by Mila Young
I shrug. “Well, it could use some work. You're a bit stiff.”
His mouth drops open in a sarcastic response, and there is something refreshing about having Cain lower his guard. I can tell he’s trying to be more approachable and less bossy, which I appreciate. Maybe Dorian said something to him about his demeanor? Whatever the answer, I don’t care as long as I’m dealing with Mr. Flirty here and not Mr. Control Freak.
Once we reach the front entry, we climb up the three steps to the two metal doors. They’re barred with a thick chain and lock threaded through the handles.
“Stand back,” Cain commands, placing his hands on the metal chain. In moments, the thread of black veins wriggle under the skin of his hands.
The once gray metal now morphs into colors of oranges and reds. From my spot, I feel the radiating heat he’s generating. With his mere touch, the metal starts melting, falling in globs to the ground until the lock falls to the ground with a clang. The hellfire again.
Cain pushes the doors open, which groan in protest like their hinges have forgotten how to work.
I lean forward, peering into the gaping mouth of darkness waiting for us. I swallow hard and follow Cain, stepping over the threshold to enter the hospital.
Grabbing my flashlight, I flick it on and sweep the beam of light over a very old and sad waiting room. There are no seats, only a counter with a large crack in the middle, like the earth has shifted underneath. Dust and cobwebs cover everything, and dried leaves that must have blown in through the shattered windows cluster in the corners.
Cain doesn't have a flashlight, but it doesn’t stop him from strolling straight ahead toward the double doors that head deeper into the hospital. He pushes one of the swinging doors open and waves for me to hurry up.
Shivers creep over the back of my legs as I stride closer and enter a pitch-black corridor. I bounce my light across the shut doors on either side of us.
“Where to now?” I ask.
The door shuts behind us with a swish, and I jump in my skin. My heart is pounding in my chest. I hate this feeling.
“The doctors’ offices were located on the second floor,” he informs me.
“How do you know so much?”
He taps the side of his temple with two fingers, and I roll my eyes at him. “You checked out the old schematics of the place, didn’t you?”
Half laughing to himself, he murmurs, “Smart girl.”
I nod—even though Cain isn't looking my way—and run to catch up to him, sticking to him like glue. Our footsteps echo around us. If the movies are right, doors will be opening and shutting on their own. Shadows moving. Abandoned wheelchairs creaking forward.
Oh god, I am already hating this surprise. My skin crawls, and I press myself closer to Cain’s side.
I hear his quickening breath, which has nothing to do with fear, but he better get his mind out of the gutter. Right now I’m so tightly wound I feel like I’m going to snap like an elastic band.
“This way,” Cain says, pointing to the faint green glow of an exit light. Once inside, we find the stairwell, and we hurry up the flight. I'm huffing already and can't stop looking over my shoulder at the darkness chasing after us.
On the second floor, a few of the doors sit open, allowing a stream of minimal light to pour into the corridor. I scan the hall we enter, left and right, the walls, the doors, checking everything and everywhere for ghosts. Right now, all I find are way too many spiderwebs, and I feel itchy just thinking of walking into a web.
“Aria,” Cain calls.
I swing back around toward him and rush right into something in my path. Oh shit, is that a wheelchair?
Panic slams into me, and I’m stumbling forward, losing my footing before I know it.
Fear catapults through me. I hit the ground, the flashlight is thrown from my hand, and a horrendous terror sweeps over me that something has caught me. I’m plunged into darkness, and in a flash, my instinct has me screaming like a banshee with fear.
Scrambling to my feet, that moment of utter chaos and dread consumes me. In my mind, I’m in a horror movie and Freddie Kruger is coming down the hall for me, his long nails scratching across the walls.
I shudder and run, only to bump into someone. I scream louder.
“Calm down, it’s only me,” Cain coos, gripping my shoulders. “You tripped over a chair.”
