02 Blood Roses - Blackthorn (19 page)

Chapter Nineteen

F
einith entered Caleb’s office alone.

‘Well,’ she said as she sauntered towards his desk. ‘I can’t say I appreciate being summoned, let alone during daylight hours.’ She leaned back against the sofa to face him and folded her arms. ‘But as long as this is a sign you’ve seen sense, I’ll let you off.’

‘I want Seth’s name taken off the dishonoured list.’

She stared at him as if he had slapped her across the face. ‘No.’

‘No?’

‘Caleb, we have discussed this before—’

‘And this time you’re not going to turn it down.’ He pushed back his chair and moved around to the far side of the desk. He leaned back, folded his arms, mirroring her. ‘You want the serryn, I want Seth’s name off the list. In fact, I want him redeemed. I want that sniffling excuse for a betrothed of yours to admit that he put Seth’s name on there falsely.’

Feinith glared at him. ‘That won’t happen.’

‘We all know Seth was doing his job that night. It was Jarin who sneaked into that house unprotected without him – him and his taste for innocent blood. Jarin lied. Seth would not have run and he would not have hid no matter how many of them were in waiting. It was Jarin who went against the rules of the Higher Order, not my brother. And if he hadn’t been dismissed for failure to protect, he would never have been where he was that night the serryn killed him. I want my brother’s name cleared.’

‘He will never agree.’

‘You’ll make him agree.’

‘And what reasons am I to give him? How will I explain my request?’

‘That’s your problem. But no pardon, no serryn.’

‘You ask the impossible.’

‘Do I? I know how much you want her. Or should I say
need
her.’ He stepped over to stop squarely in front of her. ‘I know about the prophecy.’

She twitched anxiously. ‘You’ll have to enlighten me,’ she said, despite her eyes telling him she knew exactly what he meant. ‘There are so many prophecies.’

‘Oh, I’m sure this one is at the forefront of your mind. Or at least it would have rebounded back to the forefront when you suspected there was a much-needed serryn on the loose.’

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she held her gaze warily on his. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Don’t play games with me. You know exactly what I mean. The whole Higher Order knows. Not that you want us runts to know what a little pot of gold that serryn is. Or her blood is, at least. Alive, of course. She’s no use to the Tryan dead.’

Her eyes flared. ‘Where did you get this information?’

He smiled, albeit briefly.

She’d never looked so uneasy, so unsure. ‘Never. She would never have told you.’

‘You made me curious, Feinith – all that compromise and wanting her alive. And I can be very persuasive. Particularly with serryns, remember? Particularly when a Higher Order vampire strolls into her presence and threatens to take her. But that’s not what’s important now, whereas keeping her alive clearly is.’

‘Caleb, if you’ve spilled a drop of her blood—’

‘Relax,’ he said. ‘I haven’t and I won’t. If you do what I ask.’

‘And if Jarin doesn’t budge?’

Caleb shrugged.

‘Caleb, you slay that serryn and you kiss goodbye to our future. I will have no option but to report you. You will be sentenced to The Pit or even to death, Jake with you. You cannot wish that on your brother.’

‘It won’t come to that because you’re going to do as I ask.’

‘Jarin will not move on this.’

‘I’m sure you can persuade him. Use some of those moves you use on me.’

Her eyes flared in indignation. ‘And you would have that, would you? Me writhing in bed with another?’

‘He’s
your
betrothed.’

‘You want to make me suffer, don’t you? For wounding you.’

‘I want Jarin to expose himself for the liar he is.’ He stepped closer to her, cupped her jaw, his lips close to hers. ‘How could you be with him, Feinith, knowing what a coward he is? And not just over Seth. All those spot checks and interference – I know it all comes from him. He won’t come here and face me himself; he always sends his army instead. He deserves to be exposed. And my brother deserves redemption for all those years of loyalty to the very Order that turned their back on him.’

‘I’m sorry, Caleb, but I can’t.’

‘You can if you want her. Unless you want to try and find another.’

‘There are no others.’

‘Exactly.’ He stared deep into her eyes. ‘Who is it, Feinith? Who’s your precious Higher Order chosen one? How long have they been waiting for this opportunity?’

‘You don’t know what you’re messing with or what you’re jeopardising if that serryn comes to any harm before her time.’

‘I want to hear it come from your lips.’

‘You are fucking with things way above your pay grade, Caleb,’ she said, her voice dangerously low.

‘My brother remained silent during that trial as Jarin disgraced him. He was loyal to the bitter end, and still Jarin did nothing. And here you are, now betrothed to the very one who betrayed my family. You won’t ask him to do this because you know that if he tells the truth, he’ll be shamed. He’ll be knocked a few notches down the ranking and with it, as his betrothed, so will you. And you can’t handle that, can you? The only reason you accepted the coupling was because it gave you more power. You wouldn’t look twice at him otherwise.’

