Blood Thorn

by A. S. Green

  “This is about her blood calling to you, isn’t it?” Callum prodded.

  Alex shook his head, but Callum had hit the proverbial nail.

  “You know you can talk to me about that,” Callum said. “I know what that’s like.”

  Alex’s eyes flicked to his brother’s black ribbon. Even now, more than twenty years after Ellen’s death, Callum still mourned his bloodwife.

  “I want her,” Alex admitted, hating himself for it. He’d wanted her from the first moment he saw her, but even more so since she’d stormed into his office in her tight skirt and balls-to-the-wall attitude. “But it’s worse than that.”

  “That doesn’t actually sound bad, McKee.”

  “What’s worse is that—even though she doesn’t trust me—she wants me, too. I can see it in her eyes. I can smell it on her skin…” Her tender skin. Alex clenched his teeth, remembering the scent of her blood under that fragile surface. “Do you know how close I came to marking her this morning? Right there, in my office. Completely reactive. No thought behind it at all.”

  “Again, that doesn’t sound bad. It sounds perfect. I mean…except for the location, of course.”

  Alex shook his head and sat back, raising his eyes to the ceiling, as if he could find the answer to this debacle up there. “My job is to protect her.”

  “And to bond her.”

  Alex let out a short growl of frustration. “Which could be the opposite of protecting her.”

  “Or the essence of it.”

  Alex gave Callum an irritated look. The brother was unflappable. “Why is it so easy for you to forget what happened with Orla? She wasn’t ready to be a queen. She was young, inexperienced, and then—”

  “Orla didn’t die because you bonded her, McKee. You never had the chance, and you never even had the urge. She was going to be your bloodwife only by default, because she was the only queen alive, and therefore the only option. This is completely different.”

  “Ainsley is the only queen alive. She’s young. Naive about all of this.”

  “It’s still different,” Callum insisted.

  “I may not have had the chance to bond Orla, but I marked her all the same.”

  “With the Campbell necklace, you mean?”

  Every queen received the same engagement gift, a thistle pendant on a thick gold chain, which had been handed down through the ages. Alex had given Orla the Campbell engagement necklace, but it was stolen by those who’d killed her.

  “As soon as I put that chain around her neck,” Alex said miserably, “I identified her for our enemies. I put a target on her back. Orla died because of me.”

  “She died because the Black Castle was a sick, sadistic band of monsters. But now they’re disbanded. Gone. They won’t kill another one of us, ever again.”

  “There must be one still out there, working alone,” Alex said. Someone had written that anonymous note, and a friend would have just made a phone call.

  “And you think one human would stand a chance against us?” Callum asked.

  Alex gave him a sharp look. “A single sniper with a single bullet is all it would take. We can’t be everywhere, Callum. And we’re not indestructible. There’s proof of that in every empty chair around our dining table.”

  “So you’re still planning to bring Ainsley into the fold, without bonding her to you,” Callum said, apparently conceding that Alex would not be budged on this decision.

  “Yes. Though I’m afraid I’m still going to hurt her, rejecting her desire over and over. I can already see it in her eyes.”

  “Of course you can. Even if she doesn’t fully understand everything, her heart knows her true mate.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Alex growled, his cock straining in response to Callum’s suggestion.

  “Then we should tell the others,” Callum said. “We should tell them about your success in finding her, and about your plan and your reasoning behind it. That way, Knox will have time to get used to the idea before he meets her. When you finally bring her here, you’ll be fighting your instincts. You don’t want to be fighting Knox, as well.”

  Alex nodded. There was wisdom in that, but he wasn’t ready to talk to the others tonight. “If Ainsley comes back tomorrow—”

  “If?” Callum asked, his eyebrows rising.

  “Aye, mo bhràthair,” Alex said in the old language. “I told her she was a ba’vonn-shee queen, and that our lives depended on her. Then I nearly kissed her, before physically pushing her away and avoiding her for the rest of the day. I think it’s fair to say, she’s not thinking too highly of me right now.”

