family would be exposed to Veniri trackers. If by some miracle the queen forgot about all of them and they were no longer in danger, then, maybe, he could tell Violet the truth.
But for now . . .
He recalled what Sagan had said the previous night. “I’m going to kill her.”
If Sagan truly planned on killing Idalia, there was no way he could accomplish it alone. The queen was a royal powerhouse who ruled the country’s Veniri in whatever way suited her. She was a genius manipulator who had her followers eating out of her hand and her enemies kissing her feet.
How did Sagan think he could pull it off? Was he planning to blast through the hidden city’s gates, waltz on up to the queen, and just put a Diamantium dagger in her heart? Even the Veniri resistance hadn’t been successful in any of their assassination attempts—though they were admittedly small in number, lacking in equipment and skills, and mainly composed of Erathi slave runaways.
Pulling off such a mammoth mission would require someone who knew the right people to bribe. An in-depth understanding of Idalia’s labyrinthine personal quarters and daily schedule would be a must, along with a solid idea of how and when she deviated from that schedule. Nathan had spent enough time with her to know there were only a handful of places she deviated to . . .
Before he knew it, he had a rough plan for how to bring a successful end to Idalia’s tyranny. With her dead, he would be safe. Violet and her family would be safe. Young Erathi girls would be safe from abductions. With Idalia gone, his hive could reach out to hives in other countries and work together to raise female births without extensive kidnappings and bloodshed.
His race deeply needed to cleanse itself of the corruption that had spread through their culture like a poison.
“Okay,” said Nathan, “I’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“I’ll help you kill the Veniri queen.”
Sagan gave him a sidelong glance, and Nathan swore he saw the corner of the hunter’s mouth curve up.
Nathan leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “You’ll need to make a detour to my place. We’re going to need some supplies.”
21
Slivers Of Glass
Violet shuddered. She needed to get away, escape, but instead she froze, unable to peel her eyes away from the crystal scorpion tattoo on Thane’s neck.
Thane stretched out his hands. “Violet, don’t—”
She cut him off with a knee to the groin. He collapsed forward, groaning in pain. Violet lunged toward the bedroom door, but Thane recovered enough to reach out and trip her. She stumbled and fell face-first among the discarded clothes on the floor by the bed.
She screamed and kicked as a hand latched on to her ankle.
“Violet, stop!”
She momentarily stopped screaming—not because of his command but because she spotted her crumpled jeans.
They were just out of reach.
She tried to scramble toward them, but strong hands flipped her onto her back to face the man of her nightmares. Except the man with the neck tattoo was no longer faceless.
“Don’t touch me! Let me go!” she sobbed. “It was you! This whole time it was you!”
Jeans. Jeans. She needed her jeans! But no matter how hard she thrashed, her struggles were useless against Thane’s ferocious strength.
“Calm down!” he yelled, catching her wrists in a vicelike grip, but her screams and tearful sobs drowned him out. The tattoo was clear and unmistakable now. Definitely not a figment of her dreams.
“It was you!” She gasped in horror as retrieved pieces of her forgotten memory assembled into place. Her mind seared with agonizing pain, as if slivers of glass were piercing every inch of her skull.
Everything came flooding back—
She and Lyla, bound and shoved into the trunk of a car.
Who are these men? One has a scorpion tattoo on his neck.
Lyla has a secret, a dagger made of crystal. “They’re not human, Violet. We have to escape.”
The man with the tattoo picks her up. Takes her to a locked door with bars.
Days. Nights. How many have passed? So hungry. So cold.
“Time to go to your new home, girls.”
Lyla has a family. She will be missed.
“Please. Just take me and let Lyla go home.”
A man with a hoodie grabs her. She tries to get away. Pain, so much pain.
Lyla lunges. So fast. She’s fighting Hoodie, who has a monstrous face.
Hoodie is too strong. Lyla is dead. So much blood.
She screams. Hoodie and Scorpion Tattoo argue.
She sees the crystal dagger in Lyla’s pocket. She takes it.
Hoodie throws her over his shoulder. So much pain.
She stabs. Hoodie roars. Bright blue liquid.
Darkness.
The stabbing pain in her skull subsided. Acid burned the back of her throat, and she covered her face with her hands, choking on her ragged breaths. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The returned memory still burned hot and brutal in her mind.
“Violet? Can you hear me?” Strong hands shook her shoulders.
She opened her eyes. Thane loomed above her, straddling her. Thane, one of the kidnappers from her memory. The tattoo was as vivid as she remembered.
“You,” she growled through clenched teeth. “I remember you!”
“Violet, I—”
She bucked her hips, shifting Thane’s center of gravity and rolling them both to the side. With a grunt of surprise, he tumbled to the ground, and she flung herself on top of him.
Before he could recover, Violet punched him as hard as she could in the face. She landed blow after blow, using a mixture of her fists and elbows. In an attempt to block her assault, Thane managed to take hold of one of her arms.
