“Right.” Shit, this didn’t sound good.
“They’ve improved slightly, because your wound is healing, but...” She looked down at her pink crocs instead of maintaining eye contact.
“But, not quick enough.”
“No. Not quick enough,” she agreed, glancing up at him again from beneath her long, black lashes.
Kaden puffed his breath out in a long sigh. “So, where does that leave me?”
“Well.” Her mouth tilted upwards again in a small smile. “For the moment, it leaves you right here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He meant it too. He didn’t want to leave.
“It's not all bad news, Kaden,” she said softly, mistaking his frown for something other than the confusion he felt. He really was happy to stay.
She laid her hand on his arm to comfort him. That small touch made him forget all his worries. “I’m working on whatever it is the Fallen shot you with.” Her voice carried the hint of disdain at the mention of the Fallen and Kaden couldn’t blame her. “I’m confident I can find a way through this.”
He didn’t doubt her in the slightest.
“In the meantime, you need to feed.”
She passed him what looked like a more substantial version of a McDonald’s take away drink, complete with lid and straw. It wasn’t the usual packaging for a blood box, but whatever. Kaden took the cup and took a good lug on the straw.
What hit his taste buds was nothing he’d ever experienced. Ambrosia, nectar, manna from heaven, they all had nothing on this. The sweet coppery taste that had undercurrents of peach and nutmeg was extraordinary. And the effect?
Sweet Glory of Faerie.
It reached every part of him instantly. Soothing, yet invigorating at the same time. This was no ordinary blood. It was an elixir.
He could feel his weary body reacting to it like a warrior finally returning home after a ferocious battle. As his now elongated fangs throbbed and begged for more of the sweet liquor, he could almost hear his insides sighing in relief. He had never tasted anything like it in all his thousand years. Ever.
Once the initial rush subsided, he saw Soraya’s beautiful golden eyes searching his face, his body and finally resting on his mouth. His fangs pulsed hard, sending a shiver right through him.
He cleared his throat, offering her the cup. His voice was raw and his speech slurred since his fangs were still on full display. “You should try this. I don’t know what you’ve done, but this is incredible.”
“I can’t.” Her voice was quiet and she shifted in the chair.
“Why not?”
“I just can't,” she said, her eyes now firmly fixed on her feet.
His fangs retracted a little, his brow creasing. Something was wrong.
“I knew you needed something stronger than what we’ve been giving you,” she whispered.
Strong was right. This stuff was rocket fuel and a warm blanket all rolled into one. He watched her closely and realised she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was staring intently at her bright pink crocs instead. A horrible thought entered his mind unbidden. “Soraya? What have you done?”
She didn’t answer, instead standing to face away from him. Her actions only served to feed his anxiety.
“Soraya,” he said again.
“It’s mine,” she whispered over her shoulder.
Kaden’s fangs punched down hard and as his jaw fell open in utter amazement, a pained growl broke forth.
Chapter 9
After the growl, Lena made a feeble excuse about not touching the King and retreated to the hallway, under the pretence of carrying out a security check. Thorn didn’t buy it.
He needed to know what the hell just happened. Lena actually growled at Larissa Bowman. Amusing as the look on Larissa’s face had been, none of this made any sense.
He found Lena in the hallway, looking dangerously close to hyperventilating. She bent forward, her hands on her knees as her breath came in short, ragged bursts between her elongated fangs. Thorn was pretty sure it was only the wall at her back keeping her legs from buckling.
“Lena?”
She didn’t answer, wouldn’t even look at him.
“Lena, what’s going on?"
Something like a sob escaped from her mouth. What do I do? He reached out to touch her shoulder, but faltered at the last minute, choosing instead to rake his hand through his hair. “Steward, look at me,” he demanded.
She drew herself up to her full height, though she was still relying on the wall behind her to keep upright. She kept her head down until the last moment, before looking up at him.
