Fallen Redemption (The Trihune Series Book 1)

by Austin, RB

Jeeves and Michael were at the passenger’s side door. They took a hold of Lucas’s arms and helped him into the house.

  “Andrew!” Martha’s raised voice reached him as though his head was under water. A head he couldn’t hold upright.

  “Dammit, Lucas. You gave too much.” Cade’s pissed off tone barreled through the waves.

  Andrew passed and Lucas knew he and Sarid would carry Gabe while Cade continued giving blood.

  Jeeves and Michael helped him across the threshold. He heard Cade bark out orders. Something about Gabe, the infirmary. Then everything went black.

  Emma wanted to be with Cade. The fear in his eyes when Jeeves told him a brother was injured . . . She wanted to comfort, hold his hand while they waited.

  He hadn’t wanted the same. After Jeeves left he’d jumped out of the pool, handed Emma a towel, and tied one around his waist while ordering her back to her room. His emotions had been carefully hidden. It was as if their intimate moment hadn’t occurred. Emma was back to being the prisoner. The nonphysical slap still stung, but she understood it.

  Wrapped in a large towel, her bathing suit back on, she stood in her room. She wouldn’t be upset. He’d received devastating news. Emma would’ve reacted the same way.

  Maybe.

  She wouldn’t be upset.

  Oh, hell.

  Another tray of food set by her bed. Emma popped a cube of cheese in her mouth and flopped down on Cade’s vacant chair.

  She’d stepped into an unknown world. Why wasn’t she petrified? Running for her life? Put a dunce cap on her head and stick her in the front of the classroom, kids.

  Her head fell into her hands.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiot.

  She wouldn’t fall in love with Cade. She wouldn’t fall in love with Cade. She would not fall in love with Cade.

  How many times would she have to say it for it to come true? Emma needed those ruby red shoes right now because she may have finally opened her heart after all of these years just to get it crushed again.

  Cade sat on his bed. Fangs extended. Eyes glowed. Shirt off. Elbows on knees. Head in hands. Whole body shaking. Sweat dripped down his face, chest, and back. His body warred against his need for blood.

  Gabriel’s injuries had been extensive. Even after Cade’s donation, Lucas had to donate a second time. According to Martha, Lucas regained consciousness ten minutes after he blacked out and left immediately to refill his loss. After Lucas gave to Gabriel, he’d then have to give to Cade. What kind of Behn leader was unable to find nourishment when it was necessary?

  He jolted at the soft knock. Cade inhaled then froze. He stood, unsure what he needed, wanted, to do. His knees buckled and he promptly fell back onto the bed, managing to catch himself before he slid onto the floor. Heavens, help him.

  “Cade? Are you in there?”

  Maybe if he remained silent. The doorknob began to twist. He wasn’t sure how he managed to stand and get himself to the back of the room, facing the wall before the door opened.

  Emma’s scent filled the room. He fisted his hands to quench the trembling.

  “Cade?” The voice was cautious. Concerned. “Is it your brother? Is he all right?”

  “Gabriel will be fine. You need to leave. Now.” He cringed at the muffled way his voice emerged.

  Soft footsteps padded across the carpet.

  “Emma,” he growled. “Stop.”

  Her heart picked up speed. The fast thumping did nothing to alleviate the situation or calm the urge to pivot and sink his teeth into her luscious neck. Cade bit his bottom lip, welcoming the pain and the blood.

  “Is this another one of those things?”

  He didn’t answer her. Tremors ran through his body.

  “You’re shaking.” Concern raised her voice or had she stepped closer? “Sweating, too. Cade, let me help you. Do you need to . . .” she trailed off.

  Heavens, if it was only her body he needed. “No,” he bit out. His voice was raspy. Breathing had increased and with it, his heartbeat. Calm down. Calm the fuck down. The faster his heart beat the worse it would be. There was no way of knowing when Lucas would come to him. His legs threatened to give out again. Locking his knees, Cade threw his hands up and braced himself against the wall. Do. Not. Fall.