Violet’s eyes darted to her jeans, now just within reach. She thrust her free arm forward.
“Violet, stop!” Thane roared, his iron grip on her arm tightening; she needed to act fast. Just as he reached out to take hold of her other arm, there was a subtle shnik.
Violet plunged the switchblade into his chest.
Thane’s eyes grew wide. The guttural roar that escaped him was unlike any human sound Violet had heard before. She yanked the blade free, grabbed her jeans, and ran for the bedroom door. Thane yelled after her, calling her name between gasps and groans of agony.
She snatched up her bag with her keys and phone and dashed to the exit. Thane’s harrowed roars echoed behind her, all the way down the stairs of the apartment complex.
22
Don’t Get Angry, Okay?
Sagan veered the Defender into Nathan’s street.
“Pull in ’round the back,” said Nathan, pointing to a side road. He’d spotted Jude in a p
atrol car when they’d entered town. If she drove by and spotted a vehicle in his driveway, she’d certainly investigate, and that was the last thing he needed. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been MIA, but regardless, Jude must be worried about his disappearance.
She can worry a little longer, he thought.
“You wanna come in?” Nathan asked when Sagan parked in the rear gravel driveway. “It’s possible there’s something edible in the cupboard.”
Sagan shook his head. “I also have supplies I need to pick up from home. Be ready when I get back.”
Nathan quirked an eyebrow. “I think you’ve missed your calling as a drill sergeant.”
Sagan responded with a scowl as he shifted the car into gear and tore back out onto the road. Nathan shook his head with a chuckle and headed straight to the shower.
A few minutes later, he towel-dried his hair with one hand and rummaged through his closet with the other. He put on a pair of dark gray jeans—a much better fit than the black hunter’s jeans Sagan had given him—and selected a shirt, pausing when he caught his reflection in the mirror on the closet door.
With a frown, he rubbed his fingers over the smooth flesh of his pectoral muscle. Interesting. There was no trace of the stab wound. Not even a hint of a scar. His hide was tough, but the long scar below his ribs proved Diamantium blades left their mark.
The memory of his time in the hunters’ lair flashed through his mind, reigniting his anger. His fear. His—
His eyes widened. A subtle gleam of turquoise scales rippled over his bare torso and up his neck. When it reached his face, it washed over his features, revealing for a moment his true appearance.
He raised a hand to his cheek and, with a jolt, noticed a crystalline spire jutting out of his elbow. In a rush, he checked his other arm, then hissed a curse under his breath. The startled movement had caused the second protruding blade to slice through some of his clothes hanging nearby. The severed pieces of fabric fluttered to the carpet.
He rotated his arms, inspecting his elbows. How could this be? There hadn’t been any pain. No burning. No warning. He tested the blades, drawing them back into his arms, then out again—without any of the usual resistance. He marveled at the smooth and painless action. This was . . . bad.
How would he be able to restrain the blades if he couldn’t feel them? In public? At work? With Jude? There was no way he could—
A soft thud came from one of the outer rooms. He narrowed his eyes and checked his watch. Sagan couldn’t possibly be back already. His house was on the other side of town.
Taking care not to make a noise, Nathan crept toward the direction of the sound. He leaned against the wall by the open bedroom door, waiting and listening. There it was again: soft footfalls on the floorboards in the hallway, gradually getting louder the closer they came to Nathan’s room.
Then silence.
Nathan braced himself; he could almost feel the intruder just on the other side of the hallway wall, one step out of Nathan’s view. He bent his knees, waited half a second, then sprung.
Nathan slammed into the intruder just as he stepped into the room. A voice oofed as Nathan pinned a pair of broad shoulders to the wall, but he paused when he caught sight of the crystal scorpion tattoo on the intruder’s neck.
“Thane! What the hell?”
Thane held up both hands. “Geez, old man. What’s the big deal?”
“I thought I told you to stay away. Or did you forget Erathi hunters are after me?”
“No, I didn’t forget”
“Then why are you here?” Nathan gritted out.
Thane hesitated. “Are you going to let me go first?”
Nathan inclined his head to Thane’s elbow blades, which glinted in his periphery. “Are you going to put those away?”
“Are you?” Thane retorted.
Nathan frowned. He dropped his gaze and realized his own elbow blades were out as well. He sheathed them, still without any pain, and took a step back. This was starting to really concern him.
After a heartbeat, Thane withdrew his own blades and rolled one of his shoulders. “Geez, you can pack a punch. Have you been weightlifting or something?”
Nathan scoffed. “Not quite.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you haze in a long time.” Nathan jutted his chin at Thane’s elbows. “I thought you said you were done being Veniri and would never haze again.”
Thane winced and rubbed his shoulder. “Yeah, well, when someone jumps out of nowhere and pins you to a wall, I suppose instinct kicks in.”
