Master of Salt & Bones

by Keri Lake

  “Get it off of me! Get it the fuck off of me!” He flails his hands, and when I grab a stick to fend it off, the bird abandons Jude for me.

  The sharp sting of its beak blazes across my skin, as I raise my arms to shield my face. It caws, its nails digging at my flesh while it needles past my limbs to my hair, ripping strands from my head. “Grab a fucking stick!” I manage to belt out, and as the first swing knocks into my elbow, I cry out, lowering my arms to cradle the vibrating ache in my bones. Opening my clenched eyes shows Jude standing alongside me, crouched and ready to swing again. “Not me, stupid bastard, the bird!”

  Except, there is no bird.

  “Didn’t see it fly off. Did you?” The harrowing tone of Jude’s voice sends a tickle down my spine.

  “No. Must’ve … just vanished.” I glance up at the canopy of trees above us, toward the small bits of sky peeking through the leaves, but find no sign of the bird.

  “Vanished. Yeah, right.”

  When I lower my gaze toward my friend, I notice where a long slice of skin at his hairline hangs by a thread of torn-away flesh.

  Like he just realises the pain, he reaches up to touch the wound. “The cocksucker tore into my skin!”

  At a lingering burn on my arms, and I lift both limbs to find pocks, and deep grooves filled with a dark red blood, where the bird nipped at my flesh. I look like I’ve survived a war, with all the marks marring my skin. “My mom will have my ass for this. Family portraits are tomorrow afternoon.”

  With a snort, he swipes up my sling from where I threw it on the ground. “Fitting, then, for your macabre family.”

  Much as I know my mother will be upset, I can’t help but chuckle at the visual of standing alongside her, coated in blood, while my father looks on behind me, pissed off and stern, as always. “The locals would surely have a field day with that one.”

  “Speaking of which, I thought, surely, you’d be a more gracious host and gift an old friend some pussy while I’m stuck here.”

  Jude and I met at the boarding school my father shipped me off to, up until I managed to get myself expelled for setting the headmaster’s couch on fire. Now I’m forced to slog through boring lessons with a tutor every day, with only the occasional visit from my friend when school is out of session.

  “One of the local girls?” I say. “You’d end up with crabs.”

  A bellow of Jude’s laughter echoes through the forest, while we trek back to the castle grounds. “Still, a little T and A would’ve been a nice touch.”

  “Touch to what?”

  Shoving his hands into his shirt pocket, he pulls out two perfectly rolled joints.

  “How’d you manage that here at the Chateau de Prison.”

  “You really should pay more attention to your help. The gardener hooked me up for a modest fee.”

  Swiping one of them up from his palm, I drag it across my nose, inhaling the scent of crisp herb and wood. “We’ll meet down in the cave tonight, after my mother takes her Valium.”

  “And the girls?” he asks, tucking both joints back into his pocket.

  “Forget the girls, man. There’s nothing in this town that would interest you.”

  They’re a strange breed in Tempest Cove. The kind who smile and flirt, while spreading their gossip behind your back. I once made out with a local girl, nothing more than kissing and some fumbling of hands, and by the end of the week, half the town was talking about my dick.

  I hadn’t even bothered to whip it out.

  That’s how they operate here, though. For whatever dirt they can spill, they’ll dig as deep as they have to.

  The forest breaks up for the open lawn of Blackthorne, and we stride past Easton, the gardener, who flashes a smirk that makes a whole lot more sense than it would’ve ten minutes ago.

  “I think you’re wrong, my friend.” Slowing his steps, Jude grabs hold of my shoulder. “I think there’s definitely something interesting.”

  I follow the path of his gaze, toward where a woman gathers up her suitcase in the circular drive in front of the manor.

  Jude strides ahead of me. “Please, allow me to help you.”

  As the woman turns around, my heart screeches to a halt inside my chest.