  “Jesus.” Callum took a gulp of whisky.

  “So, if she comes back voluntarily tomorrow morning—”

  Callum shook his head, apparently still not pleased about the “if.”

  “I’ll start introducing her to us slowly, starting with you and Finn. You can meet us for lunch at The Bullfinch downtown.”

  “Good choice. It’s noisy enough so we’re not overheard, and public enough for her to feel safe.”

  “And if lunch is a success, I’ll bring her here to meet Knox, Alastair, and Rory.”

  Callum smiled. “Don’t worry. Lunch will be a huge success. Tell her we promise not to bite.”

  Alex growled, not appreciating the cheap joke, even though it was one he’d made himself. He drained the rest of his whisky and set the empty glass down hard on the table.

  10

  Wednesday

  The next morning, Ainsley arrived at Thorn Enterprises to find her cubicle was emptied and wiped clean. She glanced around the room, looking for her potted plant, but her things were flat-out gone. Had she been fired? Was she…happy about that? She honestly couldn’t tell.

  She turned toward Alex’s closed office door. He couldn’t possibly have changed his mind about her—not after all the work he’d done to convince her of the impossible.

  “Hey,” said a voice coming down the hall toward her. She turned to see Jason, a web designer and one of the few co-workers whose names she could remember. He was cute in an I’m-so-artsy-it-hurts kind of way.

  “Is this some kind of new-employee hazing? Or have I been fired and no one bothered to tell me?”

  “Nope and nope. Mr. Campbell just moved your work space into his office.”

  “Into his…” She glanced at Alex’s door.

  Jason straightened his dark-rimmed glasses. “Christ, I don’t envy you.”

  Caroline from reception and a woman Ainsley didn’t know exited the break room and joined Jason beside Ainsley’s empty cubicle.

  “We were just talking about you,” Caroline said.

  “I bet.” Ainsley had a feeling this was not normal.

  “We were trying to imagine what that would be like,” the other woman said in an incredulous tone, “trying to concentrate with him watching your every move. He’s hot, but…intimidating, right?”

  “Right.” Ainsley’s skin warmed and turned prickly.

  Alex’s door whipped open, and he stood in the opening, his broad shoulders nearly filling it. His suit jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his thistle tattoo. His sage-green tie matched his troubled eyes, which ignored everyone else and landed immediately on her. “You’re late.”

  Caroline murmured, “I’ll be heading back to the lobby now,” and she left quickly followed by the other woman.

  “The bus was running fifteen minutes behind,” Ainsley said. The tips of her fingers tingled.

  “You’re taking public transportation?” he asked, frowning.

  “It’s expensive to park downtown.”

  The corners of his mouth tightened with disapproval, then his gaze slid to Jason and his eyes narrowed. “Staying busy?”

  “Oh. Right,” Jason said, nearly tripping over his feet to get back to his department.

  Ainsley put her hands on her hips and said in a low voice, “You know you don’t have to be so intimidating.”

  A tendon flexed in
Alex’s jaw as he watched Jason’s retreat. Then he returned his focus to her. “I expect productivity, and I expect timeliness from my personal assistant.”

  She raised one eyebrow and dropped her voice even lower. “I thought I was your queen.”

  His jaw clenched. “You think you’re being funny?”

  She lifted her chin. “Not particularly.”

  Alex’s green eyes flashed, and that’s when she saw it. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole, and he wasn’t mad she was late. He’d actually been worried she wasn’t coming back. Was his clan’s need for her really so dire that fifteen minutes of uncertainty would cause him such panic?

  “I’ll try not to be late again.”

  She walked in, immediately spotting her desk, which was set by the windows and facing his. The potted plant was flourishing; there was even a small bud at the end of one stem.

  “So we just…work now?” she asked, unslinging her backpack from her shoulder. It landed with a thud on her desk. “Like normal people?”

  “For now,” he said from the open doorway, his voice still tense.