‘I don’t need to.’ She reached up to touch his face. ‘Not when I have you.’

He caught her wrist. ‘You want me, you do this.’

‘Give me the serryn now and I will give myself to you in ways that I never have,’ she said, her body pressing longingly, hungrily, into his.

He clasped her face in both palms. ‘Redeem Seth. Come back with the proof, and I will have the serryn here waiting for you.’

She studied his eyes warily. ‘You’re giving me your word?’

‘Come back with it, Feinith, and we’ll seal our agreement. But fail, and I won’t be accountable for my actions towards the serryn. I’m only going to warn you once.’

❄ ❄ ❄

Caleb sat in the chair, swinging steadily back and forth as he scanned the images of the empty club. The club he had built from nothing but ruins. It was once a shell but now, during night-time hours, it thrived with the heart and life of Blackthorn. As the community drank and writhed on the dance floor, yelled and screamed and laughed, they forgot for a while about the reality they were subjected to. The only alternative was to grow in futile rage, resentment and anger at the tyranny and prejudice of others who had created the world they had no hope of breaking free from.

No hope until now it seemed.

Hope through the death of a serryn.

A serryn who now lay in his bed. A serryn who had found a way in and had weaved her way into getting as close to him as she possibly could with only one intention.

A serryn he was still supposed to believe had been there by fluke.

The rhythmic knock on the door told him it was Hade.

‘Come on in,’ Caleb called out.

Hade stepped into the office. He closed the door before approaching the desk. ‘Feinith’s gone.’

But Caleb couldn’t pull his attention from the empty screen of the dungeon – to the spot where Leila had lay only a few hours before.

‘Is everything all right, Caleb?’

Sensing the consternation in his voice, he looked up at him to see Hade’s usually steely eyes hesitant with concern. ‘Everything’s fine, Hade.’

‘Jake’s still doing good?’

‘Really good.’

He handed Caleb a handful of photos. ‘I’ve got some updates on the other sister. It threw us for a while – the hair colour, the cut. But it’s definitely her.’

Caleb flicked through the CCTV images.

‘Word is that Marid was the last one to have her. I’m trying to find him to see if he’s sold her on yet,’ Hade continued. ‘But that’s not all. And you’re not going to like the rest.’

Chapter Twenty

I
n the depths of her sleep, Leila felt cool fingers brush against her cheek, the envelope of hair that had fallen there moved away to expose her face.

She frowned, opened her eyes then flinched. She sat upright and withdrew against the headboard as she remembered where she was, as she scanned the candlelit bedroom, the wall sconces setting the wall ahead alight.

Caleb had changed. She glanced over the smart black trousers he wore, the fitted black shirt, the first few buttons left unfastened. Coupled with his bare feet, it was enticingly casual.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if their last encounter had been a dream. But the ache in her body told her it had been all too real, as did the still-crumpled sheets she lay amidst, let alone the torn buttons on her dress. She closed the fabric and folded her arms to keep it that way as the flat, rectangular cream box at her feet caught her attention, another squarer one beside it. ‘What are they?’

‘Presents,’ Caleb said, taking his seat against the footboard. ‘For you.’

She frowned. ‘What’s in them?’

He slid them up the bed towards her. ‘If you open them, you’ll see.’

She reached for the rectangular one and pulled one of the loose ends of the ribbon. The satin strip fell away with ease. She lifted the lid and peeked inside to see matching cream tissue paper. She glanced up at him warily.

‘It helps if you open it all the way,’ he said.

She hesitated a moment then removed the lid. A delicate floral scent escaped from inside. She eased onto her knees and unfolded the tissue paper. Folded red silk lay within. She held the dress up, matching underwear falling into her lap. The dress was almost weightless in her hands – plain, knee-length, with delicate spaghetti shoulder straps and folds of silk curving at its low-scoop back. It felt luxurious in her hand, light against her skin. The quality was unmistakable – pure silk and expertly cut. She stared back at Caleb.

‘Like it?’ he asked.

She frowned, dropped the dress back into the box and reached for the second. She removed the lid to see red silk dress-sandals, their three-inch heels slender and feminine. She looked back at him. ‘Why have you done this?’

‘Considering I appear to have a habit of tearing your clothes, it’s the least I can do.’ He moved off the bed and stepped over to the door. ‘Feel free to take a shower and freshen up. I’ll be in the library when you’re ready. I’ve got you something to eat.’

As he closed the door behind him, she stayed rooted to the bed.

He could have changed his mind. He could be willing to help her. The flame that had flickered precariously reignited. Maybe she had finally convinced him that she was nothing like what he believed her to be. Maybe Alisha had been right – maybe underneath he was loyal to his word.

