Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 1 1

QUIET

Black Bird roared with the happenings of seductive metal, thrashing half naked bodies, and dirty dealings as Dahlia sat behind her desk in her office just down the hall. There was little noise in this room, though she remained close enough to hear any commotion. It had been nearly two weeks now since the redhead had gunned down her human spy. A loss that Dahlia rendered very small as she had little regard for his mortal life anyhow. She had others. She’d needed as many as she could muster to walk within the daylight and do her groundwork when she couldn’t, promising them immortality and power if they’d only do her bidding. The fools were all too eager to please her, begging for more ways to prove their worth and loyalty. None of them had any idea that she rarely made good on those promises and sought out her prey on her own. Patrick was a perfect example of that as he stood silently in the corner of the room, hands at his back and not daring to look at her. She liked them that way … like injured little birds.

“Patrick, my love …” She curled a serpentine smile, and he stepped forward, visibly shaking as usual. “Why don’t you go see what’s keeping them?”

“Yes, mi’lady.” He slightly bowed, ducking backward, and scooting out the door. As it snicked shut, Dahlia reached beneath the desk, opening the mini-fridge, and plucking out one of the blood bags within it. She kept her hideous smile as she flipped the bag over, revealing the patient’s name from the front.

ST. JAMES, SARAH L.

BLOOD TYPE - UNK

DATE: 10/13

Patrick re-emerged a few moments later, Decclan and Devin in tow. Dahlia raised her eyes to them. “Has she arrived?”

“Yes ma’am.” Decclan nodded.

“Bring her to me.” She leaned back in her seat, crossing a leg over her knee and dangling her ankle over the floor. Patrick and Devin took their places in the corners on either side of her. It was silent as Decclan entered the room again with the quirky blonde human. Her features were sharp, eyes a rich brown, and hair that was long and voluminous. She reminded Dahlia a great deal of herself with the spark of mischief in her eyes. “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the leather-bound chair in front of her desk.

“Love the office.” The girl flashed an approving smile .

“Thank you.” Dahlia rolled her eyes, watching her lower into the seat. “I’m assuming you know what’s happened to your partner.”

“I heard.” She shrugged.

“What was your name, again?” Dahlia asked, leaning forward and keeping the blood bag safely concealed in her lap.

“Lorraine … but everybody calls me Raine.” She shrugged. Dahlia chuckled through her nose, looking down it as the overconfident girl in her chair continued to take in the room.

“And what is it that you wanted from me?”

Raine smirked, seemingly unfazed by the danger she’d found herself in. “I want power. I wanna be able to do what I want. I’m tired of living in my parent’s house. I’m sick of working at coffee shops, or retail stores. I wanna have a good time, without rules and stereotypes. I want freedom.”

Freedom … what a laugh.

“Well … if that’s what you desire, I’ve told you how to acquire it. How is it that you’ve failed so badly?” Dahlia interlocked her fingers over her propped elbows. Raine shifted in her seat.

“It wasn’t my fault. Tank drugged her. Everything was going fine until that cop showed up.”

“Tell me about that.”

“He came in and she went straight for him. Everything we’d done didn’t even matter. He twisted Tank’s arm, and I backed off. She left with the guy and her friends, and after that we haven’t been able to find her. I heard the ginger shot him up. He was being fucking stupid. I could’ve taken her out if that’s really what you wanted.”

Dahlia raised from her chair, leaning over the desk and bracing her palms on it. “I didn’t ask either of you to kill the redhead. Wherever she goes, our new friend is sure to follow at some point. Contrary to what you might believe … you did fail. I was to have her in this building over two weeks ago now.”

Raine’s eyes refused to meet hers. “Fine. I’ll go, then.” She made to get up from the chair but was stopped as Decclan’s broad hand shoved her shoulder back down. She seemed a little worried then. Dahlia’s smile grew wide.

“Go?” Dahlia slowly shook her head, the human’s fear feeding her every pore. “I’ve never claimed to be a patient individual, Lorraine . But … I do sometimes give second chances.” She glanced at Devin and jerked her head toward the girl. He moved to the other side of Raine’s chair, both males holding her down.

“What the hell are you doing?” Raine panicked. “Let go!”

