02 Blood Roses - Blackthorn

by Lindsay J. Pryor

  ❄ ❄ ❄

  The hatred she felt towards herself at goading him the way she had, encouraging him the way she had, overwhelmed her. She’d wanted to punish herself for the feelings stirring inside. She’d wanted to punish him for making her feel that way.

  But he’d stopped.

  And the fact he’d stopped only confused those feelings more.

  Every muscle in her body tensed as his cool, soft lips met hers, his moist mouth joining with hers with perfect pressure as he teased her lips apart. His kiss felt fresh, his tongue sliding to meet hers with an instinctive ease.

  She felt a stirring in her lower abdomen, a cold heat rushing through her body. The intimacy of the act consumed her, the absence of aggression stunning her. Instinctively she closed her eyes, subjecting herself to him in the passing moments, her anxiety suppressed.

  It was nothing like she expected. Not that she really knew what to expect. But tenderness was by far the least she had anticipated. But that’s just what his kiss was. Despite being cold, those lips were warm in a whole other way as he used them to smoothly and expertly part hers further, his strong hand subtly sliding around to the nape of her neck, her skin instantly breaking out in goosebumps.

  A kiss that showed her something more, just like she’d seen in the way he’d pulled her between his legs out on the terrace. In the way he’d slid the sword down her body in the dungeon. How he’d held her against the winged-back chair in that very room. Caleb was capable of something other than brutality. And if he was capable of that kind of passion tempered with sensitivity, he was even more lethal. Lethal to her heart at least.

  She was a fool to her heart not to keep fighting. But she was sick of fighting. The syringe lay too far away for to her reach and even if she could, she could no more plunge it deep into the vampire who now pushed his way back inside her than she could drive a stake through his heart.

  Because he could have so easily kept going – that was what she realised. He could have left that stinging tear on her face and kept pushing inside her until the pain got intolerable, until she couldn’t take any more.

  And what little she knew about him, she knew he had stopped out of concern. She had felt it in the way he had turned her over – not out of impatience or sadistic amusement. She knew that from the way he had assessed her eyes pensively. He’d almost seemed perplexed by her tears – by the confused turmoil that had instigated them.

  And something in her didn’t want any of it – anything that would add to his already intoxicating appeal. She could ignore his good looks to see beyond that to the cruel heart beneath, but a heart equally capable of affection was a poisonous combination. Cruel, single-minded, powerful Caleb was tempting enough with those shocking green eyes and entrancing smile, but gentle, attentive and sensual Caleb was even more dangerous.

  He was toxic. The worst kind of toxic.

  ‘I hate you,’ she whispered against his lips as he broke from their kiss.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ he whispered back.

  He lay her hands either side of her before sliding down her body, his mouth trailing down her cleavage, down her stomach before pushing up her dress to find her sex.

  She snatched back a breath, her nails digging into the duvet as his cool tongue slid slowly and coaxingly inside her, easing the throb, the ache that was already on the verge of release.

  He held her hips tight, locked her into position as she instinctively arched her back, inviting him to delve deeper, to explore further. His tongue was excruciatingly taunting and purposeful compared with the onslaught of his previous thrusts, the full focus on pleasuring only her almost too much to bear.

  She turned her head away, the sensation too intense, the ache in her stomach, the rush of blood, the tingling beneath his persistence making her light-headed and disorientated.

  Leila closed her eyes tight as he licked and probed, tried to relax as his tongue pressed at her clitoris, encircling it before sliding inside her, pushing her to an oncoming climax, her whole mind shutting down, her body giving in to the sensations, losing her inhibitions.

  And as his hunger increased, as he unashamedly consumed her without restraint, she bit deep into her bottom lip, pushed onto him further, the orgasm that was coiling its way through her the only thing she could focus on.

  As it erupted, pulsated fiercely through her body, she grabbed the sheets. Feeling him pull away, she wanted to reach out to him. But he was instantly back on top of her, inside her. This time it was slower, more controlled, as if it would only take a little to bring him to his own climax.