  “What is it?” Louder still. Please, heavens, not another step. The air moved over his back, like she’d lifted her hand to reach for him then thought better. Cade cringed, leaned against the wall. Nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to go.

  “You don’t want to know. Please,” he begged.

  A pause. “Yes I do.” He would have smiled at the stubbornness in her tone if the situation were funny. Hands were probably on her hips, too.

  Maybe if Cade turned around it’d be the best thing for both of them. She’d be scared. Run from the room. He’d have to tell the ebhed to obtain her before she left the grounds, but the phone was in easy reach. With her gone from the room, he’d be able to control himself and not slip. A pang seared his chest at the revulsion sure to be on her face. She wouldn’t come near him again. It was the right thing to do. And she wouldn’t be scarred for life. The memory wipe would erase the moment as if it never happened.

  “I do this and we can never go back.”

  “I want to know. I want to help you.”

  Cade inhaled through his mouth. He’d get only a trace of her scent that way. His heart slowed and he concentrated on not attacking her neck. Still he hesitated.

  “Please,” she whispered. This time her hand gently pressed in between his shoulder blades. She inhaled sharply, but didn’t step back. His skin must be like ice.

  Gaze on the floor, he swiveled. Dizziness ran through him. He stumbled a few steps. Heard her soft cry of distress. Felt her reach out. Cade jerked out of reach, bumped into the wall and stayed there, leaning against it. Inhale. Exhale. Calm. He stared at her bare feet.

  “Are you going to look at me?” Emma finally asked.

  Covering his mouth with his hand, his gaze trailed up her body, taking in the well-worn pair of jeans and fitted long sleeve T-shirt. He’d picked those clothes. Chosen them for her. Even in his present state, desire began to swell. Fuck. Skipping over the pulse in her neck, he paused on her full mouth then eventually landed on her eyes. The concern and worry in her features rocked him. The notion it would soon change steadied. He tilted his head back to rest it against the wall.

  Her expression changed to confusion as she appraised his body, pausing at the fly in his pants. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”

  Cade lowered his hand. His gaze never left her face.

  Emma’s eyes widened. She propelled back a few steps.

  His lips parted. Cade didn’t move, probably wasn’t capable of it at the moment. He watched the horror spread across her features.

  Emma froze. Her eyes focused on nothing else but the long, sharp teeth extending from Cade’s mouth.

  Run!

  Another step back.

  Cade didn’t move. Didn’t come after her. Didn’t try to stop her. Emma forced her gaze away from his horrific mouth. He was pale. Using the wall to hold himself up. Sweat dripped down his forehead, eyebrows and then into his eyes where Cade blinked the moisture away. His eyes glowed. He scrutinized her. Not as a predator though. She was used to the brightness from the time in the pool, but standing here with the complete picture in front of her, even in this weakened condition, he was from a nightmare.

  A scream bubbled in her throat. Her lips clamped shut, not allowing it to escape. She’d seen this face before. Was sure of it. Had captured it on paper, believing it to be her imagination and the recent events that conjured it. The picture she’d drawn and the man—beast—standing in front of her couldn’t be denied. This was real. As real as the alley. One more step aw
ay.

  “You’re like them?” Her voice was barely audible. A tremor ran through her body.

  “No.” The voice was muffled around his—gulp—fangs.

  His gaze continued to search her face.

  Image after image snapped in her brain. Height. Massive body. Glowing eyes. Sharp fangs. Ability to move fast.

  He was an animal. A hunter.

  A hunter of the things that attacked her. Her heart beat fast and her breath was erratic. Emma was ready to bolt for the door. Rat—and Irrational said it was a damn outstanding idea.

  Her feet rooted to the spot.

  Cade could kill her in the blink of an eye. She wouldn’t even see it coming. One moment she’d be breathing and alive, and the next she wouldn’t. Another step back.

  “What are you?”

  “I’m a Behnshma.”

