Blood Thorn

by A. S. Green

  “But you looked for him, didn’t you?”

  Her mother let out a heavy sigh. “As much as I could. But it wasn’t the same back then. We didn’t have the internet or cell phones. And none of the Fitzpatricks in the phone book seemed to know who I was asking about.”

  Her mother closed the yearbook, then put the lid back on the box. “The short story is, he knew where I was, and he never came looking for me. And then I had to leave school….”

  Ainsley swallowed hard. She couldn’t help but feel responsible. If not for her, her mother would have finished her degree. If not for her, something more could have developed between her parents. Maybe with time, her father would have told her mother the truth about himself.

  “I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t know anything more. I was pregnant, and I trusted him to be honest with me. But in the end, he didn’t even leave me a note.”

  “Maybe he had a good explanation?”

  “I can’t think of a good explanation for so much dishonesty, but now we’ll never know.”

  Anger welled up inside of Ainsley. Her emotions always flip-flopped so unsteadily when it came to her father.

  Her mother cupped Ainsley’s face and stroked her thumb over her cheek. “I can’t hate him too much, now can I? He gave me you, and you’re all that matters.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through it alone, Mom.”

  Her mother took a deep breath, and her hand dropped from Ainsley’s face.

  “I didn’t now, did I? I had you. I was never alone. Now all I wish for you, is that you don’t repeat my same mistakes.”

  Ainsley’s sinuses burned with the threat of impending tears.

  “I looked up your boss on the internet.”

  “Mom.”

  “There’s no picture of him on the company website. I had to look all over the internet.” She paused as if expecting Ainsley to say something.

  “Super creepy, Mom.” This was overprotective parenting to the extreme.

  “I found a photo of him at a charity function. It was blurry, but I could tell he takes handsome to a whole new level.”

  Ainsley raised her eyebrows knowingly and nodded. He certainly did that, that was for sure.

  “He has age and authority over you. I know what that’s like, falling for the charms of a man in power. Be careful.”

  “Alex isn’t interested in me like that.” She didn’t think he’d leave her—if he was to be believed, he and his clan needed her too badly for that. But he was quite clear he would never want her in his bed.

  “So, it’s Alex?”

  Ainsley grimaced. “I’m on-call for a late-night lab. I’m going to take a nap just in case.”

  Her mother pressed her lips together and tucked a curl behind Ainsley’s ear. “A nap is a good idea. And I really don’t mean to be so doom-and-gloom. Just guard your heart, sweetheart.”

  “I will.” Ainsley tugged at her shirt, suddenly feeling constricted by it.

  Her mother handed her the box. “And put this away. I don’t want to think about him anymore today.”

  14

  Wednesday, Five o’clock

  Alex Campbell stood outside a modern suburban rambler. He’d known it was only a matter of time before he wound up here. The front door was dark red. Four large windows with window boxes filled with purple pansies flanked the door, two on each side. The pansies to the immediate left of the door grew the thickest, so he assumed that was Ainsley’s bedroom window.

  He’d sent her home earlier because he’d needed time alone to strengthen his resolve. Each day, his body reacted more strongly to her. At times, he thought his heart would bust through his chest. Other times, her scent caused his teeth to sharpen and his throat to tighten painfully.

  The tiniest thing could set him off, triggering his need to protect, like when Finn had startled her by leaning in too close. For Christ’s sake, he’d probably shoo away a dust mote if it threatened to make her sneeze. It was ridiculous. And yet, impossible to change.

  This growly demeanor and instinctive drive to protect was what his brothers used as their greatest argument for a bonding. He’d told them, once again, that bonding would only bring more danger and more things to protect her against, that even though it pained him to deny her, the fate of their race depended on his singular focus.

  They weren’t buying it and, if he was being honest with himself, his resolve was starting to crumble. All afternoon, every time he’d looked up and seen Ainsley’s empty desk, he’d regretted sending her home.

