by Bec McMaster
Two hearts beating as they pumped blood around their bodies.
He'd been so fucking frightened he'd lose control, that he'd insisted Lena tie him to the bed.
And Honoria....
She hadn't wanted to believe he was losing this fight.
He hadn't dared tell her how bad it had been, or how often he still woke directly from a nightmare where there was blood on his hands and his sisters’ bodies at his feet.
The only one who knew was Lark, because the one place he'd been able to go when those nightmares haunted him was her bed. They'd never speak of it, and she'd grouse about how much room he took up, but even if they'd been fighting she would never turn him away on those nights.
"Even when I arrived at the Warren, I had to stay locked away until Blade was certain I wasn't a threat to anyone. The loneliness... it eats at you. You were my saving grace, Lark. This annoying, arrogant little girl who thought she was better than me in every way. God, you used to drive me crazy, but your visits were the only thing that got me through. Everyone was so careful around me. They would lower their voices as if the slightest outburst would make me irrational. Honoria was so worried that I didn't want to scare her anymore. I felt like a freak. But you didn't care. You came and visited every day and even when you were bragging about beating me at checkers or cards, you gave me back my sense of normalcy. You gave me back my life. I didn't have to be something I wasn't when I was with you."
"Is that why you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Sometimes I see you smile at your friends to placate them," Lark murmured, pressing her finger into the center of his lower lip. "You're always smiling. Always careful to please. It's as if you think you can hide behind a smile and nobody will look any deeper. You want everyone to think you're fine, even when you're hurting."
He stilled.
Caught.
"You don't have to pretend with me, Charlie. I know all your tells."
"And I know yours." He captured her hand and kissed her fingertips. "You run when you're frightened. You locked me out for nearly three years. If we're going to make something of this—what lies between us—then you can't run anymore. You can't lock me out."
"Are we going to make something of this?"
"If you think you're going to ruin me for one night and then not accept the consequences, then you should think again," he told her, mock sternly. "You took my virginity, Lark. You have to restore my reputation somehow."
"And now you're smiling again, when I know something is bothering you," she pointed out.
He rose up onto his elbows. "And you're avoiding answering the question."
Lark sat up and straddled his hips. "That's annoying."
"I know." He tried to maintain eye contact, fighting not to look down. "If you're intending to distract me, then you're doing an excellent job of it. Is this a new trick to deflect?"
Lark's eyes narrowed. "I haven't thought about it, to be honest. This.... What's happening between us right now seems a significant enough step with everything that is occurring." Her voice roughened. "We might not even make it out of Russia alive."
"If we do, then I'm not letting you go." Curling his arms around her waist, he dragged her forward, grateful the sheet was tucked between them. "I'm never going to let you go again," he promised, brushing some of her long, dark hair away from her bare breasts. "If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?"
He heard the abrupt surge in her heartbeat, felt the tension sliding up her spine.
"Are you asking me to marry you?" she blurted.
"Not now." He eased his grip on her, sliding his hands down her waist so she wouldn't feel so trapped. "But one day I might. So fair warning."
The look on her face....
He'd pushed her far enough for one day.
Charlie kissed her chin. "If we survive Russia, we'll speak more of it then. How about you let me distract you some more?"
"I thought I was distracting you?"
With a devious smile, she tugged the sheet over her head and vanished beneath it. Hot breath whispered over his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the wet dart of her tongue against his nipple.
"Lark?"
"Mmmm?" The vibration echoed through her lips as she licked his stomach.
He cleared his throat. "What precisely do you intend to do under there?'
"You didn't let me finish my practical experiment of Miss Jasmine's lessons last night."
His cock gave an enthusiastic leap as her breath stirred the nest of curls at the base of it.
"What's wrong?" Lark purred, pressing a kiss to the hollow where his hip met his upper thigh. Tendrils of her hair dragged over the sensitive tip of his erection.
"Nothing." He lifted the sheet and met her eyes as she gave him a mischievous grin over the swollen length of his shaft. This was the Lark he hadn't seen in years. Carefree. Glorious. Determined to bring him to his knees. "Carry on."
She scowled. "Oh, I shall."
And then she proceeded to pursue her experiment with a rapt attention that would have brought him to his knees, if he wasn't already flat on his back.
Lark made her way downstairs, her body aching in several unusual places. She could hear voices coming from the dining room, and headed in that direction.
The servant who'd served her ever since Nadezhda had fled from her rooms that first morning caught her attention on the landing, and gestured for her to follow her into the library.
"What is wrong, Sofia?" she signed, as the woman closed the door behind them swiftly.
Sofia seemed agitated, pacing back and forth. "Thank you," she signed, "for helping my sister last night at the House of Swans."
Lark blinked. "Your sister?"
Oh. Nadezhda.
"We of the Silent are all sisters and brothers," Sofia replied. "My brother, Anton, came to the house this morning. He works at the House of Swans and wanted to thank you for getting Nadezhda out of that dreadful auction."
"I hardly did anything," Lark murmured.
"You convinced the Crippled King to take her. We all know he will not harm her. That is more than can be expected."
