Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 30

ENEMIES AND ALLIES

The place was a mess. Rhaena had never been in Wren’s apartment before, but when her yellow Beetle had still been parked next to her truck, a sinking feeling in her gut told her to run up and check. The door was left wide open, and the smell of cat shit hit her like a wrecking ball as soon as she’d pushed her way in. Denver was stuck in his carrier which was turned over on its side, a floor lamp was busted on the floor, and Wren’s bag still sat packed up by the side of the doorway. Her immediate thought was that Foster and her assholes had tossed Wren’s place too … but the rest of the apartment didn’t look suspicious of that. Her cat was a dead giveaway. Wren wouldn’t have left him in there and just took off. And how would she have gone anywhere without a vehicle?

“Rhaena …” Jenkins said dreadfully, pulling a glove out and snapping it over his hand. He knelt down, sliding a paint pallet aside to reveal a spot of blood on the floor. She thought she’d be sick. She immediately dialed Athan and had told him to get here. Sarah had taken the phone, and as much as Rhaena dreaded telling her what she knew had probably happened, she forced it out anyway. They needed to call it in.

“We have to tell Foley,” Rhaena ground out, fighting her emotions.

“I’ll do it. You’re not supposed to be anywhere near this case.”

“How could we possibly get in trouble for this?” she asked forcefully, trying, and failing, to get her rising temper and panic in check. “All we did was come here for the truck and to give her back this phone! How could we have known?”

“I agree with you. But you were in there, too. He’s hyped. I’m the only one left with a badge right now, Babe … lemme call it in.”

She reluctantly nodded and walked further into Wren’s apartment, turning her camera on and recording every step. She might not have a badge, but she could at least gather enough to have when forensics came to kick them out. Deep down, she knew Foley wouldn’t expect her to sit by and do nothing. Angry or not. Car doors slammed downstairs, and she peeked out the window, surprised to see Brent Stratford following hurriedly behind Athan and Sarah. “What the hell?” she said under her breath. They flew up the stairs, and Athan warned Sarah not to touch anything before she pushed past him into the door. Rhaena felt her heart drop into her stomach when Sarah covered her mouth and surveyed the space.

“Fuck …” Sarah whispered, leaning down to open Denver’s carrier. The cat howled at her, begging to be let out .

“Don’t touch it yet, Sarah!” Rhaena warned. “We can’t let him out until the team gets here to look at the place.”

“But he’s been stuck in here for hours!”

“I know … but we have to wait.” It took everything in her not to tear up, but she held her composure and Jenkins met her eyes.

“Anybody but Foley would have told us we couldn’t report her missing for another few hours. He’s sending Foster.”

Sarah jumped at the name, seemingly remembering something. She pulled a card out from her jacket pocket and dialed the number on her phone. Nobody questioned her. “Hey,” she said, already pacing. “I’m not leaving. Tell me you were the one who trashed this place. Please tell me it only looks like this because ours did too …” The look of devastation that she gave Athan was enough to rip her heart out. “I’m not fucking leaving! What are they gonna do, arrest me for checking in on my best friend?” Athan pulled her into his arms and Brent stood ghostly pale in the doorway. “Fine. See you in a minute.” Sarah hung up and dialed another number.

“What’d she say?” Rhaena asked, already knowing the answer.

“They didn’t have reason to go through her apartment when they trashed ours. I’m calling Wren’s parents.”

“Don’t tell them anything yet, Sarah. We have to make sure this was a kidnapping first.” Rhaena backed herself toward the blood on the floor, desperately trying to hide it from Sarah’s view. Athan gently stopped her with a hand on her phone.

“She didn’t make it there, love. We have nothing to offer them yet. All they’ll do is panic and come down here, and whoever took her will just have more to use against her.” His voice was so soothing, even Rhaena shuddered at it. So much had changed about him since he’d been with her.

“So, they don’t deserve to know?” Brent piped up behind them, trembling with nerves. “You’re just gonna do nothing?”