  She let him take her hands in his, let him interlace their fingers as he lowered his head to her throat.

  And as she closed her eyes again, she prayed that he wouldn’t bite, that he wouldn’t be tempted.

  The thought of losing him was just too painful.

  And as she felt another orgasm ricochet through her, she dug her nails deep into his arm.

  She was falling. She knew she was falling. Because even if she could get to the syringe, she knew she wouldn’t use it. Not then. Not there. Not when she was convinced this was more than just sex to him, those last few moments fracturing her resolve.

  And as she felt him come inside her, heard his muted growl against her throat, she knew it had been a struggle for him not to bite. A lethal struggle.

  He had to see it now. She had proven enough.

  He was going to have to let her go.

  But for the first time, she didn’t want him to.

  And it was all she could think as he gently withdrew, as he lay on his back beside her, between her and the pillows.

  She turned away from him to face the door, safeguarding her heart in some way by avoiding the intimacy that could forge more of what she was feeling. Because she was feeling something. Something deep, something undeniable, something unforgiveable.

  She felt herself panic at having to acknowledge it. Something was happening and it wasn’t to do with the serryn. Something she hadn’t felt for a long time – if she’d ever really felt it at all. Whatever feelings were stirring inside her, they were more raw, alive and intense than she’d ever felt.

  But she couldn’t feel them – she wouldn’t allow herself to feel them. Because if she did, the risk of her being there had just multiplied. If she was going to fall for him, the consequences could be dire.

  He had to let her go. She couldn’t tell him why, but he had to.

  And that was the last thing she could think as sleep finally consumed her, sleep that came too easy considering a vampire lay behind her.

  A vampire who had opted not to leave her side this time.

  A vampire who she inexplicably felt safe beside.

  ❄ ❄ ❄

  Leila had drifted to sleep quickly. She slept almost silently, her body falling lax beside him. She’d fought it, but the exhaustion had won in the end. She’d been through too much in the past few hours for it not to.

  He’d never known a serryn let their guard down. Not like that. But then he’d never had a serryn in his bed. He’d never found himself caring what one felt during sex, how much pain he caused them, or, more to the point, whether they were getting equal pleasure.

  And he sure as hell had never kissed one like that.

  Everything about her was as uncontrived as that kiss – a kiss that had been exquisitely soft, alluringly hesitant, lips that had trembled in anticipation. Those lips that had reciprocated not with lust, but something more.

  Countless emotions could be masked by the sexual act, but a kiss, the most intimate and passionate of exchanges, concealed nothing. And Leila didn’t kiss like the other serryns – the few serryns who would dare indulge that level of contact with their prey. Leila had kissed like she was feeling something for the last vampire she should feel anything towards. Because she had felt something.

  Just as he had.

  He’d almost tasted what it was like to be himself again, before the serryn who had set him on the path to d
estruction. So many experiences since had left him hollow, but nothing with Leila felt hollow.

  Even with Feinith he’d never felt it so intensely.

  Feinith only brought the darkness out in him. Feinith had seen his pain at the loss of Seth, and had thrived on it, fed on it, encouraged it to grow until he’d become nothing but a shell. A shell that Leila had breathed the life back into. Leila, with her honest emotions and convictions, who had every opportunity to become what he hated, but refused. Leila, who intrigued and excited him and made him question what he’d become – had made his gut wrench at the thought of what he’d done in his past.

  And it made him uncomfortable, as if he had been numb for a long time, the pins and needles cutting through him reminding him that it was still there.

  He sat up and eased himself back against the headboard, moved the pillows behind him to get into a comfortable position. His hand touched something hard, something cylindrical.

  He instantly knew what it was even before he looked at it. He held the syringe up in front of him.