Lena’s eyes burned a brilliant aqua-marine as they made contact with his and she inhaled sharply between her fangs. The sight of her like this made his chest ache. A surge of intense heat rolled through him and he had to fight the tide just to stay upright.
Thorn’s gaze shifted to her mouth and he inhaled deeply. He moved forward slowly until he was only inches from her. He bent forward, his mouth mere millimetres away from hers. Lena stopped breathing.
His journey continued past her mouth to her cheek. He inhaled again, closing his eyes, his brow knitting together. His fangs punched down, making his eyes fly open. He staggered across the hallway like he’d been shot, putting out a trembling hand to steady himself as he shook his head. What on earth…
“Thorn?” her voice croaked.
He turned to meet her gaze again.
“It’s you,” he whispered, his eyes still wild. It’s really you.
“What do you mean?” Lena whispered.
Thorn searched her face, desperate for an answer that would explain what he felt.
“My Lord, I apologise most humbly for my late arrival.”
Thorn’s head snapped around. Not now!
The Vampire standing at the end of the hallway bowed from the waist once he had Thorn's attention. His blond hair was swept back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck where it met the ruffles of his high-necked, white dress shirt. The buttons on his black frock coat twinkled in the dim light from the faux gas lamp on the wall.
Thorn looked back at Lena. She was still staring at him, still struggling to breathe. That scent that had him so confounded was her. It came from her. He stared at her beautiful blue eyes and felt like he’d found home.
“My Lord?”
Forcing himself to stay calm, Thorn snapped his fangs back and turned to face the other Vampire. “Crane, I presume?” He was impressed just how even his voice sounded considering his throat felt like it had gone ten rounds with a cheese grater.
“At your service, My Lord,” Crane replied, his gaze darting to Lena then returning to Thorn.
The guy's composure was impressive. Clearly Crane was every bit the son Larissa Bowman wanted. Thorn disliked him instantly, and not least for interrupting whatever it was that was going on between him and Lena. Thorn felt his top lip curling as he continued to look at the slimy excuse for a Vampire.
“We have some questions for you.” Lena’s voice sounded much more controlled than Thorn expected.
He span round to look at her. This was the Lena he knew. Her eyes were emotionless pools of black pitch, the stunning marine-blue having bled away to something much darker. To Crane, he was sure her breathing sounded normal. It wasn’t. Thorn could still hear a slight hitch as she looked at him and his chest tightened in response.
“I’d be honoured to help you in any way I can.”
“I’m sure you would,” Lena replied in a snarl.
Crane simply nodded and motioned for them to follow him. He led them into a small study. The dark mahogany furniture did nothing for the small space and the bookshelf full of heavy tomes lining one short wall made the room feel cramped. Crane settled himself in the green leather, executive chair behind the antique desk.
Thorn eyed the only other chair — a spindly looking period piece — and decided to remain standing. Lena took up a position by the door since there was nowhere else available to her.
&nb
sp; “How can I help you?” Crane said as he leaned back in his chair, a smug grin tugging at his lips.
Thorn glanced across to Lena who gave an almost imperceivable shake of her head. He supposed that meant he was taking the lead. Perhaps she wasn’t as under control as he thought.
“We need to know more about the night your father died,” Thorn said.
A bitter tinge of sadness touched the air, but Crane’s face remained serene. He was nothing like his brother. “What would you like to know?”
“I understand he died at the hands of the Fallen.”
“That is correct,” Crane replied, his voice level.
“I need to know more about the woman you encountered before the attack.”
“I see,” Crane replied. “There isn’t much to say, My Lord. I only saw her for a moment.”
“Do go on.” If Crane thought Thorn would accept that as an answer, he was very much mistaken. Thorn glowered at him and was more than a little pleased to see Crane shift in his seat.
Crane cleared his throat as Thorn smirked at him. “Well then, let me see. My father and I landed near the stables at the rear of the inn. We were making our way to the groom's’ entrance when she threw the door open and ran. That is all, My Lord.”