“Why are you even here, Brent?” Sarah snapped, jerking her face toward him. “You’re the last person anybody wants to see. I told you not to fucking come.”

“Because I—” Brent paused, biting his lip and shaking his head. They all waited for him to finish, but instead he took another hard look around the apartment before turning away and making to leave.

“You’re a lawyer,” Jenkins started, stopping Brent in his tracks. “You’re not a cop. Keep your mouth shut, and just let us do our job … alright? We’ll find whoever did this and bring her home.”

Brent looked over his shoulder at Athan, and if looks could have killed … “If she ends up being another one of those bodies on your board because you didn’t do the right thing … I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Try it, Brent. You’re the last person that should be talking about ‘the right thing’, ” Sarah sneered, a low growl rumbling in her throat. “This isn’t his fault. It’s mine. And if you ever talk to him like that again, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish. Nobody cares about her more than I do. Interfere in this, and you won’t like the way I handle you. ”

Rhaena caught notice of the way Stratford’s eyes blanched, losing focus and appearing terrified by some distant thought or realization. “Stratford,” Rhaena called, earning his attention. “We’ll find her. Go home and lock your doors. Stay alert and don’t talk to anybody about anything . Okay?” He simply nodded and clunked slowly down the stairs.

The team arrived quicker than she’d expected, and Foster questioned all of them thoroughly before kicking them out, getting as much information as she could about Wren’s whereabouts before she’d left Kane’s apartment on Sunday. They found more blood close to where Wren’s painting of Denver sat unfinished and toppled over. Sarah had nearly lost her mind when she saw it. Foster allowed Rhaena to take the cat when she asked, and they all gathered outside the coffee shop below Wren’s apartment. All but Jenkins, who stayed behind, vowing to help in whatever way he could with her disappearance. Brent had actually left, but somehow Rhaena felt strongly that he wouldn’t go home.

“What was his deal when you went off on him up there?” Rhaena asked as Sarah leaned against the hood of the truck. Sarah crossed her arms and stared at the curb, lost in her worry.

“I dunno,” she breathed. “Wren said he’d been really off lately.”

“But would he know anything?”

Sarah finally raised her face, and Athan lit a cigarette, offering it to her. “I don’t see how. And if he did, I doubt he would have kept it to himself. Not when somebody’s life was on the line.”

“Especially hers,” Athan added, flashing her a look. “Weren’t you the one thinking there was some unspoken thing between them?”

“Watch it, Blood Daddy …” Sarah pointed her cigarette at him, smirking and taking a long drag.

“Blood …” Rhaena whispered under her breath. “What if this was—”

“Don’t,” Athan started, his face dropping into a predatory scowl. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.”

Sarah shot up from the hood. “Dahlia?” Athan cursed quietly and turned away. “You think she would have taken her? Why?”

The look he shot her gave Rhaena pause, but she ignored him and looked at Sarah. “She sent the guy that Wren shot, didn’t she? They were clearly after her once before. What if she’s trying to smoke you out?”

Athan threw a hand out, frustrated. “You go after that coven, and you might as well be offering yourself up on a silver platter, Sarah. You made me hand that platter over to the precinct once already. Don’t ask me to do that again. Not with her. You’re not going anywhere near that bar.”

“Athan, what if she’s in there?!”

“Sarah—”

“If it were me instead, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

Rhaena watched them stare into each other like they were torn between ripping each other wide open, or … ripping each other wide open . Athan breathed a long sigh. “You don’t have any idea what they’re like. What she’s like. They’re loyal to her. It’s fucking suicide. ”

“So, you’d rather me offer Wren up instead? Don’t ask me to do that!”

“What if we make them … unloyal ?” Rhaena cut in, both Athan and Sarah turning towards her. “What would turn them against her? Couldn’t we turn them to our side?”

Sarah stilled, staring off across the street. “ Turn them …” she whispered.