“Now, now, pet … fighting me won’t do you any good. Just hold still. This will be over before you know it.” She grinned.

“Oh, fuck … fuck! I won’t—I won’t tell anybody about you! Let me go!” She started kicking against the desk, both the males finding purchase with their hands along her arms and thighs.

“Patrick,” Dahlia said with deadly calm. “If you will. ”

The young newborn seemed as if he were trying desperately not to appear hesitant. Dahlia had spent the last few days breaking him in. He moved swiftly, leaning over the terrified host and grabbed her by the hair.

“Please! No!” She wailed. “Pl—” Her breath caught as Patrick tore into her neck like a rabid animal, feeding on her like an experienced immortal. It made Dahlia’s blood sing. Raine kicked and struggled, slowly losing her strength … her life.

“Enough.” Dahlia held up a palm. She slithered from around the desk as Patrick halted, dropping Raine’s head back against the chair and drawing in exasperated breaths. “Well done, darling,” she soothed, patting his shoulder. Dahlia bit into her pale wrist, dark blood dripping down her arm and stepped up to the girl as she lay nearly lifeless in the seat. “You’ll be of some use to me after all.” She smiled, holding her wrist to Raine’s mouth. The young girl jerked back, drops of blood making their way into her gaping mouth.

“You … bitch … y—” She rasped, hardly able to speak a word. Dahlia lowered her wrist to her lips and knew the moment that Raine realized she couldn’t control herself. She drank from her then, as if she were on some tropical beach with a chilled beverage in her hands. Dahlia moaned; every drop taken filling her with bloodlust. She closed her eyes and the lacy material between her thighs moistened with arousal. She jerked her wrist away, leaving the human to rid herself of her mortal body and turn.

Patrick watched, expressionless as drops of Raine’s blood dripped off his chin. Decclan and Devin remained on either side of the girl while the transition began. Dahlia relished in it, pushing her young slave against the wall and hiking up the skirt of her black dress. She grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs. She’d give him no further instruction and he seemed inclined to believe her now when she told him she’d leave him chained to a rooftop to await his demise if he balked from her command. Dahlia claimed his mouth, tasting the sweetness of fresh human blood on his tongue while he slipped his hand beneath her thong and stroked her.

Raine cried out in agony behind them as her body began to die. It only made Dahlia more ravenous. Patrick’s fingers plunged inside her, and she rode them while she listened to the sounds of death. The louder the girl screamed; the harder Dahlia fucked his hand. She climaxed as the last howl of Raine’s transition ended.

“Good boy,” Dahlia said, shoving his hand from beneath her skirt. He remained against the wall, and she turned to look at her newborn plaything. Raine panted in the chair. “Now …” Dahlia started, holding the blood bag in her hand as she approached the starving new vampire. “You must be thirsty.”

The meeting among the politicians and hopefuls for the upcoming elections had run longer than Conrad expected. Suits were everywhere. Photographers, reporters. So many damn questions, so much damn noise. It was a small mercy when the door was opened to him in the black SUV that waited outside City Hall. When it closed, he loosed a long breath, reaching for the scotch to his left. He poured himself a glass.

“Fifteen minutes to the hotel, sir,” the driver announced as they pulled forward, cameras still flashing outside the dark-tinted windows. His phone started buzzing from his jacket pocket.

“I was wondering when I’d be hearing from you,” he answered.

“It worked.”

Conrad’s smile fell in a strange relief. “You’re kidding.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you have any left?”

“One bag. That’s all of it, senator. I’ll have her deliver it to you once she’s fed properly. You need to find a suitable host, quickly, if you plan to write off our generous CEO.”

“There’s a benefit at the end of next week for the children’s hospital. I’ll choose a name.”

Dahlia huffed a laugh. “You’re darker than I thought.”

She hung up and he dropped the phone into his lap. If the blood worked on a vampire, then it had to work on a mortal. And if he was right … he’d be one of the most productive and well-respected people in the world. Untouchable. Immortal in his own right. If he was right, then Nick Specter wouldn’t need those sealed files. They’d get what they needed straight from the source. Conrad smirked as he raised his glass to his mouth.

