by Emma Slate
“Servants of Thane’s,” Hunter finished, nodding. “And you called them to you.”
“How? I didn’t ask, I—”
“Anita said you were chanting gibberish, remember? It wasn’t gibberish. You were calling them to you for protection.”
“How could I do that?”
“Because of your bond with Thane. But he didn’t send them, Poppy. You called them. And they came because they wanted to.” He took my chin and forced me to look at him. “That’s how we know.”
“Know what?”
“There have been many women over the generations, Poppy. And not one of them has held even a fraction of the power you do. You’re it. You are the one who will free Thane.”
“Why is he trapped? Who put him in his prison?”
Hunter’s hand dropped my chin. My skin tingled from his touch. “That’s not for me to tell you.”
He wouldn’t tell me what the test in Ireland entailed.
He wouldn’t tell me why Thane was in a prison.
He wouldn’t tell me a damn thing.
An hour later, I ordered my first mimosa. Hunter and I weren’t communicating. Well, he was trying to talk to me, but I wasn’t talking to him. I was tired of his cryptic bullshit.
By the third mimosa, we were somewhere over the Atlantic, and I was finally speaking to him.
Yelling, actually.
“This is all your fucking fault!” I shouted, not caring if the flight crew heard me.
“My fault?” Hunter repeated, eyes wide. “How do you figure?”
“I don’t know! You sat down at my library table! And you’re the one who took me to that bar where I found Thane.” I shook my head as if to clear it. “And now it was all for this—this—shit! There’s not even a name for what all this is!”
Hunter grasped my face in his hands and forced me to look into his eyes. “Poppy,” he whispered. Aching, beautiful, heartbroken.
“I have never wanted to shirk my duty, my obligation. Not until I met you.”
I leaned over and collapsed into his arms, crying against his chest. The closer we got to Ireland, the further emotionally apart Hunter and I became.
It was pure agony.
“I don’t want this,” I said, hiccoughing into his shirt. “My life isn’t my own anymore.”
Hunter whispered words into my ear and my body slackened, my terror at my lack of control and the unknown fading away.
“What did you do?” I asked, my eyes slipping closed.
A moment later, the armrest between our seats was up and my head was in his lap as I began to drift into the darkness.
“Sleep, Poppy,” Hunter murmured, his fingers sifting through my hair. “Things are always better after you sleep.”
Poppy.
Thane?
Open your eyes, Poppy.
I’m asleep, Thane.
Thane sighed.
My eyes flipped open.
And stared into glittering black orbs.
“I can see you,” I whispered. My eyes darted everywhere, trying to take him all in. There was so much of him.
Tall, broad. Dark hair, dark eyes. Recognition dawned.
“I’ve been drawing you…haven’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been dreaming of you…in your human form,” I accused.
His grin was wolfish and unapologetic. “I used what powers I had, Poppy.”
“You bastard.” Anger and lust rippled beneath my skin. I ignored the lust.
Or tried to.
Thane wore a black silk shirt and leather pants.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I snarled.
He raised a dark eyebrow.
“The pants. Seriously? That’s how you come to me in a dream? Wearing leather pants? I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Thane.” I cracked up, but sobered when I realized Thane wasn’t laughing along with me.
“This isn’t a dream, Poppy.”
I blinked. “Then what is this?”
His head dipped and a moment later, two torches behind him flamed to life illuminating our surroundings. Black stone walls, black stone floors.
“How did you bring me here?” I demanded, placing my hand on the wall. Coldness seeped into my skin.
“I didn’t bring you here. You came here to me. I’m not sure how.” Thane’s eyes darkened and an onyx, silky mist swirled around him.
“Are you angry?” I demanded.
“Yes.”
“Why? You have no right to be. If anyone should be irate, it should be me!” I seethed.
Thane threw back his head and laughed. It wasn’t a sound of joy. I felt bitter resentment roll off of him and hit me with a force—backing me up until I hit the wall.
“Look around you, Poppy,” Thane stated, waving his arm. “This has been my home for the past many hundreds of years. I am trapped in a prison inaccessible by any mortal being.”
He stalked toward me, and I would’ve backed up more if it had been possible. But there was nowhere else for me to go, and then Thane placed his hands on the wall, caging me in. He leaned over just the slightest bit, bending his neck to look down at me.
His mouth was a cruel temptation.
“This isn’t real,” I taunted. “You’re not real.”
I felt his warm breath on my cheek as he pressed closer. “Touch me, Poppy. See if I’m real.”
Looking up at him, I saw the firelight of the torches dance in his eyes.
“Touch me,” he urged again.
My hand slowly came up to rest on his chest. Muscles rippled under my fingertips and it took every ounce of willpower not to stroke him. He’d probably enjoy it—hell, I’d enjoy it.
I lifted my hand from him. “Step back.”
He bent closer for an instant before pushing himself from the wall. I could finally breathe. “I have the right to be livid,” he stated, his voice like granite.
“And I don’t?” I demanded, standing straight.