  She licked her dry lips. His gaze followed her every move. His face took on an expression she’d seen by the pool. Emma couldn’t pretend the skip in her heart this time was in fear. When had she become a danger junky? “This is another side effect from the medication you take?”

  Hesitation. “In a way.”

  “Are there any other side effects?” She stared at the fangs protruding from his mouth.

  Cade didn’t answer and she jerked her gaze to his. Her heart continued to thump in her chest. Surely he could hear it.

  “Are you afraid?”

  The question was an echo and one she answered sure and swift hours ago. Hours that turned into an eternity. A time when she was happier than she’d been since she was fourteen. Emma wished for the second time she was merely an actor in this horror film titled, Her Life. This time her answer wasn’t as fast and definitely not as sure. “No.”

  Cade’s eyes narrowed. “There are other side effects of being a Behnshma.”

  “Can I see them?” The question left her mouth before she could stop it.

  “Why are you not running away?” The words emerged laced with desperation.

  It was a fine idea.

  Emma took a few steps toward him.

  Idiot.

  “I’m not afraid. I trust you.” Stupid moron that she was.

  “But I’m a monster.” The words tore from his throat, low and full of self-loathing. He closed his lips tight. Dropped his gaze to the floor.

  Emma was at his side, taking a hold of his hand. It was like gripping an ice cube. She shivered. “You’re not a monster.”

  He’d stilled at her contact. His gaze riveted to their clasped hands. “Ihavetodrinkblood.”

  “Wh . . . What?”

  Cade squared his shoulder, met her gaze fully with a hard, unreadable expression. “I have to drink blood. I’m not human. I was born in 1790. I was the one who killed my wife and children. I can read humans’ thoughts.”

  Mouth open, Emma stepped back and Cade watched her, his gaze virtually—triumphant. “You’re trying to scare me.”

  “Yes, but I spoke the truth.” His voice held no emotion.

  Emma backed away until her legs hit the bed. She sat. “All right.” Replaying his confession, she skipped over the first two. Not gonna grasp those details just yet. Although the third one was also daunting. “You were born over three hundred years ago?”

  A growl echoed through the room and Emma jumped off the bed, whirling to glance behind her. It sounded like a dog. The room was empty except for her and . . . She turned, stumbled to find Cade looming over her. Exhaling in surprise she tried to move away, but the bed was there. Emma started to fall. Cade’s hands circled her upper arms holding her steady.

  He shook her, his face inches from hers. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Cade’s voice was loud, angry. His stare blazed into hers, as blinding as the sun.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He shook her again. “Why?” This time a note of raw panic breeched the surface.

  Emma pulled her arms from his grasp. Reaching, she cupped his face into her hands, fingers trailing over his scars. His scars. He was good. Kind. She felt safe with him.

  The picture she drew had been of horror. The man in front of her with the same fangs and glowing eyes wore an expression of anger, no doubt, but also of vulnerability and shame.

  Her hands were millimeters from his fangs and her gaze strayed to them, thumbs following suit. Suddenly her arms were empty and Cade was across the room.

  “You need to leave.” The words grounded out through clenched teeth. He was leaning against the wall again.

  “Cade,” she began.

  “Don’t, Emma. You’re leaving. We’re done here.”

  Her spine stiffened at his tone but with one glance at the fear and desperation on his face, she forced herself to relax, not to take offense. “I trust you.”

  “Don’t. I’ll hurt you.”

  Emma strode across the room. “I trust you.” She stopped an arm length away.

  He scrambled to move, banged into the wall. “Emma,” he growled the warning.

  Closer.

  “Stop.” He panted the protest. “You don’t know . . . what I’m . . . capable of.”

  Emma raised her hand and placed it on his bare chest.

  He stiffened, twisted his head, mouth drawn tight over his fangs. He even stopped breathing.

  “Cade?”

  No response.

  “Please.”