It still felt like it wasn't enough. There'd been other men and women there. An entire household full of filthy blue blood aristocrats who thought they could do anything to anyone. It made her so furious.
"Anton, he gives me this for you." Sofia pressed a small piece of parchment into her hand. "The Silent, we hear things. The Blood forget we are in the room. They think us deaf and blind because we cannot speak, but we listen to everything. The dawn is rising, and we will have our time again, as you said."
"What is it?" She opened the small scroll of parchment. There was an address listed on it.
"This is where they have taken your friend. The blonde woman."
A chill ran down Lark's spine. "Ava? You know where they've taken Ava?"
"This is a bad house. The Silent avoid it, but we see all." Sofia squeezed her hand. "There is a man there too. Sometimes you can hear him screaming. They have Upyr. A bad house. You would be unwise to enter there, but the blonde woman..., she was kind to me too."
Lark curled the paper in her fist. "Thank you so much, Sofia. You don't know what this means."
"You should be wary of the Crippled King. He knows more than he claims he does."
"I thought you said he wasn't dangerous."
"Very dangerous." Sofia backed toward the door. "Most dangerous of all, I think. But he will not touch Nadezhda. Thank you."
"No, thank you." Lark looked down at the address once more. "You've given me more than you can imagine."
The words echoed in the empty room.
Sofia had vanished, and when Lark strode to the door, there was no sign of her in the hallway.
Chapter 25
"I think I know where Ava and Malloryn are!" Lark said, bursting into the dining room.
Charlie looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
She hurriedly e
xplained her meeting with one of the servants, and thrust the address at him. "This is the house we broke into that first night, when Dido lured us in the carriage. We didn't get a chance to search the entire house, thanks to the vampire, but Sofia said there are cellars. He's been there all along."
Kincaid snatched the piece of parchment from Charlie and smoothed it out as if it held the most precious information in the world. "And Ava? She's all right?"
"I don't know. Sofia didn't say."
The burly mech pushed away from the table. "We need to rescue her."
"Easy, Kincaid." Gemma circled the table, stirring her cup of tea. The rest of the Company of Rogues had stayed there the night before. "We cannot afford to rush in."
"It could be another trap," Obsidian added.
"Do you think she's tellin' the truth?" Blade asked, leaning back in his chair.
"I believe her," Lark replied, pressing both hands flat on the table.
"And it ain't as if we've got any other fuckin' leads," Kincaid snarled. "The Wolf you questioned last night don't know naught. Just that he were paid to attack your carriage."
"It seems a little convenient," Obsidian murmured. "Every time we make a move, Balfour seems to be two steps ahead of us."
Lark took a step back. "You said yourself Balfour must have corrupted one of Malloryn's Russian spies."
"He must have," Gemma murmured. "Because the alternative is unthinkable."
The alternative…?
"If Balfour hasn’t corrupted one of our agents," Obsidian murmured, "then someone within the Company of Rogues is feeding him information."
The heat drained out of Lark's face.
He didn’t have to say whom he suspected.
It was written all over him.
"If you think, for one second, that I would lead Charlie into danger, then you're mistaken. I would never let him be hurt."
"You lied to me that day I did your hair," Gemma said, swishing toward her with a predatory look in her eyes. "I could feel your pulse leaping."
"I didn’t…. I wasn’t lying about… that."
Charlie stepped between them, holding Gemma at bay with his hand. "Back off. You don’t know what you’re saying."
"Charlie, I know you have feelings for her, but there are a lot of holes in Lark's story. How can we trust her if we don't know what's going on?"
"I'm not your damned traitor," she broke out.
"You speak almost perfect Russian," Gemma murmured. "You're clearly hiding something. You know far too much about Russian customs and the culture here. Hell, you've mastered the Brotherhood of Silence's sign language."
"And last night it was very clear that you and Nikolai Koschei know each other. You cannot blame us for wanting to know why. What connection do you have to the Chernyye Volki?" Obsidian asked.
Spoken that way, it would seem as though she was the mole in the group.
"Lark." Charlie's voice turned pleading. "You have to tell them the truth."
Heat flushed through her. She looked at Blade, seeking just one more ally.
"Sometimes you got to pay the piper, sweet'eart," Blade said quietly, sitting in the alcove of the window with sunlight streaming over him. He’d always been her fiercest protector, but he also believed in accepting responsibility.
"You were going to tell them the night Ava was taken," Charlie pointed out.
"Tell us what?" Gemma demanded.
Lark rested both hands on the back of her chair, swallowing hard. She looked Obsidian in the eye. "My name is Irina Konstantinovna Grigorieva. And I am the youngest daughter of Konstantin Grigoriev, the previous Prince of Tsaritsyn. I am not your traitor."
The breath exploded out of Obsidian as Lark finished telling them her story.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, looking at him. "You cannot be my eldest brother, Dmitri. You have no marque du sang. Nikolai doesn't recognize you. I don't recognize you. Dima was nearly fifteen when my family was murdered. Sometimes there's a hint of him about your mouth and chin, but then I can't be certain if I see it because I want to see it."
It hit him harder than he'd have liked.
