by Kiersten Fay
Her jaw tightened.
Just because she and Bray were bonded didn’t automatically mean they were together. It wasn’t that way with Knox. She stifled a cringe. No, with Knox it was much more complicated…and now with Mace as well.
She ran her fingers through her hair as she recalled Mace’s kiss, his touch, the way he made her feel so damn wanted. Needed. She wasn’t all that surprised to find her desire for him had not been diminished. As selfish as it was, she craved him still. But after hearing she’d been with another, would his feelings for her change?
And what of Bray? Would he be content to hand her over to another male? Vampires were notoriously territorial.
She sucked in an astonished breath, realizing she might just be devastated if he could give her up so easily.
Her chest felt battered over her conflicting yearnings. Unconsciously, her palm covered her heart as if to provide a measure of protection.
It would be wise to begin distancing herself from Bray. She couldn’t continue to encourage him. It wasn’t fair to anyone involved.
At any rate, she could be over-analyzing everything.
Sure, she and Bray had slept together, but it had been an extenuating circumstance. A seriously needed diversion—just a moment of happiness—after what had seemed like an eternity of terror and suffering.
A stress reliever. Nothing more.
No doubt Bray saw it the same. And once they got back to the real world, the closeness that had cultivated between them would surely dissipate. It had been only the two of them for weeks now, fighting for their lives, fighting for each other. Anyone in a similar situation, bond notwithstanding, would be hard-pressed to avoid feelings of intimacy encouraged by prolonged, heightened physical and mental agony and repeated life-and-death scenarios.
That was certainly true for her and Bray, but had that been the only reason why she and Mace had grown so close so quickly…at least on her part?
She felt instantly terrible over the errant thought, knowing Mace deserved better. Her mind was spiraling into dark places she wasn’t yet ready to delve. Decisions she wasn’t yet ready to contemplate. There’d be plenty of time for self-punishment and introspection later. Right now there were more important things to set her mind to.
She knelt down next to the large chest where the children hid and cracked open the lid.
Chapter 33
After finalizing the details of their impending extraction, Bray shut down the phone to spare the dangerously low battery.
Trent and the others had pinpointed their location, no problem. They were on the western edge of the Rocky Mountains, close to Utah’s border. It would take Trent a few hours to get to them by way of helicopter. They’d just have to sit tight till then.
He turned to relay the game plan to Cora, but halted at two sets of wide, shell-shocked eyes peeking out from the chest where Cora kneeled. Her soothing voice cooed to the untrusting, defenseless children.
Bray sensed her churning torment—undoubtedly over the death of the parents—as she struggled to keep her voice relaxed and reassuring. He wanted to kiss her for her show of strength.
Although their time together had been short, it had been condensed, making him feel as though he’d known her for years rather than weeks. And what he’d learned of her personality was that she was the type to blame herself for a tragedy she had no control over.
The children would live on, and to him, that was a triumph in what was otherwise a shitty situation. No reason to agonize over things that cannot be changed.
He kept his musings to himself, however, not wanting to appear insensitive.
Cora reached out to the teary-eyed children, her palm facing up in an unthreatening way. They whimpered and cringed away as though she’d brandished a blade.
Cora retracted her hand, her shoulders hunching.
“I could erase this memory from them,” Bray offered. “It would be a simple compulsion.”
Cora looked at him as if he’d offered to take their heads. “They shouldn’t be forced to forget. To grow up never knowing? They have the right to know.”
Bray reared back at the sharpness in her tone. So much for not appearing insensitive.
Her expression turned grave. “Besides, in all likelihood, they’ll block it out naturally. They’re younger than I was…”
He stilled.
Cora had vaguely mentioned her parent’s passing, leaving her orphaned at an early age. Now he understood that there was more to the story, and right now it was hitting her hard.
He approached to kneel down next to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and softened his voice. “They’re in a state of shock. Traumatized. Trent will be here in a few hours, and we’ll need them compliant if we’re to help them. What if they run away when we’re not looking? They could vanish into the woods and we’d never find them.”
Cora lowered her head and heaved out a relenting sigh. At length, she nodded, then backed away so that he could take her place.
With his imposing size hovering over them, the children’s eyes grew impossibly wide, their pupils all but disappearing in fright. The girl clutched her brother so tightly it had to be painful for the younger boy, but he made no protest. Like prey caught in the hypnotic gaze of a cobra, they could not look away.
His compulsion was quick and simple. He told them to be calm, and they instantly relaxed. Told them to trust both him and Cora, and it was so. But when he was about to scrub their memories of the past hour, he paused. Cora had a point. If a member of his family had been brutally murdered, he wouldn’t want the knowledge taken from him, even if it was painful. Still, they were only children.
Decided, he stripped away the visual of what they’d witnessed—nobody needed that burden—but he did not leave them completely ignorant. They’d be aware that their parents were gone, and would be allowed to grieve the loss naturally…in exactly one week from now.
Cora gave him an approving, yet sad smile. He had to wonder if she’d witnessed her own parent’s demise.