  Her eyes are a deep gray beneath long black lashes, in a narrow face framed by long, lazy curls that tumble over slender shoulders, which widen with the edges of large breasts stretching her tight sweater. When she smiles back at Jude, one of her teeth in front is twisted just enough to lift her plump lip into a crooked sort of smile. A painfully beautiful woman who must be at least ten years older than me, judging by the maturity in her features.

  “Merci,” she says, her lips pursing when she slides her gaze to mine. “My name is Solange. I’m here to clean.” A thick French accent only adds to the sultry nature of the woman.

  “Jude.” My forward friend prods a hand in front of her, but her eyes remain locked on mine as she rests her palm in his. Jude leans forward to kiss the back of her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Solange.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” she says, smiling as she slips her hand out of his. “You must be Lucian.”

  My name rolling off her tongue sends a shiver down my spine. “You know my name?”

  Her gray eyes dip from mine and back. “You’re hurt,” she says, rather than answer the question.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  A quick glance at my arms reminds me of the ass-kicking I suffered at the beak of a bird. “I’m fine.”

  “Lucian! I’ve been calling you for the last hour.”

  At the unwelcomed clamor of my mother’s voice, I cringe, trying to ignore her, where she stands at the front of the castle, hands crossed in front of her conservative beige pantsuit.

  “And what happened to you?” As the fussy woman makes her way down the stone staircase toward me, I groan, waiting for the onslaught of motherly concern. “You’re a bloody mess!”

  “Ah, you’re picking up my dialect, Mrs. B.” Jude says, his snicker dying beneath the clearing of his throat.

  Expression more stern than before, my mother snatches up my arm, and my cheeks instantly heat as I catch the amused look Solange shoots Jude. “Mother, I’m fine.”

  “You’ve got literal gouges in your arm, Lucian. What did this?”

  “He tangoed with the wrong bird.” The humor in Jude’s tone grates on me, while my arm is twisted and tugged in examination.

  “As I said, I’m fine.”

  “Those could be infected. You’ll need to get them cleaned up. Come on, we’ll have the nurse check you--”

  “Would you back the hell off? I said I’m fine!” I wrench my arm from her grip, the anger finally exploding to the surface.

  With her mouth agape, a shocked expression widens her eyes. “Lucian Darius Blackthorne, you will not speak to your mother that way. As I see it, you’re already in deep shit with your father.” What started out as a small food fight between Jude and me turned into a full on war, when we broke into the fire extinguishers and sprayed dry powder all over the kitchen and parlor, causing what she estimated to be thousands of dollars in damage to the furniture and carpets.

  In spite of the annoying grin I know is plastered to Jude’s face, I grind my teeth, keeping my mouth shut.

  “Go clean yourself. We’ll talk later.”

  Lurching a step toward her, Solange holds out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Blackthorne.”

  Shoulders stiff with her usual haughty posture, my mother keeps her steely gaze on me, not bothering to acknowledge the woman beside her.

  Solange lowers her hand and clears her throat.

  Jesus Christ, the woman can’t even spare a glance at the girl who’ll be washing the piss out of her bedsheets after my mother has another one of her Valium-induced nightmares.

  “If you could … show me to my room, I’ll get settled and begin my work.” The meek tone of Solange’s voice is inconsistent with th
e woman who greeted me just before my mother showed up.

  “One more thing, Lucian. You’re not to go near that cave tonight.” Still ignoring the new girl, my mother spins around and makes her way back up the stone staircase, where she pauses to look back. “Are you coming?”

  With a sheepish smile, Solange slides her suitcases from Jude’s grasp and raises a brow that my mother can’t see. “She’s delightful,” she whispers, before following after the woman.

  “Not gonna lie. Your mum?” Jude says. “She’s worse than my own.”

  “She’ll drive me to drink before I’m even of age.” In spite of the irritating encounter with my mother, I’m somehow fixated on the woman who follows her inside.

  “Goddamn, that is one fine piece of ass, though.”

  Frowning, I twist to look at my friend, whose eyes are glued as he licks his lips. “Solange, not your mum. If you don’t fuck that at some point, I’m afraid we can’t remain friends. I say we invite her to our little soiree tonight.”