Thorn narrowed his eyes. “That is not all.”
“My Lord, I can assure you, there is nothing else to say. Whoever she was, she ran away. We never saw her again.”
“That is my point, Crane. Why did she run?”
Crane’s brow creased ever so slightly. “She was running from a band of Fallen, My Lord.”
“She was fleeing, certainly. But why did she run?”
“My Lord?”
“Why not dematerialise?”
“I...” Crane paused, his brow now sporting deep furrows. “I have no idea, My Lord." His voice lost some of its confidence.
“And that, Master Bowman, is the point,” Thorn said, satisfaction flowing with his words. “Tell me, what did she look like?”
“Dark skin, wild hair, short I suppose, around five foot I’d say, overweight…”
“Overweight?”
“Yes, My Lord. It always struck me as odd. You do not see very many overweight Vampires.”
“Indeed you do not.” Thorn shook his head. Idiot. “Lena,” he said, knowing she would understand.
She crossed the room in two short strides, her PDA in her hand. After a few swipes across the touch sensitive screen, she presented Crane with an image. Thorn watched Crane’s face lose its composure as he stared at the image. His eyes grew wide and his mouth opened to suck in a quick breath of surprise. “How?” was all he could say as his eyes darted between the screen, Thorn and then Lena.
Lena had shown Crane a copy of a line drawn portrait that Mercury had uploaded from the Greenshire files. A young woman with dark skin, high, broad cheekbones and eyes that shone beneath a mop of tightly spiralled hair looked out at her audience with a small, delicate smile. It was a picture of Saffron, the Greenshire’s nanny.
“Is this the woman you saw,” Thorn asked.
“It is, My Lord. There is no doubt in my mind.”
“What was she wearing?” Lena interjected.
“I don’t really recall,” he said, his eyes searching the ceiling for an answer.
Lena narrowed her eyes and leant forward. “Try harder.”
Crane gulped and Thorn felt a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Some sort of cloak, I believe,” Crane replied.
Chapter 10
Lena followed Thorn as he strode across the village green, and she tried not to watch his arse as he went. They left House Bowman quickly, though Thorn had made a point of thanking Roarke personally for his assistance. Having met his God-awful mother and slimy brother, Lena was glad he got the recognition he deserved.
“You think he was telling the truth?” Thorn asked over his shoulder
“Crane? Yeah I think so. I couldn’t catch any deceit from him, but I can't say he told us everything either. You?”
Thorn's lips pursed in agreement. “And this cloak business?”
Lena puffed out a breath. “I would have to assume she was carrying something. Eden was too young to dematerialise, so it would make sense.”
Thorn nodded his answer as he stopped and turned to face her. He frowned, appraising her from her feet to her face. He looked as if he was searching for something. His golden eyes scanned her face and Lena held her breath. His words came back to her; “It’s you,” he'd said. There were hundreds of thousands of thoughts whirling around her head, but none gave her the answer she wanted. What the hell does that mean?
“Lena.” His voice trembled slightly as he finally met her eyes.
She swallowed hard, but didn’t reply. She didn’t think she could.
Thorn seemed lost for words too. He raked his strong hand through his too-long black hair, sending his locks into boyish disarray. Tight lines framed his wide mouth as he tried again, but he stumbled over his words.
She wanted to tell him it was okay, that he didn’t need to explain. The thing was, that molten pit of lava at her core wanted to know. So, she just stood there, wide eyed and dry mouthed, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Before he could try again, however, she felt that tell-tale tingling dancing around her scalp. Her head shot up fast, gun in her hand as she shoved Thorn behind her. Oh good! Just what I need! She inhaled deeply, just to be sure, but that feeling had never been wrong. “Fallen.”
Thorn had already palmed his own weapon.
“We need to leave. Now,” she said, her voice determined. As much as she’d love to go hand to hand with a bunch of Fallen, there was no way she was letting them anywhere near Thorn. Not on her watch. Uh uh. Nope.
