by Anne Malcom
Yet.
I couldn’t wait to watch him find out.
I could’ve told him right then, saved a lot of trouble. But I loved trouble, especially if it meant karma was finally going to come around and give Rick a much-needed dick punch.
“See?” I said. “She’s fine. Not even a bruise. Which is unheard of for humans. They bruise like peaches. You didn’t even let me finish and tell you the blood wasn’t even hers.” I grinned at her blank face. “She was the one making people—or hybrids—bleed.” I scrunched my nose up. “Though I’m not exactly sure how they got in here, or why there were only two.” I nodded to the place Rick’s gaze was glued to. “Of course, Helen is no help.”
His eyes wrenched themselves away from the human gaping at the vampire just the same as he was gaping at her. “Helen?”
I shrugged. “We had to call her something, didn’t we? And she wasn’t giving me anything on account of the whole not speaking thing. So it’s Helen, you know, after Helen Keller? Though she can see, and I’m reasonably sure she has hearing, so the likelihood is a little bit of a stretch. But in the immortal words of Meatloaf, ‘two outta three ain’t bad.’”
He scowled at me. “It’s not safe here,” he clipped instead of commenting on my excellently placed song reference. Then again, Rick wasn’t versed in pop culture; he was much more caught up in that stuffy aristocracy shit they tried to pass as timeless.
Had they even heard Stevie Nicks?
I tilted my head. “What makes you think that? The numerous assassination attempts? Or the fact that people keep messing up the décor with blood, and one day I’ll get sick of it and go postal and blow the whole fucking place up?” I asked pleasantly.
His jaw ticked. “You’re moving to my place,” he declared.
I stared at him. Then I burst out laughing. Like ‘hold your sides, wipe the blood from your eyes’ kind of laughter. I straightened, wiping a rogue crimson tear from the corner of my eye.
“You want me—and by me, you mean the human inexplicably attached to me, the one you’re scary obsessed with—to come and live with you so you can protect us?” I surmised.
He did not appreciate the sarcasm in my voice, which made me happy.
His body was marble. “I’m the king. Of course I can offer better protection.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s forget the absolute misogynistic undertones of that statement. Helen may have been stuck in a cave, but I’m not letting her think that men need to do the protecting.” I glanced at the little mute watching our exchange blankly. “She protected herself rather well, without you. And then we need to move onto the fact that your pad is arguably one of the biggest targets for the rebel factions. Plus, I’ve got it on good authority that your crown is in danger of slipping off,” I added in the little gem gained from my father.
I enjoyed the way his anger intensified with every passing moment. But then something else happened. Something moved over his face, cutting through the anger. Then he was right up in my business. Again.
My bones had only begun healing. Obviously I didn’t tell him that, because I’d just been talking about what a strong and capable vampire I was. The fact that I was weaker in order to make myself appropriate to breed would’ve undercut my point.
He reached out, not to snatch my arm but to grip it, and do what, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t about to find out, either.
I shrugged out of his grasp. “Dude, stop touching me. It’s weird, especially considering you’re like my brother-in-law. Well, almost. Not like Thorne and I are planning on getting married,” I said, idly testing the weight of my left hand, ignoring the protest of my broken bones as I did so.
It did feel rather light. A diamond would shore it up nicely. “But we are part of a centuries-old prophecy, and I feel like I should’ve been able to wear a custom Vera Wang and have a new piece of jewelry at the very least while I heard it all.” I obviously didn’t add that I didn’t hate the idea of having Thorne as my husband, because that would kill my street cred. “So you touching me like that is basically incest, you know,” I continued, circling back to my point.
“A situation where the door is smashed in and my woman is talking about incest while some fucker is far too close to her definitely tells me my day is not about to improve.” Thorne’s voice snatched away any utterly masculine and ridiculous command Rick was going to give.
But only so he could add his own utterly masculine and ridiculous babble.