“What have you got? What are you thinking?” Rhaena asked, dismissing Athan’s glare.

Sarah stepped toward him, smirking as she drew her cigarette back to her lips. “I think it’s time to go pay our friend Nick a little visit … Baby .”

“Christ,” Athan growled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What are you gonna do?” Rhaena asked, stepping closer.

Sarah turned toward her and glanced at Denver through the windshield. The cat was making himself at home on the dashboard, and Rhaena silently prayed he wouldn’t relieve himself in her car. “Take him somewhere safe. Keep an eye on Brent, and make sure he isn’t following us around, or trying anything stupid that’s gonna get us figured out. If the bitch wants me, then maybe it’s time for me to show myself. I’ve got my own cards to play.”

“Sarah, don't get yourself killed.” Rhaena looked at Athan, and a tinge of pain swept through her chest when she met eyes with her partner. “Both of you better be careful. And don’t leave me out. Keep your phones on and call me .”

“We’ll be fine. Just be ready for anything.” Sarah reached around her and pulled her into a tight hug. Rhaena sighed over her shoulder, hugging her back.

“I’m sorry … I’m sorry for all the hell you’ve been through.”

She didn’t let go, instead squeezing her a bit tighter. “Don’t be. They’re gonna be sorry for putting me through it. Going through hell is when I know myself best. They already tried taking the best of me … now they’ll get the worst.”

He rarely made it home in time for dinner, but as Nick Specter walked through his front door, the smell of something Italian had him salivating. The pounding of little feet sounded down the hallway to his left, as he tossed his keys into a ceramic bowl and shrugged off his winter coat.

“Daddy!” His son beamed, crashing into his thigh and wrapping his little limbs around it. He bent over to pick him up and hauled him to his chest.

“What in the world have you been getting into?” Nick asked, taking in all the different colors smudged on his tiny shirt, and all over his hands .

“Momma said I was a good ortis! ” He seemed so incredibly proud of himself, turning his chubby fingers over and showing off the other side. “Come see! I drew you so many pictures today!”

“An artist, you mean? Does Mama know you didn’t keep it on the paper?” The little boy’s mouth pressed into a tight line and his eyes boggled. “Better go clean up before she finds out.” He lowered him back down to the floor and watched him race back down the hall to the bathroom. Nick couldn’t keep the adoring smile off his face. He walked through the living room and into the kitchen to find his wife stirring a pot with her back turned toward him.

“If you were trying to sneak in, I think Reese already gave you away,” she said without turning around. He could hear the smile in her voice. “Come taste this.”

He pressed himself against her back, sliding an arm around her waist as she carefully held up a wooden spoon and blew on it gently before inching it toward his mouth. He sipped the red sauce, smacking his lips and nodding his approval as he ducked into her neck and pressed a soft kiss to it. “Better than last time.” He snickered into her skin.

“Oh, screw you.” Evie snorted, trying to pull out of his hold. Her chestnut hair rolled over her shoulder. “Last time I was distracted.”

“I remember.” He lowered his voice and let his hands explore, slipping beneath her shirt. “I take full responsibility for that.”

“Stop your shit and go wash up … pervert.” She giggled, batting him away. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes. Oh, and could you restart the dryer when you get upstairs?”

“You got it.” He kissed her cheek and headed upstairs, checking the lint tray before fluffing the clothes, and closing the bedroom door behind him as he slipped inside. As he flipped on the light, his smile slowly faded and a nervous rage fluttered in the pit of his stomach when he turned the corner to see Athan Kane standing at his dresser, holding a picture of Evie on their wedding day. Nick swallowed hard. “Kane? What, um—” He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s lovely.” Kane admired, turning the frame toward him, and giving him a threatening look. “Why don’t you have any photos of your family in your office?” Nick felt nauseous, glancing towards the top drawer where he kept his gun.

“I’d rather not give anybody reason to seek them out. I’m sure you can understand that.”