He turned away from me and suddenly I was cold, bereft, my emotions running wild.
“I want out of this prison.”
“So go,” he commanded. “But don’t you dare blame me for being the one to bring you here.”
“If you didn’t bring me, then how did I get here?”
“I called you to me, Poppy, but you are the one who choose to come.”
I swallowed. “I’m scared.”
“You should be.”
Chapter 37
I drifted awake, breathing in the smell of Hunter’s skin.
Rage—volatile, blistering—swept through my blood.
I reached out and gripped his throat.
Hunter’s hand went to my wrist. “Poppy, come back,” he urged.
His voice sounded very far away. “From where?” I growled.
“This isn’t you.”
“This is me, Hunter.” Fury bubbled inside my body threatening to erupt.
“You’re feeling Thane’s rage Poppy, not yours. Look at me.”
I forced myself to stare into his eyes.
Blue again, like the sky. Not black, and no longer rippling with hidden depths.
“Come back,” he coaxed. He wrapped one hand around the side of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine while his other hand enclosed my wrist in supplication.
But the wrath wasn’t my own, and neither was the strength that came with it. It flowed out of my fingertips, making me grip Hunter’s throat tighter.
It wasn’t until he was gasping for air and turning red that I released him. The anger drained out of me, leaving me appalled at my actions.
“Hunter, God, I—”
“It’s okay, Poppy,” he wheezed, taking a sip from his bottle of water. He cleared his throat, drawing my attention to the blotchy column of skin, bruises already forming.
“It’s not okay,” I breathed, defeat heavy in my tone. “This isn’t okay at all.”
“What were you dreaming about?” he asked.
“It wasn’t
a dream,” I said. “I was with Thane. In his prison.”
“Oh.”
I shook my head. “He’s the one I’ve been drawing. You didn’t know?”
“No. I mean, I suspected—”
“Of course you did.”
“Poppy, you don’t understand. There haven’t been any visuals of Thane…until your drawings.”
I frowned. “How is that possible? Didn’t the other flower women dream of him? Draw him?”
“I don’t know if they did or not,” he admitted.
“I find it really hard to believe that I’m the first—”
“Did you find your stay in the psych ward fun?”
I blinked, momentarily thrown by his question. “Fun? Are you kidding? It was hell.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. It was hell, but I was able to get you out. Do you know what it was like for the mentally ill only a hundred years ago?”
My shoulders sagged. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh,’” he repeated. “We’re still not at a time in history where people know what to do with people who have schizophrenia or other personality disorders. I suspect no one documented what Thane looked like because if they had, they would’ve been committed. Not to mention that over the past few hundred years many of the flower women didn’t even have access to paper or pencils.”
“I didn’t even think what this could’ve been like for them, in their time.” I paused in thought. “Thane told me he’d been in his prison for hundreds of years.”
“Yes.”
“He must be a very old being.”
“Fishing for information?”
“Definitely.”
“He’s not old,” he supplied. “He’s ancient.”
“Ancient?”
Hunter cocked his head to the side and his eyes drifted away from mine. “I can’t say anymore. He wants to be the one to tell you…”
“What if I die before I learn the answers?” I griped.
He smiled, but it was sad. “As if I’d let that happen.”
“Promise me something, Hunter.”
Hunter clutched my hand. “Anything.”
“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the coming days. I have no idea what’s going to happen with Thane. But I need you. I trust you. In a way I don’t trust anyone in the world. Will you be there for me?”
I stared up at him, pleading with him, my expression apologizing for what I’d just done to him. I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time I flew out of control.
“I promise.”
I snuggled against his shoulder. After a moment, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer.
Thane had used me as a vessel. Through me, he’d unleashed his fury at Hunter.
“Could I have killed you?” I whispered.
He paused before answering. “Probably.”
I sent out a blast of ire through my mental connection to Thane. I didn’t know if he could feel it—trapped as he was at the moment. But when I came face to face with him again, I’d show him my anger.
“Raise the slat,” Hunter commanded.
I leaned over and revealed the window. I expected to see clouds, but saw nothing but green down below. In the midst of what had transpired, the plane had begun its descent.
“Dublin?” I asked.
“Dublin,” Hunter confirmed.
“I wish we had time to explore.”
“Me too. But this is not a vacation…” he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.
I was eager to free Thane and confront him in his human form. I needed it, I realized—to question him in reality, not while he was trapped in his prison and not while he took a spider’s form.
I wanted to challenge him as an equal. I wanted to look him in his handsome face and—
Handsome?
What the fuck was I thinking?
I pulled my gaze away from the view outside the window and glanced at Hunter. He was the one who was handsome. He was the one who was human.
He was everything I could want. He loved me and I loved him.
So why was I thinking about Thane? A picture of him formed in my mind. Those lips. God, those lips.
They made me ache.
Hunter looked at me in confusion a moment before his expression ironed out. “There are some things you cannot fight, Poppy.”
I buried my face in his chest, slid my arms around him, and held on as the plane landed.