  She’d clearly expected to end up in his bed at some point. An opportunity when he would be distracted. When she could tuck her hand beneath the pillows almost undetected. And if he hadn’t seen the bruising, if he hadn’t always paid so much attention to every inch of her body, if he hadn’t noticed it when she stretched out her arm to collect the books on the floor, she may even have succeeded.

  He twirled the syringe in his fingers.

  She’d already worked out there was no way out of this and she was going to go out fighting. Naïve, but commendable.

  He guessed it hadn’t turned out how either of them intended.

  He was surprised she didn’t flinch at the knock on the door, at the turn of the handle, but she was clearly too exhausted for either.

  Jake hovered in the open doorway at the foot of the bed, a book in his hand. He looked down at Leila, then up at his brother, disapproval but no great surprise clear in his eyes at realising how his big brother had spent the past couple of hours.

  Caleb looked at Leila’s purification book he was holding; looked back up at the perturbed look in Jake’s eyes.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ Jake said. ‘Now.’

  Caleb glanced back down at Leila. The whisper hadn’t disturbed her either. It looked like nothing was going to wake her.

  He reluctantly eased off the bed, crossed the room to Jake, and rested his hand on the doorjamb. ‘What’s up?’

  Jake sent a wary glance in Leila’s direction then cocked his head to the library. ‘Out here.’

  ‘It’s fine. She’s asleep.’

  Jake cocked his head out the room again and stepped back into the library.

  Caleb threw the other syringe on the fire before following Jake down to the table at the far end of the room. ‘What’s the problem?’

  Opening the book on the page he’d been marking with his finger, Jake rested it on the table and slid it towards his brother. He took a step back, his arms folded. ‘You want to tell me what that’s doing in a serryn’s spell book?’

  Caleb stepped up to the table and swiftly scanned the pages. ‘What?’

  Jake slammed his finger down on the lower right-hand corner of the page. ‘That,’ he said.

  Caleb stared down at the symbol. Then he snatched his gaze back to his brother.

  Jake’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and concern. ‘What’s going on, Caleb?’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Caleb locked his bedroom door and slipped the key into his back pocket.

  ‘You stay away from that room, you understand me?’

  Jake nodded.

  Caleb crossed the room, behind the table and to the bookcases that lined the back wall. He pulled out two of the books, and reached inside the gap. Immediately the whole bookcase slid back to reveal the dark recess behind.

  ‘How long will you be?’ Jake asked.

  ‘A couple of hours, maybe three,’ he said as he stepped into the darkness. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘You stay in the penthouse, okay? I’ll come and see you as soon as I’m back.’

  Jake nodded. ‘I’ll wait in the lounge.’

  Caleb crossed the tiny recess and opened the door that led into the depths of the building. He descended the rusted spiral staircase into the lengthy corridor below. The way ahead was lit only by weak sunlight breaking through cracks in the boarded-up windows, igniting the dust, flashing neon lights splintering onto the concrete.

  The weaving corridor led him through several cellars, each hanging heavy with an unearthly silence – a silence Caleb had always found comforting until then. Some of buildings he owned, some he rented, some were derelict. But in total they covered just under a mile before he pulled back the exit doors and emerged into the back alley.

  The storm had passed, but fortunately the dense sky still muted the sun. He pulled up his hood, tucked his hands deep into the front pocket of his hoodie, and marched on ahead through the washed-out alleys.

  It was forty-five minutes to her place. Most of the journey he could navigate by the back alleys, a suicide mission for most, but no concern for him other than the prospect of being temporarily slowed down by a couple of chancers looking for trouble.

  The journey felt like a trudge because of the urgency to get there. The urgency to know the truth.

  He should have been relieved at the prospect of proving himself right, but it left him unsettled. Because, even though resentment seared through his veins, he knew hurting her wasn’t going to be as easy as it would have been a few hours before – before he knew she had saved Jake.

  She’d got to him. She’d got further inside him than anyone had in a long time. And that only added to his anger at her potential deceit.