——
By the time the chopper sounded in the distance, Bray, Cora, and the children were snuggled comfortably by the fire, the children’s little bellies full of the last meal their parents would ever cook for them.
The boy, Preston, was curled up with Cora, slumbering with his head against her shoulder. The girl, Phoebe, was nearly in the same position on Bray’s lap, struggling with a little more success to stay awake.
Cora had declined to eat, insisting her stomach couldn’t take it.
Bray didn’t like that, but he understood.
Phoebe had taken an instant liking to him—probably because he boasted a similar stature to her father—and had refused to give him even a moment’s peace, demanding he play all manner of games with her from hide and seek, which her little brother was too young to comprehend, to blocks, and worst of all, dollies.
Bray had been oafish and awkward clutching the small rag doll, trying to make it keep up a whimsical conversation with Phoebe’s nicer, newer-looking one, but he suffered through it like a champion.
More than once Cora had to muffle her amused giggles behind a firmly planted palm as she relished his discomfort. Usually he wouldn’t tolerate such abuse, but both Cora and Phoebe were jubilant and smiling. Who was he to spoil their fun? Especially when it was such a rarity.
Cora’s laugh, so light and feminine, almost musical in quality, did something to him. Made him, for the first time in his life, want to act a fool just for the privilege of one more captivating snicker.
They hadn’t had a lot of time to talk after Bray had called Trent and learned that Cora was a Conwell. Had she kept this from him intentionally, worried of his reaction? As if it would matter to him?
She hadn’t asked him about Raven, though he knew she’d been listening when her name had been mentioned. He wanted to explain that his old flame meant nothing to him—not anymore, anyway. However, this wasn’t the right time for either of those conversatio
ns. He feared if Cora understood the strength of his feelings for her, she might pull away from him. So he decided to wait. But once they returned to his clan’s underground complex near St. Stamsworth, he planned on using all of his charm to woo her. Mace might have met her first. Bonded her first. But Cora wasn’t the kind of woman a man gives up without a fight.
Not a smart man, anyway.
She was sweet, kindhearted, beautiful. There was an aura of innocence about her, yet an impressive fortitude tempered by a life filled with hardship.
Aside from that, he’d never found it so easy to open himself to a female.
In his past relationships, there was always a wall between him and the woman he was seeing, sometimes emotional, sometimes mental, not always on his part, but more often than not. With Cora, those walls had never been established. Their dire situation, such as it was, hadn’t allowed for it.
The thwump thwump thwump from the chopper’s blades grew closer. Only now hearing it, Cora jolted upright, nearly displacing the sleeping boy in her lap.
“That’s him? That’s Trent?” she asked, visibly brightening.
Bray nodded. Soon they could both relax. This nightmare was coming to an end.
“Never thought I’d be glad to see him.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d voiced a disliking for his sire.
“He can come across as severe, sure. Ruthless. Stubborn as an…scratch that.” Bray grinned. “An ox would accuse him of being stubborn. But he’s a good man.”
——
“If you say so,” Cora replied, unconvinced.
They roused and guided the children outside to await the helicopter’s landing several yards away in an open field. Even before the copter found purchase, Trent hopped out and trudged forward to embrace Bray in firm hug that Bray returned with a hefty slap on Trent’s back.
The pilot made a soft landing and left the blades idling while he too approached the group.
Trent pulled away from Bray and cupped his face to take in his features as a parent might do to a child. The act was almost tender. Not a characterization Cora would ever associate with Trent.
Then, after one more quick, robust hug, Trent turned and advanced on Cora. His expression told her there was no hug in her future. He was less than happy to see her.
There was the Trent she knew.
Her heart responded by finding a painful pace as she took a few steps back. Bray seemed confused by the change in both her and Trent, but he made no move to protect her, which meant he didn’t think Trent was a threat. She hoped he was right, but something in her wasn’t so sure. In fact, she had the distinct impression that Trent would like nothing more than to throttle her.
“Where is Mace?” he demanded, showing a hint of fang. “Why didn’t he tell me you were missing?”
She planted her feet, concern for Mace replacing her fear of the massive vamp glowering at her. If Mace hadn’t been in contact with Trent…she feared the worst.
“I think he’s been cursed by Sadira. I need to get back to the cottage. He could be hurt, or worse, if he’s been unable to call.”
“Sadira?” Trent cocked his head in disbelief.
She mirrored the action. “Knox didn’t tell you?”
“Why would Knox tell me anything when Mace is perfectly capable? He sent me a text just last week saying he hasn’t found any new suspects in the black-market blood case. He never once mentioned you or a curse or Sadira.” His ending tone was cynical.
“What?” Cora’s brain whirled.
Mace was alive and well? And apparently unconcerned about her disappearance.
Had he even searched for her? How long before he’d given up? She figured he would have at least brought the matter to Trent.
Actually, she thought he would have called Trent the very second he was able and demanded his sire drop everything to help in the search.
But that hadn’t happened.