Thorn had other ideas. “Interesting they should turn up now,” he said, dark eyebrow arched.
“I don’t care why they’re here, Thorn. We are not sticking around to find out.”
“That sounds dangerously close to an order, Lena.”
“It’s my job, My Liege.” She tried to re-emphasise the hierarchy. He may be King, but she was Steward of the Watch and she was in charge now. “Come on,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “We’re leaving.” She needed him to dematerialise with her, but she wasn’t strong enough to make him.
Thorn shook his head. “Roarke said there hasn’t been any Fallen activity here since that night. Why now?”
“Chance? Bad Luck? Because you’re here? Who cares, Thorn?”
“I care, Lena. We’re staying.”
His eyes flashed gold as the order echoed around her head. She closed her eyes and breathed out to steady herself. He’d given her a direct order and she couldn’t disobey. Damn him!
“Fine! Have it your way, but if you get as much as a scratch, you can explain it to Kaden.” She knew she sounded like a nagging mother, but she meant it. She was used to getting herself in trouble, but she was buggered if she was letting anyone else do it for her. Even Thorn.
She pushed her senses out, trying to determine where the Fallen were. They weren’t close enough to attack, yet, but that was beside the point. Sighing, she grabbed Thorn’s forearm, her hand not even reaching half of its circumference.
“If we’re staying, we’re not going to be sitting ducks.” She pulled him back towards the copse at the far end of the green. It wasn’t perfect, but at least Thorn wasn’t standing in the middle of the cricket pitch with “Hi, I’m the Vampire King; take your best shot” written on his chest.
They reached the brush in less than a second. Lena crouched under the thick foliage with Thorn to her right, behind her, and narrowed her eyes at the scene in front of her. The quaint village slumbered, the odd twinkling street light and the sliver of the crescent moon giving the only light. The inn had closed hours ago and its patrons sent on their way. Foxes calling out to one another in the surrounding fields made the only sound now.
The tingling sensation Lena progressed at a slow pace from the top of L
ena's head, down her neck and across her shoulders. “They’re on their way,” she told Thorn.
“How long?”
She cast her senses wider. Now they were closer, she could see the members of the gang more clearly in her mind. Her brain charted her surroundings in black and white, like an old ordinance survey map. The Fallen shone white hot to the west of the village. There were five of them and, since they couldn't dematerialise like Vampires, they had to be in some sort of vehicle because they were closing in fast. “Any second now.”
Thorn nodded.
They watched as a green army-style land rover rounded the corner. It stopped at the inn and five men poured out on to the pavement. As the last one stepped up to the curb, Lena gasped. “Shit!” she said under her breath.
“What is it?” Thorn asked.
“That tall one at the back.”
Thorn stare across the green then glanced back at her. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yeah. That’s Asher.”
Thorn let out a harsh breath.
Asher was the self-appointed Commander of the Fallen. Before he Fell, the Fallen were a disparate force who only came together for convenience. The new commander had brought discipline and order. In short, he'd created a damned army that was only going to get stronger as more renegades came around to his way of thinking. Lena knew Asher was looking to cement his position, and she would bet her fangs that taking a shot at the Vampire King was at the top of his list.
Lena didn’t believe in coincidences. There was no way Asher would be in the same sleepy Surrey village as Thorn Blackwood by chance. “I don’t like this, Thorn.”
He smirked at her.
“I’m serious! That’s fucking Asher over there."
“I know who Asher is, Lena,” Thorn fired back at her, his voice rumbling with a thinly veiled growl.
Lena looked at his profile as he stared across at the Commander. His jaw was set tight, blazing golden eyes hidden beneath narrow lids, his nostrils flared. It was the face of a warrior, his other responsibilities put on hold.
Lena sighed. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to know why he’s here. It can’t be a coincidence.”
Bound to Blackwood Page 12
