Thorn nodded and turned heel.
Kaden just sat there. Lena couldn’t really be Thorn’s mate could she? They’d known each other for nearly two hundred years. Things like that didn’t just spring up overnight, did they? Kaden had to admit, he didn’t really know the answer.
There were no true pairs left. He’d never been mated himself. None of the other Guardians were mated either. It wasn’t like they had a rocking social life. Some of the other guys got their kicks at that Goth club “Diablo” and even Kaden found his own solace from time to time. But nothing was permanent.
As for Lena getting her kicks, he decided long ago that he didn’t even want to think about that. She was his kid sister in everything but name, and brothers liked to think of their sisters wearing a chastity belt until they were at least a thousand years old. Maybe longer. Saying that, Lena could be scary all on her own, and he pitied any man who got in her way.
He thought about what Thorn had told him and his mouth broke into an unexpected grin. Maybe he should be more sympathetic, but Thorn was Vampire enough to handle it. Wasn’t he? Kaden certainly hoped so; if Lena really was his Amocinta, the road ahead was going to be a rocky one to say the least.
Lena sat on her bed chewing her bottom lip, her brow furrowed. She tried to question Ryver more, but he was clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter. And if Ryver was uncomfortable, then she felt as though someone had plunged a thousand needles into her puzzled mind. Dozens of questions raced through her brain but one always returned: Why had Thorn looked at her that way?
When she first spotted him by the door to the den, she assumed he was angry. It was the only time his eyes gave him away; they flashed a brilliant gold when he couldn’t contain the emotion. The look he gave her wasn’t one of anger though. It was something altogether different.
During the few one-on-one meetings she’d had with Thorn, he'd usually been berating her lack of thought, or, more recently, demanding she take more responsibility for her actions. Even when they'd had dinner together yesterday, the exchange wasn’t exactly light-hearted. It was not full of amorous musings or even the barest hint that they were anything other than King and Steward. Theirs was a formal relationship. Wasn’t it?
Thorn Blackwood had an unexplained physical effect on her. She fought her natural instincts to stare at his arse whenever he was walking away from her. His golden eyes made a heat sweep through her that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His six foot seven frame promised a strength unrivalled by any other man Lena knew. His hair was long enough that when he raked his hands through it, he took on an almost boyish, slightly ruffled look.
Lena loved it when he looked like that. Everything in Thorn’s life seemed to have order and rank and responsibility. She liked that his hair could be rebellious, even if the man couldn’t be.
Lena slipped down into the bed amongst the cushions and pillows and snuggled herself into the duvet. Her head was swimming and she was grateful Ryver hadn’t been able to provide the tequila she asked for earlier. Thorn did more than enough to addle her brain without involving her Mexican friend in the scenario.
Chapter 6
Glass smashed and she heard shouting. The young girl’s brilliant blue eyes were wide with fear and seemed almost too large for her chubby face. She clung to the skirts of the woman in front of her and tried to hide.
Masked men in dark clothing pulled her and the woman towards the window. One of the men had a knife and he had already warned her not to make a noise. She was frightened. She wanted her Papa.
Blood red tears flowed down her face and her breath caught in her chest as she struggled to stifle the sob that threatened to break free. The woman kept shushing her and rubbing her hand. She said it would be alright. The girl didn’t believe her.
One of the men scooped her up into his arms, wrenching her hand from the comfort the woman had offered and strode towards the window. The little girl squirmed in his arms, pulling at his shirt in a bid for freedom but the man with no face didn’t even notice.
Reaching the window, he changed his grip on the girl and used his free hand to break more of the glass. The shards landed on the floor next to the dolls' house. The man’s great big boots were standing on the dolls. They were all broken. Her bottom lip trembled once more.
She looked over the man’s huge shoulder and saw two more men struggling with the woman. She was stronger than the girl. She punched and kicked and bit and the little girl hoped it hurt. These were nasty men. The woman’s struggles didn’t last long though and the girl gasped as one of the men punched the woman in the head. The woman fell to the floor and didn’t get up.
The girl knew she was hurt. She wanted to shout “Wake up! Wake up!” but she didn’t dare.
The men picked the woman up and carried her to the window. The girl looked on open mouthed as they threw the woman’s limp body from the window. The girl thought perhaps the woman was dead, but she wasn’t sure. She had never seen a dead body before. She wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen when someone died.
The man holding her lurched forward and jumped from the window, carrying them both to the ground below. He landed solidly and didn’t seem a bit afraid. The girl thought it seemed very high. She looked around and saw more men, but these had horses. The woman was thrown over the back of one of them and the girl hoped that meant she wasn’t dead.
“W-where are we going?” she asked in a shaky voice.
The man with no face didn’t reply. His evil eyes seemed to glow and a huge hand struck her hard across the face. Everything went black.
“Eden!” Lena screamed as she sat bolt upright in her bed. She searched the room, trying to get her bearings.
In the dim light she could make out the shape of the wardrobe, its door still hanging precariously from one hinge. The duvet felt silken under her touch. A sob broke forth as she realised she was in her room. She was at HQ. She was home. She was safe.