  He raised his hand and knocked.

  It took a few seconds before the door opened and his eyes landed on a petite, fine-boned woman with dark brown hair cut short at her jawline. He caught the flash of surprise in her eyes, then the pungent scent of instinctive wariness; it was an effect he had on most humans.

  This woman seemed to be the right age to be Ainsley’s mother, but there was barely any physical resemblance—though maybe something around the mouth. He might’ve wondered if he had the right house if he hadn’t triple checked the address on Ainsley’s employment forms.

  “Hello,” he said. “Is Ainsley Morris here?”

  The woman gave him the same skeptical smile Ainsley had given him at the bar Friday night. “She’s inside. Who are you?”

  Alex approved of her suspicion. When it came to protecting a queen, it was always good to have another line of defense, and a mother’s protective instincts were nothing to underestimate.

  “Alex Campbell.” He watched her face carefully for signs of recognition. This woman had slept with a ba’vonn-shee. He didn’t know the depth of that relationship—she didn’t carry the spicy telltale scent of a bloodwife—but it was possible she knew what he was.

  “Her boss,” the woman said. She hesitated, and for a second Alex expected her to send him away. Instead, she stepped outside and closed the door softly behind her. “Is something wrong? Ainsley came home from work early, but didn’t tell me why. I’m worried she’s been overtaxing herself and—”

  “No,” he said, again pleased by her protectiveness. “Nothing’s wrong. We had a busy morning, and she’d earned a break. We do have a dinner meeting though. I told her I’d pick her up.”

  “She didn’t mention anything about a dinner.” She checked her watch. “Is it five o’clock already? Oh, dear. I think she’s still napping.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll wait out here.”

  “No, no.” She hesitated, as if second-guessing herself, then waved her hand through the air, dispelling whatever doubts she had. “Don’t be silly. Please, come in.”

  She opened the door and led him into the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll go wake her.”

  Alex glanced around, taking in the simple but well-maintained furniture, the upright piano, and dozens of house plants. On the wall over the couch were a series of framed eight-by-ten school pictures, hanging in a circular pattern around Ainsley’s high school graduation portrait.

  He stepped closer, pushing out of his mind the inconvenient truth that a two-dimensional representation of her was nearly as compelling to his instincts as her full-bodied person.

  He smiled at the two pictures of her wearing braces. Her toothless years were even funnier.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Alex’s head jerked around, the smile sliding off his face.

  Ainsley stood at the edge of the room wearing a pair of loose gray sweats and a navy T-shirt that was so short it exposed her navel. He’d hurt her earlier. He could see it in her eyes.

  “You forgot about our dinner meeting?” he asked suggestively. They’d never discussed a dinner, so he hoped she’d play along because her mother was no doubt still in earshot.

  “Our—” She glanced over her shoulder, then back to him. She was clearly still irritated, but she didn’t contradict him. “I thought that was off. I thought you were going to do that alone.”

  He smiled with approval at her improv. “Plans have changed. You didn’t ge
t my text?” He hadn’t sent a text.

  She stared at him for a long second, her teeth clenching. “I must have missed it. Give me a second.”

  Alex let out a breath as Ainsley disappeared, returning a minute later in a short-sleeved light blue T-shirt that had just enough silk content to be dressy, another one of those tight black skirts, and heels.

  Despite Alex’s best efforts, he couldn’t keep his eyes from traveling over her body. Damn if she wasn’t aggravating. The way her skirt hugged those curves made her look absolutely sinful, and when he raised his eyes to meet hers, the flush in her cheeks told him all he needed to know, and everything he was trying so very hard not to think about.

  Plan A, he reminded himself. There is no Plan B.

  “I’m ready,” she said, grabbing her purse.

  “Great.” Alex headed for the door, holding it open for her.

  “Wait,” her mom said, suddenly reappearing in the living room with a backpack over her arm. “Don’t forget about your lab.”

  Ainsley took the bag. “Thanks.”

