As the healing aura wrapped around her, Rosalind’s eyes fluttered open. She looked up at Caine, whose deep silver eyes peered down at her, bright as the starlight.
“Rosalind,” he whispered. “What happened?”
Wincing, she reached for her neck, feeling the ragged wound.
“Seven hells,” he snarled. “I knew I should have gone after you. What did he do to you?”
“I told you not to come—” Oh gods, it hurt to speak. Shit. What had happened to the boy? “Where’s Owen?”
“Don’t talk if it hurts.” His powerful arms tightened around her, and she rested her head against his chest. “Owen is the child you returned with, I suppose? Tammi’s up ahead with him. He woke, screaming for milk and for his mother. I’m not sure how you slept through that, but I need to finish healing you. Then, you’re going to rest.”
Her mind flashed with images of a palace full of bone, of walls formed from corrupted veins, a building breathing. The thought of being trapped in another room sparked a burst of dread. “Don’t lock me inside again. I need to stay in the open air.”
As Caine’s magic whispered over her skin, soothing her entire body, her eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted again into a deep sleep.
Chapter 11
Rosalind woke wrapped in silky bedsheets, a floral breeze kissing her skin. For a moment, dread tightened her chest, until her eyes focused on Lilu, Caine’s raven. The bird stared right at Rosalind, her head cocked, candlelight glinting in her black eyes.
Clearly, Rosalind was no longer in the Brotherhood’s malignant palace. She pushed herself up on her elbows. Instead of a ripped, bloodstained wedding dress, she was wearing a silk nightgown. Black.
Caine dressed me.
She rubbed her eyes, clearing the sleep from her mind, then surveyed the room. It wasn’t the room she’d been sleeping in before—the one she’d been sharing with Miranda before she died. This room was enormous, fit for a queen.
Through the open glass doors, she had a view of an enormous stone balcony lined with myrtle trees. Moonlight bathed the leaves in silver, and streamed through their leaves onto a small, round table on the tiled balcony. The wind toyed with delicate silver curtains, and she breathed in the fresh air. Caine had been paying attention when she’d asked not to be locked in a room. In fact, he’d found her the closest thing to being outside.
By the wall near her bed, a silver, domed tray sat on an oak table. The smell of bacon made her stomach rumble. When was the last time she’d eaten? When she touched her stomach, she could feel her ribs protruding. Her memories of Drew’s palace were hazy, but clearly she hadn’t eaten much while she’d been there.
When she thought of the palace, nausea rose in her stomach. Disturbing memories flickered through her mind. The scorpion men, stinging a girl to death. Randolph, forcing her onto her knees in some sick sort of power play. At the thought of him and Drew, bile rose in her throat, and she closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind. Lilinor. I’m in Lilinor now, in a city of lavender and jasmine, of eternal night. My new home.
When she opened her eyes, her mind began adjusting to the dim room. In the far corners of the room, sleeping in two enormous velvet armchairs, were Tammi and Caine. Tammi lay curled up, her pale hair draped over Owen, who slept nestled into the crook of her arm. Somehow, they’d found a pink plastic sippy cup, and Owen clutched its handle in his sleep. Someone had dressed him in clean clothes that looked like they were from the 19th century—a velvet jumper with a lace collar.
A faint noise like a low, uneven growl filled the room. Across from Owen and Tammi, Caine slept, his powerful chest slowly rising and falling, his eyelashes a stark black against his golden cheeks. He wore a black T-shirt, its short sleeves exposing the severe tattoo on his arm—the hairpin she’d seen in his memory. His aura curled through the room, soothing and electric at the same time.
Between the two chairs, an enormous, silver-framed mirror hung on the wall. Rosalind straightened, gazing at herself in the reflection. Her cheeks looked gaunt, and purple circles darkened the skin below her eyes. How long had she been trapped in Drew’s hellish fantasy? She shuddered. The next time she saw Drew, she hoped it would be the day he died.