She switched on the bedside light and lay back against the pillows. Looking at the clock, she knew she’d been asleep for hours, but she didn’t feel rested. Her hair was plastered to her face and as she pushed it up out of her eyes, she felt a dampness on her hands. She brought her shaking hands down and saw a blood-red residue. She had been crying.
“What in the name of Faerie is wrong with me?” she asked the empty room.
She couldn’t make sense of her dream. The vivid images her mind had shown her were so real, she felt she had really been there. But that was impossible. She shook her head, confirming her own thoughts. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It was just a dream, Lena!
Wrenching back the covers, she rolled herself out of bed. Her usual nightwear of cut-off pyjama bottoms and a vest top twisted round her body like a vine, so much so, it was almost difficult to walk. She headed for the shower, straightening herself out as she went.
As the en-suite slowly filled with steam and the smell of mint and tea-tree soap she favoured, she stared at herself in the mirror she'd replaced only that morning. She was thankful for the invading vapours gradually eliminating her face from view. She looked a bloody mess.
Red tear-stains covered her cheeks, her normally vibrant midnight-blue eyes were dull and flat and she had dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t get as far as to look at her hair, but the vague bird nest silhouette she saw as she turned towards the shower was enough of an indication that it was doing a mighty fine job of complimenting her miserable looking face.
As she got into the shower, the heat of the water stung her shoulders. She thought about turning it down, but the warmth that battered her aching joints was soothing. She just stood there, letting the water wash away the tension she didn’t realise she was carrying. She shampooed and conditioned her hair, twice, since it was so knotted, then grabbed a sponge and a good dollop of the minty soap and lathered up.
She went slowly, enjoying the mixed sensation of minty-cool soap and steaming hot water. She bent down to massage her cal
ves and made her way back up her body in slow, circular movements. As her hand swept over the tops of her thighs, she dipped the sponge between her legs.
The tingly feeling grew more intense as the cool soap and hot water hit her more sensitive core. She lingered longer than she meant to, soft circular sweeps rubbing against her sweet spot. She leant her head back indulging in the feeling uncurling within her.
Without warning, a vision of pure gold swept across her mind’s eye and she gasped. Behind her closed lids, she could see Thorn’s brilliant eyes drilling into her very soul. The vision prompted such a feeling she staggered on the wet tiles.
The internal heat she already felt was suddenly an uncontainable inferno. Her blood raced around her body as if it were jet propelled, her breathing intensified. She scraped her now over-sensitive fangs across her lower lip and shuddered at the ecstasy of it. The wetness between her thighs changed, became slicker, as her own juices mixed with the water still cascading down her body.
She arched into the spray and groaned as the jet hit her taut nipples. The sponge now discarded, she felt her fingers caressing between her legs and her body tightened further. Somehow, she knew she was feeling the beginnings of something overwhelming and her legs trembled under the effort of remaining upright.
Her fingers felt slick as she moved them in and out, quickly and then slowly, rubbing inside and then against her sensitive nub as her arousal increased. A wave of pleasure burst over her in a skin-tingling, body-sweeping rush and still the image of Thorn’s eyes burned in her mind. As she neared her peak, the golden glow from his eyes seemed to radiate out from her entire body.
Everything throbbed — her clit, her pussy, her elongated fangs — and begged for release. When it came, the orgasm was so complete it threatened to break her open, a golden fire reaching every part of her. The power of it drove something between a shout and a scream from her lips and for a moment, the world became a molten — gold wonder. Her breath hitched in a sob and her legs finally gave way as she slid breathlessly down the wall.
She stayed on the floor so long that the hot water ran out. It was only when the water was absolutely freezing that she jolted upright. She was no stranger to sexual release but she had never experienced such intensity, such heat, even on her own.
She often imagined what it would be like to be with Thorn, to feel his broad, powerful shoulders under her nails as he pounded into her. It was one of her most regular fantasies, especially when she was alone and in need of relief. What she had seen tonight was not his broad shoulders or even that perfect arse of his. It was just his eyes and a look of pure possession so strong that the memory made her shudder again.
Confused, yet more sated than she had ever been, Lena dragged herself up and into the reassuring comfort of her Egyptian-cotton towel; her brow knitted together, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
Thorn marched down the hallway towards the Command Centre. He knew Lena was itching to get the mission to find Eden back on track. Instead of heading back over to Heath’s, he’d made a call. He wasn’t surprised that a seasoned Shield Bearer had kept detailed records of all his missions and he was genuinely grateful for it; it meant that he and Lena could retrace Heath’s steps immediately without the worry of disturbing the old man’s already exhausted mind. Someone had to know something.
Entering the Command Centre, he glanced down at his watch and smiled. Lena was late. Again. He must be going soft, why else would he be smiling about a soldier reporting late for duty? He pinched the top of his nose then spread his thumb and forefinger across his forehead, trying to iron out the creases.
Puffing out a breath he moved over to the docking stations for the Order’s state-of-the-art, hand-held PDA devices and picked up his unit. To Thorn, they looked much the same as any of the current generation of smart phones. They had the touch screen and camera he would expect, but they weren’t all shiny like the ones the kids down the pub sported. These had a gun-metal grey, matt finish and though they weren’t bulky at all, the unit he’d picked up felt much more substantial than anything else he’d seen.
