“Why are you doing this?” A tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye.
He blinked several times. Even when Mama had died, she’d never seen him like this. And he’d loved her more than anything in the world. Did he really hate her this much? Did being a quarter fae really change how he felt about her?
It was hard to swallow around her suddenly swollen throat.
Cain gently nudged Flint to stand to the side of him, angling himself so that if a shot did go off, he’d take the brunt of it. And that’s when she got angry.
That hot anger that’d flowed through her the other day came back in a dizzying rush, filling her limbs. She curled her hands into tight fists.
She loved her dad. When he’d gone on his drunken binges, she’d never stopped loving him, and she wouldn’t stop now. But she refused to let him do this to her anymore.
Frank had the gun aimed square at Cain’s heart, his hand trembling violently. And she was angry. Angry at him for retreating into a shell when Mom had died and making her fend for herself. Angry at him for moving on to Katy as fast as he had. Angry at him for being angry with her because of a product of genetics.
She felt the pulse of that anger flow like raging waters through her veins, beneath her skin, felt that strange glow begin to emanate like curls of fog from her flesh.
“You’re right.” She notched her chin. “We do live in a carnival full of devils. Do you honestly think pointing a gun at one of them is a good idea?”
She held up her hands, taking a step forward. Cain meanwhile was trying to tug her back, hanging on the pocket of her sweatpants, but she shrugged him off. She knew what she was doing.
Tears swam in her father’s eyes. “Flinty.” His voice broke. “They can’t hurt you. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“They’re not hurting me, Dad. You are. What did Katy do to you?”
“Nothing. Nothing. I just see you and I… I can’t think straight. I can’t, I—”
“Oh, merciful heavens,” Grace murmured. “I ken what this is. Bloody hell.”
No one asked Grace what she meant, because to let themselves be distracted now would be a dumb idea.
The gun was jostling so violently that it would only take a random twitch of his finger to make it go off. But Flint was unafraid and no longer even angry—all there was inside her now was pity. He was broken. He’d been broken ever since her mom had died. Flint had thought he’d gotten better, but he hadn’t. Not really. He’d only put a Band-Aid on things. And maybe he hated her now, or maybe he was just overwhelmed. Either way, somehow—and without her even knowing it—she’d ripped that Band-Aid off, and he was spiraling again.
“Flint, move away. Get away from him,” Frank said, and his shoulders took up the shaking with the first of his silent sobbing. He’d failed her when Mom had died. Slipped so deep into his booze that she’d become little more than a footnote in his life.
Flint knew her father, knew the way his mind worked. He might not know who she was anymore, but somewhere deep down inside he was trying, in the worst possible way, to protect her. Whispering Bluff was supposed to be their reset button. Things had gotten better, had begun to finally get kind of normal again. And now they weren’t, and he’d snapped.
“Daddy,” she said softly, throat so full of tears it was impossible to get the words out without her voice cracking. “I love you. I always will. But I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done today. I was there for you during the drinking, there for you when you lost yourself to your misery and forgot all about me, but I’m not okay with this. You hear me? I’m not okay with this.”
She said it gently, trying to get him to understand that very simple but fundamental truth. He’d screwed up so royally she wasn’t sure things could ever be the same between them again.
She knew the moment realization hit, because the crazed light in his eyes vanished like the guttering flame of a candle.
Lowering the weapon, he trembled violently. Immediately Cain reached over, yanking the gun from Frank’s lax grip and releasing the clip before pocketing them.
High on adrenaline, she didn’t get more than a second to realize the vain hope she’d held on to that the gun hadn’t actually been loaded was a lie. The thing had been had been hot and pointed not only at her but at her grandmother and her boyfriend too.
“Cain, run and get Katy now,” Grace said. “I’ll stay with the girl. Go now.”
Flint could sense Cain’s hesitance to leave, but he did as he was told.
Fighting the powerful urge to slap her dad for being so stupid, she held very still. Then he was grabbing her, yanking her into his arms, crushing her into his chest. And she wanted to scream at him to leave her alone, to let her go, but the words just wouldn’t come.
All she could do was swallow the hurt. She thought she’d come so far, thought she’d finally learned to live with the loss of her mother, but instead she found all those old demons crawling back to the surface, felt the utter hopelessness of loss all over again. Except this time it was because of her father.
His fingers dug brutally into her spine, gripping her tight, as though he feared ever letting her go again, and Flint just felt cold. She wanted to hug him back, wanted to tell him she loved him, because she did, she really did, but the hurt was too fresh to just sweep away with a hug.
A gentle knock was the only warning she got, and then the door was suddenly opened and Katy stepped in.
“Frank,” Katy said slowly, rubbing her hand down his back. “Let Flint go. Come with me, honey.”
It took several more cajoling words before her dad released her. When he did, her heart nearly shattered at seeing his eyes and nose swollen, the way the stubble framed his face. For better or worse, he would always be her dad.
Katy was probably Flint’s least favorite person in this circus right now, and even though the woman was currently scowling angrily at her, she couldn’t help latching onto her wrist and begging, “Please, Katy, don’t let him have anything to dr—”
Katy wouldn’t look her in the eye as she said, “He’s in safe hands.”