Maybe something had happened between them – something instigated by the kiss.

But something wasn’t right. Something deep in her gut told her that. He was too calm, too resolute. She’d seen that look before – seen that look when she’d first arrived in the apartment and when he’d stood over her on the dungeon floor.

Considering she’d attempted to kill him, he was too calm indeed.

She reached under the pillow for the syringe she had left there. Finding it gone, her heart both leapt and sank. But he hadn’t challenged her about it or let her know he had found it. She pulled all the pillows aside in case it had slipped somewhere. She moved off the bed and checked underneath it. It was gone. Well and truly.

Standing beside the bed, she looked down at the dress. She wrapped her own across her chest again. She couldn’t spend the rest of the day with her arms folded around herself. And the part of her that needed to retain some semblance of dignity wanted to freshen up. Desperately.

She picked up the dress box and stepped into the en-suite bathroom.

She closed the door behind her, used the toilet and washed her hands. Facing the shower cubicle, she unfastened the last three buttons that remained so she could slip her dress off down over her hips. She draped it over the bath before unclasping and removing her bra. The morning she had put them on felt like years ago, another life before Blackthorn. A time when she thought having any feelings towards a vampire was ludicrous. A time before she met Caleb.

She switched the shower on and held her hand under the water until it reached a comfortable temperature. Stepping inside, she let the spray trail over her body, taking some much-needed comfort in the wet heat. She let the water run through her hair and attempted to detangle the kinks whilst she shampooed. Turning to face the tiles, she let the water continue to saturate her hair, her body as she lingered longer than she knew she should have before stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a thick, warm towel.

She dried off her hair and then her body. Stepping over to the sink, she reached for the comb on the shelf and worked it through her hair. She thoroughly towel dried it, and then combed it again. Reaching into his cabinet, she found toothpaste and rinsed out her mouth.

She pulled on the strapless bra, the same quality silk as the dress, fastened the ties on her knickers and reached for the dress. It draped over her subtle curves with ease, the fabric smooth against her cleansed skin, fitting her to perfection.

Stepping back into the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the sandals. She guessed he was looking for the full effect when she walked out there. She removed them from the box and rubbed them mindlessly with her thumb for a few moments before slipping them on.

She stood and composed herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she wore anything so elegant. She practiced in them for a few steps before crossing the threshold into the library.

Caleb was sat at the table at the far end of the room, the candles in the centre of the table the only source of light. A plate and bowl sat at the opposite end to him, a filled wine glass, a tumbler and bottle of water beside it.

He stood from his chair, inhaled smoke from the cigarette he held and strolled towards her. Her pulse raced as his gaze glided over her toes, up the length of her legs, lingered a moment at her hips and waist before sliding over her chest to slow at her neck.

He circled her in a painfully predatory stroll, raking his fingers up her back, making her spine tingle.

She flinched as he tucked her hair aside from behind, ran the cool back of his hand down her neck and over her shoulder – a slow, caressing move that caused her to catch her breath in her throat.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said, stepping back in front of her, her height now only a couple of inches less than his. Lifting the back of her hand to his lips, he kissed it tenderly, making her heart leap, before keeping her hand in his as he led her over to the table.

He pulled out the chair at the far end of the table from his, inviting her to sit.

She did so, easing it further under the table as he stepped away again. She took in the aroma of the pasta coated in sundried tomatoes and garnished with rocket, beautifully presented on its immaculate white plate and bowl.

She looked up at him warily as he resumed his seat at the other end of the table, the distance welcome as her stomach somersaulted.

He leaned back in the chair, pulled the ashtray closer so he could tap off some ash.

‘Are you not eating?’ she asked.

He shook his head, exhaled a steady stream of smoke, his gaze unreadable.

She looked back down at the bowl. She wanted to ask him outright if he’d drugged it, but like he’d told her before – he wasn’t that subtle.

And she needed to eat. The tempting aroma alone told her that much. At the very least she needed to keep her strength up. And for all she knew it could have been a simple, civilised attempt on Caleb’s part, and one she knew would be stupid and unreasonable to throw back in his face.

She lifted the weighty cutlery and took her first few small mouthfuls.

Something had happened, his silence only prodding her doubts, the room thick with tension. She needed something to break it.

‘How’s Alisha?’ she asked, lowering her cutlery to pour herself some water rather than opting for wine.

He tapped some more ash off his cigarette. ‘She’s fine. Suffering from an almighty hangover apparently, but she’ll get over it. She’s only been awake an hour or so.’

‘She must be wondering where I am.’

‘Jake told her you spent the night with me.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Apparently if I’ve forced you into anything or done anything to hurt you, my life won’t be worth living.’ He exhaled a steady stream of smoke. ‘She seemed to find it hard to believe that her big sister would willingly spend the night fucking a vampire, let alone one like me.’