  “And what the hell would she want with a couple of sixteen-year-olds, huh?”

  “We’re not like most sixteen-year-olds.” He wraps one arm around my neck, pulling me in. “We’re obscenely wealthy, and equally good looking. Not to mention, I refuse to fuck your dad’s sloppy seconds. Better to get our digs in first.”

  “’The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You honestly think your father, a man with more bad habits than a convent of dirty nuns, won’t be tapping that ass at some point?”

  I slam my fist into his shoulder. “In case you’ve forgotten, he’s married to my mother, asshole.”

  “As my old man is married to my mum. Doesn’t keep him from fucking anything in a tight skirt.”

  “Your father has no concept of family. If he did, he wouldn’t send you off to school, then send you off to stay with me every time you come home for break.”

  “True. But I admire his passion for the extracurricular.” Jude turns to face me, his lip kicking up to a half smile. “I’ll gift you the entire contents of my left ball-sack if you invite Solange to the cave tonight.”

  Lips curled in disgust, I shake my head and walk ahead of him. “I wouldn’t touch your curdled spunk if you gifted me your entire trust fund on top of it. Piss off.”

  “I meant my future firstborn.” Falling into step behind me, he leaps ahead and turns to face me, walking backward. “I’m kidding. But seriously, whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to make that happen? She’s new. They spend the first week kissing my parents’ asses. No doubt, she’ll do the same.”

  “Exactly. She’s new. She wants to please.” He reaches out to grip my shoulders, bringing me to a halt. “I saved you from a goddamn bird today. The least you can do is return the favor.”

  “You’re comparing apples to oranges.”

  “No, I’m comparing one dangerous bird to another. Did you see her tits?” His grip squeezes my arms as if he’s imagining his hands on them. “Couldn’t wrap my palm around them if I wanted to. I need to fuck this woman before my balls explode.”

  “Then, you ask her.”

  “It’s not the same.” Finally releasing me, he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re the master of the house when your father is away. Make her go.”

  “How?”

  “Your infamous Blackthorne charm. What else?”

  Chapter 3

  Lucian

  Present day ...

  I stare through the window of my father’s old office. Even two years after his death, the room still reeks of cigar smoke and the cheap perfume of his last whore.

  In the aftermath of my mother’s declining mental health, he let the place fall into disrepair. Took to drinking gin all hours of the day, and keeping with prostitutes he forced Rand to recruit from the mainland on his behalf.

  A dull ache in my skull radiates over the right side of my head, and I set a hand to where small patches of hair are missing. In light circles, I try to abate the needling sensation that settles deep inside my bones. A quiet ringing in my ears intensifies just enough to add a zap of sharp pain.

  Eyes flinched, I breathe through my nose until it subsides, and loosen the tight clench of my teeth.

  “She’s arrived, sir,” Makaio says from behind.

  I let out a shaky exhale, not bothering to turn to where the giant Hawaiian stands behind me.

  At six-five, he’s only about an inch taller, but his mass makes up the difference between us. That, and Makaio happens to be far more deadly with his MMA background. I loathe the idea of having a bodyguard shadow me everywhere, but I’ve had enough attempts on my life to warrant the man’s services. I’ve known him for nearly half my life, he and Rand being longtime associates of my father. The only two people left in the world that I trust.

  “You want Rand to bring her up so you can meet her?”

  “Rand assisted my father in making multi-million dollar decisions every day. I’m sure he can handle hiring a companion for my mother.”

  “This one looks young. Hot, but can’t dress worth a damn.”

  I couldn’t care less about the new help. They rarely last here, so I find it pointless to learn more than I need. Whether from having to put up with my mother, or from staying in this rotting corpse of a house, they have a tendency to quit the job before they’ve begun. “Please have Giulia bring me some coffee.”

  “Breakfast, too?”

  “No. I’m not hungry.”

  “How is that even possible? I don’t get it.”

  I smirk, in spite of my mood. “I weigh about a hundred pounds less than you do. I certainly don’t have the same love affair you seem to have with food.”

