Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Adkins, Heather Marie

  Surely he didn’t love her the same way.

  Did he?

  Haven’s heart hammered behind her ribs. Her eyes roamed his face as if she was seeing him for the first time. She realized how close she was to him. With the slightest bit of movement, her breast would brush his chest. She could see the beads of perspiration that clung to the light stubble on his chin and upper lip.

  “You love him,” Avrum said, his voice no louder than a whisper. “This means a lot to you. I will do it.”

  Her chin lifted. She wanted to tell him that it meant more to her than he knew, that she had given up everything for this man. Instead, she focused on the soft curves of his lips.

  His strong hand came up and took her by the chin. She gasped, but it was soon quieted by his mouth pressing against hers. A surge of energy jolted through her, making her insides feel as wild and free as rushing water and leaving her skin pleasantly numb. The heat between them made her head whirl, and just as she thought her knees could no longer hold her weight, Avrum’s other arm came up and wrapped around her back, cradling her.

  For once, she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t being controlled or forced. The feeling inside her was new, and, to her own surprise, she liked it. Her lips parted on their own. In her head, she could hear herself begging him for more. His tongue brushed hers, but before she could deepen the kiss, he stepped away, his hands falling from her.

  She almost whimpered out loud as the foreign feeling drained from her. She shivered as the bitter chill of the room swept over, the warmth of him gone.

  Avrum’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he muttered, his tone full of panic. “I should have never done―” He stopped, looked at her, and then rubbed his lips together. She wondered if they were tingling like hers were. “I do not want you to feel like I’m forcing anything upon you. I would never―”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” Haven said.

  He went to the door and turned to her again. “I should go…” But the look on his face told her that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I will deliver the message to your father tonight, as you asked.”

  As much as she didn’t want him to leave, she knew that he was the only one who could send this message for her. “Will you come back and tell me what he says?”

  Avrum nodded and opened the door. “I will.”

  With her thoughts all tangled and fighting to be said, she almost called out to him again. She wanted to tell him that she had been wrong to think he was just like Henri, that he was a monster like him and the others. She wanted to tell him that his kiss hadn’t scared her at all, that it had left her breathless. She wanted to tell him thank you for everything he was doing to help her, and that she wished he wouldn’t leave her now. She wanted him to stay, cup her face in his hands again and tell her that she did not deserve to be treated this way.

  She wanted to tell him all of this, but for some reason, no such things would form on her tongue. Instead, she clamped her lips shut and watched as he left her room.

  Once the door locked again and she could hear his footsteps fade away down the hall, Haven walked across the empty bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed. She pressed a fist to the center of her chest to sooth the aching pain that had started to grow there and looked back to the barred window.

  He would come back to her soon, she told herself. He would come back.

  8

  Outside, thick snowflakes stuck to the manor grounds and to the bare branches of the oak trees. No sun appeared in the morning sky, but light still touched the earth and made everything glow an eerie white. Haven pulled the curtains closed, not being able to stare out the window a moment longer.

  Where is he?

  She walked across the room, her thin nightgown flowing about her ankles, and looked at the bedroom door. She shouldn’t have stayed awake this long to wait for him, but he hadn’t come back to her like he promised. Her stomach lurched. Maybe he hadn’t gone to see her father at all. Maybe he had been stopped and his motives found out by Henri.

  No. She couldn’t let herself think that way.

  The lock of the door clicked.

  Avrum, Haven thought, a grin coming to her face. She stepped forward, but when the door finally opened, it wasn’t Avrum that stepped into her bedroom. It was Henri.

  The single candle on the nightstand still burned low. As Henri stepped into the dim light, Haven could see that he was dressed in a burgundy jacket, a beige vest buttoned down his front, and a silk taupe necktie tucked neatly into it. His dark hair framed his stoic face, curling up at his padded shoulders. He spun the key to her room around his finger as he approached her, his pointed toed shoes clicking against the wooden floors.

  Every muscle in Haven’s body tensed.

  “Haven, my love.” His silken voice wrapped around her like a poisonous serpent, leaving her frozen in her place. “I’ve come to set you free.”

  He smirked, and she wanted nothing more than to slap it off his devilish face. Her hands twitched at her sides. It had been two nights since he had taken her blood, and she needed to keep it that way. The only way she was going to keep him away from her throat was to not get him angry.

  “S-Set me free?” she repeated, her tone rising to fake innocence. She hoped Henri couldn’t hear it like she could.

  His black brows rose in interest. He stepped forward. “Yes, I have to admit that it has been too quiet without you, and although I knew I must stay true to my word, I have missed your company.”

  Haven thought it best not to reply. She was sure that the words forming on her tongue were not the ones Henri wanted to hear.

  Henri continued in her silence. “I hope you have thought about your mistakes and have learned your lesson.” He paused, his gaze roaming her face. “Have you?”

  A sharp pain shot from her jaw to her temple, and she realized that she was grinding her teeth. She tried to relax and forced her lips to lift into a half smile. “I have―” Her throat tightened. The next words to come out of her mouth came out in a breathy, pain-filled wheeze. “My lord…”

  That made a smile spread across his face. Henri’s hand came up, and his long, ringed fingers stroked the top of her head. She held her breath as he combed through her long mass of curls. He gripped a handful of hair at the nape of her neck and held tight.