  Alex led her out the door, his mind turning.

  As soon as they were outside, she muttered, “There isn’t any dinner meeting, is there?”

  “Yes. There is.” He didn’t elaborate, because he had a question of his own. “I thought you were done with school for the summer.”

  “I volunteered to assist one of my professors. He’s studying the medicinal potential of Nottingham catchfly flowers, and I’m on call.”

  “On call?”

  “They only bloom at night, and only for three nights. They’re going to start blooming soon, and there’s a limited time to catch all the data. He’s going to text me.”

  “I see.” If this man worked closely with Ainsley, he probably knew about her work at the Renaissance fair. He could have gotten his hands on a piece of her scented paper and written the note. Alex would have to check this professor out, or at least stand guard outside the science building while Ainsley worked.

  They were halfway down the walk when she asked, “What’s this all about?”

  “You’ve been invited to dinner. At my house.”

  “Your house?” Ainsley asked, her voice rising. “What kind of dinner are we talking?”

  The scent of anxiety tickled Alex’s nose. “The normal kind.”

  Ainsley stopped. “A normal ba’vonn-shee dinner?”

  Alex had taken a few steps ahead of her by then, so he turned to face her. The scent of her trepidation grew thicker on the air. In no time, it was so deep in Alex’s nose, he could taste it on his tongue.

  He hadn’t meant to suggest a blood feeding, but that was clearly how she’d interpreted it. And now that the suggestion was out there, the proposition had the edges of his teeth sharpening so quickly they cut the inside of his bottom lip.

  “Let’s just say, we’ll see how it goes.”

  Ainsley swallowed hard, the pheromones in the air morphing into a delicious combination of fear and excitement too potent to be contained. She glanced up and down the street. “Where’s your car?”

  “Easy now. No need to be afraid. But I didn’t come here in a car.”

  “A bus?”

  Alex snorted. He’d never used public transportation. “You’ve been handling everything so amazingly, I figured I might as well throw one more curve ball before you meet the rest of the clan.”

  There was a blue pickup truck parked at the curb. The bed of the truck was filled with ladders, an industrial floor sander, and a metal barrel drilled through with holes. A plastic crucifix hung from the rearview mirror, and the man behind the wheel was studying his phone, perhaps looking for directions to a job site.

  Alex frowned in irritation as they passed—as if it were the man’s fault there were so few private spots in this neighborhood. Then, working with what was available, Alex pulled Ainsley around the corner and into a tight space between a bank of lilac bushes.

  She gasped with surprise as her palms hit flat against his chest. For a second, he forgot himself and lingered with his arms around her waist, feeling her soft curves against his body. Then he asked, “Are you ready to tilt?”

  Her forehead creased with confusion. “I think that ship has sailed. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been pretty off balance for the last couple of days.”

  Alex exhaled sharply through his nose, suppressing an outright laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Then he released her body and held his hands out, palms up. “Take my hands.”

  Her grip was firm, and Alex remembered the first time they’d touched, the way her hand had felt so natural and familiar in his own. “Close your eyes.”

  She stared at him for a long moment before finally lowering her lashes. “Is this going to be another one of those energy transfers becau—”

  “No. Now, shhh. Deep breath in.”

  Ainsley’s mouth twisted with irritation, but she inhaled deeply, her breasts brushing against his chest. With dread, Alex felt once more the urge to claim and mark her, especially now that she was about to meet the rest of his brothers. But he stifled his instincts, and asserted his self-control. He was better than his urges; he had to be.

  “Now, hold your breath,” he said, “and let me do all the work.”

  15

  Ainsley’s body lurched. Then it twisted, feeling simultaneously disjointed and turned inside-out. She was stretched and pulled through a narrow space, far too small for her body. She didn’t dare open her eyes. She concentrated on Alex’s firm grasp on her hands. He wouldn’t let her go. She had to trust in that. So when the world finally rose under her feet, she found herself doubled over and gasping, but in one piece.

