by Kiersten Fay
“I’ll try again in a little bit,” Mace said.
Dread devoured her voice for a moment. Before, at Wicked Wares, she’d received a bad feeling about that light-haired stranger, and during the short drive home she’d only grown more and more discontent. Now she was positively frantic. She never should have allowed Mace and Knox to hasten her away.
“We must go back and find her, Mace. Please.”
Knox’s rumbling scoff filtered in from the other room. “You might as well tell him, ‘Hey Mace, I’d love to go back and get snatched up and murdered by some incompetent assassin and prove what a lout you are at protecting me’. For the record, I’m all for killing the slouch. I’m more than happy to accommodate that kind or order, Cora.”
She pursed her lips, liking nothing more than to order him off a cliff. Taking in a calming breath, she pressed, “Please, Mace. If anything happened to her…I already feel responsible for her grandmother.” Burgeoning tears emphasized her words.
Mace eyed her lips on the verge of quivering. His expression fell. “That wasn’t your fault. Whether it was Knox’s doing—which I doubt—or some random act of violence, it wasn’t your fault.”
“But this will be. If I suspect danger and don’t warn her and she gets hurt…or dies? That will definitely be my fault. It will devastate me.”
Mace hesitated so long, Cora thought she was about to lose this argument.
“Oh, go on, mate,” Knox called from his place on the couch. “I’ll watch the little witch. She and I have things to discuss anyway.”
Cora’s eyes widened, but she was quick to hide her fear from Mace. “Couldn’t I go with you?”
Mace grimaced. “I’ll not let you leave this cottage again with the present danger. And I don’t wish to leave you here alone.” Translation: he didn’t want to leave her here with Knox.
“I know you don’t. But Knox is right.”
At that Mace glanced down at her as though she’d gone nuts.
“He helped us. He could have taken off the minute he was free of his cell, but he stayed and made sure Sadira was contained.”
“He stayed to trick you into doing what he wanted.”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But he could have just killed me. Yet he chose not to. I know this situation is unfair, but we’re going to have to find a way to deal with it. Unless you want to lock him up again.”
“Just try it,” Knox hollered from the couch.
Cora continued with a little stiffness in her jaw. “And anyway, according to Knox, your laws state that he be granted access to my blood. Trent would side with him on this. Right?” She hoped Mace would refute the statement.
At length, his head dipped in a single nod.
“Then there’s no way around it.” She bit her lip and glanced over at Meeka, encouraged by the thought that her familiar could tackle Knox to the ground if he got out of hand. Besides, there really was much they needed to discuss. And she got the impression Knox was not a patient man, or easily placated. She had unwittingly agreed to do what ever he wanted. Now was as good a time as any to find out what, exactly, that was.
In a honeysuckle voice, she asked of Mace, “Please will you go and warn Saraphine.”
Again he was silent. His brooding turmoil grazed her subconscious. Finally, with a bolted jaw, he nodded.
“Thank you. And please hurry back.” She went to her tip toes and planted a soft kiss on his lips.
Before she could pull away, Mace palmed the small of her back and drew her close to him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging to meet hers. She breathed him in, his deliciously musky scent invading her head. His arms surrounded her, holding her even tighter than before, his lips brushing hers with more fervor, a physical declaration of his need for her.
Her body warmed as a tension she hadn’t known was there eased. She molded against him. There was no place safer than within Mason’s arms.
He pulled away with a smug and satisfied expression. “I’ll return shortly to continue this.”
She smiled. “Looking forward to it.”
Knox let out a caustic sound.
Cora ignored that and buried her head in the crook of Mace’s neck, giving him one last squeeze.
Something caught her eye then. She reared back and pulled Mace’s collar to the side. “What is that?”
——
Mace glanced down, but couldn’t see what Cora was pointing at. Her fingers grazed his neck, and an odd kind of warmth responded to her touch that had nothing to do with his current state of arousal.