  She unzipped her backpack and retrieved her brown bag lunch. “Can I put this in there?” She tipped her head toward the mini-fridge that was set in one lower section of the bookcase.

  “Of course.”

  Ainsley crossed in front of her desk and crouched, the waistband of her skirt pulling tight thanks to a Doritos-and-queso-fueled finals week. She opened the refrigerator door, her gaze landing on a half dozen, very full blood-collection bags.

  Only then did she lose her last shred of doubt (and her breakfast nearly with it). This was no joke. And there was no way they’d be working like “normal people.” Alex wasn’t normal people. Not at all.

  “Will it keep?” he asked.

  “What?” Ainsley rose, and turned to find him scowling at her, his gaze focused on her skirt.

  “Your lunch. Will it keep?” A low-key growl rumbled under his words, and still he didn’t look up.

  “Uh… Did I do something to make you mad? I said I was sorry about being late.”

  “You wore a skirt like that the last two days.”

  Ainsley’s head jerked back in disbelief. Her skirts were definitely on the uncomfortable side, but they weren’t inappropriate for the office. “Please tell me you’re not mad about what I’m wearing.”

  His eyes finally snapped up, meeting hers. “That skirt would drive any man mad.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  A muscled jumped in his jaw. “Not in the slightest.”

  She squared her shoulders. “I should call Judith.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s H.R. You’re harassing me.”

  “I thought it was the other way around.”

  Ainsley huffed. This conversation was completely inappropriate; she should make a speech about how women have been oppressed in the workplace for long enough. But she knew deep in her soul they were so far outside the bounds of a normal workplace scenario, none of the rules applied anymore.

  Apparently not even her own rules applied. Her whole life she’d pledged to only appreciate men from a safe distance, and here she was wanting him. Again. Like an idiot.

  “I thought having a queen around was supposed to be good for your health,” she said, challenging him. “But it certainly doesn’t seem like it. Maybe everything you’ve told me is bullshit.”

  There was a blur of color and she sucked in a breath when her eyes focused on Alex, now directly in front of her, only inches of space between them.

  He tipped his head down to look at her. His hand clenched her hip and his fingertips pressed into her flesh.

  Yes, she thought. Here we go. He smelled fantastic, and his lip curled back revealing the fine edge of very sharp teeth.

  “I haven’t lied to you, Ainsley. And I’m not really mad at you, either. What I don’t like is the idea of you riding the bus to work. You don’t know who could be sitting right behind you.”

  “You’re afraid I’m going to run my mouth and tell your secret?”

  His eyes dropped to her lips, and a tendon flexed in his jaw. “You didn’t tell the police about me so, no. I’m not afraid of your mouth.”

  A rush of warmth settled between Ainsley’s thighs. “Well, maybe you should be.”

  Alex’s eyes jumped back to hers, then he captured her face in his hand, gently squeezing her cheeks. She stared up at him, daring him to kiss her. God, she wanted him to do it. She wanted to grab his shirt and pull him down. Already she was addicted to his scent, his physical power, and most of all…those dangerous green eyes and the way they watched her. She wanted the smell and feel of him to overwhelm her senses as their mouths met.

  She arched into him, but Alex held his ground just as firmly as he held her face, his eyes on fire. He didn’t move a muscle. That is, until he flinched away.

  “Fricking heck! Why do you keep doing that?”

  Alex took a step back, gasping for oxygen, and looked to the floor. “God, what are you doing to me? You haven’t even been here two minutes.”

  “I wasn’t really going to tell Judith.” If he thought that was the issue, she’d only been bluffing.

  “Judith?” He practically snarled when he realized what she was getting at. “I don’t fucking care about Judith.”

  Then he turned and stormed back to his desk, taking his seat, putting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault I can’t get my shit together.”

  Ruffled, confused by his words, and unfortunately still aroused, Ainsley went behind her own desk and sat down. It was like she and Alex were in a competition to see who could be the craziest person in the room.