“What the fuck happened, Isla?” he demanded, striding past Rick, purposefully bumping into his shoulder to push him away from me. Thorne’s eyes obviously went to the fading purple marks on my arms. Then he turned. “Did you fuckin’ do that?” he hissed, promise of violence in his tone.
I glanced to Helen. “We should leave them to it. How do you feel about a frozen hot chocolate? I feel like I’ve been a terrible host, not taking you around the city, showing what you’ve missed while you were tortured in a cave with some fucked-up witches,” I said. “A lot has changed. We’ve got great shoes and bags, but we also have some terrible reality shows.”
“There was another attack,” Rick interrupted just as I was about to list my favorite versions of Real Housewives. He was paying no attention to me, since he was too busy eying Thorne with the same barely restrained fury as Thorne directed at him. “And Isla had not informed me that she was in the midst of her Awakening. Of course, I only find out crucial details by accident,” he said blandly, but there was a significant bite in his tone.
Obviously he’d noted the heartbeat before I’d snatched my arm away. That pissed me off, but of course I wasn’t going to show it.
I shrugged. “I don’t give anything away for free except sex. Everything else comes at a price.”
Thorne glared.
I ignored it.
“You obviously felt the need to let yourself get hurt rather than admit it to him,” Thorne accused, voice tight and eyes glittering.
I gaped at him. “You’re blaming me for your overzealous brother breaking my fucking arms?” I hissed, forgetting my promise to myself not to show how pissed off I was. “That so does not jive with the alpha male thing I’ve come to hate. You do not blame the victim in situations of domestic violence. Oprah would be appalled.” I strode through the ruined living room and snatched the one bottle of alcohol that had survived.
Gin, great.
It would do in a pinch.
Thorne’s eyes followed me while I took an ungraceful gulp from the bottle. “I’ll consider you a victim when I meet someone you haven’t torn the limbs off for hurting you,” he commented dryly.
I scowled at him, my mouth tight from the horrible taste of gin. I took another swig, grimacing. “All your limbs are still intact,” I pointed out. “And you’ve offended me greatly.” My eyes narrowed as the alcohol burned the back of my throat and urged me to yell some more.
“We need to get back to the point,” Rick interrupted, stepping between us so he could once more be the center of attention.
“Oh yes, nobody puts the king in the corner,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He gets cranky.”
“And what would the point be?” Thorne asked Rick as they both decided to ignore me. “You breaking down the door and breaking Isla’s arms?”
I jutted my chin out in triumph. Finally Thorne was directing his rage in the right place—anywhere but me. I continued to swig the horrible gin. It was almost as bad as no alcohol at all.
“I wasn’t aware of her increased vulnerability,” Rick replied, voice and eyes hard, but it was the closest thing to an apology I’d ever get.
Not that I wanted one. Or needed one. Apologies didn’t heal bones, nor did they create orgasms or fill bank accounts, so I had no time for them. Or either of these particular males. “I’m thinking you insinuate I’m vulnerable one more time, I might have to just do the whole limb-ripping thing my beloved was mentioning,” I said through gritted teeth.
Rick regarded me blankly, which was j
ust insulting. He really needed to remember that time not so long ago when I waved his own arm at him. Maybe I needed to go for a more precious appendage.
“You’re weaker in the midst of your Awakening. It’s a fact,” he remarked, unware of the fate I was considering aiming for his nether regions.
My blood boiled. Well, it went above freezing, at least. “Ah, and it seems you’re much stupider,” I said evenly, letting the bottle fall at my feet with the ruins of everything else. “Because if you knew about the human equivalent to this, you would know mentioning or blaming any behavior on hormones or ‘that time of the month’ results in that woman—in that human woman—somehow acquiring the strength of a vampire just so she can rip your balls off.”
I sauntered toward him. He didn’t retreat, of course, because he was the big bad kind. “The same kind of scenario works here. You don’t say I’m weaker because nature has decided to make me fertile. Because that would not end well for you,” I promised, coming to a stop in front of him, toying with the rogue dagger I’d snatched from Thorne’s belt along the way.