  “It seems that Avrum is quite talented,” whispered Henri. “He was able to improve your attitude just by speaking to you once.”

  Gooseflesh rose on Haven’s arms at the mention of Avrum’s name.

  He chuckled. “Maybe I should have had him speak to you the first night you arrived here.” His tangled fist tugged her hair, causing her head to tilt back. His mouth came onto hers hard. His tongue pushed passed her lips without warning. She tried to remain still, but his hands grasped her shoulders and jerked her forward, into his chest.

  Henri growled into her mouth. His kiss was nothing like the one she had shared with Avrum. His head moved side to side, his tongue wrestling with hers. It was as if he wanted to devour her there where she stood.

  Finally, he stepped away from her.

  “Join me for dinner tonight,” Henri told her. “Just you and me.”

  It felt as if her bones were trembling under her skin. She touched her wet, swollen lips.

  Henri turned and walked across the room. “Do not keep me waiting.” The door slammed behind him, extinguishing the candle beside her bed and leaving Haven in complete darkness.

  * * *

  Avrum’s eyes rolled up to the coal-gray sky and then to the building across the street. The falling snowflakes seemed to hover in the air before him, as if frozen in time, before fluttering to the stones at his feet. Avrum walked on, wondering why he had agreed to come here in the first place.

  Haven’s face appeared in his mind, her midnight-blue eyes shining with tears and her cheeks rosy as she pleaded with him to deliver the message to her father. His heart constricted just at the memory. He couldn’t deny her. N
ot after everything he had done to her.

  And those lips…Those soft, rose-petal lips that laid over one another begging to be kissed. He just couldn’t ignore them anymore. Before he knew it, his mouth was on hers. She hadn’t pulled back or screamed in fear like he had expected. When her tongue brushed against his, and he could finally savor the overpowering, fiery taste of her, he felt something inside him stirring, wanting more. Even now, as he entered the alleyway and stood under the window he found Haven underneath before, he wanted her again. Could it be the craving that drew him to her? The need for human blood? Or was it something more?

  Avrum had to clear his head. Deep down, he knew the truth. He cared about Haven more than he had ever cared for anyone, but he couldn’t act on his feelings. It was too dangerous. Helping her escape should be his priority. Henri still owned her. That much hadn’t changed. If they were going to have any chance at sneaking away, they had to do so right under Henri’s nose.

  He looked around for a way inside Haven’s home. Every door of the building was boarded shut. He could climb through a window. Avrum looked up at the small, circular window he had found Haven standing underneath. No light shined through the stain glass. All he could hear was the quick pattering of the hearts of nearby rodents.

  Avrum spotted a large wooden crate just a few steps away, already dusted with snow, and standing on skinny, half-rotted legs. An idea forming, he pushed it over until it sat just under the window’s ledge. Avrum held his breath and climbed up onto it. He could hear the wood cracking and crying out in protest. As quickly as he could, he reached up and felt around the ledge until his fingers brushed against the smooth metal of the window latch. He flicked it, and the stained glass swung out. Digging his nails into the wood, Avrum hoisted himself up and climbed through the small space.

  The moment he stood up, a pungent, sickening smell hit him like a blow. He staggered back, pressing the back of his hand to his nose. Through the shadows, he could see a single mattress near the opposite wall. As his vision focused and sharpened against the darkness of the room, he could see a large mound upon it covered by a tattered quilt.

  Avrum walked forward, one foot cautiously placed in front of the other. The closer he got, the harsher the smell became. His eyes began to water and his stomach twisted. There were no sounds―no heartbeat, no breathing, save for his own. With the toe of his boot, he nudged the blanket. There was no movement from underneath. Avrum lifted it.

  Bile rose up his throat. A wrinkled, sunken face looked back at him with closed eyes. Avrum’s gaze roamed his dirty face. With every similarity he found, his heart sank a little more―the small, round-tipped nose, the full lips. He had a sickening feeling that the eyes behind his sealed lids were a dazzling shade of blue.

  This was Haven’s father. And he was dead.

  * * *

  “You said you found him that way?” Lysander said as he pulled out a sword from the rusted trunk at the other side of the attic.

  “Yes,” replied Avrum, watching his friend. “The only thing in the room was a mattress, and he was laying there. Seemed to have passed in his sleep.”

  Lysander examined the blade, twisting it in his hand and running his finger over the edge to test its sharpness. When he pulled his hand away, Avrum could see the dark red liquid dripping down his skin.

  Avrum winced, but his friend did nothing but press the cut finger to his lips. When he looked at it again, the pale skin was cleaned of the blood and the wound. Lysander smirked, satisfied, and tossed the sword to Avrum. He caught it with ease, but this morning, for some reason, it felt a bit heavier in his hand.

  Lysander pulled another out of the trunk, swiped it a few times through the air, pleased with his choice. He walked across the room. “Are you going to tell her?” he asked.