As she watched Caine sleep, his chest rising and falling, his breath hitching slightly, she realized the source of the low growl. Caine—the demigod—snored lightly in his sleep, and his chest seemed to pause at the end of his inhale. In his sleep, he seemed strangely human, and Rosalind felt a sudden rush of warmth for him. She’d never seen him sleeping before, and she had an overwhelming desire to curl in his lap and kiss his cheeks.
Even if she’d been in a hellish fog for her entire time in the Empire, somehow she’d felt his absence like a hollow in her chest, like she’d been missing an important part of herself.
She’d needed his smell, the feel of his skin against hers, the faint brush of his stubble against her cheeks, his fingertips stroking her thighs. She needed to feel her hand pressing over his heart, the blood rushing through his body. She’d wanted to tuck her head into the crook of his neck, to smell his deep, earthy scent, to feel her lips against his, his large hands on her skin.
Before she’d left, he’d told her that she wasn’t destined to be with him. Something about a woman with blond hair—the reason she was fated for Malphas, and not Caine. It made no sense to her, and she had no idea what he’d meant by that. He must be wrong, because Caine felt like a part of her now—a part of her she'd never before known existed. If she lost him now, she’d never feel whole again.
As she looked at him, she traced her fingertips over her lower lip, imagining what it had felt like the last time he’d kissed her.
As if hearing her thoughts, his eyes opened, and her breath hitched in her throat. What would he say if she told him everything she really felt?
Within moments, Caine seemed completely alert, his silver eyes fixed on her. Apparently, he didn’t need much time to gather his thoughts after waking.
He rose, walking to her, and sat at the edge of her bed, studying her closely. “How do you feel?”
“About what?” she asked, still slightly dazed. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to pull him close, and she had to restrain herself.
“Your neck. How does your neck feel?” His fist clenched, and he traced his fingertips over her throat, pain flickering in his eyes. “Drew tore half your neck out. I can’t understand how you survived that. It should have killed you. How were you able to swim back here? With a child, no less?”
She touched her neck. For the first time, she realized she’d nearly completely healed. Where a deep wound had been not long ago, now lay only a faint scar where Drew had bit her. “I feel fine, apart from the memories.”
Shadows clouded his eyes, and the candles guttered as the temperature dropped. “What did he do to you?” Rage laced his voice.
Rosalind swallowed hard. “Did you know that you snore?”
“Don’t change the subject.” His jaw tightened. “And I absolutely do not.” Caine took her hand in his. “What happened to you there? You look like they starved you.”
“It wasn’t pretty, but I did what I had to do. And just like I told you, Cleo looked after me. I’ve come back unscathed.”
“Apart from the part where you had your throat ripped out and nearly died.”
“About that,” Rosalind said. “Drew claims that he and I are now immortal. He says that using gods-magic has fundamentally changed us, and that we are basically gods now.”
Caine narrowed his eyes. “That sounds absurd.”
“And yet, I’m here, alive, when I shouldn’t be.” She loosed a sigh. “The downside is that I failed to kill Drew, since he is immortal, too. Surely there must be a way around the whole immortality thing. What if I severed his head and buried it under the ocean? Or burned him to ash, and kept his cinders in separate vaults. I’m just trying to think creatively here.”
“What do you mean you ‘failed to kill Drew’?
We discussed this.” He studied her closely. “You weren’t supposed to attempt to kill him. You were there only to retrieve Erish, which you did. You didn’t fail at anything.”
“How long was I gone?”
“Eight days. Did they starve you?”
She hugged herself, shaking her head. “No. I didn’t want to eat, because I felt like I was already dead.”
Caine looked deep into her eyes. “If Drew has become immortal, that might explain why he’s lost his mind. Why your parents did. Humans were never meant to be immortal.” He brushed his knuckles softly over her cheeks. “And yet, you seem sane.”
Exhausted, she rubbed her eyes. “I told you I’d be fine. I managed to use Azazel’s power without becoming overwhelmed by lust for power.”
“For now.”
She thought of the gods’ voices, whispering in her mind when she used their power. “Admittedly, sometimes they compel me to destroy things. But they don’t control me completely.”