  Alex was still holding her hands, and he waited for her to regain her balance. Slowly she straightened, letting go of one of his hands to hitch the strap of her backpack onto her shoulder. She blinked in confusion. “What the heck was that?”

  She was in an office, but not any of the modern offices at Thorn Enterprises. This room was paneled in rich mahogany. The floor was covered in a thick woven rug with scarlet and navy botanicals, the colors muted by what looked like centuries of wear. To her left, the late-day sun shone through a large window with a criss-cross pattern.

  “We call that tilting,” Alex said. “We can travel anywhere so long as we’ve been there before. It’s a very convenient form of travel. Most kinds of fae can do it.”

  “I can…” She suddenly felt the urge to puke, and she scanned the room for a wastebasket.

  “It’ll pass,” he said, as if he recognized her distress. “I actually threw up the first time I did it. Of course, I was three at the time.”

  The nausea slowly left her, and Ainsley took a deep breath of cleansing air. “This isn’t scientifically possible.”

  “Not by the rules you’re accustomed to, no.”

  “So this is all real. Like, real real.”

  Alex’s eyebrows drew together, and he released her other hand. “I didn’t realize you were still doubting it.”

  She shook her head. “Not anymore.” Then she glanced around the formal room, taking in the massive desk and the ornately carved chair behind it. Everything on the desk was meticulously placed, nothing out of order. Obviously this was Alex’s domain. “Is this the throne room?”

  “Close. My home office.”

  She looked up to find an enormous chandelier made of deer antlers. “It must be a big house.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “If I’m here to meet the rest of your clan, they’re either extremely quiet, which I doubt, or they’re in some other wing of the house.”

  “They’re being respectful, but I think you’ll find Finn and Callum right outside that door.” He tipped his head in its direction.

  Ainsley crossed the room and opened it. Just as suspected, Finn and Callum stood patiently in the hall. Finn made an apologetic bow and placed his palm against his heart. “Ainsley.”

  Callum offered her his arm, then
he spoke to Alex. “Dinner will be ready in twenty.”

  Ainsley glanced back at Alex. His jaw was clenched, but he took her bag and jerked his chin forward to indicate that she was to go with them. Ainsley took Callum’s arm and allowed him to lead her down the dark paneled corridor.

  She made one more backward glance, catching Alex’s eyes for just a second before he closed his office door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, knowing deep down she should still be terrified, but no longer able to conjure the emotion. Curiosity and brewing excitement had taken over.

  Finn was a few steps ahead of her and Callum; he looked over his shoulder at her, tossing the dark curls off his face. “Just a stroll before dinner.”

  They passed under an arch trimmed in dark wood, then stepped into a grand foyer laid with more elaborately patterned rugs of muted reds, navy, and gold. A wide, curving staircase led to the upstairs. Its banister was decorated with finials carved to look like thistles, and the whole thing had been so highly waxed, Ainsley could practically see her reflection.

  The foyer and the staircase wall were jam packed with framed portraits—some of them oil paintings; a few lithographs; the rest, a collection of tintypes and sepia photographs. All of the portraits were of handsome men down through the centuries.

  Some were dressed in kilts. The most recent ones wore suits, but the kind that would have looked more appropriate on the Titanic than in a modern boardroom.

  Ainsley found herself searching the portraits for signs of her father, maybe her own eyes staring back at her from an oval frame. But there were far too many pictures for her to really see any of them. In fact, she gasped when she realized that two of the faces weren’t portraits at all, but full-bodied males standing motionless along the far wall, each with his serious eyes trained on her.

  “Ainsley,” Callum said reassuringly, “I see you’ve spotted our bràithrean.”

  Her gut clenched with apprehension, but she still managed to give them what she hoped was a confident wave. “Pleased to meet you.”

  The men didn’t respond at first, and her other hand instinctively tightened around Callum’s bicep.