There was a lump wedged so tight in her throat she almost felt like she couldn’t breathe around it. Wrapping her arms around herself, she watched as Katy led her still-messed-up dad out of her trailer.
She was still standing there when Cain rushed her.
He didn’t say any words. He took her into his arms, wrapped her up tight, and hugged her fiercely.
“Grace, what the eff just happened?” Cain snarled, eyeing her grandmother.
Blowing out a heavy breath, she whispered, “Remember we talked the other day about the fae having power over weak minds?”
Flint frowned. She’d not remembered hearing that. “What?”
Lips thin, Grace said, “I thought it was a skill developed over time. Flint, you’ve come into your true form. The fae are known to heighten the mood of humans. Make whatever they feel ten times more powerful than normal.”
It was hard to breathe. “He hates me?”
She dug her nails into Cain’s back, fisting his dark gray shirt between her fingers.
Shaking her head, Grace glanced back at the door. “Nay, lass. That reeked of desperate fear to me. I think your father is terrified, and frankly, being around you only makes things worse.”
Silence fell like a weighty hush. After a moment Grace stood. “I need to speak with Adam about this. I’ll be returning to my home tonight. Flint, one way or another we’re going to work this out.”
When she left, it was like a dam had suddenly broken. Flint sobbed, held on to Cain’s shirt like she never wanted to let him go, and cried from the enormous black ache that she’d tried so hard to ignore since the moment she’d opened her eyes. But it all came out now.
Her fears.
The pain of losing Abel.
The terror of being someone she no longer knew.
Of realizing that she would never be the same again. That life could never
return to what it’d once been.
“I love you, Flint DeLuca.” His deep bass voice rumbled in her ear. “And nothing’s ever gonna change that.”
And it was so perfect, so pure, that she could only cry harder because this wasn’t how her life was supposed to turn out.
This wasn’t how he was supposed to say it. Mom should still be alive. Abel was supposed to be home. Dad was supposed to still love her. Still be there for her. Flint was supposed to be human.
“Cain,” she keened, the sound spilling up from the darkest depths of her being.
“I know, princess, I know.” He hugged her tighter, and the pressure of it was almost pain, but she didn’t want to feel alone.
She didn’t want to be alone anymore.
And there, in that trailer, Flint cried for all they’d lost, releasing every emotion she’d tried so hard to ignore, to deny. And Cain rocked her, holding her till the bitter end, and she loved him so much more for it.
Cain
* * *
Only a few hours had passed since the moment Frank had pulled a gun on him. To say that he was in a foul mood was an understatement. But the search for Abel had to continue, and that meant interrogating their captive.
“Where is he?” Spittle flew from Cain’s lips, landing on the drone’s bloated and cracked face.
Its eyes were swollen shut now and covered in a bright mottle of purple and yellowing flesh. Its lips were busted open and oozing a thick black fluid. It’d been beaten severely, but the beating hadn’t come from them.
The creature had smacked its head repeatedly onto the concrete floor, busting the bones of its face to mere shards. Its left eye socket hung a good inch below the right eye.
They’d been forced to place a collar on the thing just so it wouldn’t kill itself before they could learn what they needed to.
But it wouldn’t drink and it wouldn’t eat. It was only a matter of time before it died, and any hope of finding his brother or Layla would go right along with it.
A thick, guttural sound like a laugh mixed with a groan spilled off its tongue. But it didn’t say a word, just continued to cackle louder and louder.
Cain blinked his eyes, fighting the rage, the adrenaline and instinct to kill it coursing through his blood. End its miserable, pathetic life.
“Where?” His voice grew deep as he fisted its chin in his massive hand, fingers digging into the grainy texture of what was once a firm jawbone. “So help me, where, damn you! Where?”
“Cain,” Eli calmly said.
The drone spat on him. A thick paste of blood and spit landed on the corner of his lip. Red danced through his eyes. His arms expanded, his neck, his thighs, he was a machine ready for battle.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
“Flint.” Eli’s voice was still collected. “She’s your compass, so use her, Cain. Remember who you are. We can’t afford to kill our only lead.”
Closing his eyes, panting with the exertion it took to control his demon, he thought of her.
His beautiful compass with her wild hair and strange eyes. She’d changed, but to him she’d only become more beautiful. More exotic. Yes, she was feral-looking in some ways, but that fit him. She fit him. The girl he’d met months ago was so different from who she now was, but deep down, she was still the same. Still his.
He trembled, remembering her touch. The way she’d hold him. How fearless she was in the face of his beast.
And her tears. Those precious tears she’d entrusted him with tonight. The awareness of her coursed through his veins, slowing his heart rate and pulse, making it easier to breathe, to think right again. His muscles contracted, shrinking to proper size.
Trembling, he dropped his hand and took a step back. The drone’s head lolled forward, a trail of spit plopping down to the floor as it continued to wheeze with laughter.
“I need to find Flint,” Cain murmured. Turning on his heel, he ran for her trailer.