  “Doesn’t cheat. Doesn’t piss and moan every time I want a piece. And I don’t have to worry about some other asshole coming along to swipe it up.”

  “Depends on what you’re eating.”

  Snorting, Makaio shakes his head. “I’ll have Giulia bring the coffee.”

  With a nod, I turn my attention back toward the window. From here, I can see over the surrounding forest that lines the property’s perimeter, and beyond to where the ocean dances in the distance, past the edge of a steep cliff.

  Blackthorne Manor is the pillar of excess, a fortress designed to divide the rich from the poor. My great-grandfather had the castle built on the highest cliff, where it could be seen from anywhere in Tempest Cove. A grim reminder to generations that followed why one should never cross paths with a Blackthorne. It’s said the foundations, upon which this place was built, are the crushed remains of his enemies’ bones. Dramatic really. Even my own family isn’t immune to making up fables.

  The ocean view morphs and sharpens into my reflection in the glass, where a cluster of grisly scars stretch across the lower part of my cheek. Twisting my head slightly to the side shows the unaffected half, the part that wasn’t torn away that night. Touching it with my hand offers palpable evidence to the visuals of the grotesque, uneven landscape of my skin. Gashes so deep that not even scar revision could hide them.

  As the familiar revulsion bubbles to the surface, my hands instinctively ball into fists. I’ve punched enough mirrors to know that breaking things doesn’t make it go away. Doesn’t change what happened. But the pain feels good.

  “Master?” At the sound of Giulia’s voice, I tamp down my frustration and turn only slightly to face her. “Will you be needing my services this evening?” she asks, setting down the cup of coffee on a coaster atop the desk.

  Sometimes we fuck. It’s part of the contract I have with her, which keeps her employed, and her daughter at a prestigious boarding school instead of public schools on the mainland that’re riddled with drug dealers.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  As much as I enjoy the pleasures of a woman, it’s not enough. It never is. Giulia is accommodating, indulging in whatever I ask, but what I need is something that would turn her stomach.

 
; And I just don’t have the energy to slog through the mundane tonight.

  If I didn’t know her as well as I do, I’d almost mistake the chasing expression on her face for disappointment. I know better, though.

  “Very well.”

  Wasn’t that long ago, she would’ve scoffed at the idea of bowing her head in acquiescence. Nowadays, she’s far more agreeable, without much commentary, or objection. Not that she’d object to my dismissal. In spite of the moans, the kisses, seemingly kind caresses, I’m certain the sight of me repulses her enough to feign enjoyment during sex. Even her climax is achieved through shuttered eyes, as if one glance would ruin it.

  “This pleases you?” I ask her.

  “Your satisfaction pleases me, sir.”

  “But you’re relieved that you don’t have to fuck me tonight. The abhorrent, hideous Mad Son.”

  “I don’t think of you as such.”

  “Everyone thinks of me as such. Including you.”

  If she lowered her head any more, she’d be kissing the floor. “Do you need anything else from me?”

  Twisting away from her, I catch her fidgeting in the window’s reflection. Aside from Makaio, everyone fidgets around me. If my face isn’t enough to frighten them, the rumors about me surely keep them on edge. “No. Nothing.”

  I watch her retreat, the light of the hallway adding a soft glow to the glass as she exits my office.

  The ache strikes again, stronger than before, the ringing between my ears like a sewing needle spearing my eardrum. Spasms of pain shoot through my jaw, as I grind my teeth while clutching either side of my head.

  Fuck. They’ve gotten worse in the last year. Almost unbearable. The ache reaches my eye sockets, and for a moment the view outside the window blurs into an impressionist painting of green and blue.

  Through heavy lids, I try to focus on the water, something that might draw my thoughts away from the agony. An object of focus, the doc once told me. There’s nothing but jagged flashes of light and the vertigo that always follows.

  Voices outside the door could be real, or imagined, it’s hard to tell, but as they grow louder, I concentrate on the sound for distraction. A female voice, whose intonation is soft, but enough to break through the ringing.