“Maybe,” I whispered, wondering if he could hear me over the roar of the engines. “But there are people worth fighting for…”
We made it through customs in record time. I wondered if Hunter had paid people off, only to realize I didn’t care if he did or not. It was mid-afternoon, and I was tired and a little hungry.
After climbing into a cab, Hunter asked the cabbie to take us to the Temple Bar district.
“It’s where everything is happening,” Hunter assured me.
“I bow to your knowledge,” I quipped, pressing my nose to the window. Half an hour later, the cabbie dropped us off, said something in a thick Irish lilt, and then sped away.
The sky was cloudy, and the air was chilly. “We should probably get inside before it rains,” Hunter said.
“In a bit. I’m taking it all in.”
Worn cobblestone streets, red wooden doors, old stone statues. I felt drops on my shoulders, realizing we were without the proper clothing or rain gear.
“Come on!” Hunter said, tugging me along toward one of the many pubs. We made it inside just as it started to downpour.
“That’s Dublin for you,” Hunter muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.
“You’ve been to Dublin before?”
He nodded. “Grab that booth in the back. I’ll order us food and then tell you all about it.”
Chapter 38
I maneuvered my way through a sea of accented words and small crowd of people to reach the back of the bar. At first it was difficult to understand, but I soon picked up the cadence and fell into the rhythm of local speech.
While I waited for Hunter to find me, my gaze wandered around the pub. It looked like any other Irish Pub; even remarkably similar to the one I’d been to in Charleston. Yet this place had a certain authenticity that couldn’t be faked.
“You’re without a drink, love.”
I glanced up at the Irish guy grinning down at me. He held a pint of beer, his wool sweater dusted with raindrops that caught the dim light of the pub.
“Not for long,” I said. “My boyfriend is at the bar.”
The attractive young man with dark hair slid into the booth seat across from me, ignoring my dismissive attitude. It didn’t matter how cute he was—or the fact that he had dimples and an accent. This was the last thing I needed and I wasn’t in the mood.
He cocked his head to one side, his dark hair flopping across his forehead. “You’re not from here, are you, love?”
“I’m not your love,” I snapped, patience gone.
His smile was easy. “Sorry. You Americans—”
“We Americans, what?” Hunter asked, all of a sudden appearing at the table, two pints of beer in his hands.
The hot guy looked up and smirked at Hunter. “Sorry, mate. Just keeping your girl company until you returned.”
The stranger stood and brushed past Hunter. Just when I thought he would leave us in peace, he turned and said to me, “If you need someone to show you the sights, love…” He winked and then left.
Hunter glared after him.
“Don’t bother. He’s not worth it,” I stated, taking the pints from him and setting them down onto two cork coasters.
“Fucking Irish. Think they’re so damn charming,” Hunter muttered, settling himself in the booth and reaching for his pint. “Food will be out in a bit.”
I nodded and took a sip from my own glass. The Guinness was smooth and rich. Perfect.
“So you said you’ve been to Ireland before,” I reminded him.
�
�With my Dad. I was sixteen. It was a rite of passage, if you will. He told me what was expected of our family line and of our duty. He told me about Thane.”
I held in my sigh. So much for being able to push Thane out of my mind. “That must’ve been a lot to deal with at sixteen.”
He shrugged. “I guess so. I always knew there was something my parents weren’t telling me, ya know? And I had been waiting for it for years…but of course I had no idea…” He let out a laugh. “Man, I really had no idea.”
“At least you had people to prepare you,” I said.
His gaze was solemn. “Yes. At least I had that. I’m sorry, Poppy.”
Tears gathered in my eyes, but I shoved them back. Tears were useless. “You know what, Hunter? Stop saying that. It doesn’t mean anything after a while.”
Anger didn’t disappear just because you forgave the one who hurt you. Both Hunter and Thane could’ve told me something about all this. They’d had plenty of opportunities. But they hadn’t. Both of them had remained silent and let me suffer.
Let. Me. Suffer.
I took a gulp of Guinness, trying to wash away the bitterness coating my tongue.
“You’re allowed, you know. To be mad. At me.”
“Thanks,” I snapped. “For letting me have my emotions.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
The bartender chose that moment to saunter over, plop down two baskets of fish and chips, point to the malt vinegar on the table, and then leave.
I grabbed the bottle and shook it until it was well past the point of needing shaking. And then I doused my fried fish.
“Why won’t you fight for me?” I asked him, staring him in the eyes.
“What would you have me do?” he demanded, finally losing his seemingly endless patience. “I have a duty, an obligation. Do you know how much this will shame my father?”
“Right,” I sneered. “Because that’s the price of being with me, right? Your precious duty?”
Hunter stilled, his face going cold. “You still have no idea who Thane is, Poppy.”
I scoffed. “So tell me. Oh wait, you can’t, can you? Another one of those fucking rules? I’m not allowed to know who he is until I free him, is that it? Well, guess what! I’m not doing it and you can’t make me!”