  He turned down a row of terraced Victorian houses, keeping to the shade of the trees as much as possible as he made his way along the windswept street. Arriving at her house, he stopped and pushed the creaking cast-iron gate open. He made his way up the short winding path and strode up the familiar stone steps to the porch. He stepped inside and knocked on the heavy green door. He took a couple of steps back down, checked the cellar window, and then scanned the other three floors before ducking back under the safety of the porch as he stared back out at the street.

  It didn’t take her long to answer. She pulled back the door with a wary glance before her wrinkled, sharp eyes gleamed.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ she said, staring up at him with a broad smile. ‘Caleb Dehain. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Hi, Niras,’ he said, towering above her stooped frame. ‘I’m hoping you have some time to spare me.’

  ‘Always,’ Niras said, stepping back, letting him in.

  Caleb stepped into the cool, dark house as Niras closed the door behind them.

  She led the way down the long, poorly lit corridor, guiding Caleb into the second door on the left. ‘From the troubled look on your face and the fact it’s daylight, can I assume this isn’t just a social call?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Not this time, Niras.’

  Niras took her seat in the large chair by the open fire and indicated for Caleb to take the one opposite. ‘It must be at least ten years.’

  He sat back into the heavily woven seat. ‘I guess it must be. Time goes so quick.’

  ‘Days become weeks, weeks become months then suddenly years become a decade.’ She frowned slightly, her expression grave. ‘You have an urgency about you. So uncharacteristic, Caleb.’

  He reached into his jeans pocket and took out the piece of paper he had drawn the symbol on. He held it across to her. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

  Niras accepted it off him. She lifted her eyebrows, her brown eyes widening before she stared back at him, her soft brown eyes struck with consternation. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘You know it?’

  Niras frowned. ‘Yes, I know it. But you shouldn’t.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘Caleb, where did you se
e this?’

  ‘I need to know what it is.’

  Niras’s frown deepened. ‘And I need to know how you came across this. Caleb, this symbol is known only to the Higher Order. It shouldn’t be knowledge to you. If you have been sifting in places you shouldn’t—’

  ‘I haven’t.’ He leaned forward, his hands between his parted legs as he held his gaze steadily on hers. ‘Niras. Please. Tell me.’

  Niras nestled back in her chair. ‘Still as demanding as ever, Caleb. Still as painfully handsome.’ She smiled. ‘If I was a century and a half younger…’

  Caleb smiled back. ‘Stop flirting with me, Niras. Diversion won’t work.’

  ‘I have told you too much over the years, Caleb,’ she said, looking back at the symbol. ‘Shared too many texts. Too many secrets.’ She looked back at him. ‘Those green eyes will be the downfall of me.’

  ‘But I’ve never betrayed you,’ he said. ‘And you know I never will.’

  ‘I know. I’m no fool, Caleb. And I have never known one so devoid of betrayal as you.’ She handed the piece of paper back across to him. ‘But I can’t discuss this with you. I’m sorry. You’ve had a wasted journey this time.’

  ‘Niras…’

  ‘My young friend. There is only one who could have told you of this and she had no right. Her infatuation with you has overstepped the mark. Whatever she has told you, don’t trust her motivation.’

  ‘And what would she have told me?’

  ‘Caleb, I will always retain my respect for you, you know that, but I have to speak my mind. As belligerent and wilful, and as opposed and disrespectful as you are to the Higher Order, your fervent defence of those you care about will always remain a trait I most admire.’ She paused. ‘But as pure-bred as she is, Caleb, as beautiful and as tempting as she is, Feinith is not worthy of your time nor your devotion. And her coupling will only bring the severest consequences to you and Jacob if you continue your relations with her.’

  ‘Feinith and I are no more, Niras. She broke my heart and with it any affection I ever held for her.’

  Niras held her gaze steadily on his. ‘I wish—’ she began, but stopped herself abruptly, taking a moment to rethink her wording. ‘I wish that she hadn’t spoiled you so. The female who finally won your heart should have been more deserving.’