  “I wrote down your assignments for you,” he said, not looking up from whatever spreadsheet now held his attention.

  Ainsley slid the list in front of her. It was written on unlined white paper in penmanship so straight Alex must’ve used a ruler. He’d also prioritized the tasks for her, fortunately starting with one she could easily do (cancel plans with the Everett Group) and ending with something that looked completely out of her wheelhouse (review expense reports). In the middle it said:

  3. Attend Lunch Meeting

  “Alex?”

  “Yes?”

  “What lunch meeting am I attending?”

  He looked up, his eyes softening apologetically as he exhaled. “You’re meeting some of your clan.”

  She swallowed hard, the sound loud in her ears.

  He smiled, presumably having heard it too. “Don’t worry. They promised not to bite.”

  11

  “It’s too soon,” Ainsley said, making an about-face.

  It was three hours later. She and Alex were standing just outside the Bullfinch, a downtown pub whose stone walls were nestled between two modern office buildings. Apparently, two of Alex’s brothers were inside and waiting for them. Or, putting a finer point on things, waiting for her.

  Alex caught Ainsley by the shoulders and turned her around. He then reached around her to open the door and gently pushed her through.

  Inside, the pub was noisy and bright, trendy and upscale, while still being comfortable. The walls were covered in framed black and white photographs of mountains and wild, sweeping landscapes. The air smelled of garlic, melted cheese, and something faintly citrus.

  “Come on,” Alex said. “Finn and Callum are my most trusted bràithrean. I’ve known them for nearly four hundred years.”

  Ainsley stopped in her tracks. “Y— What?”

  Alex didn’t answer her. He also didn’t stop walking, as if he simply trusted her to follow, even after dropping a bomb like that. Ainsley followed him with only her eyes, watching his large frame cross the room, maneuvering gracefully between the crowded tables filled with boisterous office workers.

  Alex signaled with two fingers at the bartender, then he stopped at the edge of a corner booth and looked over his shoulder, his eyes soft with concern but not showing any sign o
f doubt.

  His brothers were still seated, so Ainsley couldn’t see them well. She could, however, sense the hunger in them. It wasn’t a hunger for sustenance. It wasn’t a sexual appetite either. It was something deeper. Like being starved for oxygen.

  She had a sudden feeling of déjà vu and remembered how, when she was nine, she’d gone to the beach with a little boy who couldn’t swim. They’d waded too far into the river, and he went under. He was drowning; she’d known it. Felt it. And she’d moved closer, wanting to help.

  It was then that the boy had grabbed onto Ainsley so tightly he’d dragged her under. He’d climbed her body like a buoy, trying to get to the air, while she struggled and kicked beneath him, her legs churning and bubbles rushing from her nose. In the end, they’d both needed saving.

  The feeling was exactly the same now, the brothers’ desperation palpable, her desire to help instinctive, despite the risk.

  Ainsley’s adrenaline spiked. This was her last chance. She didn’t have to help them. She didn’t even know if she could.

  Alex kept his eyes fixed on her as he extended his hand like a lifeline.

  She stared at that hand for a long time. It seemed to be a disembodied thing. She could take it and walk into an unknown life, or turn away and go back to life as she knew it.

  “Ainsley.”

  Her eyes lifted. She didn’t know how she’d heard him over the din, but his voice pierced rational thought. Taking a deep breath, she summoned all her fortitude and crossed the room.

  Two tall men slid out of the booth and stood beside Alex to greet her. The three of them dwarfed her with their imposing figures. One of the brothers had dark hair that hung in loose curls over his gray eyes; the other brother had auburn hair much like hers, and a neatly trimmed beard. Both of them had pale complexions, a blue tinge at their temples, and their cheeks were somewhat sunken, though that was more obvious in the cleanly shaven one.

  They were both dressed more casually than Alex, in jeans and graphic Tees, over which the bearded brother wore a sports coat with a black ribbon pinned to the lapel.