“Cain,” I murmur and press myself against him, burying my face into his chest. My breaths still race as he holds me, rubbing my back. He’s so warm, and in his presence I feel nothing but protected.
“You are safe. Nothing is going to harm you while I’m with you.”
Gradually, my breaths slow, and the earlier panic dissolves. When I glance up to look at Cain, I suddenly feel stupid at how quickly I spiraled out of control. My cheeks flush.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I got myself all worked up, and then I freaked out once I fell.”
He cups my face and leans in to kiss me, a soft, quick kiss that comes with comfort and reassurance. I raise myself on tippy toes to reach him easier, to stay attached to him. Right now, I want nothing more than to crawl into his arms and forget about this stupid hospital and how dumb I reacted.
“I never realized you were so afraid of the dark,” he says against my lips, still holding onto me, his fingers digging into my back.
I half laugh and shrug. “It’s more creepy places like this that freak me out. I watched too many horror movies growing up.”
He pushes a loose lock of hair out of my eyes and behind an ear. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, they leave you alone if you don’t go out of your way to contact them. Those movies you watched are all exaggerated for shock value.”
“Yeah, try telling that to my panicked side while in a scary hospital.”
He straightens, his arms falling away from me, and a coldness takes their place. “It was a mistake bringing you here. I never wanted to terrify you. Maybe we should leave and go somewhere nicer. How does that sound?”
My chest clenches. Cain went out of his way to do something nice for me, and I’ll feel like the world’s worst person if I don’t at least spend some time here.
I reach over and take his hand in mine. “We’re here and on the second floor with the offices. Let’s at least look around.”
It’s too late to back out, especially once I see the disappointment vanish from Cain’s expression. I’m a big girl. I’ve faced a damn dragon. What are a few cobwebs and dark corners? I refuse to let that earlier darkness swell inside me again.
I turn on the spot, studying the fallen wooden chair I’d tripped over. The hallway remains covered in shadows, but nothing is coming out for me.
“Aria?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I point to the nearest office door. “Let’s start there.”
Cain smirks, and he doesn’t have to say it, but I feel a sense of pride emanating from him. That only fuels the extra kick in my step, and I wander down the hall, braver than I had been minutes earlier.
I push the door with a hand, and it creaks open.
An explosion of dim light pours in from outside, showing a room with a desk on its side, no chairs, and the filing cabinets all open. Papers and folders litter the floor.
“Looks like someone else has already been here,” Cain says over my shoulder.
“Guess I might not be the only person wanting answers about this hospital.” I step inside, the crunch of paper filling the silence, and I pick up several documents from the floor. Flicking over the dusty pages, they all show a patient name on top, the date, and a number of signatures in squares underneath. It looks like a health chart located at the end of the bed for patients in hospital. The more I search, the more inclined I am to believe this place has been used by squatters who had fun pulling out these useless records.
The next few offices we check are in similar states, but then Cain makes a surprised sound from the room across the hall.
Curious, I hurry out and join him. He’s leaning a sh
oulder into the wall near the window, using the last threads of sunlight to read the bundle of papers in his hand. I raise my flashlight and head over to him.
“What’d you find?”
His gaze meets mine, and by the tightness around his eyes, I can instantly tell it’s about me. I accept the top sheet from his pile, which I hold the light over.
The top reads ‘Abandoned Children’ in thick, bold print. Beneath the heading is a list of handwritten names that cover half the page.
The notion of what I’ll find flames over me like a blazing fire, and I frantically scan the page until on the right-hand side, I find my name in cursive writing.
Aria Cross
Unease grips me, squeezing as the words on the page swirl on my mind.
“Why does this say I was abandoned?” My pulse races, beating with a thunderous beat.
Thoughts crash through me, but nothing is making sense. “The invoice I found from Murray means I was born here, right? So…” My mouth dries at the prospect of what this paper insinuates. “My mother abandoned me after she gave birth to me?”
My knees threaten to buckle as a horrible sensation bleeds through me. One where my mother didn’t want me, where she gave me up.
