Blood Torn (Blackthorn Book 3)

by Lindsay J. Pryor

  Which meant he’d had sex with her whilst knowing he was setting her up. No doubt her swimming lesson had equally been a part of his plan to ensure she saw it through. All the time she’d thought she was playing him, he’d been playing her.

  Anger sparked deep – not just that he’d tricked her, but that she’d dared start to feel something for him in the process. It was a sharp wake-up call to what she was dealing with. He was out for what he could get as much as she was. And she’d remind herself of that every time she felt her heart skip a beat when their eyes met.

  ‘How did you find me, Jask?’

  ‘A little something sewn into the hem of the tunic Rone gave you.’

  She frowned. ‘You sniffed me out?’

  ‘I was right behind you from the moment you stepped into the tunnel.’

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who took out the men pursuing me earlier?’

  He sliced through the last piece of tape. ‘That makes it three times now that I’ve saved your life.’ He pulled level with her again as he pressed the blade back into its encasement single-handed.

  She glowered up at him. ‘I don’t remember ever asking.’

  He folded his arms again. ‘Except now.’

  ‘Only because I have no choice. There’s something bad out there, Jask.’

  ‘I know.’

  She stared deep into his eyes, not liking the fact she detected worry behind them.

  ‘And we’ve only got a few hours until dawn to find out what,’ he added.

  Their sudden sense of understanding, of agreement, felt too alien for her to handle.

  She stood up. ‘Then let’s get on with this.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘We’ll head out past the old church,’ Sophia said, leading the way back across the factory grounds. ‘There’s a backstreet bar down one of the cobbled side streets that’s Marid’s main hangout, especially for business deals.’ She glanced across at Jask, sensing he was impressed. ‘I know a lot about what goes on in this district – it’s my job, remember? Besides, he was next on my hit list.’

  ‘You were going after Marid?’

  ‘That vampire’s the scum of the earth. And I’ll be having a quiet word of my own when we catch up – not just for what he did to me, but all the others who weren’t quite so lucky.’

  She turned left, heading back down the street that brought her there. It would mean passing through the hub again, but there was no other way to get there unless they took the more time-consuming detour.

  ‘Is that how you see what you do – as a job?’ he asked.

  ‘How would you see it?’ She raked him swiftly. ‘I take it you know what Marid does – buying and selling humans off the street like they’re commodities?’

  ‘Amongst other things.’

  ‘Do you agree with it?’

  He frowned. ‘You’re even asking that? Most of the third species despise him.’

  ‘So why doesn’t anybody ever do anything about him? Why doesn’t anyone do anything about what goes on here?’

  ‘Each to their own – that’s the rule in Blackthorn.’

  ‘But the line has to be drawn somewhere, surely. There has to be rules, a basic moral code or any society will implode.’

  ‘This society has survived without a civil war for over eighty years since the regulations came into being. That is the code.’

  ‘Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Or, as I like to say, burying your head in the sand.’

  ‘It’s called survival, Phia. Some of us don’t have an opt-out clause. Which reminds me – you never did answer my question. Why do this? Why give up your life in Summerton for this? Serryn or not, you had everything.’

  She kept her attention ahead, her strides purposeful. The vibrations from the numerous clubs and bars were already echoing through the distant streets.

  ‘My mother was killed by a vampire in one of the districts that’s supposed to be safe.’ She stepped down from the pavement and crossed the street. ‘She was in Midtown, on her way home from my sister’s school performance when she had her throat torn out.’

  A place her mother would never have been if her daughters had remained educated in Summerton. If Sophia hadn’t scuppered that.

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Six. But I only started looking into the facts a few years ago. And it didn’t take long to work out the Global Council are as corrupt and self-seeking as the Higher Order they mutually scratch backs with. The authorities claimed they never found the one who was responsible. But a vampire in Midtown means only one thing – either they were Higher Order or useful in the labs. Either way, my mother’s life was second priority to keeping the lid on it all. So it was covered up, only proving that those so-called borders don’t mean shit if you have money and influence. And we all know the Higher Order have plenty of the latter when it comes to the authorities.’

  ‘You’re one of the ones who believe the two are embroiled?’

  ‘I know the two are embroiled. It’s as transparent as glassless windows. They slither into the Global Council, convincing them they’re no threat. A few examples later of what their precious and pure healing Higher Order blood can do and suddenly labs get built and our so-called authorities are making compromises. It’s not because they’re royalty that they’re allowed to reside in Midtown – it’s because they’re useful. And for as long as they’re that, we all lose.’

  As they reached the crossroads, she took a left down the partially lit street, the breeze blowing back through her hair and chilling her face.

  ‘You don’t agree with the research?’ Jask asked. ‘Don’t you want cures as much as the next human?’