The small frame of his child lay peacefully under a blanket decorated with rocket ships and stars; little three-eyed green aliens smiled amongst them. Nick Specter pored over emails and numbers … all the bullshit he wished he could leave at his office as he glanced down to the soft face that rested on his lap. He brushed his fingers through the silky strands of brown hair and smiled when his son’s mouth twitched in deep sleep. A ping from the laptop distracted him and he pushed his reading glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

That girl had only been there for a few days. Two weeks later, she still wasn’t able to return to work. If he wasn’t so damn afraid of Athan Kane, he’d let her go. He wished so badly he could wash his hands of all of them, pack up his wife and kid, and go hide in some remote part of the world to escape all this. They’d find him. No matter where he ran, they’d find him. He knew that. He agreed to hold her spot for a while longer. He couldn’t help but feel deeply sorry for Sarah St. James, though he still wasn’t wholly sure what it was about her that everyone demanded so badly. He had a bigger part in her situation than he’d ever wanted, and still wasn’t able to crack the seal on those records Conrad Stratford had paid him for. Instead, he offered a mere two bags of her blood that was being stored from her stay at the local hospital.

It had seemed pleasing enough, he’d figured out, as the senator took them as carefully as a ticking bomb and transported them to the underground coven. Nick wondered what kind of claws she had in Conrad, and how deep they went. He didn’t want to be in this position, but he was at least glad he wasn’t in that one. It did, however, leave him in another shitty predicament with Detective Kane, as Nick hadn’t told him about his little gift to the senator and the serpent that lurked in the darkness on that side of the city. If Kane found out, he’d promised to kill him. Nick knew he’d make good on his word.

His son stirred under his elbow and Nick peered down at him. Two little green eyes raised to meet his, heavy with sleep. “Daddy?”

“Hey, buddy.” He smiled softly, ruffling the little boy’s hair.

“Can we go to bed now?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.

Nick closed his laptop and removed his glasses. “Yeah.”

It was nearly three in the morning when Brent rolled over on the crisp sheets of his king-size platform bed in his high-rise apartment on the upscale side of Boston. He was careful not to wake the sleeping blonde, whose name he’d already forgotten, while she tugged those sheets higher over her naked body. He slipped out of bed, making to see to his needs in the bathroom before padding downstairs into the large kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Standing in nothing but his dark night pants, he looked out over the lit city from his floor to ceiling windows in the living room.

He was a disgrace. Undeserving of anything. As much as he told himself he never loved Sarah, the thought of her sleeping in that detective’s bed was still crawling under his skin. Weeks later, he still hadn’t forgotten the way she’d looked at him, even in that drunken stupor and that ridiculous slutty outfit. Sarah had never looked at him like that. No one had. They had promised to be there for each other after they’d broken it off … but he understood why that couldn’t happen anymore. Why she’d never allow it to. She had every right to hate him for what he’d done to her. Then there was Wren.

Wren with her fiery attitude, and her unhinged will to tear them apart. She had Brent figured out from the very beginning. He’d heard of her incident, and the man she’d killed. He had been stupid enough to reach out to her, asking her how she was holding up and if there was anything he could do for her. She’d responded the way he expected her to, not so kindly telling him to go fuck himself. He was alone. He’d sold out his father, who still had no idea. He’d lost the girl he was supposed to be marrying. He had no friends to speak of, and the press was still eating up all the details of his diminished engagement .

They had finally started leaving Sarah alone, as she’d kept herself pretty scarce from view these last weeks and moved back to following him everywhere instead. He reminded himself it was what he deserved.

A disgrace … a soiled piece of laundry thrown to the winds.

He thought about the girl in his bed. The third one he’d brought home in the past few nights. Brent had made certain that each one had gotten her fill of being in the spotlight. Made sure each one didn’t look a thing like Sarah. He wondered if they’d noticed that when they rode him in his bed, his eyes would close every so often. Wondered if they suspected that he was thinking of someone else. Would he ever get over this? Did Detective Kane already close the deal with his ex-fiancé? It made sense. They were more alike than he ever dared to realize. He couldn’t compete with someone like him. Wouldn’t even bother.

Brent took several long swallows from his bottle and sighed against the glass window.

