by Lisa Kumar
It all came back to Caralyn. He relied on her so much. His bondmate put his body and soul at ease, and now the little peace he’d found with her was being threatened.
Though the thought of the graykindred interfering made his blood boil, Andrian truthfully was the best culprit he could hope for. The graykindred would never willingly harm her. The same couldn’t be said about his father. Eamon shivered as his blood froze to ice in his veins. No, he couldn’t even countenance the thought of his father having her.
His hand dropped back to his side as agitation coiled around him, squeezing like a snake. His pacing quickened as he quickly lost sight of his resolve to stay calm and focused. He needed someone — anyone — to take his frustrations out on. If the graykindred had anything to do with Caralyn’s —
The opening of the door sliced into his angry ruminations. A moment of hope built in his chest. When Andrian stepped in, it quickly dissipated into nothingness, just like any happiness he’d ever experienced.
Irrational fury hit him like a searing sword to the gut that it was Andrian, not Caralyn, standing before him. He stalked over to the graykindred. “Where is she?”
Puzzlement creased Andrian’s brow. “Where’s who?”
Eamon glowered and took another threatening step toward Andrian, who stood his ground with his arms crossed. The graykindred’s reaction seemed truly genuine, but Eamon wanted — no, needed — someone to blame.
Eamon spoke between gritted teeth. “Caralyn. What did you say or do?”
Andrian’s face clouded, and a frown pulled the corners of his mouth down. “Nothing. How long has she been gone?”
He truly doesn’t know anything. As he stared at Andrian, that truth dealt him another vicious blow he could feel to the marrow of his cursed bones. For a moment, his mind refused to function, and he didn’t know what to do or think. That was a horrible infliction all by itself. Though it was made worse by the solidifying bond, he knew his love and fear for her drove the emotions rampaging through him. He’d always been able to coldly scrutinize what had to happen next. Now, he was left blind and floundering. What had loving Caralyn done to him?
His shoulders slumped before he wrestled his mind back into some semblance of order. He couldn’t give into this malaise afflicting him. It wouldn’t serve anyone well, least of all Caralyn.
Focusing on that last thought and trying to smother all emotion, he spoke in an icy tone, “Since nine thirty this morning. She’s not answering her phone, which isn’t customary for her.” He eyed Andrian with a narrow gaze. “Are you positive you didn’t say anything to upset her?”
“Absolutely,” Andrian snapped and stood up straighter. “Maybe you did. After all, you have a knack for angering people.”
A growl rumbled in Eamon’s chest. The graykindred was blaming him? “I did nothing.”
“Oh?” Andrian punctuated the word with a condescending lift of the brow. “You only tried to kill her cousin.”
Hearing the cold truth socked Eamon in the gut, and he forgot how to breathe for a couple of seconds. “That was before I even knew Caralyn,” he sputtered and then narrowed his eyes. “You’d love to think that your little trick at the Christmas party worked to divide us, wouldn’t you? If you interfere again, you’ll live to regret it.”
Andrian snorted. “Trust me, I desire to have nothing to do with you, but we often don’t get what we want.”
Eamon bristled, taking a menacing step forward, and grabbed him by the front of his coat. “Is that a threat?”
Andrian shrugged and calmly knocked Eamon’s hands away. “Take it as you will. Caralyn is safe from me, though I can’t say she’ll benefit from being with you. As for ruining what’s between you — I don’t have to even try, because you’ll do that quite well on your own.”
Andrian’s condescending words struck a flint to his anger and fear, and his fingers curled against his palms. Damn the graykindred for being right. He did destroy everything he touched, whether he meant to or not.
He reached out and shoved Andrian, a growl rumbling in his throat. The graykindred stumbled back but didn’t hit the wall. Eamon followed his retreat and spit out, “As if you’re any better. We both know why your brother cast you out of the royal family.”
Andrian threw back his head and laughed. “As always, you, Serrina, and your father had a hand in that.”