“If you’re going to use their power, you need to yield to them just a little.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “The important part is you deprived Drew of his secret weapon. And, it seems, a horde of refugee prisoners who we now have to look after. I hope you realize the vampires will want the humans to donate blood in exchange for their stay here.”
She swallowed hard. For a moment, hazy memories flitted through her mind—Randolph telling her to take off her robe, making her kneel before him.
Caine studied her closely. “What? Tell me what Drew did to you there?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated. “I’ll tell you this much. Randolph might be the real mastermind. Easier to kill, definitely. But also much, much smarter. I don’t think Drew is in control of his own mind. He’s too lost in the world of the gods. On our wedding day, he was muttering to himself about Azazeyl. The gods are mad, I think—and Drew is merely a puppet of their whims.”
Caine’s silvery aura whipped around his body. “I will relish the day I rip both their heads from their bodies.”
Rosalind shook her head. “I think that’s my privilege. But I’ll let you watch.”
Caine shook his head. “You won’t be able to kill Drew.”
“Why not?”
“If he’s immortal like I am, there’s only one way to end him. It’s secret knowledge. It’s not something immortals tend to pass on.”
“Oh, I see. You have trust issues. You don’t want me to know how to kill you.”
He quirked a smile. “I would enjoy watching you eviscerate Drew.”
She frowned. “Why do I get the feeling like that would be some kind of weird foreplay to you?”
He shrugged.
Rosalind glanced at the window, at the white flowers blooming in the moonlight. “You got me a room open to the air.”
Caine had been locked up once, too. He clearly knew a thing or two about needing the open air, about yearning for freedom.
She pulled off the sheets and rose on unsteady legs, then crossed to the open doors. The breeze kissed her skin, and she hugged herself.
The balcony was enormous—thirty feet across. From the myrtle boughs hung small lanterns, their candles twinkling in the darkness. Sighing, crossed to the balcony’s edge, gazing at the Astarte sea. From here, she had a perfect view of the shimmering phosphorescence, and the waves breaking over the rocks.
Caine came up behind her, his body warming hers. He pointed at the sea. “There, you can see the nippexies. The water spirits that flicker through the ocean.”
The scent of moonflowers, orchids, and lilies hung heavy in the air, and underneath that, the briny scent of the ocean. Miranda’s scent. “Are you the one who put me in this nightgown?”
With a sly smile, he shrugged. “Someone had to do it.”
Rosalind’s stomach rumbled, and she grabbed it. She had only hazy memories of mechanically eating dry pieces of bread, and drinking black tea. If it hadn’t been for Cleo keeping her alive, she probably wouldn’t have eaten a thing. “I’m starving.”
He grabbed her hand, pulling her back into the bedroom. “That’s why I ordered food for you.” He led her to the oak table, and she plopped down in one of the chairs.
She pulled off the silver tray, finding a plate laden with bacon, buttered toast, and steaming coffee. Her mouth watered, and she piled a few strips of bacon on the toast.
The rich, smoky taste sent a shiver of pleasure through her body. Caine reached for a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass, then one for her. “Do you remember anything from the palace that might help us when we go to war with them? Any weapons, or defenses we need to know about?”
Rosalind swallowed an enormous mouthful of toast and bacon. “He’s built an enormous marble wall around the city. Since it’s the Brotherhood, I’d guess they have it rigged with stakes, iron bullets, anti-magic dust… If I could get close enough, I could blow the damn walls up.”
“Mmm. You’re not going back without an army. What else did you see?”
“It’s hazy.” She took a sip of the wine. “They have an amphitheater, and I think they like to burn people there. Oh, Erish created scorpion men. They have the torsos of men, but the lower halves of scorpions. I watched them sting a girl to death. Punishment for spilling wine on Randolph.”
Caine’s jaw tightened, and he stared at her.
Rosalind finished the last of her toast and bacon, washing it down with wine. “What?”
“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he said quietly.
She leaned back in her chair. “And yet I got Erish back. And I saved a bunch of prisoners while I was at it.”