“God, this is agony!” Rhaena squealed, seemingly dying to move her leg as Wren dug into her ankle with her tattoo gun on her living room floor. Sarah watched on, giggling while she let her squeeze her hand. “Why do people put themselves through this shit?”

Wren shook her head, smiling as she wiped more blood from the tattoo that was slowly coming to life beneath her needle. “If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much. Just relax, detective.”

“That’s like a dude with a dick the size of a tanker truck telling you to relax before he rams it into your—OH MY GOD!” She winced, squeezing Sarah’s hand tighter, and biting down on her knuckle as she turned her face away. Sarah couldn’t stifle her laugh. Neither could Wren.

“I’d say you’re doing well for your first bloodletting.” Sarah chuckled, her fingertips numbing from the pressure of Rhaena’s grip. The smell of food was filling her senses and her stomach growled. It had been a couple of weeks since the chaos ensued after Wren’s unfortunate ordeal. Everybody had since gotten into a routine while staying amongst each other between these two apartments, and by the grace of God, Rhaena had even allowed Denver to stay. Wren and Northwood seemed to be getting along really well as roomies, and Sarah was happy to see that the trauma of what had happened was slowly easing off her best friend. Wren’s boss had told her to take the time she needed and Rhaena had agreed to let her tattoo her, if for no other reason than to get it out of her system.

Things with Kane weren’t as tense either, though she hadn’t made any other moves to seduce him. It didn’t stop either of them from standing too close, or occasionally having moments where that damned line was the most difficult thing not to test. Sarah had even woke on the couch one morning to him leaning against it while sitting on the floor with her hand clutched to his chest. She didn’t want to admit how badly she wanted to accept his invitation to take his bed when he’d offered to sleep on the couch. She wanted no part of that unless he was in it, too. He seemed comfortable having her around, and their closeness was building day by day. Sarah was content not to risk losing any of it by asking him what he was obviously keeping from her. She assumed that if he ever felt strongly enough to want more between them, then he’d eventually come to terms with telling her whatever it was. The heaviness of it being something she didn’t want to hear still loomed over her on a daily basis.

“Okay, can we take a break? I’m dying.” Rhaena whined, the outline of the small wolf’s head on her ankle barely done. Wren stopped, scoffing at her, and wiping at the tattoo again.

“For a tough lady cop that comes home with bruises and busted knuckles, you sure are a pussy when it comes to—”

“Say that again, Vintorri …” Rhaena shook her fist at her, and Wren snorted.

“Fine … take five.” She laughed, easing back, and peeling off her gloves. Rhaena laid out over the carpet in her living room, sweating and palming her face.

“I’m gonna go check on dinner.” Sarah snickered, raising from her spot on the floor.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day where someone domesticated Athan Kane.” Rhaena chuckled, fanning herself as Sarah laughed her way out the door. Indeed, Athan was doing his best in his kitchen when she’d walked into his apartment, scraping at a brand-new pan that was filling the entire room with smoke. Sarah waved her hand back and forth across her face as she approached him from behind.

“Fuck!” He hissed, slinging his hand and tossing the pan back forcefully onto the burner. He shook it, pressing his thumb against his mouth and growling.

“Jesus, Athan … the poor chicken was already dead.” Sarah mused, trying not to laugh. Poe screeched from the living room. “Stay in there, Poe. You don’t need to see this.”

“You’re an asshole.” Athan drawled, turning toward her with a metal spatula, the end of it caked with black. Sarah chuckled and shook her head.

“I can still save this. Move over.”

“Be my guest.” He surrendered, letting her through. Sarah grabbed the spatula in his hand.

“Give me this, before you hurt yourself.”

“It’s a spatula.” He smirked, bringing her closer to him when he didn’t let go. Her body thumped against his and before either of them realized they were flush against each other’s chests, that smoldering look had already started firing up between them. She wasn’t sure how long they stared at one another. Smoke thickened in the kitchen and her eyes started to burn, but she refused to balk from that icy blue gaze. Athan’s arm found its way around her back.

“You’re a terrible cook.” Sarah swallowed as their faces got closer.

“That’s not really what I’m known for …” His voice was a smooth rasp that purred in his throat while his eyes dropped to her open mouth. So mething dangerous and overwhelming started roiling in her gut, slithering through her middle and pooling low in her belly. It almost pissed her off … no—it did. It did piss her off.