Ever since he saw the Grigoriev family tree with his name upon it, he'd hoped. He'd known the Grigorievs were dead, but he'd been so hungry for something. Some clue. Some missing piece of his identity.
"I am not a Grigoriev," he repeated.
Silence fell around the room as everyone silently consumed everything Lark had told them.
"You're a Rogue," Byrnes said, clapping a hand upon his shoulder. "You belong to us."
"And you belong to me." Gemma slid her hand over his.
"It was all a game," he whispered. "One more of Balfour's little games."
Kill Sergey and I'll give you proof of where you came from.
He should have known better than to trust Balfour. Of all people, he knew the bastard best, but that faint glimmer of hope.... It shattered within him like a broken windowpane. Obsidian stood and almost tripped over his chair in his sudden blinding rage.
"Where are you going?" Gemma pushed to her feet.
"I am going to rip Balfour's lungs out through his mouth. He should survive it. Then I think I'll take my time with the rest of him."
Byrnes winced. "Want some help? I can hold him down."
"What about Ava?" Kincaid demanded, looking haggard. "You promised we’d get her back."
"Her and Malloryn," Ingrid added.
He looked around at the rest of the room. The rage within him was intense, but these were his people now. And Kincaid would be there for him if that were Gemma.
"We’ll kill Balfour," Gemma promised. "One day. We have to rescue our own first."
Obsidian fought his way down off the edge. He was dhampir. All the darkness swirled within like a hurricane, but he had not come all this way just to lose control now.
Breathing hard, he nodded, just faintly. "What do we do about Balfour? He’s expecting me to make a move against Sergey."
"That’s it," Charlie suddenly said.
They all looked at him, but the young man’s eyes were racing, and he raked his hands through his hair.
"I know how to do it," Charlie said, locking eyes with Lark. "I know how to rescue Malloryn, kill Sergey, get Ava back, and ruin Balfour."
"How?" Kincaid demanded.
"Simple sleight of hand," Charlie replied, and then added, mostly for Lark, "Remember the Oldgate job?"
"Watch this hand," Lark whispered, her eyes lighting with sudden understanding, "and not this one. It's perfect."
"Dangerous," Blade said, because he'd been the one who planned the job. "We ain't in London anymore, children."
"Anyone care to explain for those of us who haven't spent half a lifetime picking pockets?" Byrnes growled. "Some of us preferred to stay on the right side of the law."
"Since Balfour is so keen to see the Prince of Tsaritsyn dead before the tsarina can announce his wife as her new heir, that's exactly what we're going to do." Charlie flashed him a wicked grin. "Kill the prince in exchange for Ava, and use the uproar as a distraction while the rest of us rescue Malloryn."
"A walk in the park then." Byrnes grimaced.
"The only problem is," Charlie said, looking at her. "We can't do this alone."
Lark eased open the scrolled iron gate that led to the courtyard in the heart of the Grigoriev Palace.
A shadow dissolved out of the darkness, the flicker of a torch reflecting back off iron. Nadezhda by the look of it, scattering small pieces of meat across the yard. Dozens of cats flocked to the beautiful woman, pouncing on the scraps she threw from the chipped porcelain bowl in her hand.
"You are well?" Lark asked.
Hints of Tatar heritage showed in the woman's strong features. Her hair fell in thick, glossy dark brown waves down her spine, and her brown eyes were almond-shaped. The faintest of scars across her throat revealed where her vocal cords had been cut. "Thank you for your help."
"I hardly did a thing."
Nadezhda smiled. "Nobody has ever spoken up for me before. You did more than you can imagine. You convinced the Crippled King he still had a conscience."
And now she needed to do so again.
"Let us hope it’s still there." Lark nodded to the other woman. "I need to speak to him."
"He's in the catacombs. This way."
She followed Nadezhda beneath the arch and ducked down the stairs into the ancient ancestral vault that held the bodies of countless Grigoriev princes, guarded by the legion of cats that prowled along at their heels.
The catacombs soared above her, the immense stone ceilings vanishing into the darkness. Light spilled down the stairs, but it was just enough to see by. Nikolai knelt by a small altar, his black cloak splayed down over him like a fallen angel’s wings.
Nadezhda knelt in the corner and bowed her head.
Seeing him again brought the same sense of shock, as if she was looking into the eyes of a ghost.
But her brother's expression had never been this cold or forbidding. Nikolai's eyes were as dark and emotionless as a shark's.
Not for the first time, she wondered what had happened to him in the intervening years.
"Ah, little bird," he murmured, rising to his feet. "Come to visit again?"
He lit a taper and moved toward the seven candles on the altar, the candlelight the only hint of life in his dark eyes.
"I hoped to discuss a certain proposition that might benefit the both of us."
Nikolai blew the taper out, and the light in his eyes died. "Barely walked back into my life and wants something from me. How shocking."
The muscle in her jaw twitched. "How am I supposed to greet the brother who works for my enemy? Should I throw my arms around you? Kiss you on the cheek? Reminisce about old times?"
His gaze slid sideways, locking on Nadezhda. "Have you not been given jobs to do?"
"Yes, knyaz. At once, knyaz." The beautiful young woman pushed to her feet, her eyes glittering darkly as she turned away.
"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"