“It’s that scar you showed to me and Saraphine that day. The one you said Ms. Windshaw had given to you.”
Ah, that damn old woman’s spell. He’d nearly forgotten about it.
A deep, yet endearing crease graced Cora’s forehead. “It looked as if it had glowed blue for a moment, but…” Her eyes scanned his neck meticulously. “It’s not doing it now.”
Mace moved to find his dim, monotone reflection in the microwave window. The discolored mark that circled his neck still resembled the necklace Saraphine’s grandmother had put on him weeks ago. Shortly afterward, it had burned its way under his skin, vanishing and leaving behind this raised scar. He hadn’t had a chance to find out what sort of spell it was before the woman had died.
“Well, it looks normal now,” he said. Perhaps Saraphine could be persuaded to remove it. Then again, she’d probably just demand Knox’s head again.
Cora appeared worried, the sweet scent of her previous desire muted. To reassure her, he kissed her again, but this time with less enthusiasm. Turning her on just as he was about to leave her with another vampire? One she was bonded to? Not a good idea.
Jealousy ground in his chest.
He had no doubt what Knox would be “discussing” with Cora: the terms of their arrangement. The one Cora had been tricked into.
Mace wanted so much to cry foul, but he’d already broken vampire law by keeping Knox locked up for a week without access to Cora’s blood. Not to mention, in doing so, he’d gone against a direct order from their sire and clan leader, Trent.
Any more resistance to this repugnant situation and it would be him cooling his jets in prison instead of Knox.
“I won’t be long.” He said it like a promise.
Her worried expression turned tremulous, as though she were anticipating the repercussions of being left alone with Knox.
Her eyes darted nervously, but before he could renege, she whispered, “I’ll be fine. Go make sure Saraphine is okay.”
His lips smashed together. Reluctantly, he turned away from her and then approached Knox in the other room.
Knox held his relaxed pose, one arm cradled behind his head while he leisurely watched two actors going at it with katanas. He was willfully avoiding Mace’s gaze.
“Oi, get outta the way,” He complained, dodging his head around Mace to see the television.
Mace snatched the remote, hit the off button, then tossed it across the room.
“Hey.” Knox spread his arms in a what-the-fuck gesture.
“With your colorful personality, Knox, I can imagine you’ve been subject to every threat imaginable, so I’m not going to bother threatening you. Instead, I’m going to make you a promise. Hurt her, and I won’t just murder you. I’ll knock you unconscious, drag you to some remote cave off the grid, and teach you a new meaning to the word agony. I’ll make deranged maniacs look like infantile children. Your anguish will last years. And when you finally beg me for death, you will not receive it.”
Knox studied his deadpan expression with one of hooded amusement. “Noted.”
They both glanced at Cora in the kitchen doorframe, who was incredulously staring at them, a thousand questions mingling behind her eyes.
Knox addressed her with a sarcastic tone. “You hear the filth spewing from this mook, Cora? Are you really okay with kissing that mouth at night? I can give you something sweeter to kiss.”
She set her jaw. “If you�
��re referring to yourself, I can’t think of anything more repugnant.”
When Knox stood as if to move toward her, Mace grabbed his upper arm in a silent warning. Knox stilled, eyeing Mace’s hand with a serious, somewhat aggressive expression.
“I’m not joking,” Mace growled.
Knox met his gaze. “Didn’t think you were, mate.” Then he glanced back at Cora, almost anticipatory—predatory.
She hiked her chin.
Knox turned back to Mace, lowering his voice so that only Mace could hear. “Look, you have nothing to worry about. For now, she’s safe with me.”
For now? “Swear it in the name of our sire,” Mace challenged.
Indignation swam across Knox’s expression. His voice was living venom. “I’ll do you one better. I swear it in the name of Elizabeth.”
Mace yanked his hand from Knox’s arm as if he’d been burned. He tried to swallow the lump of pain that swelled like jagged rocks in his throat.