Kane huffed a laugh through his nose. “So, I suppose giving someone another reason makes them any safer?” He knew … he knew what he’d done. Kane was coming here to make good on his promises.

“Is that why you’re here, Kane? Whatever you’re planning, I’m begging you to leave them out of it. They’ve done nothing wrong. If it’s me you want, then take me somewhere and get it over with. Please … don’t hurt my family.”

“I like you begging, Specter. You’re a lot more entertaining that way.” Kane turned and walked over to Evie’s side of the bed, taking up another photo of Reese from her nightstand and staring at it. Nick sprinted for the dresser, tearing the drawer open and reaching for his gun. To his horror, he couldn’t feel it—and even worse, Kane didn’t react at all.

“You looking for this?” another voice sounded from the bathroom doorway. He slowly turned around to see Sarah St. James, waving his pistol. “Don’t look so surprised, Nick. You had to know I’d find out.” She leaned against the door frame. “Why’d you do it?”

“ Please. ” Nick held his palms up, glancing between his unwelcome visitors. “I tried to warn you. Keep them from getting their hands on you. The government was after you, and so were those psychos. Kane, please … tell her I warned you! I’m not your enemy, here!”

“No, you’re right … the psychos are my enemy. So, you thought it would be a better idea to give them my blood that you got without my consent from the hospital?”

“I thought it would keep them quiet. I thought they’d leave you alone! I was helping you!”

“You were helping yourself, Specter. I told you what would happen if you fucked with something that was mine.” Kane’s eyes darkened and Nick nearly pissed himself. The glass of the frame cracked beneath Kane’s grip and spider-webbed across the photo of Reese.

“Please! Please don’t hurt them, I’m fucking begging you!”

He thought he’d vomit when he watched fangs slide past Kane’s top lip as it curled into a vicious smile. “Beg harder,” he growled, taking a step towards him. Nick’s face darted over at Sarah, who stood there smiling with his gun still in her hand.

“Sarah! Please! Do something!”

She pushed off the door frame and took a couple slow steps. “You’re right …” She smirked, raising the gun and pointing it at him. He nearly choked on the bile creeping up his throat. “Maybe it is a bit much to go after your family. I know how that feels.” She took another step. “They have somebody very important to me. Get down on your fucking knees.” He did as she asked, lowering himself and feeling the damp evidence of his piss in the front of his pants as he met the floor.

“I swear I don’t know who, or what, you’re talking about. I didn’t have anything to do with whatever it is. All I did was give them the blood bags.” Nick kept his palms raised, and eyed Kane as he took another step closer to him. There was nothing natural or human about the guy, and he remembered that visit to his office when he’d picked him up by the neck with one hand. He’d die tonight. It was obvious that no amount of begging was gonna change that. But maybe he could at least spare his family.

“I believe you.” Sarah nodded, holding the gun steady. “But I’m still not convinced I should let you live. Maybe you should try offering me something? Unless that precious little boy isn’t worth it to you?”

“I don’t have anything to offer you, Sarah. I’m broke. I’m in debt. I’m under the thumb of some very powerful people, and I had no other way out. Please, I’ll do anything. You can kill me. Just don’t hurt them. And don’t do it here. I don’t want them to go through that.”

She leaned in and kept his gun pointed right at his face as she snarled, her eyes growing two shades darker, and her voice completely changed. “There’s always another way, you groveling little pussy . Why the fuck should I look at you like you didn’t have another choice, when you took every one of mine away from me? You had a decision to make. Enemies, or allies … and you chose wrong .”

“Dear God …” Nick breathed, every syllable shaking and broken. “You—you’re a—”

“I’m the only hope you’ve got of not suffering a slow, painful death. But you know Nick? I’m not as grimy as you.” She grabbed him by the hair and craned his neck back. He felt more warmth trickle down the inside of his thigh. “I’ve always been a forgiving person. So, I’ll give you one more chance to be on the right side of this war. Otherwise, Athan gets a well-deserved dinner.”