“Well …” Sarah pressed her fingers to his chest, pushing gently against his hold. “Unless you’re willing to show me exactly what you mean … I should try to rescue what’s left of our dinner.” His grip on the spatula eased off … as did his arm on her back. Sarah could tell he was reluctant to do so, but obviously still not ready to explain himself. His throat bobbed and he straightened his black t-shirt, stepping back while she turned to the pan of charred chicken tenderloins. Too late. “You know …” she started, turning back toward him, and tossing the pan into the sink. “Maybe we could just order pizza.”

Athan’s jaw twitched, and he stared at the steaming pan. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Sarah bit down her smile as he reached over it, carefully picking up one of the black husks. “Poe!” He called, earning the bird’s attention. He flicked it through the nook, and she watched Poe dive for it, hacking off a small piece with his beak. It came right back out of his mouth and dropped to the carpet. Athan’s palms slapped the counter as he watched him flitter back up to his perch, leaving the chicken scrap on the floor. Sarah couldn’t take it anymore, busting into a deep laugh.

“Wow …” She heaved, buckling over and grabbing her stomach. “And they’ll eat practically anything. ” Athan shoved her, a slight smirk on his mouth as he rolled his eyes and stormed into the living room to clean up the mess.

Rhaena blew out a shallow breath, resting her hands across her stomach as she dangled her burning ankle over the arm of her couch. “I’m stuffed,” she breathed, Wren and Sarah both groaning in agreement while they sat cross-legged on the floor. Athan was sprawled across the soft rug near them, staring at the ceiling with his arms behind his head and a knee up. Two empty pizza boxes laid in the space between all of them. Wren had finally finished the small tattoo and covered it in ointment. For the thing to be about the size of a half dollar, it sure seemed to take forever. Rhaena swore on her life she’d never get another.

“My stomach hurts,” Athan complained, rubbing a palm across his middle. “What the hell was the mystery meat I just ate?”

Wren snorted a laugh. “Sausage?” Rhaena and Sarah laughed with her, all of them turning their faces toward him.

“We wouldn’t have had to eat it if you learned how to cook.” Rhaena snickered.

“I wonder if Poe died of smoke inhalation,” Sarah added.

“All of you can shut the fuck up.” Athan bit, as they all giggled again. “I’m serious. Whose idea was it to put that on me, anyway?” He turned his head and glanced around the room.

“I was busy.” Rhaena gestured to her glistening ankle .

“Busy being a howling pussy?” he shot back. More laughter ensued as Rhaena’s mouth gaped open.

“That shit hurts. You guys suck.” She draped her arms over the arm of the couch. Athan smirked and stared back at the ceiling. Silence stretched between them, and Denver hopped into Wren’s lap.

“It’s quiet,” Sarah breathed, finally breaking the silence. Rhaena peered over at her to find her staring at the empty boxes and clutching her knees to her chest. No one said anything in response. “Does anybody else feel like it’s been a little … too quiet for the past couple weeks?”

“I can’t say I’m that upset about it,” Wren spoke up. “Bitch-boy texted me a week and a half ago asking me how I was holding up.” She rolled her eyes.

“You never told me that,” Rhaena said, turning her body toward them.

“Me either,” Sarah added.

“I didn’t think it mattered. He’s probably just trying to find a way to use that to talk to you, Sarah.” Rhaena had to admit she was right. The Stratford boy most likely had his tail good and tucked by now.

“Conrad and Dah—” Rhaena caught herself, Athan’s face darting toward her in warning and in shock. Rhaena blinked twice. Wren and Sarah focused their attention on her and she wanted to kick herself.

“Who?” Sarah asked, leaning forward. Athan sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes and staring back at the ceiling.

“Dahlia.” He growled.

“Who the hell is that?” Wren asked, stroking Denver’s ebony back.

Athan didn’t look at anyone when he answered. Rhaena felt inclined to let him take over her careless mistake. “She’s the owner of the club I saw you both at the night of Sarah’s attack.”

“Is she a suspect?” Sarah asked. “Didn’t you say you were there to talk to her that night before I’d even left?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“How does she tie in with all of this?” Wren pressed further.