Eamon knew the signs of Andrian tipping over into madness. He sometimes loved giving him a firm shove over the edge, though doing so only called to his own darkness. He smirked and raised a brow, feeling the last bit of his cool-headedness slipping away. It was a sensation he welcomed, as he couldn’t handle all the foreign emotions he was experiencing.
He made a chiding noise. “Blaming me? I was nothing but a child to be used for their purposes. You fell into their trap quite willingly, listening to their whispers and cajoling words. You always were a poor imitation of your brother. I bet even your little waitress would think so if she knew the truth, the whole truth.”
Instantly, Andrian’s mirthful nonchalance dissipated. Burning rage replaced it until the graykindred quivered with it. He flew at Eamon and yanked him forward by the collar of his shirt. “You’re not even fit to think about her.”
Eamon bared his teeth. Finally, a fight he could wage. “Neither are you,” he said, not sure if he was talking about Andrian’s waitress or Caralyn. Right now, he didn’t care. With a snarl on his lips, Eamon slugged him in the face. Pain broke out on his own cheek. Damn it, he’d forgotten about Aistiane’s little failsafe. No matter. He didn’t mind a bit of pain. Neither did Andrian, who hit him back with just as much hate.
After pounding on each other for a couple of minutes, their tempers cooled. They stared at each other, both of them sitting slumped on the floor. As soon as the adrenaline wore off, the events of the day hammered inside his head. Caralyn was still missing. While an odd tingle of guilt took root in his stomach that he’d let his mind seemingly drift away from Caralyn, he couldn’t truly regret his actions. The edge had been taken off his aggression, and his mind felt clearer than it had in hours.
Propping his elbow on his upraised knee, he rested his chin on his hand. “As pleasant as that was, I need to find out where Caralyn is and develop a plan.”
Andrian regarded him with completely sane eyes. “You want my help?”
“Not like I have anyone else.” Though those words would’ve cost him some pride just weeks ago, he said them flatly now.
“You know Kaiden would help.”
Eamon snorted. “Most likely. That is if he’d answer his phone.”
“Here, no one is subject to your whims.”
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” The graykindred so loved rubbing in Eamon’s fall from power.
Andrian lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “What is your plan?”
What plan? He couldn’t admit that to Andrian, though. He did have some pride. “I think reaching the holdout is our crucial first step.”
“How do we do that?”
Eamon scrubbed a hand over his face, barely caring that he was showing his worry so plainly. “I don’t know. Maybe we can find his address on that Internet Caralyn so loves.”
A bolt of pain speared his chest. Her name had slipped so easily from his mouth, but what if he couldn’t — No, he wouldn’t think that way. He’d find her, safe and unharmed. No other possibility was acceptable.
“YOU’RE SURE YOUR FATHER has her?” Kaiden asked, leaning forward from where he sat on the sofa in Caralyn’s apartment. Andrian lounged next to him and absentmindedly petted Archie, whose head rested on the graykindred’s lap.
Eamon folded his arms, stomping down the urge to pace. He settled for a glower. How could the two of them remain so still? “More sure by the minute.”
Every cell within blared a warning about his father. Who knew what he could be doing to her? Oh, he doubted he’d inflict any mortal wounds, at least not until he had Eamon back under control. That knowledge didn
’t do much to reassure him. His father could hurt her in ways that wouldn’t kill her but would make her wish she were.
And here he was, doing nothing! He wanted to tear the apartment apart, tear his father apart, but he had to keep himself grounded for Caralyn’s sake. She was his bondmate, his one. He couldn’t fail her.
By Eria’s skies, he hoped Kaiden could be of some help in finding her. Eamon had finally gotten hold of the holdout after nonstop calling and leaving increasingly nasty messages that promised retribution if he didn’t answer. It’d been the only way. A search on the Internet had revealed no hint of an address, not that Eamon was surprised. Wealth could scrub away many types of information. This he knew only too well, for he’d employed it quite often himself. The annoyed holdout had answered, but as soon as Eamon mentioned Caralyn’s disappearance, Kaiden had lost no time in coming over.