Leila swallowed hard at his bluntness, at the way he made it sound like that’s all it was. And the way he said it made her flush in shame, no more so because for a short while, from the way he had kissed her, she’d dare wonder if it could be something more. ‘Jake reassured her I was fine?’

Caleb nodded.

She swallowed hard, needed to lower her fork-holding hand to the table so he wouldn’t see it tremble. ‘So what happens now?’

‘Just concentrate on getting some food in you. I don’t want you flaking out on me. Then we’ll talk.’

Her heart pounded. ‘About what?’

‘About what we do from here.’

‘You make it sound like we have a choice.’

‘There’s always a choice.’

She wanted to ask him what the kiss had been about. If it meant he had softened, even if only a small amount, towards her cause.

If maybe, just maybe, he had believed her.

She took a few more mouthfuls, glanced up to see he was still watching her.

‘What’s this about?’ she asked. ‘The dress. The food. Candlelight.’

‘I told you I can be nice.’

‘After I tried to kill you?’

He flicked some ash into the tray beside him, a glimmer of a smile escaping. ‘I can hardly blame you for that, can I?’

‘Can’t you?’

‘Let’s just say the sex made up for it.’

His gaze was impossible to read. She wanted to believe it,
needed
to believe it, but every survival instinct in her sparked.

She took a few more mouthfuls, each one increasingly hard to swallow. She had the feeling she was going to get nowhere until she cleared her plate. She reached for the jug of water, filled her glass, hoping a few mouthfuls would lubricate her throat enough to continue.

‘We just need to think of something Feinith might want more than she wants you.’

She glanced up at him again, unease stirring at the pit of her stomach. If Feinith had even an inkling of the truth, there would be
nothing
she wanted more. ‘Like what?’

‘Maybe those books of yours.’

‘What books?’

‘The ones your grandfather left you. All those prophecies.’

Her stomach clenched. She reached for more water.

‘Alisha seemed to think you were some kind of expert on them all,’ he added.

‘Far from it. I haven’t read them since our grandfather’s death and maybe for years before that.’

‘But you do still have them all. And you can still read them.’

She looked up at him, unease ricocheting through her at his steady gaze. ‘I’m not trading those books for anything.’

‘Not even your life?’

Her heart jolted. ‘I was entrusted with them.’ She returned to eating, now more as a get-out clause than a need to consume any more, her already weak appetite depleting by the moment.

‘You brought one here.’

‘I had no choice.’

‘So you choose your sister over a book but you won’t choose yourself. Or is it just because you don’t want the Higher Order in particular to get their hands on them?’

‘Those books don’t belong here.’

He rested his forearms on the table as he leaned forward, exhaled another stream of smoke. ‘Books? Or the secrets they contain? Because I bet they’re just full of them, aren’t they? Like how to cure a vampire of dying blood. It makes me wonder what other useful information is lingering beneath the covers.’

Discomfort rooted deeper. ‘It sounds more like it’s you who wants to trade.’

He sent her a fleeting smile before extinguishing his cigarette. He stood and sauntered across to the sofa to return with a book – her book – his finger seemingly marking a page as he held it closed. Her heart pounded painfully as he brought his chair around from his end of the table and placed it adjacent to hers.

He pushed her plate and empty bowl aside to lay the book in front of her as he rested his foot on the rung of her chair. ‘I want you to take a look at something.’ He opened it to where his finger marked the page and pointed at the symbol. ‘What do you know about that?’

Her heart skipped a beat. A cold chill of dread consumed her as she stared down at the all-too-familiar symbol. She snapped her attention back to Caleb, forcing herself to hold his gaze as calmly as possible despite her insides wrenching with terror, her anxiety dissociating her from anything but him and the detached look in his eyes. ‘Nothing. Why? Should I?’

‘It doesn’t mean anything to you?’

‘Does it mean something to you?’ She already knew that answer. Why would he pick it out from all the others littered through the book if he didn’t recognise it? And if he recognised it, he’d seen it somewhere. And if he’d seen it, he knew who owned it. And if he knew who owned it, it was even more important that she said absolutely nothing.

Her tired brain needed to kick in. And quick.

‘This is your book,’ he said.

‘Yes. But it doesn’t mean I’ve read it all.’

‘But you
can
read it. That’s the whole point.’

‘Is that what you want me to do?’

‘If you would,’ he said, his gaze unflinching.

Leila stared down at the beautifully embossed page and the slanted, cursive writing. She skimmed the overly familiar words, words she hadn’t read for years, but that she knew almost by heart. The section had been one of the focal points of her grandfather’s teaching – his warning. A warning that had never resonated so loud or so clear.