He lit a candle, and it cast a wavering light over the countertop.
Her stomach grumbled, and she wasn’t going to argue with that declaration. “You said you didn’t know how to cook.”
“I lied.” He pulled a bowl of eggs and another of ricotta from the refrigerator.
At the sight of actual human food, her stomach rumbled. “What are you making?”
He cracked an egg into a bowl. “Something you may remember from Maremount. Or not, in all likelihood.”
She straightened, suddenly alert. “I don’t remember the food. The one thing I remember clearly is your eyes.”
He paused for a moment, his hand hovering in the air, clutching an egg. “You remember me? Are you sure?”
“I remember a boy with eyes your color. They’re quite memorable.” Her gaze roamed over his muscular arms, and an uncomfortable thought twisted in her gut. “You promise you weren’t my stepbrother?”
He worked the eggs and ricotta into a batter. “Would it bother you if I was your stepbrother?”
He loves making me uncomfortable. “You know it would be weird. I mean, after I healed you.”
He opened a metal canister, scooping out a measure of corn flour into the batter. “You can calm your fluttering heart. I’m not your stepbrother. The few remaining incubi are enslaved in Maremount. All the succubi have been killed. In fact, the entire city is built around the Lilitu fountain, where the last remaining succubus was killed. Her petrified head spews the town’s drinking water. A few incubi were kept around for the pleasure we provide. You and I were not of equal standing in the Atherton household.”
“Atherton.” It struck her suddenly that she hadn’t ever known her own birth name. “Rosalind Atherton.”
“Lady Rosalind Atherton. It has a nice, noble ring to it.”
“And you were some kind of slave? I don’t remember a boy in chains.” That didn’t suit his imperious nature at all, though neither did the fact he was cooking her breakfast. She watched as he pulled out a steel skillet, turning on the burner to melt a hefty dollop of butter. “How could they keep you enslaved?” He was far stronger than any human.
He shot her a perplexed look. “Magic. I wore an iron collar, charmed by a powerful sorcerer. Your father.” He salted the batter before pouring a thin layer into the hot pan.
Her stomach turned. Every new tidbit she learned about her parents only made her dislike them more, but she was still desperate for more information. This was the first conversation with Caine where he was actually willing to divulge information. Still, she knew if she pushed too far, he’d shut down. “If you’re half-incubus, does that mean your father was a full incubus? Did you know him?” she asked. Shit. That was probably too personal.
The look he shot her iced her veins. “Just because I’m making you food and teaching you magic doesn’t make us friends. You need to keep up your strength so we can achieve our objectives. That’s all.”
“I didn’t say we were friends,” she shot back, too exhausted to come up with a better retort. His rebuke stung, though she had no idea why. He’d already warned her not to trust him, and he’d offered nothing more than an uneasy alliance. That was all. “I get it. You’re very mysterious and you don’t like personal questions. So tell me about my own parents. Why were they so eager to experiment on us?”
He flipped her cakes onto a plate and slid them across the table. “They wanted you to be the most powerful mage Maremount had ever known. It was a time of turmoil for the city, and they wanted to take advantage of it.”
“Lovely people,” she said drily. She picked up a fritter, biting into it, her mouth exploding with the rich, buttery tastes. “Mmmmm.”
Thunder cracked outside, and the room darkened further. She glanced at Caine, his skin warmed to a deep gold by the candlelight. “Tell me, is Maremount still in turmoil?”
He leaned on the countertop, holding a fritter. “No. A war broke out a few years ago. Eventually, the monarchy was overthrown.”
“Were you involved in the fighting?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Is there a reason you need to know that?”
She swallowed a mouthful of her breakfast. “Right. No personal questions. But do you know what happened to my parents?”
He paused for a long time, and she almost wondered if he hadn’t heard her. “We didn’t stay in touch.”
Considering they’d ruined her life in the quest for power, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to see them. Still, she felt an overwhelming urge to ask Caine what had gone so horribly wrong that her parents had shipped her off to the Brotherhood. But the last time she’d tried to pose that question, his eyes had turned black, and he’d nearly murdered her. She took a large bite of the corn cakes, and her mouth rejoiced. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. I think I could die happy after this.”
His face changed, and he flashed a brilliant smile. She’d never seen him smile so genuinely before, and his beauty nearly took her breath away.
Rosalind swallowed. “Was I nice to you and the other servants?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You used to dump things on the floor just to have the servants clean them, and you only referred to them as Servant, never by name. But you were only four, so it was hard to take you seriously. Especially since you couldn’t pronounce anything properly, so it sounded like you were calling them swabents.”
She shielded her eyes with her hands. Oh, gods. I was a nightmare. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Something struck her about the way he’d phrased that. He’d referred to the servants in the third person. Was he not among them?
He swallowed a bite of his fritter. “Truthfully, you were a horrible, spoiled brat.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. You were only four.”
Imagining herself ordering around servants, even as a little girl, made her cringe. “Maybe it’s a good thing my parents had me sent out of Maremount so I didn’t turn into a full-blown asshole.” She finished her breakfast in silence, and glanced down at her crumb-littered plate. “I’ll clean up.”