“You haven’t heard from him — gotten any demands?” Kaiden asked, his brow scrunching.
“Not yet, though I think that’s coming very soon.” Eamon was anticipating yet dreading that moment.
Kaiden nodded and dug into one of the pockets of his coat. “I’ll make a few calls and see what I can find. We know most of his local haunts and the properties he owns or rents. If we can narrow down where he might be holding her, that could put us a step ahead.”
The cell phone in Eamon’s hand buzzed. Everyone froze. With his heart nearly flying into his mouth, he lifted the device up. His pulse soared with what was likely false hope. He stared at the screen, and his optimism plummeted like a rock off a cliff. The number was an unfamiliar one and the caller unlisted. Fearful expectation burrowed deep into his bones. He knew who it was.
With a ragged breath, he tapped on the talk button and put the phone to his ear. He would’ve put it on speakerphone but knew that might anger his father, if he found out. “Eamon here.”
“Hello, Son.”
A chill snaked up Eamon’s spine. Even if the person hadn’t called him son, he would’ve recognized that silky voice anywhere. He’d not only been subject to hearing it all his life, but it — and Serrina’s — had featured in some of his worst nightmares.
“You bastard, where is she?” His hand tightened around the phone until the casing gave a bit. He eased off the pressure.
In his peripheral vision, he noticed the two other males start toward him. He threw up his free hand to ward them away. Right now, he had to ignore them. Dealing with his wily father would take up every bit of his already compromised focus.
“Done what to whom? I’m sure I have no clue as to whom you’re talking about.”
The fake surprise in his father’s voice made him grit his teeth. “Cease this innocent act, or I swear upon Eria to —”
Baltor’s cruel laughter flowed into his ear. Eamon tensed, ready for his father’s sure-to-be ruthless words.
“You’ll what? You’ll make me suffer?” All mirth in Baltor’s tone disappeared. “Dare to threaten me, and your pet will pay.”
“What do you want?” Eamon asked, his voice tight with leashed fury and fear.
“What do you think?”
He probably wanted Eamon under his thumb again, but he’d be damned if he’d play his father’s games again. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Return her to me now — unharmed.”
“Dear boy, it doesn’t work that way. I give the demands, and you submit to them. Understand?”
Frustrated hopelessness pounded through him. God, how he wished he could reach through the phone and mutilate the ass until nothing of him remained. “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Good. If you want to see her alive, you’ll do as I say. Meet me tonight at ten thirty — 481 East Walbourne.” Before Eamon could question him, he added, “It’s a warehouse and is staffed by men loyal to me.”
Meaning his father paid them handsomely to keep their mouths shut and do anything illicit he may ask. Eamon glowered. “I suppose you want me to come alone?”
“If you want, but Andrian and West are more than welcome to come along.”
Shock held Eamon’s tongue immobile. His father knew about the graykindred and Kaiden? Of course he did. That was the reason he excelled in manipulation and blackmail. Given that Baltor had spoken so casually Eamon almost heard the shrug in the elf’s tone, he knew his father had something planned that would involve the other two.
He finally recovered his voice. “I’ll be there.” And prepared as I can be.
“Make sure you are. You wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to befall your Caralyn should you happen to be late. See you tonight, boy.”
With a grimness that settled around him like a cloak, Eamon hung up on the bastard. If he injured his mate in any way, he’d make him pay full fold in blood.
Eamon glanced at the time — seven o’clock. That left them with three and a half hours. Not ideal, but his father meant it to be anything but that. Aware of the heavy gazes on him, he turned to the other two males in the room. “Baltor has her and demands we meet him at ten thirty tonight. Let’s start making a plan to take the bastard down.”
Chapter 32
Caralyn groggily opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. A bright, glaring light pierced her head like an icepick. She closed her eyes and groaned. Why did her head hurt so much, and who turned on that God-awful light? Her brain froze. Wait, the bulbs in her over-the-bed fan were weak. She frowned. Suddenly, everything felt very off.