Spotting Seth a moment later, he slowed down. He’d set Seth to guard her place, mostly to make sure Frank didn’t come back to her. Not tonight. She loved him and he’d figure out some way to respect that, but he’d be damned if he let her dad get near her again so soon after what’d just happened.
Grace had supposedly already taken him to her hotel room in town, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Anything?” Seth asked, standing immediately.
Cain shook his head. “No. It’s loyal, or it’s been mind-swiped, I don’t know, but it’s useless.”
“We should just shoot it and put it out of our misery,” Seth snarled, his silver eyes gleaming like mercury in the soft moonlight.
Scrubbing fingers across his jaw, Cain shook his head. “It’s our only tangible lead to Abel.”
Seth sighed. “I know, man. I know.”
Of the twins, Seth was generally the more reserved of the two. That he’d let his own frustrations leak out was proof of the toll this nightmare had taken on everyone.
“Frank?” Cain looked up, then glanced over his shoulder at the car lot.
“No. All quiet here.” Seth nodded. “Eli still with the drone?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna go see if he needs anything then. You good?” Seth shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll be fine.” He grunted, already feeling ten times lighter just from Flint’s close proximity. The scent of her that’d bothered him so much just a few short days ago was hardly an issue anymore.
“Cain, we’re gonna find them,” Seth said, just before turning.
“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling everyone else.”
Seth’s jaw clenched. They both knew the odds grew more and more slim each day.
“Yeah.” With that, Seth turned, heading in the direction of his brother.
Exhausted, spent, and needing a few hours of quiet with just Flint for company, Cain debated whether or not to knock, but then decided he’d wake her if he did and she needed sleep.
He’d replaced the door earlier in the evening, swapping it out with one from an unused trailer. Easing inside, he glanced immediately to his left, finding her buried beneath a mound of blankets.
Her rosy lips parted and her lambent flesh gleamed prettily in the soft lighting piercing through the window. He could make out dried tear tracks on her cheeks—she’d gone to sleep crying.
Cain rubbed at his chest. He was so tired he wanted nothing more than to crawl into that bed with her, spoon her tight to his body and sleep like the dead. But the bed was really only good for one, and if he touched her right now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go to sleep.
So he took a seat at the kitchen dinette and forced himself to be satisfied with just watching her. Her hair spilled over the white pillowcase like a glittering flow of blood and fire.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered softly, clamping his lips shut when she moaned and tossed to the other side. A section of the sheet crawled up, revealing the long expanse of a shapely thigh, and his lips twitched.
She was wearing one of his shirts. He wasn’t sure when she’d found it, or who’d given it to her. But he recognized it as being one of his favorite workout shirts.
His heart pounded out of his chest at the thought of losing her again.
Daring to take a deeper breath of her, he waited for the confusing riot of emotions to blast him. There was a rich, earthy quality to her. She still smelled of thunderclouds, but Flint also smelled of budding life and dew.
He trembled, fingers curling on the cheap tabletop as he struggled not to go to her, not to wake her.
She moaned again. “Daddy, no.”
That stopped his thoughts cold. Made him grit his teeth. Cain debated what to do concerning Frank. Pulling a gun out on any member of the carnival family was a crime punishable by death. No exceptions.
Humans who knew too much were either given over to the Order or killed. Both of those scenarios were working against him at the moment. Cain didn’t even have to
ask Flint to know that harming her dad was harming her and would ensure her eternal hatred of whoever did it.
That didn’t negate the fact that Frank was a problem. A huge one.
He trembled, thinking about her standing in front of the gun. She’d looked so fearless, so bold, his fragile little princess. And it’d been all Cain could do not to snap her father’s neck for daring to threaten his daughter the way he had. The rage inside him struggled against its instinctual need to defend to the death what was his. But he’d seen the way her jaw had quivered, the way her eyes had swam. The hurt Frank had caused tonight had been devastating to her, but he was still her father, would always be her father.
So Cain had done the only thing he could—he’d held her as she’d sobbed, crying as though she’d lost something valuable and precious tonight.
A quiet knock sounded at the door. Sniffing, he smelled the smoky scent of kanlungan.
“Rhiannon?” He twirled on his chair, and the blond Russian came through the door with hesitant steps a moment later. She was hugging her arms, fingers idly rubbing against the olive-green fabric of her jacket. She’d been out on another hunt.
Rhi had hoped to find another drone, but based on the obvious strain pinching her brows together, he figured she’d come home empty-handed.
Her big blue eyes were huge as she stared at Flint. Cain fidgeted, wanting to tell her to leave, to go away and not look at her as though she were a monster. It struck him then that just a few months ago their situations had been reversed and Flint was the one who’d had to come to terms with the strange new world she lived in. It was only fair Rhiannon be given the same courtesy.
He clenched his jaw, staying silent as Rhi took her time to look her fill. To see the sharp nails that were now more like claws. The shape of the eyes that angled down a little tighter, a little more exotically. The marking on her arm that moved and swayed as though with life.
“Her skin gleams,” Rhiannon whispered sounding awestruck. “It’s the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
His nostrils flared, and he immediately relaxed when he knew she’d not come to gawk.
The Complete Tempted Series Page 50