“No need,” he said. He whispered a spell, and crumbs disappeared off the dishes.
Thunder cracked outside, and a hard rain battered the house’s old wooden exterior.
Rosalind rose, stretching her arms over her head. “Where should I sleep?”
He beckoned her to a stairwell. “My room is upstairs. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you take my bed.” As they climbed the stairs, he shot her a sly look. “Don’t worry. I’ll sleep in the study.”
It was such a big house, she was surprised there was only one bedroom. “Are you sure?”
“You need proper rest if you’re going to learn magic.”
Right. It was all part of meeting their objectives.
At the top of the stairs, he led her into a hallway. Dark wood arched above, and sharply peaked windows overlooked sailboats bobbing in the stormy harbor. Lightning speared the water, followed by a loud crack of thunder. The sky was black as smoke.
She shivered. “There’s only one bed in the house?”
“No one else has ever been here. There was never a need for more than one bed. I do all my entertaining in my other apartments.”
“I guess with all those vampire women trying to kill you, you’d need a secret hideout.” She almost felt a pang of jealousy, but that was stupid. He was an incubus, and there was nothing real between them—not even friendship.
“Precisely.”
She followed him past several closed doors to the end of the hall. “What about human lovers? Isn’t that where you draw your energy from?”
“They want to kill me too. Only, human women aren’t much of a threat.” He stopped to open a large oak door, glancing back at her. “Though you did put up a good effort with the hawthorn stake. I’ve never had a woman come that close before.”
He held open the door, and she stepped into a tidy room. A fou
r-poster mahogany bed took up most of the hardwood floor. The soft gray blankets and pillows looked inviting, and she wanted to sink into them. Black curtains framed tall windows. Rain hammered the glass panes.
Lanterns hung from the ceiling, carved with stars and moons. Bookshelves covered one wall, crammed with faded tomes. A painting of an imposing stone castle hung on the other.
Rosalind pointed to the picture. “That doesn’t look like the castle in Lilinor. What is it?” She was stalling. For some strange reason, she didn’t want him to leave. In fact, she really wanted to slide her arms around his neck again and find out exactly what he did to drive all those women so crazy.
“You don’t recognize it? It’s the Throcknell Fortress in Maremount. It dominates the city.”
“Have you ever been inside?”
He stared at the painting. “No.”
So much for that conversation. It obviously had some meaning to him, but—of course—he wasn’t up for sharing.
“Okay,” she said. “I don’t suppose you have an extra toothbrush?”
He walked over to a small table by the window, set with a pewter cup and pitcher. “Another thing you don’t remember from Maremount.” He poured a pale green liquid into the cup, handing it to her. “Charmed sage water. All you need to do is drink it.”
She took a sip, rolling the clean taste around on her tongue. He pulled the cup from her, sipping from it before setting it down. “Don’t worry about our attack on the Brotherhood. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“What if you can’t control it?”
“Don’t say that. It’s not a good idea to dwell on your worst fears right before you sleep.”
“That’s not my worst fear. I don’t want to to die, but my worst fear—”
He stepped closer, touching a finger to her lips. “Not before you sleep. You’ll have bad dreams. I’m a priest of the night god. I know these things.” He lowered his hand, studying her. “And anyway—if you solidify your worst fears in your mind, they can be used against you. Some demons are just as awful as the Brotherhood have said.”
She took in his smooth skin, and the lean, muscular physique molded by years of leading Ambrose’s army. It was no wonder women lost their minds over him. Part of her wanted the release he could give her—the quieting of her raging thoughts, a short respite from her most disturbing memories. She wanted to feel his calming aura flood her body, and more than that, she wanted to feel his perfect mouth on her skin.
But getting involved with an incubus was a terrible idea, and he’d just said it himself: he wasn’t her friend. He was only working with her because it was what Ambrose wanted, and because it served Nyxobas’s goals. If she started to think of him in any other way, she’d only turn into another one of his jealous maniacs.
And more than that, she could never forget the darkness lurking inside him. Even if she’d changed her mind about the sharp divisions between good and evil, demons were fundamentally different from humans. A part of any demon’s mind would always see humans as toys to manipulate and use.
“Get some sleep.” As he walked to the door, he whispered a spell, and the curtains closed, shrouding the room in darkness. He gently closed the door behind him.
She crossed to the bed, pulling off her boots. She still wanted to know who Miranda was. Caine’s girlfriend, probably.
She slipped out of her pants, leaving them in a crumpled pile on his floor. No point mulling it over now. She was a warrior, and had a job to do.
She slid into his bedsheets, pulling the duvet tight around her shoulders.
She closed her eyes, and the pounding rain lulled her into sleep. Her mind offered up an image of Bileth, stalking through Salem’s winding streets on a pale, white horse, hooves clopping against the pavement. As he approached, a drumbeat sounded, slow and deep, rumbling through her gut.
Rosalind stood with Caine, holding his hand in the cool moonlight, while Bileth walked closer, his eyes burning red. When he grinned, Rosalind felt horns grow from her head, her teeth lengthen. A knife appeared in her hand. Bileth howled, and forced Rosalind to jam the knife into Caine’s neck, plunging in and out until blood soaked her body.