“Aria, you don’t know that. There are so many reasons.”
As flames swallow me, I jut my chin up to face him. “Like what? She died in childbirth? And my father had abandoned her. Or me. Whichever way you look at it, my family didn’t want me.”
Cain reaches for me, but I brush his hand away and head out of the room, my insides splintering. Tears don’t come, though—I’m way past that. I cried too many times growing up, wishing I had parents, though part of me always imagined there was a special reason they couldn’t be with me. But years ago, I told myself they were dead so I could finally move on and not hold onto empty hope.
The paper shakes in my hand.
Strong hands grasp my waist, and Cain draws me back against him, his arms holding me tightly.
“Nothing changes about how special you are to me, to Dorian, and to Elias.”
I inhale, each breath shuddering all the way down to my lungs, and I grasp onto his arms, holding onto him like I can no longer stand on my own feet.
“I’ve got you, Aria. You will never be alone ever again.”
Those few words break me. Tears spill down my cheeks, and I cry for all the things I never got to experience in life. For the times when I was so young and fantasized that my parents would come back to me. For when I prayed so hard that they didn’t abandon me. For the years I held onto a thread of possibility…
But now I knew the awful truth. And they might as well be dead.
My family is never going to come looking for me. Because they never wanted me.
Sobs shudder through me.
Cain holds me against him, the back of his hand caressing my cheek, stealing the tears away. His tenderness surprises me. My heart flutters in the way he makes me feel both adored and wanted.
I don’t know how long he holds me, but for a while, I enjoy melting against him. I’d always laughed in romance movies when the female loved being snuggled, how they made a big deal about it. As far as I was concerned, it was overrated.
Except I think I made a mistake. To have someone so powerful look out for me is the most empowering and exhilarating sensation. Strong arms wrapped around me like a security blanket, as stupid as it sounds, are everything to me in this moment.
I shuffle and turn in Cain’s arms to face him, his hands lowering on my back, ensuring I stay close to him.
“Why are you so beautiful when you cry?”
I scrunch my nose, blinking at him. “I’m a mess. That’s the opposite of beautiful.”
“You’re wrong. It’s the first time I've seen your real emotions. There’s no bravado or joking around, you are just being the real you. And it’s stunning.”
He leans in and kisses a loose tear that runs down my cheek.
Under his embrace, his reverence, his admiration, it’s easy to lose myself. He makes me believe his words, that maybe I’m so much more than the girl rejected by her parents.
His fingers gently trace the curve of my neck, then run over my collarbone. The hairs on my nape shift. He ignites desire in me with a simple touch.
Before we make a move to leave, his mouth is on mine. He pulls me even closer, drawing me with him as he walks backward. In a swift move, he swings us around, and I gasp.
Suddenly we’re kissing again, our bodies crushing together, the wall at my back holding me up. His passion, his roaming hands over my ass, send delicious shivers over my body. Everything about him is all-consuming, and he leaves me breathless.
He abruptly breaks our kiss, pulling back, his chest rising and falling with each rapid inhale. “Tell me to stop, Aria, before I rip your clothes off and claim you right here.”
I try to respond and tell him we should leave, but only a whimper spills past my lips as his fingers graze over my breasts, finding my erect nipples. Any attempt at protest dissolves.
Flames burn behind his eyes, and my body betrays me as I run my hands down his chiseled chest.
He’s kissing me again, our tongues battling, and I marvel at how easily he wins me over. My knees go weak, but I remind myself we’re in a creepy hospital. And right now, we’re going down the path seen in all horror movies... making out big time in the spooky building.
“Let’s not do it here,” I murmur against his lips, my voice soft. I’m struggling to find more words when my body pulses with arousal.
Cain moves his mouth to the corner of my lips, across my cheek, then pulls back. Jolts of molten pleasure flood my body, and I cling onto his shirt, fisting it.