“I’m not coaxing you into a fight,” he said, not sparing a glance at the dagger. “We’re busy. Too busy to be fighting amongst ourselves.”
I rolled my eyes and gripped the dagger in preparation to use it. “We’re not busy, because our conversation we were having about my relocation”—my eyes went to the corner of the room—“I’m sorry, her relocation is moot. We ain’t going anywhere. Especially not the residence of the king who is on precarious ground with the blue bloods. You don’t piss off the vampire WASPs, Rick. Well I do, but I don’t have a crown to hold onto. I consider myself a queen without one.” I tapped my hair with the blunt blade of the dagger.
“What are you talking about?” Rick demanded, catching the thread I’d dangled in front of him earlier. “Who told you this?”
“Ah, my father, actually,” I replied. “When he came in to try and convince me he was on our side, of all things.”
Thorne surged forward at that moment. Before, when I’d been threatening his brother with a dagger, he’d been happy to stand and watch, but now that I was talking, he decided to get all dramatic. “Your fuckin’ father came to your offices,” he all but yelled. “And you didn’t tell me.”
More accusation saturated his tone, like it had that morning. It was pissing me right off.
I gaped at him. “I’m telling you now.”
“Isla, your father is the man who is most likely responsible for numerous assassination attempts and rumored to be behind the rebellion that is determined to take you down. It required a fucking phone call,” he seethed.
“It did not, because he didn’t try to assassinate me, and I was pissed at you,” I snapped back, still gripping the dagger.
“You’re pissed at me, you yell, fine. You give the silent treatment, that’s fine too, because you’re too in love with the sound of your own voice and in love with yelling at me when you’re pissed to stay silent for too long,” he said through gritted teeth. “But that shit disa-fucking-ppears when your fucking life is in danger.”
“No, it doesn’t disa-fucking-ppear when I’m in danger,” I mimicked. “Because then I would never get to be pissed at you, and as much as you’d like that, it ain’t gonna happen, sunshine.”
Thorne continued to glare and I thought he might shout some more, but instead he rushed forward, hands framing my face, eyes darting over me. “Did the fucker hurt you?” he demanded.
Again, I hated myself for the warmth his tone spread through me. I forced myself to laugh. “No, he bored me to death with how he didn’t actually want me dead all those years, and how the assassination attempts and torture were all just misunderstood gestures of love.” I waved it away. “Nothing important. We probably need to focus on why only two hybrids were sent when nobody was home but the little human.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Maybe that was the point.”
I pulled myself from Thorne’s grasp to saunter her way. She didn’t retreat when I made it to her.
“You got anything to say at this juncture, Helen?” I asked. “As to why you think some hybrids would want to chow on you?” I tapped her head and she didn’t even flinch, though there was a healthy dose of rage from Rick’s corner of the room. “Something you got up there that they don’t want us to know?”
I leaned back and folded my arms, watching her bland expression, listening to the continued silence.
“No? Nothing there?” I asked. “Okay, how about how you were able to kill both of them.” I circled her. “Without a scratch. I’m impressed, but I’m not stupid. And only a stupid vampire would think a human could go through something like that unscathed. So, Helen, now’s the time to fill us in on who you are. Or what you are.”
More silence.
I was about to start yanking at things to make her talk when Rick interrupted.
“I don’t think it’s the human we focus on for today’s attack, but the fact that it happened on the very day your father appears at your office. Not a coincidence,” he cut in smoothly, as if he sensed I was about to try and get information out of a human the old-fashioned way—torture.
Just some light stuff, nothing crazy.
I sighed, turning and crossing my arms, still gripping the dagger. “Yeah, I would say the timing is off, but my father was meeting me, therefore he knew I wouldn’t be home, therefore sending hybrids to kill me in a place where he knew I wouldn’t be is just darn stupid.” I raised my brow. “My father is a lot of things. Stupid is not one.”