Her eyes snapped open, and she gasped, her heart pounding. Caine had warned her about dwelling on her worst fears before sleep.
What if Caine knew the incubus she’d hurt? Her pulse raced. She’d have to tell him. A part of her wanted to tear through the hallway and confess everything, but she was terrified of what he’d say.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes again. This time, she imagined Caine’s strong arms around her, his aura caressing her skin, soothing her muscles. His bed smelled like him—the heady scent of fresh earth after a rainstorm. She shouldn’t let herself think of him like that, but she was too exhausted to fight it. The sensation of his presence was so vivid that it almost seemed real, like his perfect body was pressing against hers in a warm embrace, and she melted into the illusion.
She drifted off to the sound of the rain battering the windows and steep-peaked roof. She dreamt of a hawthorn grove, with a ground blanketed by falling petals.
Chapter 25
A banging noise jolted her from her sleep, and she sat up.
“Rosalind.” Caine shouted through the dark, his voice urgent.
She threw the covers off, suddenly alert, and jumped out of bed. “What’s going on? What time is it?”
He sparked the candles, and for a moment, his eyes trailed over her bare legs. “Bileth is near, and you need to leave before he finds you.”
Her pulse raced. “Where is he?”
“He’s a few streets away. The house is invisible to him, but he’s scented us somehow.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly ten at night. You slept for fourteen hours.” He was dressed for battle—sleek, black clothes, dark armor over his chest, and a sword slung over his back. Smaller blades glinted from holsters strapped to his legs and arms.
She crossed to the window, pulling aside the curtain. Moonlight glinted off the harbor.
“Can he get in here?” she asked.
“No, but if he figures out where the house is, he can draw us out with fire. I’m going out to speak to him, but I want you to get out of here with the other girls.”
Something about his phrasing irked her. Get out of here with the girls. “I’m a trained fighter, you know. I don’t need to run away from demons.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “You’re the one he’s hunting. If he gets anywhere near you, he’ll torture you to death. I need to keep him as far away from you as possible. He’ll forget about you eventually, but right now he wants to impale you. Repeatedly.”
Even though her vision of stabbing Caine had only been a nightmare, guilt still weighed heavily on her, crushing her chest like a load of rocks. On top of that, she was starting to feel strangely protective of the incubus. “I’ll hang in the shadows or in the house, but I’m not leaving you alone. You were too closely matched last time for me to feel good about it. I’ll only step in if I think you’re about to die.”
He inhaled deeply before handing her a knife. “Fine, but you must promise to stay inside. I’m still hoping to fix this with diplomacy.” He eyed her carefully. “What, exactly, do you know about high demons?”
Hardly anything. When encountering a high demon, novices were just supposed to run. “I know they’re immortal. Speaking of which, can I have more blades? I don’t feel like one is enough.”
He pulled two more daggers from his holsters, and a thin stiletto. “There are ways of killing them, but the weapons need to be charmed. To deliver a death blow, you need to be a powerful mage. I fit the criteria, but let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that. If we killed Bileth, we’d have far worse problems than the Brotherhood.”
“You mean we might have eighty legions of demons hunting us.”
“Precisely.” His eyes trailed up her legs again, lingering on her tiny black underwear. “
As much as it pains me to say it, you should probably put on some clothes.”
“Oh.” She hurried over to her pile of clothes, slipping into her pants and boots. She slid two of the blades into her boots, and the stiletto into her belt. “Where are Tammi and Aurora going?”
“They’re taking a boat to Great Misery Island. I know a sorceress there who is quite fond of me. She should be able to keep them hidden for now.”
Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and within seconds, Tammi’s flushed face was in the door. “Rosalind. Let’s go. We’re taking a sailboat from the dock.”
She shook her head. “I’m staying here. Caine might need me.”
Tammi’s face blanched. “Are you high? I haven’t heard such a terrible idea come out of your mouth since you decided to dress as a slutty sheep for Halloween.”
Rosalind scowled. “You already know I hunt demons. Why is this surprising?”
Tammi stared, her voice incredulous. “You hunted pixies who screwed up the plumbing.”
“Is that true?” Caine arched an eyebrow. “And the slutty sheep outfit, too?”
Rosalind looked between them, her resolve growing. She projected her voice, imbuing it with as much authority as she could. “I’m not going to argue with you two. I’m staying. I’m the one who caused this situation, and I’m not letting Caine take the fall for it by himself. And then I’m going to help tackle the Brotherhood. Got it?”
Caine glanced at Tammi. “We’ll meet you on the island. Aurora knows the way.”
Tammi pointed at him, scowling. “You make sure Little Ho Peep comes back in one piece.” She turned and hurried down the hall.
Caine approached Rosalind, standing so close she could feel the heat coming off his skin. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, studying her face. “You’re brave for a noble-born girl, but please stay in the house. You have a tendency to screw everything up by making stupid decisions. I’m even firmer in that belief now that I’ve heard about the slutty sheep costume.”
She tightened her fist around the knife hilt. “You need to stop talking or I’ll stab you with one of your own weapons.”
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