“You’re right,” he answers, and even though I asked him to stop, a sense of disappointment settles in my chest. His brow rests against mine, and he smiles. “You're a temptation I struggle to resist.”
I don’t remember anyone making me feel this way before I met these demons. “Around you, I forget myself,” I admit.
He laughs and grabs my waist, holding me close to him. A quick kiss, and he draws away. “We have a few more hours to kill before our next plane, and Dorian told me about an amazing diner nearby that makes the best apple pie.”
His drastic change of topic tells me that pulling away is a struggle for him. Granted, I barely have any self-control around the demons either, but I still bathe in the notion that I make him lose control.
“I’d love pie.” The idea of stuffing my face with food—along with a distraction to keep myself in check—sounds heavenly. Though it occurs to me then that another reason Cain kissed me so passionately may have had a lot to do with distracting me from my earlier tears.
Well, his plan worked wonders. And now I just want to leave this hospital.
“Shall we?” he asks.
“Yes please.”
His arm around my back tightens as he brings me in closer to his side, and the only thing I can think about is how, suddenly, things between Cain and I feel a lot more complicated.
Chapter Fifteen
Elias
“Do you see this?” I growl, shaking a torn pair of sweats in Dorian’s face as he lounges sideways on a chair in the library, book in hand. Unlike Cain, he’s not much of a reader, but his selection today is all about dragons and their lore, something to help us track down Sir Surchion while Cain and Aria are away tracking down the spine. “That fucking lynx has torn up another pair of my pants!”
Dorian snorts a laugh without looking up. “The animal is marking his territory, it seems.”
“His territory?” I fume. “I’m the alpha in this house.”
“Not anymore.”
I throw the shredded pants on the ground. It’s the third pair I’ve lost since the little furball moved in. Finding clothes for me is difficult enough with my height and size.
Dorian slams the book shut and tosses it on the coffee table. “Elias, I’m surprised at you. Intimidated by a little
pussy.”
“Fuck off.” There’s no way I’m going to let a kitten challenge me in my own territory. “If it wasn’t Aria’s pet—”
“And if you didn’t care about her,” Dorian interjects.
I clench my jaw. He’s an expert button pusher, and the sly smirk on his face proves he’s proud of the fact he’s got me pinned. I want to knock that cocky smile right off his face. Working with him to find Sir Surchion without Cain to buffer is going to be a one hell of a challenge. We always butt heads. Mostly because Dorian doesn’t know how to keep his fucking mouth shut.
“Oh, come on now,” he goes on, swinging his legs to the floor and grasping the arms of the chair. “There’s no need to lie about it. You’ve had sex with the girl. It’s no secret. At least to me.”
Usually, I wouldn’t care if Dorian commented on my recent conquests. Sensing sexual energy was his “thing,” or whatever, but for some reason, knowing that he knows about what me and Aria shared makes me tense.
Denying it is pointless, though, so I pull my shoulders back and decide to face his nonsense head on.
“Sex and caring are two very different things,” I say through a stiff jaw.
“Yes, I suppose you could say that. But why else would you not roast the lynx over an open fire and serve it for dinner?”
Taken aback by the truth of it all, I only stare at him, blinking.
“Ah, there it is,” he says. “You do care. Even if it’s just a little.”
How does he do that? He knows how to entrap people with mere words. He gets me every fucking time!
He suddenly lets out a long, defeated sigh, his gaze drifting to the shelves surrounding us. All the mirth leaves his eyes, and instead, there’s a weighted concern there. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re all feeling it. Somehow, the girl has put us all under her spell. Even I’m finding myself caring more than an incubus should. Feelings are starting to mingle with sex. I never thought I was capable of such a thing.”
I study his expression for a long moment, wondering if he’s still screwing with me. But when his mouth tugs down in a frown and his joking demeanor doesn’t return, I realize quickly that he’s not. He’s doing quite the opposite, actually. He’s confiding in me. Something I never thought I’d see.
