The twins nodded and walked off, their black trench coats flapping behind them in the chilly breeze.
Cain went toward the bunker. He scanned the ground, looking for any trace or sign that something had been there.
What he saw was crushed grass, his boot treads marked in mud, and Flint’s smaller print beside his. The drone hadn’t come this way. Keeping his head down, he kept walking, finally entering the left-hand clearing.
There was a rustle in a bush a few yards ahead, and a tiny mouse scampered out. He eyed the bush, waiting for a telltale shake or wiggle of hiding prey.
The wind blew through his hair. Then he heard something.
Soft.
Like the slide of shoes on damp leaves. Turning slowly, he eyed the drone who’d crept up on him.
It was a girl, one he actually recognized. The one from school he’d seen eyeing Flint in the cafeteria. She held up her hands, her eyes a deep, solid red. Only a recent feeding could bleed the whites out.
“My name is Tamara,” she said in her sibilant voice.
Something about the way she approached him, talked to him first, didn’t sit right with him. She was mollifying him, preventing the anger from bleeding through his bones and filling him with the rage he’d need to make the kill.
He lifted a brow. “You’ve been following her?”
Tamara nodded her pixie-shaped head, obviously aware of whom he meant. Her dark hair curled attractively around her face. She wasn’t peeling—in fact, she seemed more human than the rest of them. Though that wasn’t saying much; there was definitely an alien quality about her.
“Why?”
“To warn her.” She blinked, revealing that she had a clear membrane over her eyes, much like a shark’s when attacking.
Cain clenched his jaw. “Warn her how?”
Her head moved like a charmed cobra. “I cannot say,” she hissed. “We are not your enemy, rager.”
He curled his lips, feeling the first faint stirrings of anger. “You nearly killed her. Why did the queen send the royal guard?”
She blinked again. “She did not die. If we wanted her dead, she would be.”
“Then why send the guard?” he barked as the blood in his body began to stir restlessly.
“I told you… a warning.”
A snarl rumbled in his chest. “Then you’ve failed.”
“Have we?”
“I killed her.”
“It’s just a body, there’re more.”
Tamara’s cavalier response made his veins throb. “Is she one of you?”
She stood completely still, looking so like an automaton that for a moment he wondered if the hive weren’t actually some form of cyborg hybrid. “Not yet. Only the queen’s kiss can bestow the blessing.”
“So what is she?”
She smiled. “Altered. Faster. Slow to age now.” She blinked.
Those last few words made him feel like someone had just kneed him in the gut. “Slow to age? How slow?” Like him? Slower?
So not quite as human as he’d thought. He licked his lips.
But the Aswang merely cocked her head. “Does it matter?”
Which told him nothing. “Why do you want her?”
She pursed her lips and paused, as if listening to something far away. “My queen’s reasons are her own and not mine to share.”
“Then why are you here?” He heard the guttural tenor sing through his voice, felt his body flex and heave, fill with the monstrous strains of his curse.
She swayed, like a loose limb in the wind. “Because I know what is to come. And I do not like it. I want you to kill me.”
His nostrils flared.
None of this conversation was making any sense. His body thirsted for the change, but his brain knew that when he went berserker, logic fled. Cain desperately wanted to reason through this, understand what was happening. Why it was happening.
Tamara stepped into him. And even from this close distance, he couldn’t smell her. There was no smell of milk, no smell whatsoever.
Fearlessness was reflected in her red gaze. “Do it, rager. Spare me.”
He snarled. “Had you not asked, I might have complied.”
The first sign of emotion crept like feelers across her face. Anger, disappointment, and then she was a blank canvas again. “Do not say I did not warn you. Flint will die.”
Fire heated his veins, made him suck in air like a bellows, red descended like a haze over his vision. He was reaching, seconds away from latching on to her neck and squeezing the life out, when she vanished. Literally disappeared.
But now he was angry.
With a roar that shook the heavens, he ran. “Eli, Seth.” His voice came out twisted and demonic, shivering with the sound of a thousand voices.
In seconds the twins ran out. They took one look at him and then muttered. “Aw, crap.”
They knew what they had to do. If they didn’t, Cain would kill and he wouldn’t stop until the fever was suppressed.
He stood in the center of the field and spread his arms. “Do it,” he said, his body trembling with adrenaline so sharp it was a visceral pain, cutting through his gut, cramping his muscles with his restraint.
The twins shrugged off their coats.
Their aggression was so much different than his own. Long ago, they’d learned how to control it. Maybe sharing the anger and fire had also strengthened them. But they didn’t lose control the way he did when the rage took them.
Their muscles flexed and inflated. Their eyes turned a molten silver.
Eli threw the first punch.
Pain exploded through his jaw like a firework.
Seth went next, punching Cain in the solar plexus, causing him to bend over and wheeze as the air left his lungs in a violent rush.
But the shivering didn’t stop.
Coughing blood, he spat and then growled. “Again.”
Eli and Seth ripped into him, punching, feinting, jabbing, making his head rocket with lasers of searing-hot agony.