  ‘Like fuck I do. Not their way, anyhow. Their coming out wasn’t for our benefit, whatever lies they spout. They just know that even the enemy can become an ally if they’re indispensible enough. And what better way to get humankind on side than by offering cures? It’s about controlling us. They know our weakness. They know that the irony of all of this is that we want to be you. They know the authorities are hiding behind all this third-species morality crap when all they want is your prolonged life, your youth, your vitality, your strength. And until the authorities can harvest whatever magic gene you have, whatever it is that really sets us apart, they’ll keep the third species contained and the Higher Order on side. And all the while, too many humans will be caught in the middle – forced to reside in Lowtown because they don’t quite meet the standards. Those that are nothing but the expendable waste of a system they enforce not only to limit the threat of this prophesised vampire uprising, but to have the available finances to keep their research going. Anything can happen to those people as long as, one day, the powers that be no longer have to look in a mirror and see the signs of their own vulnerability.’

  ‘That’s a damning summary. Just whose side are you on, exactly, Phia?’

  ‘Not the Global Council’s and not the Higher Order’s, that’s for sure.’

  ‘And do you believe in these vampire prophecies?’

  ‘I don’t disbelieve them. But neither do I believe the Higher Order are going to sit around and wait for what might not happen for centuries, if ever.’

  ‘You think them coming out is part of a plan?’

  ‘Right now the cures are only being developed for the really sick, or so they claim. But how long before they progress on to minor ailments, cosmetic, even life extension? Soon everyone will want a piece of it. And then what grounds will there be for segregation? Where will the line be drawn when our DNA is so interwoven that we won’t know who are third species and who are human? New constitutions will have to be drawn up, that’s for sure – and that’s when the Higher Order will really come into their own. Prophesied leader or not, they’re planning to get on the inside one way or another. And then they’ll destroy us.’

  ‘But that’s why the segregation is based on the grounds of shadows and souls. Nothing can change that.’

&
nbsp; ‘No? I’m not so sure. Especially as the curing research isn’t the only type going on in those labs.’

  Jask came to a standstill. ‘What do you mean?’

  She’d probably already said too much. She shrugged. ‘I’m just saying I don’t trust them.’

  He caught hold of her arm. A hold that was as uncompromising as the look in his eyes. ‘You said more than that. How do you know so much?’

  She subtly tried to tug her arm free, but Jask wasn’t giving.

  ‘You want to waste what little time we have in your mission on standing here arguing?’ he asked.

  She sighed tersely. ‘My mother was a haematologist at The Facility. I stole one of her diaries after she’d died. It was just a random book of my mother’s at the time. But then I got old enough to read it. Let’s just say there are a lot of closed-door activities going on in those labs.’

  Jask’s frown deepened. ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. I probably never will. But whatever it is, your third-species shadows have caused as much interest as the Higher Order’s blood.’

  ‘Why?’

  She shrugged again. ‘Maybe because they think there’s a greater significance to the difference between our species. Maybe because the whole “we can be redeemed because we have souls and you’re beyond morality because you have shadows instead” is a tired concept.’

  ‘You don’t believe in that?’

  ‘Oh, I think you’re damaged goods all right. But I’m not so ignorant as to believe it’s all as simple as that. I’m guessing others are of the same belief. Why, what do you believe, Jask?’

  ‘I believe you need to accept that just because something is different to you, it doesn’t make it bad, a threat or the enemy.’

  ‘Sweet,’ she said. ‘Very sentimental.’ She freed herself from his grip and kept walking. ‘We’ll forget the threat of the prophecies that leaked out then – how vampires are going to rule us. How you and all the other third species will be their lapdogs.’

  ‘And you thought The Alliance could change that,’ he said, catching up with her again.

  ‘You’ve got to swim deep to find the sharks, Jask,’ she called across her shoulder as she turned the corner. ‘It’s no good paddling on the shoreline.’

  She came to a standstill as she surveyed the milling crowds ahead. The renewed buzz reverberating through her was undeniable. She clenched her hands before she noticed he’d held his out for her to take.

  ‘It’s not a proposal,’ he said, his eyes taunting. ‘It’s a safety measure.’

  ‘I don’t need it.’

  ‘I’m not thinking about you.’

  She almost smiled, but managed to refrain as she accepted. But his fingers lacing with hers only added to the stirring deep in her abdomen. ‘A bit intimate,’ she said, glancing up at him again.

  ‘A more secure hold,’ he declared.

  But the glint in his eyes turned the stirring into a flutter.

  She looked back at the crowds, and took his cue to walk towards them.

  They’d be at the bar in under ten minutes. She had to stay focused. She had to keep her attention ahead and not on the burning sensation as she brushed shoulders with the crowds. There were several occasions when heads were turned, several times when she was met with some questioning frowns, but she refrained from eye contact, keeping her focus on the security of Jask’s hand.

  A hand that abruptly led her left into a clothing shop.

  Weaved through the rails, Phia glanced over her shoulder, wondering what Jask had seen to necessitate the prompt detour.

  She ploughed into the back of him as he stopped abruptly, letting her go.

  He turned, took a dress off the rail to examine it before showing it to her.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘We need to get you changed.’

  Her eyes snapped to his. ‘For what?’

  ‘You’re in the clubbing capital and you’re walking around in black combats, army boots and a sweat top. You need to blend in – especially considering the attention you might get walking around with me.’

  ‘But we’re not going clubbing,’ she said, her voice hushed as she snatched the dress off him to return it to the rail.