“We’re not really sure yet. There’s been a pretty decent transfer of funds between her and Conrad Stratford. That’s all we really know. Could be unrelated, but I think what Rhaena was trying to say was that they’ve been laying pretty low themselves, since …” He glanced at Wren.

“We get it,” Wren said, lowering her gaze to her lap.

“So, nothing other than bank transfers?” Sarah asked.

“Pretty much,” Rhaena finally said, feeling rather rotten about dropping the name. “Sometimes these cases have their lulls. Really nothing we can do but wait until we get another bite on our line.”

It seemed enough to satisfy both the girls … for now. Sarah reached forward, closing up the empty cardboard boxes, and raising herself off the floor. Rhaena watched Athan’s eyes trail her the entire way to the kitchen.

“Rhaena, is it cool if I shower first?” Wren asked, moving Denver off her lap .

“Yeah, just leave me some hot water.” Rhaena nodded as Wren disappeared down the hall.

“That’s a good idea, actually. I’ll haul these down the garbage chute and check on Poe.” Sarah raised the empty boxes at them and Athan offered her a slight smile. “Night, Rhaena,” she said, turning and heading out of the apartment.

“Night,” Rhaena replied, waiting until the door closed, and water started running down the hallway. “You still haven’t told her.”

Athan stared at the closed front door. “No.”

“You know that eventually this little fairytale is gonna end, right? Either something will happen, or you’re gonna cross that line you’ve drawn and shit’s gonna hit the fan.” She propped her head up on her hand.

“I know.”

Rhaena knew it was hard on him. This whole ordeal had been tough, but every day that passed … she could tell he was steadily falling for Sarah. “Do you love her?” she asked quietly. He didn’t move. Refused to acknowledge the question. “Just because it’s quiet doesn’t mean they’re not out there plotting more shit. As many cases as we’ve been on, you know that as well as I do.”

“I do,” he said, finally looking at her. She’d never seen that look before. Not ever. There was a long pause and his chest seemed to move quicker. “Love her.”

She couldn’t help but feel a dull sting when he’d admitted it. “Then be fair to her, Athan. I really don’t want this to blow up in your face. I wanna see you happy.”

“I hurt her once.” His jaw clenched and he swallowed. “She suffered so much because of me. I don’t wanna do it again.”

Rhaena offered him a tight smile. “Lemme tell you a little secret about women, Kane. We’re tough.”

“I’ll lose her.”

“I don’t think you will. We’re tough . We just wanna hear you say it. We want to be let in. You tell her the truth … she’ll be pissed, yeah. She might walk out of here and tell you she never wants to see you again, but it’ll be the farthest thing from the truth. Just the fact that you were willing to be that vulnerable will stick with her. Especially if she loves you back.”

“How will I know?” His eyes were so desperate. So worried.

Rhaena smiled at him then. “You already do, bud.”

Athan kept quiet as he locked the door behind him and crept into his apartment. The sound of the shower wasn’t present, but Sarah wasn’t in the living room. The kitchen was clear, and still smelled like burnt food … but she’d cleaned that too. The pan was drying on a small towel next to the sink, the spatula next to it. No sign of the pathetic excuse for the human food he’d tried to impress her with. As house guests went, he su pposed he had a good one. It had been effortless … her practically living with him these past two weeks. Effortless except that he died not touching her every time he saw her. Rhaena had called him out twice now. There wasn’t any reason he could find to deny that what he felt was genuine and not just because he’d marked her.

He’d thought of little else these days, especially after the things they’d done with each other … the things she’d done to him . He had let her. That morning had changed everything. His adult life had been spent pleasing women for money. He’d been good at it. It was never about him, and he’d never felt comfortable letting anyone touch him without having some sort of connection. It only got worse when Dahlia had shackled him to her and forced him to allow her to do all of the things that had him screaming inside. He hated every moment of it. When Sarah had touched him … especially below the waist, he thought his heart might explode. It didn’t only shock him at how absolutely divine she’d felt … but the fact that he’d wanted her to. Wanted it so badly he was certain he’d damn his own rules to hell and let her take him wherever she wanted.