Knox acknowledged his discomfort with a ruthless glare. “You know me well enough to understand I don’t often lie. She’ll be safe with me for one night. Go and run her ridiculous errand.”
Mace nodded, too guilt-ridden to argue further. He gave Cora a final wave, hoping she didn’t sense his inner turmoil. She couldn’t have heard, but the way she eyed them both said she had gleaned something, if only through the bond.
Outside he mulled over Knox’s last statement. He was right, of course. He didn’t often lie—mostly because he was too damn blunt for his own good—but when he did lie, he lied big.
And he lied well.
——
Sara giggled as her hot mystery man presented her with a single red rose. She took it and inhaled its wonderfully sweet fragrance. So sweet, it was almost cloying, reminding her why she wasn’t really a red-rose kind of girl, but then she’d never received one from a drop-dead gorgeous stranger before. She might just have to rethink her preferences.
With the floral scent still dancing in her head, she asked. “What’s this for?” not even realizing she had swayed slightly.
Her mystery man gave a smile as sweet as his offering. “I heard somewhere that it’s customary to bring a flower for your date, but then I got stood up.” He turned on the stage-drama. “I scoured the land for another beautiful woman who might accept my rose. My journey was long and arduous and, sadly, headed no spoils, so I ended up back here.”
Sara laughed again. “Sorry about that. Pressing matters and all.” She sighed. “This town would fall apart without me.”
“That’s quite alright. You can make it up to me.”
Her heart fluttered. “How’s that?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something.” He glanced toward the front entrance. “Who were those vampires? Friends of yours?”
“Hardly. Wait, you could tell they were vampires?” She narrowed her gaze. “What are you?”
He gave her a confidential grin. “Who was that woman with them? She wasn’t a vampire.”
“Oh,”—Sara rolled her eyes—“that’s Cora. She’s new to town. I wish she would have kept her butt back in St. Stamsworth. But I shouldn’t blame her. It’s not her fault Knox is a murdering piece of crap.”
“A murderer?”
Sara frowned. She forced a steady voice. “He took from me someone I loved very much.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Has he been punished for the crime?”
She shook her head.
His expression went dark. “Let me guess. The vampires want to deal with it internally?”
She nodded. “I doubt anything will come of it.”
“You’re probably right. It sickens me. You have to wonder if their kind are void of human emotion entirely.”
Her curiosity of this man grew with his statement. “I just realized I don’t even know your name.”
He smiled, and her knees literally went weak from the beauty of it.
He held out his hand. “Name’s Devon. And I’d love to offer some advice in the art of exacting your own revenge.”
Chapter 8
As soon as Cora heard Mace drive away, Knox turned hungry eyes on her.
Still standing in the kitchen’s threshold, she glanced at Meeka.
The little kitten abandoned her half-eaten dish as if an order had been issued and moved to her side. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, she expanded into her sabertooth form, looking fierce and chuffing at Knox in warning.
Knox halted his approach. A corner of his mouth lifted, forming a lopsided grin. “You going to have your pussy-cat attack me again?”
She disregarded the crude undertone. “If I have to.”
His eyes tightened ever-so-slightly, yet he managed to keep the smile relaxed. “We had a bargain. I spare Mace, and you do whatever I want.”
“A bargain struck under duress,” she accused, holding a steady gaze. She squared her shoulder and straightened her spine. “You can’t expect me to just allow you to do whatever you want to me. I won’t be coerced—”
“So ready to back out of our deal? Shame.” He sighed and gave her his profile. “Poor Mason. Won’t even see it coming.”
“You wouldn’t hurt Mace.” Of that, she was almost completely sure. Ninety-five percent, at least “That’s how you tricked me in the first place.”
“You heard the way he threatened me just now? A thing like that isn’t taken lightly by my kind. It’s my right to defend myself against a potential attack.”