  He slipped his hand around her upper arm, encircling it as he led her deeper into the shop. ‘Remember the rule about doing what I say?’

  She tried to wrench her arm free without attracting any more glances. But it wasn’t ‘them’ who were on the receiving end of the glances, she realised – it was most definitely Jask.

  Suddenly, as pretty eyes flashed in his direction, as shapely bodies brushed past him a little too closely, Sophia felt a prickle of resentment.

  And he did have a point.

  ‘Okay, so what about this one?’ she asked, reaching for a navy dress – a round neck, long sleeves, knee-length. Practical in a fight.

  A girl brushed between them, but Jask moved out of the stranger’s way without even looking at her, his full attention remaining locked on Sophia. A small knot formed in her stomach, one she told herself not to read into.

  ‘Stick to black. It suits you.’ He searched the same rail and pulled out a knee-length, halter-neck dress. ‘But show off your shoulders. They’re one of your best features.’

  Her eyebrows lifted involuntarily, her stomach flipping again. ‘What’s wrong with my face?’ she asked, her humour a weak attempt to ease her awkwardness at the compliment.

  His eyes met hers before he stepped away again. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

  Her grip on the hanger tightened. She looked down at the dress. He’d even got her size right. She scanned the shop again, catching a few curious stares, before hurrying behind him.

  Her pace quickened when she saw him heading to the lingerie section.

  ‘I have this covered,’ she said, taking the bra off him and slamming it back on the hook.

  ‘I didn’t have you down as a prude, Phia,’ he said with a smirk as he wandered around the other side of the display.

  She folded her arms as his taunting blue eyes met hers. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Choose away. And how exactly are we supposed to pay for any of this?’

  He lowered his eyes as something caught his interest. ‘I’ve got it covered. Unless you want to waste time arguing about that too?’

  She stepped around the display to be greeted with a matching lingerie set. She wasn’t sure why she’d assumed it would be something tacky, but the black lace strapless bra and high-cut shorts were anything but.

  She looked up at him. ‘What makes you think you’ve got my size right?’

  He sent her a knowing smile as he indicated towards the cubicle behind her. ‘Get yourself changed. We’re on a time limit, remember?’

  She watched him saunter back through the store towards the counter where a female lingered despite clearly already having paid.

  Sophia reluctantly turned on her heels, stepped into the dressing room and pushed back the curtain on the nearest cubicle.

  She removed her boots and tore off her comfortable sweater, combats and underwear. She’d always been a tomboy. There was no point being anything else with Leila, let alone Alisha, to compete with. She was popular from scuffling with the boys, not dating them.

  She pulled on the lace shorts and fastened the bra before slipping the dress down over her head. She stood back to look at herself in the mirror as she fastened the clasp at the nape of her neck.

  She’d worn plenty of other dresses in the past few months – all to blend in just like Jask had pointed out. But they were cheap. Nothing like the one Jask had chosen for her.

  The prom was the last time she’d put on a dress of that quality. A dress she had ended up tearing in half in frustration at her lack of feminine curves, despite having spent months earning enough to pay for it.

  Subsequently she’d never made it to the prom, even when Leila had offered her an alternative dress. Instead, it had been another night of slamming her be
droom door and locking herself away rather than deal with the pain.

  What she knew was that her frustration was nothing to do with her tomboyish appearance – it was because she’d wanted her mother there. She’d wanted her mother to see her and be proud. Because once the excitement of the prom was over, she’d still be left with the truth – her mother was dead. And nothing would ever change that.

  She flinched as Jask pushed back the curtain, holding it open just enough for him to block the gap he had created.

  He handed her a pair of dainty heels. ‘Might complement the dress better than the boots.’

  She accepted the shoes off him. She perched on the edge of the stool and fastened the straps over her feet and around her ankles. She stood back up, liked the extra three inches the heels gave her. ‘This do?’ she asked, arms out at her sides, palms exposed.

  She hadn’t meant her tone to sound confrontational, but she knew it was inevitable as she stood there feeling as vulnerable as she did.

  ‘Almost perfect,’ he said – the “almost” being the word she hung onto rather than the “perfect”.

  She opened her mouth to retaliate, but he held up his hand, spun what she could see was a garter around his forefinger.

  She raised her eyebrows again. ‘Kinky.’

  ‘I’d say useful,’ he declared, stepping into the cubicle and letting the curtain drop into place behind him.

  She instinctively took a step back, the cubicle suddenly feeling very enclosed with him joining her. Her pulse picked up a notch, her breathing terse.

  He crouched down – the only thing to reduce his imposing presence in the small space – to reach behind her knee and lift her foot onto his lap.

  Sophia held her breath as he slid the garter over her shoe to her ankle. With his thumb looped over the outside of the lace band, his palm flat against the back of her ankle inside it, he slowly slid the garter up her calve, over her knee, making her shiver as he reached her lower thigh.

  But he didn’t let either the garter or her thigh go as he stood again. Instead he guided her foot up onto the stool beside them, her inner thigh brushing against his jeans as he finished sliding the garter into position mid-thigh.