The fact … that she’d only wanted to please him. To make him feel good. To feel anything … he still didn’t know what to do with it. All these years it had solely been for the needs of whoever was under him, and nothing more.

Nothing more …

The words rang in his head that they’d let hang in the silence as they’d slept that night. That invitation … that lingering question. Rhaena had said he already knew. She had been right. Sarah practically told him what he felt was reciprocated the night she laid on his chest. But would she still feel anything when he told her the heavy truth that had been weighing him down ever since he’d punctured her neck? He supposed he was about to find out.

“Sarah?” he called softly, making his way down the hall to the cracked doorway of his bedroom.

“I’m in here,” she replied. His heart thundered and he creaked the door the rest of the way open—God was surely punishing him. There she stood, hair still wet, running a fingertip over spines of books along his shelves in a black satin nightgown lined with lace that was cut mid-thigh. He nearly choked on his own oxygen. Poe ruffled his feathers on her shoulder, greeting him as he stood speechless in the doorway, his hand still on the knob. She turned her face toward him and smiled … those eyes … those fucking eyes. “Hey.”

Athan cleared his throat, dropping his hand and leaning in the doorway. “Hey.” He crossed his arms.

“You do know that you’re sitting on a gold mine, right?” She pointed at the bookshelf with her thumb. “You have so many first editions in here.”

“I’m a collector. Don’t tell anyone and it’ll remain a gold mine.” He smirked. Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes, turning back toward the books.

“You gonna try to tell me you haven’t read every single one? ”

“No, I have. Most of them several times.” He watched her skim across titles, moving up a shelf to where the figurine he’d bought from Wren’s tattoo shop sat in front of a cluster of really old books. She scooted it over and pulled a worn, black leather binding with no title. His stomach flipped.

“Do you mind if I read one or two? I’ll be careful.” She handled the delicate book carefully and he swallowed, nodding his response. She flipped it open, her eyes widening when she glanced at the aged, yellowed parchment on the inside. “Holy shit … this is handwritten.” She glanced up. “What is this?”

Athan shrugged, dismissing it and stepping into the room toward his dresser, turning his back and opening the third drawer to gather clean clothes. “You should read it.” He hardly registered what he was doing as he peeled the shirt over his head and tossed it into the basket by the closet door. She went wholly still behind him. Athan gripped the small pile of clothes in his hand, a deep nervous feeling sinking into his middle when he remembered what was tattooed on his breast. He tried to appear calm and tipped his chin over his bare shoulder. “Sorry … I wasn’t—” He swallowed. “Wasn’t thinking.” He could feel her scanning every inch of his naked back.

“No, umm … this is your room. Your house. I’ll give you some privacy.” Sarah’s voice shook and she made to move toward the bedroom door.

“Wait—” He paused … so did she. Poe trilled. “You can um … you can stay.” He side-stepped to the bathroom door just beside the dresser and walked in, closing it behind him. He turned the fan on and loosed a long breath, pulling his hands through his hair and leaning back against the door. He thought about every possible angle of approaching this blow. This blow that would no doubt take her from him. Thought about it as the water ran over him in the shower. Thought about the possibility that when he delivered that blow, there was likely a chance she’d never join him in here. If he let her see the tattoo, it would raise questions … maybe he could ease into it that way.

Maybe he could just get the shock of it over with and grab one of those blood bags. Empty it into his mouth in front of her and answer all the burning questions after she was scared enough to run from him. He wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to see the look on her face. The pain in those gorgeous eyes at every betrayal of the trust they were slowly building. As selfish as it was … he thought about kissing her. What if that was the only time she’d ever let him? Athan toweled off and talked himself out of exposing his chest, his white t-shirt and black sweats revealing only what she’d already seen of him. He stepped back out of the bathroom, steam rolling out with him.

Sarah was stretched out across the bed, laying on her stomach and sucked deeply into the small black book. Poe had found himself choosing the perch stand Athan had in the corner by the floor lamp. “Listen to this,” she said without looking up, both her bare feet crossed in the air behind her. “There was no greater evil, than the darkness of this night … when li fe was yet a whisper as that evil thieved the light. But my skin was still a prison … a bird denied his flight.” Her slender inked finger trailed across the words on the page and her body slumped, her busy feet slowly falling back to the duvet. She stared down at it … he stared at her.