According to Mercury, who was the Order’s unofficial quartermaster, the military-grade devices were virtually indestructible, worked in all sorts of conditions including ten thousand feet below water and in temperatures akin to those found on the surface of the sun. They were “not toys.” Mercury took his equipment seriously.
Thorn didn’t even want to know where this latest batch had come from. He was an amateur when compared to Mercury’s technical savvy, but even he knew that these devices didn’t come from the mainstream market. He doubted the military for whom they had been designed even knew they existed. He shook his head; yeah, he definitely didn’t need to know how Mercury had got his hands on not one, but eight of the things. He also didn’t want to know how much they cost.
He powered his unit up but nothing happened. He tried again; still nothing. So much for state of the art! “Hey Mercury, this thing isn’t working!” he called across to the Guardian.
There was no reply. Thorn swivelled round to watch Mercury as he stood in front of the large transparent screen in the middle of the room. His hands were a blur as he moved the images displayed on the screen, checked the result, and then moved them again. His eyes were ablaze with intelligence yet the lines at the corners showed his frustration. Thorn made his way over to the display.
The Guardian sighed as he turned around to meet his gaze. “Any chance the Fallen 'av got anythin' with Freemasonry?” Mercury asked.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, you know, funny handshakes and all that.”
“Yeah, cos I thought you meant the other Freemasons,” Thorn retorted.
“Very funny.”
“Sorry, my man. Why are you asking?”
“We found the archives; Lena was right, they are on a server.”
Thorn felt his face beam with pride and, if he was honest, a little bit of self-satisfaction. He worked hard at wiping the expression from his face when he looked back at Mercury. He didn’t look happy at all. “Why do you look like you’ve been put on blood rations?"
“Yeah, yeah. Old news.”
“It's not old news to me! Didn’t anyone think to tell me we’d found the archives?” the timbre of Thorn’s voice escalated and Mercury winced.
“I’m sorry, Thorn. It wasn’t on purpose. We found the archives this morning. The security was surprisingly easy to break once we located the server.” Mercury looked down at his feet as he finished.
“But?”
“But we 'aven’t been able to crack the security to the archives. They’re on a completely different system to the main server. When the main security wall was so easy to break, we didn’t stop. We thought we’d be able to crack the archives and give you something solid to work with.”
Ah. He supposed he couldn’t really blame Mercury for just carrying on. It was a definite breakthrough that the team had located the archives, but the Guardian was right; they were no good if they couldn’t get into them.
Thorn nodded at the other Vampire and Mercury’s demeanour lightened a little, like a child who’d been forgiven a small indiscretion. “So. Why were you asking about Freemasonry?”
“It's the code. It kinda looks like it might be based on the Pig-pen Cipher.” At Thorn's questioning look, he explained, “Freemasons were sly old buggers. They developed 'undreds if not thousands of codes to help keep their secrets. The pig-pen cipher is the most common. They called it that 'cause you write the alphabet into a grid of lines, which kinda look like pig-pens.”
“And that looks like a pig-pen?” Thorn asked, pointing at the screen.
Clearly exasperated, Mercury continued, “No! The code doesn’t look like a pig-pen it's the way…”
Thorn couldn’t help it. A belly laugh erupted from him, interrupting Mercury’s explanation. Codes weren’t his strong point but he knew what Mercury was talking about. He just couldn’t help but rib the younger Vampire.
; “Alright. Alright! No need to take the piss!” Mercury replied, yet his voice held laughter not anger.
“You deserved it!”
“Yeah, probably,” Mercury agreed. “Still be 'elpful if we knew if there were any links between Masons and the Fallen.”
Thorn sighed. He had to admit he was embarrassed at their lack of knowledge. Sure, they knew how to fight Fallen in hand-to-hand combat. They also knew where a lot of their strongholds were — despite Fallen propensity for moving around — but they didn’t really know what made Fallen tick. Well, except for the fact they liked sucking out human souls and killing Vampires.
“Maybe Lena will know,” Thorn offered hopefully.
“Maybe Lena will know what?” Lena’s voice announced her arrival. She leant against the doorframe, her arms crossed underneath her firm breasts, head cocked to one side.
Thorn couldn’t be sure, but he thought she was avoiding his gaze. All her attention was on Mercury and a familiar heat pulsed slowly through his veins.
He couldn’t help but stare. Somehow, Lena looked changed, yet still the same. Her eyes had regained their intelligent sparkle, but her milky white complexion had a new glow to it. It must be new; surely he would have noticed that before?
She was wearing her black uniform, the two gunmetal-grey daggers on each epaulette. They caught the light from the monitors, showing her newly elevated status. Her head held high, Thorn could see all of her usual arrogance had returned with vigour and he felt his mouth turning upwards at the thought.
He inhaled deeply and caught something in the air. Frowning, he couldn’t decipher what it was since it dissipated almost as soon as he sensed it. What he did know was that it had a profound effect on his body. The heat that had gently uncurled just moments before suddenly kicked into overdrive. His nerve endings were all alive and it seemed that each and every one of them connected directly to his groin.
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