Again and again, they beat into him, dropping him to his knees. Sweat poured off his body as he accepted the punishment. What would she think if she saw this?
One final blow from Eli to his temple knocked him out cold.
Finally Flint finished the last equation. She had no idea what Wickham had planned for them to make tomorrow. She rubbed her head. At least she’d gotten the assignment done.
“Need sleep,” she moaned.
Janet and Rhiannon merely grunted; they’d passed out thirty minutes ago.
Abel patted her head. “Yup.”
Just a little rest, that’s all she needed. Flint closed her eyes. A few minutes and then she’d go find her dad. Next thing she knew, the sun was stabbing her in the eyes.
“Princess.” A thick voice made her heart jump in her throat.
It took her a second to realize she was lying prone on the bed. Janet was curled into a ball at the foot, Rhiannon at the bottom, and Abel was sprawled on the floor.
And then she smelled him and everything inside her came instantly awake. Pine flooded her senses, but when she blinked to clear the fog, it wasn’t Cain staring back at her.
At least not the one she’d come to recognize.
He was a mass of bruises. Both eyes were swollen—black shadowed the bottoms. She gasped.
“What happened?”
Pressing a finger to his cracked and bloody lips, he jerked his head toward the open door, then he walked out.
Did he want her to follow?
What had happened to him?
Curiosity hammered at her skull until she ignored her instinct that she shouldn’t go to him. Cain was trouble. She sensed that. Felt it in every fiber of her soul. And yet… she disentangled herself as carefully as possible, trying not to wake anyone as she tiptoed out.
She couldn’t seem to control herself where he was concerned.
Easing the door shut behind her, she looked and spied him leaning against the trailer wall opposit
e Abel’s place. He had his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the ground, and looked as still as a statue.
The gray sweater she’d seen him in last night was now stained with dirt and grass and blood. His hair was disheveled, and her heart was racing so hard it was almost painful. He looked terrible.
“What happened to you?” she whispered when she finally got close enough to him.
He didn’t look up, but the muscle in his jaw tensed.
“Cain?”
His nostrils flared, and when he finally glanced up, she saw the burning red rimming his irises. Without saying a thing, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into him.
A part of her wanted to pull back, to make him let her go. But the muscles under his shirt were twitching, and the way he leaned into her, like he was drowning and she was the air he breathed…
It did things to her.
Crazy things.
Made her forget how he’d acted last night, how he acted almost all the time. When he was like this, she could forget almost everything.
Flint wrapped her arms around his neck and just stood there, wrapped in his strong arms, wishing she could do more.
A memory came to her then, one she hadn’t thought of in over five years. Her and her mother walking along the lake. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was ablaze like someone had taken a torch to it. A cloud had parted, revealing a flock of white geese zooming in for the water. They landed in formation, and the sight had caused Flint’s twelve-year-old heart to sigh.
Her mom had looked at her and said, “Take a mental picture, Flinty. You’ll never see that again.”
That’s how this felt. In this moment, in his arms, while the rest of the circus was asleep and the sun was just beginning to rise. They were surrounded by people, creatures, humanity, but in a tiny sphere of time, it was just the two of them. Hanging on for dear life.
His fingers dug into her waist, and she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart, and as she did, she snapped her eyes shut, taking that mental picture and saving it for a rainy day.
All too soon, he was pulling back. “I’ll take you to school.”
His eyes were blue again and she couldn’t help but smile. “What time is it?”
“Breakfast wagon is up, if you’re hungry.”
She nodded. “Yeah, let me get dressed first. I’ve got to find my dad too.”
As she turned to leave, he grabbed her hand. His throat worked, as if words were trapped in there. Finally he nodded and released her.
It was hard to walk away.
Ten minutes later, she’d brushed her teeth, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and changed into a pale pink cardigan sweater with jeans. She’d half expected him to bail, because that’s what he always did. As if showing a softer side was a sin for him, he’d get all hard and gruff and idiotic afterward.
She was grabbing her bag when Abel rubbed his bleary eyes and sat up. Pieces of his hair stuck up in every direction. Flint covered her mouth to still her laugh. He looked sort of adorable in the morning.
“Flint?” He glanced first at her, then at the bed where the two girls were still snoring.
“Getting breakfast.”
He started to get up. “Wait for me, I’ll come.”
She bit her lip. “Actually, Cain is waiting…”
Abel’s face screwed up. “Cain?” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down.
“Hmm… what’s up?” Janet whispered groggily, then kicked out at Rhiannon, who’d somehow maneuvered Janet to the smallest corner of the bed. “Move, you slug.”
Rhiannon moaned and rolled over.
“Cain?” Abel whispered again with furrowed brows. “Since when?”
She shrugged. “I’ve got to find my dad, Abel. See you at school?”
Scowling, he shoved his hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
It broke her heart how glum he sounded. Almost jealous.
Which, it couldn’t possibly be. It was Abel. Her friend. He knew that, right?
He turned his back on her as she walked out, muttering under his breath. Feeling like the world’s worst friend, she almost turned back and told him never mind. But then Cain was there and looking at her in a way she’d never seen him do before, and things like I’m sorry, I suck flew out the window.