“As the sun took back its triumph over waves that churned the sea … it was then I thought I heard her as Death whispered then to me … be dark, my lonely captive … until the murder sets you free.” He dropped his dirty clothes into the basket on the floor and she met his eyes.

“This is …” Sarah paused, reading his face. His heart thrashed. “This is yours .” He nodded slowly, his jaw clenching. “It’s so … sad.”

“Sarah … I—” He swallowed, feeling as if he could vomit. “I’m …” His breathing staggered and he knew she’d noticed it. He had to get it out now before he couldn’t do it at all. She closed the journal and slid it aside, moving off the bed and stepping toward him. He raised a shaking hand to stop her, but before he could even form another thought Sarah slid her hands on each side of his face and her mouth met his … strong, and yet gentle. Demanding … but perfect. Slow … thorough … fucking perfect . She lingered on his mouth, his chest heaving up and down. Adrenaline warred with a calm he’d never felt before in his life. They shared shaking breaths and stared into each other for a heartbeat that seemed like an eternity.

“I don’t care what it is, Athan.” Sarah breathed against his mouth. “If this is all you can give me right now, I’ll take it. If this is all it ever is, I’ll take it.”

The tether he’d been clinging to snapped. He wrapped an arm around her waist, taking the side of her face in his other hand and kissing her back, deeply. So deep he thought he’d drown in her—and die happily. He was sure he’d lose all control when he tasted her tongue as it slipped into his mouth, and while every part of him wanted to, he found himself absolutely content with not ripping off that lacy night thing and burying himself inside her perfect body. Athan pressed her closer to him, devouring every part of her mouth, her jawline … her mostly healed neck where a dark scar was left behind.

Her fingers twined through his hair, gently tugging and she whimpered a bit when he kissed over the mark she had no idea he’d claimed her with. He wouldn’t take her tonight. He may never take her at all. At least he’d had this, and at least there was control enough within him to make this last however long she wanted it to. His hands braced her thighs, and he lifted her up, Sarah’s arms and legs coiling around him as he walked them over to his bed and laid her down beneath him. She held his face, and he pressed his head against hers, their breathing frantic and shallow.

“I can’t go much further …” He rasped, pained and breathless.

“This is more than enough,” Sarah assured, leaning up to kiss him again. They continued that way for a couple of hours … maybe it was more. Maybe it had only been five minutes. He didn’t care anymore. All he knew right now was the feel of her body, her hands up his shirt, the taste of her … the way she felt under his palms, her scent … that smart mouth .

As they finally laid facing each other, legs tangled and bodies pressed together, Athan pressed a kiss to her palm as she trailed across his bottom lip with her thumb. Their eyes finally met, and they fell into a different kind of stare. One they’d never shared before now. “Until the murder sets you free …” Sarah whispered, tracing the lines of his face. His fingers grazed over her wrist, and he dropped his eyes to her neck. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean actual murder? ”

“Because I didn’t.”

She quieted for a moment, leaning into his touch as he splayed his hand across her lower back. “A bird denied his flight … it’s a murder of crows.”

He took a long moment before answering. “Yes.”

“A prison …” She pulled him closer, his face resting beneath her chin. “Crows gather and decide the fate of one of their own.”

“Sarah …” Athan whispered against her skin, lightly kissing it, and tightening his arms around her. He closed his eyes, breathing her in … and left them closed.

“Whoever hurt you … I’ll never let them do it again,” she breathed. Athan smiled against her.

“You gonna whack them with your spatula?” He chuckled through his nose. She giggled and slapped the back of his shoulder. “I don’t need protecting. That’s my job.” They quieted, growing more and more still. “You’re the only gold mine in this room, Sarah.” The way she clutched him to her let him know that she knew he didn’t mean the strange blood she had running through her veins.

They didn’t move. Poe remained quiet, resting on his perch by the sliding glass door. He was somewhere between sleep and awake and wasn’t sure if he had imagined it when he heard her whisper something he’d only prayed he’d hear her say. Not wanting to risk being drunk on that kiss that he could still taste on his mouth, he said nothing … and when sleep found him tonight, it was the most peaceful he’d ever felt.