Seventy-five percent. “He’d wipe the floor with you.”
“Is that what happened earlier? I don’t quite remember it going down that way.” With an esoteric smile, he added, “Just so that you’re aware, most vampire clans function on a hierarchy, predominantly constructed around age, although there are those few exceptions. We’re not one of them.”
“And I suppose you rank higher than Mace?” Her tone was heavily drenched in sarcasm, but her left hand began to tremble. To hide it, she placed that hand on Meeka’s large fuzzy head.
“In more ways than one,” Knox replied suggestively.
Cora rolled her eyes, but something told her Knox spoke the truth—regarding the outranking part, anyway.
Sixty-five percent.
That would explain why Mace minimized the gravity of some of Knox’s behavior. And why Trent sided with Knox more often than Mace when it came to her. On the other hand, that could just have been because of their stupid vampy laws concerning their bond—in essence, Mace and Knox were supposed to, ugh, share her. And there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it.
In any case, if Knox outranked Mace, then that meant he was also older than him, which subsequently, and unfortunately, meant he was stronger, too.
Forty-five percent and dropping…
“So, get on with it,” she said. “What do you want?”
His grin slipped, replaced by an expression she couldn’t decipher. Not quite menacing, but in no way reassuring. “Control.”
“Huh?”
“Cede control to me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“How to explain?” A thoughtful finger tapped his jaw. “A witch who didn’t know she was a witch bonding Mace? Sure, I could be persuaded to believe that was accidental. He is the sort of dolt that kind of thing would happen to. But a Conwell witch bonding me?” He paused and speared her with a significant look that seemed to hold more meaning for him than it did her.
She canted her head, waiting for a more intelligible explanation.
“Specifics aside, there are only a few reasons for a witch to bond more than one vampire, and in this case, only one appeals to my keen common sense.” He turned sardonic. “Coincidence doesn’t even make the list.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes again. There was no use arguing with him on this matter. His mind was made up. And she had a feeling his mind was closed to alternatives, reinforced by metal and filled with cement. Lots and lots of cement.
“Get to the point,” she demanded.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but then his gaze turned quizzical and his voice softened as though he were talking only to himself. “I figured you’d be just like Sadira.” He studied her for a long moment, as if debating his next words. “And seeing her again, or rather hearing her venomous tongue…” Confusion seeped over him.
As he labored for words, he actually appeared unsure for first time since she’d met him. It unsettled her. An angry unpredictable Knox she was used to, but a befuddled, vulnerable Knox?
In the next instant, as though realizing his misstep, he reverted to his icy demeanor.
“But you,”—he shook his head—“are a very good actress, I think. A viper in the guise of a beautiful lass, no?”
“You’re the one who bites. Not me.”
As if she’d inadvertently reminded him of that fact, his heated gaze raked her body and his fangs visibly lengthened.
She couldn’t help the flush that followed.
“Indeed. But when you strike, I’ve no doubt it will gouge all the same.” He paused again, his lids hooded. “Doesn’t matter. You are what you are, unless you can prove otherwise.”
“Prove?” she scoffed. “So in your sick world, I have to prove myself to you?”
“If you have no intention of using Mace or me as your pawns, then you shouldn’t mind relinquishing full control to me.” His lips twitched. “Whenever I want.”
She swallowed. It wasn’t difficult to discern what Knox wanted, well, for the most part. He wanted access to her blood.
But…what else? What more?
Honestly, she’d be relieved if her blood was all he was interested in. Especially when their agreement offered so much more. It offered everything.
At least she knew he wasn’t going to kill her. If that was his plan, he’d had plenty of time to carry it out before now.
So, that was something. Wasn’t it?
Surprisingly, Knox showed a bit of patience as she visibly warred with this decision. But it wasn’t really a decision at all, was it? In reality, he was allowing her to come to terms. No way would Knox ever let her back out. He held all the cards. To keep Mace safe, she’d have to fold.