While she’d been wishing for rescue, had Mace been writing her off? Was what she had with Mace less serious than she’d assumed? A passing whim? Were his heartfelt words an utter lie?
“You spoke to Mace and he didn’t mention me at all?” She hated the vulnerability in her voice. The pathetic way it shook as she worked to keep her heart from cracking a thousand different ways.
Trent shook his head. “He hasn’t said a word.”
Cora’s shoulders slumped. She wasn’t even worth a hey, guess what. That girl you and Knox hate is out of our lives.
Trent eyed her suspiciously as if he suspected her of concealing some dark insight. “He hasn’t even bothered to call. Just text.”
That gave her pause. “You haven’t actually spoken to him?”
“Apparently I keep catching him at inconvenient times. And he refuses to return my calls.”
Her intuition quirked. “Can I see the texts?”
Trent hesitated for a moment, then retrieved his phone, tapped the interface a few times, and handed her the device.
Mace’s last text read:Still nothing new, but I think I’m close. Text you later, K.”
Not a lot to go on. She glanced up. “What if this isn’t Mace? What if someone else is using his phone to throw you off?”
Trent snatched his phone back, skeptical. “And who would that be?”
A hint of hysteria entered her voice. “Think about it. Who has access to Mace’s cell? And who would be more than happy to leave me for dead?”
Their gazes locked. And though he glared harder at Cora, he had to be thinking the same thing. He shoved his phone into his pocket and shook his head. “Knox would never do something so callous.”
Cora snorted. “Excuse me, but have you met him?”
Trent went silent, his expression like stone. It seemed as though he were trying to see straight through her. He was suspicious of her, that was obvious. He didn’t want to believe the accusation. Or was this all an act? Cora had to wonder if Trent knew more than he was letting on.
Finally, retrieving the phone from his pocket, he scrolled through Mace’s previous texts. He paused as if reflecting on something. Then he tapped the screen and brought the receiver to his ear. “Mace. I demand that you call me as soon as you get this message. If I don’t hear from you in the next hour, I swear to Christ you’ll be sorry.” Ending the call, he exclaimed, “Everyone in the chopper. Now! We’re going to the cottage.”
Chapter 34
The noise from the helicopter’s boisterous blades pounded Cora’s ears, making conversation difficult. The restless children, situated between her and Bray didn’t help much either. After they’d gotten over their initial fear of the helicopter, having never ridden in one, they began to squirm impatiently and complain, until Trent fired a hard glare at them from the front passenger seat where he sat next to Osborne, the pilot.
Just after takeoff, she’d done her best to explain about Sadira and the curse she suspected had been placed on Mace. She warned Trent that she wouldn’t be able to go near the cottage without being possessed once more, and how she believed Sadira was still trapped there. So first they would need to procure a protective charm from Saraphine.
Trent had scoffed at Cora’s suggestion and informed her he’d take orders from her the day monkeys flew out of his ass. At that point, she stopped talking.
Trent had judged her story inconceivable, and he no doubt believed he was on his way to disprove her.
Cora wasn’t sure what they would find at the cottage, but it wouldn’t be an amicable Mace cozying up next to the fire, content to forget Cora entirely.
She scolded herself for having contemplated, even for a second, that Mace could so easily cast her aside. She’d swum through the depths of his affection, had been close to drowning in it, and could not deny its potency.
Bray did little to defend her to Trent. She was somewhat disgruntled by that, but knew she shouldn’t be. She couldn’t expect him to back her story when he was as much in the dark as Trent claimed to be. But he did offer support
by taking her hand and giving it a tender squeeze.
She forced a small smile and then turned to look out the window, not really seeing. I’m coming, Mace.
Now that she was finally on her way, urgency took up residency in her every cell. It prickled over her nape, down her spine, and into her legs, making it feel wrong to be sitting so still. Already, the flight seemed endless, though they had probably only been in the air for half an hour at the most.
With no one to fight, no one to run from, and nothing to escape, unease gave birth to simmering dread. What if they were too late? What if the curse had run its course? What if they were unable to save Mace? Couldn’t this contraption go any faster?
Osborne gave a cry as the helicopter pitched forward. He pulled back on the controls to regain stability. The children squealed at the sudden loss in altitude.
“What the hell, Oz,” Trent growled.
“Sorry, everyone,” Osborne replied, unfazed. “Must have hit an air pocket.”
Cora ducked her head in contrition. Had that been her doing? She couldn’t be sure. Though it was evident her magic was becoming more accessible, it was still so unpredictable. Until she learned to properly wield it, to rein it in, she was a danger to everyone around her. She had to guard against her every desire.
Sensing her guilt, Bray placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be there soon, angel.”
She covered his hand with hers and battled a gale of emotion. He was so sweet, so caring, but his concern only increased her guilt. He was offering himself as her rock, even while she pined for another man—and he knew it. She could see it in his eyes. Could sense it on the edge of his consciousness.
She had tried to convince herself that his feelings for her weren’t serious, but that was a delusion she couldn’t continue to nurture. To the very core of her marrow, she knew otherwise.