He wasn’t touching her, but something felt different between them. Less hostile maybe. She didn’t know. All she knew was that it might be chilly, but she’d never felt so warm.
And jeez was that corny.
He’d changed, taken the scruffy sweater and jeans off, replacing them with another one of his all-black ensembles.
“Gothed out again, huh? You angsting or what?”
His lips twitched. “What?”
She shrugged. “Just that I notice when you’re all in black you’re generally mad at me. Or ignoring me, or… I don’t know. Pick your poison.”
He stopped. A stiff breeze laden with the buttery scent of eggs, fatty bacon, and coffee teased her nose. Her stomach curled in on itself.
“Princess, believe it or not, I do more than just sit around and mope for you.”
And there it went again.
Her happy buzz.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why, why do I ever expect you to act nice, for once?”
“What?” He looked baffled.
“Jeez, I was just trying to tease you. Do you even have a clue what that means? It means, laugh a little. Have a ha-ha —”
Somehow she was back in his arms and he was staring down at her, hunger glinting in his eyes. And she didn’t think it was for food.
Her eyes widened and she moistened her lips, a completely involuntary reaction since she had no desire for him to actually kiss her while he was so angry with her.
“What are you doing?” Was that her voice? All airy and breathy?
His arms were like strong bands, holding her in place against the firmness of his chest and thighs. Every part of her that touched him was zinging with currents of fire and heat.
Cain’s lips were so close to hers. If she were brave, she’d lean up and kiss him.
“I can laugh.”
“I don’t think you can. I don’t think you really know how.”
He narrowed his eyes and she noticed they were a vivid cobalt blue, deep and pure as an artic stream.
Then he stepped back and she was breathing hard. His smile was smug.
Gulping, hating her pale skin and the fact that she was blazing like a Christmas tree, she lifted her chin. “I’ve got to see my dad.”
Cain pointed to the breakfast wagon. “He’s in there.”
“I knew that.” She thinned her lips, pushing past him, ears flaming at the sound of his snickering.
The second she opened the door, the smells blasted her full force. Her stomach twisted with a cramp so fierce she groaned.
“Flinty!” Her dad’s voice carried over the rhythmic murmurs of a few of the performers. Most had their heads down, nursing a cup of coffee. She was surprised to find any of them awake actually.
She followed the sound of his voice, a large smile on her face until she caught sight of Katy sitting next to him.
Flint had to force herself to not to stop and turn around. Cain had touched the small of her back and it was weird, but it was almost as if he could sense her indecision. She flashed him a brief glance, then leaned over and kissed her father’s whisker-roughened cheek.
He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was messy and sweaty, but apart from that, he seemed happy.
“Hello, Flint.” Katy flashed a white smile, her gaze landing on Cain’s.
And for just a second, Flint could swear she saw hate gleaming in the woman’s moss-green eyes. But it’d happened so fast, and by the time she turned back to Katy, her gaze was bright and welcoming.
“You just finishing work?” she asked her father.
“Mmm.” He nodded.
She looked between them. They were sitting close, so cl
ose she knew their knees were touching underneath the table. Katy’s sparkly catsuit highlighted her “assets.”
“Where’d you sleep last night?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee and eying Cain hard.
“In Abel’s trailer with”—she rushed to say the next bit, seeing him inhale and knowing he was ready to light into her for staying in a boy’s room alone—“two other girls.”
Ironic that on the one hand he seemed to give her the green light to hook up with a boy, until he actually knew the boy in question. Then suddenly it was verboten. Not that she had any intentions of shagging with anyone, anyway.
Katy grinned. “Well, that sounds naughty.”
Her father cleared his throat, lowering his brows at Katy. “I came looking for you earlier. Layla mentioned you were studying?”
The way he said it, she knew he didn’t believe it.
“I did. I finished all my homework. Abel’s really smart and helped me a lot.”
“Hmm.” He drank from his cup.
“You’re Cain, right?” Katy piped up, looking over Flint’s shoulder.
Cain nodded. “Yes.”
“Why don’t you sit?” She gestured at the table.
As if she owned the table, or had a right to question him. Flint barely knew the woman—she was completely out of bounds.
Cain checked his watch and then nodded. “Can we get some breakfast first? I’m going to take Flint to school. If that’s all right with you,” he said, looking directly at her father.
Her heart seriously melted. Like turned into a quivering puddle in her chest.
Was he really asking her dad for permission?
And why was that so ridiculously sweet?
Her dad looked worried. Katy grabbed his arm and gave it a tender squeeze.
Turning on her heel, Flint walked to the start of the food line. A large black man wearing a hair net—which was funny considering he had none—scooped a pile of eggs, home fries, and gravy onto her plate. Flint pointed to the stack of bacon, mouth already watering thinking about it.
“You know, you don’t have to sit with us.” She leaned in, whispering low so only Cain could hear.
He smiled and it took her breath away. “You don’t like her.”
It really wasn’t a question, so she didn’t bother pretending. “That obvious?”
The Complete Tempted Series Page 23