Thorne had walked over to the bar to pour two drinks with a rogue bottle of whisky that I hadn’t noticed lying wedged against the wall, then handed one to me. I drained it and gave it back to him, then took the other one and drained it too.
He shook his head as he took the second empty glass. “Your father is not to be trusted.”
“No duh,” I said. Then I focused on Rick. “Look, you can talk it over with him, or kill him when he comes to visit. Just leave me out of it. I had a binge of Stranger Things planned tonight, and I’m not changing it.”
Rick’s jaw ticked. “He says he’s going to visit me?”
I shrugged. “Apparently. So you should probably go home and expect his call. And that comes with the added benefit of getting out of my apartment.”
Rick didn’t move. “You’re coming with me.”
I didn’t answer, because it wasn’t aimed at me. I grinned back at the slightly wide-eyed mute human.
“I know, it’s so lame them ordering you around, right?” I asked. “I would advise not listening on any other normal day, but this means you leave and I don’t have to clean your blood off the carpet when you finally die, so maybe you should listen. All Rick’s floors are stone or polished wood. Much easier.”
No one appreciated that.
Nor did anyone speak, or move.
Especially Helen.
“Ugh,” I moaned, realizing she was going to do what I said and not listen. I hated that, and hated that it made me like her more than being a ruthless killer.
“She’s not going, and you’re not staying,” I said to Rick. “So accept you’re not gonna win and kindly fuck off.”
Rick didn’t move.
Neither did I.
That lasted a while.
“Very well,” he gritted out. “This isn’t over.”
I didn’t answer because again, it wasn’t directed at me. It was meant for the human. A promise. One that held a lot of heat from the icy king.
Then he turned on his heel and left.
I grinned back at the human. “Oh girl, you’re fucked,” I said cheerfully. “You’re gonna wish you let those hybrids put you out of your misery.”
Three Days Later
“Thorne,” I hissed, his naked body grinding against mine creating a beautiful friction that was fast turning ugly because it wasn’t quite enough.
I clawed his back, reveling in the sweet scent of his blood filling the air, mixing with our desi
re.
His mouth moved against mine, ruthless, unyielding.
My entire body jerked as he pressed against my entrance. I snapped my eyes open, despite every cell in my body crying out for him to fill me up.
“Thorne,” I demanded, more urgently that time.
His liquid eyes turned stone. “Isla,” he growled, voice guttural.
“We can’t,” I rasped, hating the very taste of the truth.
His body was tense, wired, pulsating with the same need I had flowing through me. The cords of his neck strained with his effort to stay still. “Fuck,” he hissed, pushing back, his body leaving mine so he could begin pacing beside the bed.
The loss of him was physical, painful. My body temperature seemed to drop below what even I was comfortable with. Then again, this fucking beating heart made me run hotter than usual.
I nearly drooled at the sight of Thorne’s magnificence stalking around the room, tension radiating off him, desire blanketing his muscled form.
He turned to me and I struggled not to pounce on him, beg him to take me, fuck the consequences. But for once, even I wasn’t prepared for the consequences of such an act.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked, voice tight, thick.
I blinked at him, lazily moving my gaze up from his beautiful hardness, over his sculpted and scarred abs, to the column of his throat, still hosting evidence of my earlier meal. And earlier orgasm.
Not that you’d know I’d had four already. My body screamed at me like a woman emerging from a convent after thirty years.
I finally met his glittering silver eyes. They were drinking me in with much the same ferocity I’d been doing to him.
His hands were fisted at his sides. Jaw concrete.
“The sex?” I purred. “No, it wouldn’t be so bad. I have it on very good authority that it’s good.” My eyes moved pointedly downward. “Very fucking good. Willing to die for, in fact.” I moved my eyes up again. “But not willing to get impregnated for.”
Something passed across his face as he moved toward me, his movements slow, measured, like he didn’t trust himself to cross the short distance between us in hurried strides.