  Embarrassment filled her as he remained statue-like. She was throwing herself at him. Perhaps she’d read the signs wrong at the pool. Maybe he didn’t care for her the same way. How many times had he told her to go? At the pool, he’d been on his way to find another woman. His words of comfort could’ve been meaningless letters joined together to gain a complaint prisoner. It’d worked.

  Emma stepped back, losing contact, and he relaxed at once, confirming her suspicions. His eyes were open. He tilted his head, gaze roaming over her face. She looked down.

  Clearing her throat, she swallowed the burn. She wouldn’t cry. That was for damn sure. “I’m sorry,” she managed before running from the room.

  Chapter 13

  Cade stood in his doorway, nails digging into the molding, holding himself back from going after Emma. With his need for blood practically immobilizing him, he hadn’t believed he could feel worse.

  He dislodged his fingers from the wood and staggered back to the bed. She was safer across the house.

  There was a knock on the doorjamb and for one split second he thought—but it was Lucas. His cheeks pink. Cade hadn’t even sensed his ach’s presence.

  “Cade?” Concern laced the word.

  “Gabriel?” he questioned.

  “Is taken care of.” Lucas came to his side, rolling his sleeves to expose his wrist.

  Cade’s gaze seized on Lucas’s vein. The blood pulsed underneath the skin calling to him. “He’s had enough?”

  “Yes. I swear it.”

  Cade snatched Lucas’s wrist. His fangs punched into the skin. He sucked long and deep. The blood filled his mouth and immediately quenched the ache inside. In less than a minute, Cade forced himself to retract. Gabriel may need another donation.

  Lucas shoved his wrist to Cade’s mouth. “Take more. You need it.”

  He swept his tongue over the puncture marks to stop the flow of blood. “I’ve had enough.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Cade stood, Lucas’s blood swept through his body as he reached his full height. “I’m fine, Lucas,” he said softly. “I’ve had enough.”

  His ach’s eyes narrowed and his lip curled. Cade blinked and the fury was gone. He must have misread the expression. Lucas didn’t get angry. “Thank you, my ach. How is Gabriel?”

  “He’ll make a full recovery. Will no doubt try to get past
Martha and her strict order of bed rest by the night.” Lucas paused. “The nheqeba was in the hallway.”

  Cade stilled.

  “She was upset.”

  Cade willed the unexpected flare of anger to recede. His brother had sensed she was upset. That was all. Lucas hadn’t talked to her or cornered her or grabbed her to stop. Cade’s fists clenched along with his teeth. He inhaled and exhaled, twice, fast, and when he spoke it was with a calm he didn’t feel. “Thank you for your blood. Go. You must be in need of rest. I’ll expect you to relate the full details of what happened at the Before Dusk Meeting.”

  Cade headed into his closet listening to his bedroom door shut quietly as Lucas left the room. His ach had been right, but he was used to living on as little blood as necessary. When Emma was gone, his lack of blood wouldn’t be an issue. He pulled a black T-shirt over his head, smoothing it down before leaving the room.

  The infirmary was a large, sterile room with three hospital beds, and a wall of cabinets and drawers filled with medical items.

  Gabriel lay in the bed closest to the door, the sheet pulled to his waist, his chest bare. White gauze bandages were taped over the wounds in his chest and stomach. Martha changed them since Cade’s last visit.

  Gabriel was awake and back to his usual cajoling self. No longer ashen, his cheeks carried a pink hue as he spoke with Martha. Eyes held his normal gleam, if a bit dull, but a big improvement than when he arrived four hours ago. “I’m ninety percent healed, Martha. I can rest in my own bedroom.”

  “No, adohn. You’ll remain here. I need to keep an eye on you.”

  “But it’s damn boring here. I’ve nothing to do.”

  Martha tsked. “You don’t need to do anything except rest.” She sat in the chair next to the bed and picked up a romance novel, one from Cade’s library, ignoring Gabriel’s further protests.

  Martha was as unmovable as a semi-truck when it came to the Behns and any injury. No amount of sweet talk or threats would allow Gabriel free until she believed he was ready.