  When Avrum had returned from the city with the vision of the dead man still clear in his mind, he had walked right passed Haven’s bedroom door. Even though he promised her he would tell her of her father’s condition after delivering the message, he just didn’t have the heart to give her such terrible news.

  “Well?” Lysander pressed.

  Avrum sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can tell her.”

  “And why not?”

  “She loved her father.” He raised his sword as Lysander raised his. He really didn’t feel like dueling this morning. “This would break her heart.”

  “Yes, that is true, but you won’t be able to lie to her forever.” Lysander shrugged.

  Avrum knew he was right, but Lysander didn’t know the truth of how Haven came to the manor. He hadn’t told him about Henri’s lie and her choice to give up her life in order to save her father’s. Now that he was dead, she was being kept here simply for Henri’s liking. Without her father, Avrum feared Haven might think that there was no reason for her to live either. He didn’t want to have to be the one to tell her that the only person she loved was now dead.

  “I will tell her, but not now. Not yet.” This was when Haven needed to be her strongest.

  Avrum’s neck ached with the stress of it all weighing on his shoulders. This news could even jeopardize their escape. He looked over at Lysander who stood there shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Avrum sighed and stood the way he had been told―his legs shoulder-length apart, with his right foot slightly placed in front of his left. Knees bent, elbows relaxed, wrist stiff.

  “Study your opponent before, during, and after your duel,” Lysander said, his tone hard, “and find a weakness that you can play on. It may be a limp in their step, putting all their weight on their heels while they are attacking, or, in Cornelius’ case, talking instead of thinking.” He took a step forward. Avrum stepped back. “The littlest of flaws can destroy the greatest of men.”

  As Avrum looked over Lysander’s form, he found no flaw, no weakness. He cleared his throat, hoping to steady his rising nerves.

  A smirk appeared on his friend’s face. “For instance,” began Lysander as he started to walk in a circle. Avrum did his best to keep the same amount of distance between them as he moved. Lysander’s legs crossed over one another, his eyes following Avrum’s the entire way. “I can tell just by your posture that you put all your weight forward, and so your strikes will be clumsy. You will depend on your strength in your blows, and therefore, you will go into it blindly, without a strategy.”

  Avrum paused, horrified. Could he really tell all of that just from the way he was standing? Panicked, he straightened his back.

  “Ah, and now you are sitting on your heels and your knees are locked,” he said. “You will be slow in your attacks and will have no choice but to move backwards to avoid my blows.”

  “Then what is the correct way?” Avrum asked, his voice rising in fear.

  “You must stay centered,” he replied. “Bend your knees and plan your moves before you make them. Never depend just on your strength to win your fight. It is a mistake many make, but rarely win with.”

  Avrum swallowed, looked down at his legs, and tried to position them in a way that wouldn’t get him killed. When the time came and he had to face Henri, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. “Noted…” he said, but it didn’t make Avrum feel better at all. Not in the least.

  * * *

  Haven waited a few minutes after Henri left before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. When she glanced up and down the corridor, she found that she was completely alone. That, though, didn’t settle her uneasiness. She crossed her arms about her chest and hurried on the tips of her toes to Avrum’s door.

  She thought about calling out to him, like he had done to her, but then thought it better just to knock. She tapped the mahogany wood and listened for any movement inside. When she heard nothing, her heart sank. She knocked again, this time harder.

  “He isn’t in his room.” A heavily accented voice made her whip around. At the opposite end of the long hall, a man stood watching her with amusement in his cloudy gray eyes. The rest of his
expression, however, remained emotionless.

  Haven stepped away from the door. She had seen this man with Avrum before, with his long, golden hair and straight, pointed nose. It wasn’t too long ago, in fact―at Henri’s last formal party. If she remembered correctly, she had seen them talking quite a bit to each other then. His name she could not remember.

  He walked toward her, the long, sheathed sword swaying at his hip.

  He must be part of the guard, Haven thought, worried. Would he tell Henri that he found her sneaking to Avrum’s room?

  “You are looking for Avrum,” he said when he approached. He towered over her, and when his hard gaze locked with hers, she felt even smaller.

  “Y-Yes, I am. He wanted to see me.” The way he was looking at her now, as if he was studying her under a magnifying glass and picking at her flaws, made her shift side to side on her feet.

  He let out a bored sigh and gestured the same way he had come from. “Avrum is down the hall there. At the end, there are stairs. Climb them and you will find him.” He stepped around her and walked away. She watched him go, and only when he disappeared down the back stairs did relief come back to her.

  But that relief was soon replaced with anger. Haven took a deep breath, trying to suppress it, but it was a wasted effort. Avrum was back. He just hadn’t come to see her. What a lying bastard, she thought as she followed the man’s directions, taking the adjacent hall to the end. As he had said, a staircase hid there, deep in the corner. It rose up, disappearing into darkness.

  She began the climb, the wooden steps feeling cool under her bare feet. Her hands slid along the rough stone walls that seemed to get more and more narrow the higher she went. She kept her eyes focused on the three strips of white light that cut through the darkness ahead of her. As she got closer, the shadows formed into a door. The light around it seemed to pulsate, as if the wood was somehow breathing and alive.