Before he could reply, Tammi stretched her arms over her head, yawning loudly. Owen rolled over next to her, sticking his thumb in his mouth.
Tammi blinked, slowly awaking. “You’re awake!”
Rosalind couldn’t face more questions about what had happened in Drew’s empire of nightmares. Time to change the subject. “I’m awake, and Caine was just about to tell me what’s been going in Lilinor while I was gone.”
“Caine was mostly waiting by the fountain, threatening to go through it to find you. And I would have gone with him, if Ambrose hadn’t stopped us.” Tammi frowned. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your plan before you left. Letting Drew poison you and counting on your second soul? That was insane.”
“So I’ve heard.” Her gaze flicked to the moon, and relief washed over her. She’d turn into a creature of the night, whether or not she wanted to. Might as well join the vamps.
Tammi crossed to the table, taking a seat. “You missed eight days of Caine snapping at everyone and terrifying the shit out of people. None of us slept the whole time, because we were all imagining the worst. Oh, and because he had us all sun-proofing the entire fortress. There are sheets of silver over every damn vampire room in the fortress, in case Drew decides to raise the sun again, and some sort of dome above Ambrose’s open air bedroom.”
“And we’ve been building sun shelters in open areas,” Caine said. “Pity we don’t have Drew to just magically create an entire city in a few hours.”
“Beautiful work.” Rosalind lifted her glass. “And now, we just need an army of our own. If only we had no sense of morality, we could turn thousands of humans into lethal demons, like Drew did.”
Caine shrugged. “That’s not a bad idea, honestly.”
“I wasn’t serious,” Rosalind said. “We’ll find a way to create the daywalkers, and invade with the army we have.”
Tammi winced. “There’s a bit of a complication.”
Wonderful. “And what would that be?”
“Do you remember Bileth?” Caine asked.
Rosalind frowned. “The demon who I stabbed with a fire poker? The terrifying horned creature who has repeatedly tried to murder and mind-control me? Yeah, he left a bit of an impression.”
“He’s here,” Caine said. “In Lilinor.”
Rosalind’s heart climbed into her throat. “Why?” She rem
embered seeing his portrait hanging over the hall, but she’d never known him to actually visit. And if she remembered correctly, Ambrose and Bileth seemed to hate each other.
“Bileth does not think Ambrose is in control,” Caine said. “He plans to restore law and order to the vampire realm.”
Rosalind’s jaw dropped. “So, I probably need to find refuge elsewhere. We’re not exactly on good terms.”
Caine took a deep breath. “Supposedly, he has promised to leave you unharmed. He understands your importance to our army. Of course, I don’t trust him.”
She glanced nervously at the door. “Neither do I, and he could easily murder me in my sleep. He’s a high demon and probably several millennia old.”
“The plan,” Caine said, “is that I keep you in my sight at all times. Maybe he won’t protect you, but I will.”
“I guess you’re just gonna have to sleep together,” Tammi said. “I mean, in the same room.”
Rosalind thought back to her encounter with Bileth in Cambridge. “I don’t understand. I found him working with the Brotherhood in Cambridge. He’s literally working for the people who are trying to kill us. He said, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ And his enemy, if I recall, is Ambrose. So how is Nyxobas allowing this to happen?”
Caine’s brow furrowed. “Bileth has convinced my grandfather that he is simply spying for the enemy. Like you said. Bileth has been on earth for several millennia, and he’s been closely serving the god of night for the entire time.”
“So Nyxobas is blind to his faults.” Rosalind asked.
Caine cocked his head. “Nyxobas is too lost in the void to understand what’s happening in the real world. So, he’s ordered that we accept Bileth as a temporary leader, until order is restored. And we just have to play along for now. Even I can’t fight the god of night.”
Something in the back of Rosalind’s mind whispered. And what if I’m a god, more powerful than the rest… Her fingers tightened into fists, and gods’ magic whirred through her chest. “I need to get back to Cambridge. I need to murder Drew and Randolph, and raze their cursed city to ash.”
Divine Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 4) Page 7