Her bed was much softer than this. What in the world —
As if a switch were being turned on, memories of the previous evening — it was the previous evening, right? — swept back like a crashing wave. She gasped under the onslaught. Fear rose to the forefront. Where was she? Who’d done this? Though it hurt her head, she peeled her lids open.
Her vision again flooded with light. She blinked tears of discomfort away and slowly propped herself up on one side using an elbow. Her skull responded by thudding harder. She glanced down. No wonder her every muscle protested any sort of movement. She lay on a wood pallet. Of course, kidnappers wouldn’t be concerned with such a small thing as a prisoner’s comfort.
Curiosity and dread fought for dominance over what she might discover. With a deep breath, she took in the room she was in. Even from her limited perspective, the space looked huge. Shrink-wrapped boxes surrounded her. A warehouse of some sort?
If she weren’t so scared, she’d be tempted to laugh at something that seemed like a rip-off from an action movie. The few windows she could see revealed only darkness, but that didn’t tell her much since it got dark around five or so in the afternoon. It could be mid-evening or late night, for all she knew. Since she didn’t see the glow of a streetlight or that of a passing car, she must be somewhere isolated. Maybe on the outskirts of town? A lump popped up in her throat. But which town? Though it didn’t feel like much time had passed, she couldn’t be sure. Her phone and purse were in the car, where she’d thrown them. She cursed herself for being so lax, but she hadn’t expected to be nabbed while getting in.
Pushing up into a fully seated position, she prepared herself to examine the room from all angles. So far, nobody seemed to be in the room. Was that good or bad? Probably good since her kidnapper — or kidnappers — couldn’t attack her, then. But she also had no way of discovering why she was here. A hysterical laugh threatened to explode from her lips. Did it really matter? Whatever the motivation, it couldn’t be pure.
At least no restraints held her. That meant they were sure she couldn’t escape, so the doors were probably locked. That, or guarded. She glanced behind her, and every cell within her froze solid.
A tall man with long brown hair was standing beside a door. Though he was partly in shadow, something about him screamed the same otherworldly quality that Eamon, Andrian, and Kaiden had. But if he were an elf, why would he take her? Sure, Eamon sounded like he had plenty of enemies back on Eria, but this was Earth ...
The truth hit with astonishing clarity, and her fear multiplie
d a hundred fold. Her heart rate skyrocketed into her ears. This was Eamon’s father, Baltor. He’d been described as a true psychopath, and now she was in his clutches.
His face was cast in partial shadow, but what she could see of it reminded her of an expressionless mask. He stepped farther into the room, and all shadows slipped away, revealing true darkness. Though he appeared suave, with his aristocratic face and his elegant form outfitted in a suit, it was all a facade to hid the ugliness inside. Thank God, he didn’t resemble his son too much, there only being the slightest hint of him in Eamon. His lips were too thin and his face too hawkish to hold the sensual look that his son pulled off with ease.
Even though Baltor was many feet away from her, she cringed away from his presence. He chilled her to the depths in a way Eamon never had, and she’d found him plenty spooky at times. But even at her lover’s worst, he’d still had an inner light that couldn’t quite be quenched. Baltor’s essence only held darkness, and his sludge-gray aura caused bile to rush up her throat. He smelled like a sewer, rotten and corrupted.
“So you figured out who I am?” He glided closer, which even an inch would’ve been much too close for comfort. “You’re smarter than the average human. Impressive.”
His cold voice, which held the same accent as Eamon and Andrian’s, conveyed that he found nothing about her impressive, though. She didn’t know how to reply to a backhanded insult like that, so she didn’t even try.
“No witty retort?” He inhaled deeply as if savoring something delicious. “I’d say you’re wise, but I can feel the fear leaking from you like a perfume.”
Disgust welled up, and her whole body shivered. He found fear arousing?
He continued on, ignoring her expression. “It smells divine. No wonder my son so loves playing with you.”