“This is my house.” Nathan pointed an accusing finger. “You’re the intruder here. Which brings me back to my original question: why are you here?”
“I just . . . I was hoping . . .” Thane rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and looked around the room.
Nathan didn’t like the expression on Thane’s face. He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”
Thane continued to avoid eye contact, his gaze flicking down the hallway. “Well, I, um . . . don’t get angry, okay?”
Nathan folded his arms.
With a heavy sigh, Thane asked, “Is Violet here?”
Nathan blinked. “What?”
“Is Violet—”
“I heard what you said. Why would she be here? She should be at college.”
Thane half squinted an eye and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “No. She’s not . . .”
“What do you mean she’s not?” Nathan dropped his arms to his sides. “And how would you even know?”
“Well . . .” Thane began cautiously, his words gradually speeding up as he spoke. “I’ve kinda been keeping an eye on her since you dropped her off at college, to, you know, make sure she’s safe. Which was just as well, because there was an incident yesterday. She and a few other students got sent home. But when you didn’t answer any of her calls, I offered for her to stay at my place and—Whoa!” His eyes widened and he held his hands up. “Come on, Nathan. There’s no need for those.”
Nathan followed Thane’s gaze down to his gleaming elbow blades. Again, no pain and no warning. He took a step forward, and in sync, Thane took a step back.
“Nathan—”
“Where is she?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Things were fine. She was fine. But then she . . . Nathan, something happened to the memory block you put on her. She remembered who I was, and she—”
“What?” Nathan spat the word out through clenched teeth. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Violet’s memories returning—not to mention her already delicate mind processing them all—would have been utterly excruciating. The onslaught of horrors could potentially crush her. Nathan trembled, every muscle in his body taut. “I told you to stay away from her!”
Lunging, he crashed into Thane. They ricocheted off the wall and thundered to the ground, Nathan’s hand fisting tight around Thane’s shirt collar. Eyes huge and frightened, Thane latched on to Nathan’s wrists, but the older man didn’t budge.
“I didn’t spare your life so you could ruin hers! I should have killed you that night, like I did your brother. Why didn’t you stay away from her?”
“Because”—a flurry of emotions crossed Thane’s tormented face—“I was trying to protect her.”
“NO! I was already protecting her!” Nathan raised Thane’s shoulders off the floor by his shirt, then slammed him back into the ground.
“Someone had to look out for her!” Thane retorted. “There’s more than just Veniri out there that can harm her!”
“And what could you possibly do?” Nathan spat. “Considering all you’ve done is bring her harm!”
Thane’s expression instantly switched from defeat to rage. He bucked his hips, toppling Nathan to the floorboards with a heavy thud. Taking advantage of the momentum, Thane drove his forearms up between Nathan’s arms and forced him to release his grip. He seized Nathan’s biceps and
pinned him to the ground just as his own blades sliced, glittering, from his elbows.
“I didn’t harm her!” he roared through bared teeth; his nostrils flared and his eyes burned golden. “I would never harm her! I love her!”
Nathan paused, inspecting the determined face of the man who held him down. Despite the adamancy of Thane’s declaration, Nathan’s instinct still drove him to test his words with a lash of his forked tongue. A pungent mixture of bleach and pine needles washed over Nathan’s senses. The undiluted flavor of bleach proved Thane spoke the truth. The pine needles represented Thane’s love, not false or fleeting but evergreen.
Nathan wasn’t sure how he felt about that. What did this mean for Violet? Did she know? And if Thane loved her, he should know better than anyone that the best thing for Violet was to keep her away from the Veniri world.
“Then why?” Nathan asked, his tone laced with anguish. “Why couldn’t you just leave Violet alone? Why couldn’t you stay away from her?”
After a few moments, Thane’s pressure on Nathan’s arms slackened. “Because of my mother,” he finally said. “And because of what she told me before she died.”
Nathan was taken aback. Thane was eight when his mother died. What could she possibly have told him?
“She said—” Thane’s voice cracked. He released Nathan and slid back to lean against the wall. “She said, ‘Real strength and real power don’t come from tough hides, crystal shards, or even crowns. They come from within. They come from getting up when you’ve been beaten down, from fighting for what’s right when everyone else has embraced what’s wrong. They come from committing yourself to the ones you love with such devotion you’d sacrifice everything for them.’”
Thane covered his face and heaved a few deep breaths. Grief crushed Nathan as he remembered just how much Thane’s mother had sacrificed for her son.
Thane dropped his hands and continued, his voice tight. “My mother was the strongest and the bravest in that whole goddamned hive, and she was just a frail Erathi. When they killed her, I had nothing left. I followed orders like an Erathi slave and waited for my father to finally kill me. There were so many times he came close, and there were so many times I wanted—needed him to just end it all. And then something changed in me. The first time I saw Violet.”
Shards of Venus Page 19