“What do you want from me?” Nick shuddered. She pulled him up to stand with enough effortless force that he couldn’t deny what she was anymore.

“You’re gonna help me. Open that window.” Sarah released his hair and nodded toward the window between him and Kane. His hands shook as he slowly obeyed her and pulled it open. Kane kicked the screen out and it tumbled down the rooftop, dropping off the edge. “We’re going on a little trip.”

“Nick! Dinner!” Evie called from downstairs. He turned around and looked at the bedroom door, only to find his world spinning when Sarah pushed him out the window. He groaned, rolling down the narrow rooftop, and crashing into the bushes below. Kane dropped next to the bushes, landing on sturdy feet and reaching up to catch Sarah who leapt down behind him. His sleeves were torn from the fall, and she grabbed him by the collar, hauling him out of the bush and forcing him towards a black Charger parked across from his mailbox.

Kane threw him to the side of the car, pulling his arms behind him and cuffing his wrists. Sarah opened the door and kept the gun pointed at him while she gestured with it. “Get in,” she ordered with a voice like death. He obeyed and watched them both get into the car.

“Don’t piss in my seats,” Kane said, looking at him in the rear-view mirror. “I’m glad you came around, Specter. Blood like yours is never satisfying, and it tastes like shit.” Nick swallowed around the lump in his throat, looking back to his house as they drove off.

Her head was pounding, and she could tell one of her eyes was swollen shut as Wren blearily came to and tried to take in her surroundings. Her vision was fuzzy, and she couldn’t move her arms. She realized pretty quickly what this was, and as hard as she tried not to panic, it slowly started seizing her body. It got worse when she realized she was in somebody’s creepy-ass basement, void of any windows or light, save for the flickering fluorescent bulb over her head. It buzzed loudly, fueling her scathing headache .

“Hello?” Wren called, struggling against the chair she’d been tied to. Whoever had put her down here must have known their way around a rope. She was tied in so tight that her fingertips were purple and freezing, and her shoulders were bound as well, forcing her uncomfortably straight in the chair. “Hello!” She yelled louder, clenching her teeth and fighting off her deep urge to cry. “Fuck …” her voice broke, and her red hair fell forward as she hung her head.

Her ankles strained against the legs of the chair; the rope coiled all the way up her calves. Her chest heaved up and down, and the panic won her over as hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

Not like this … please, God … not like this.

Fuck, her head hurt. Her skin was tight at her temple with dried blood, and her lip stung when she licked the open split near the corner. The tang of iron was bitter on her tongue. How had it come to this? She knew the only reason anyone would have to target her would have been to get to Sarah. What would have happened had they never stepped foot in that club that night? Would anyone still be after Sarah if Athan hadn’t attacked her? She wanted to hate them both. Wanted to blame them for the situation that she’d found herself in … but deep down, Wren knew it was neither of their faults. If there was anyone to blame, it’d be herself for taking Sarah to that fucking place. All Athan and Rhaena had ever tried to do was help them.

Rhaena …

She’d be looking by now. They all would. Wren dug into her memory, trying to recall what she could of the hazy moments that brought her here. She hadn’t called anyone on her way to the house. Hadn’t seen anyone that seemed suspicious when she pulled up at the coffee shop and started unloading the truck. In fact … from what she could remember, it seemed as though whoever had grabbed her had already been inside the apartment. They were brilliant detectives. They’d figure it out … right? And Denver …

Fuck … Denver …

Was he hurt in the fight she’d put up after being grabbed from behind? Had anyone found him in that carrier yet? Was he even alive? The tears came faster, and Wren couldn’t make out a sound other than the unnerving buzzing of the fucking light above her head. They would come for her. They would. She tried to remember anything she could about her attacker.

Think Wren … think.

There were no signs that anybody was there. For as long as she’d been through the door, nothing even seemed out of place. She had dropped her bag by the door, and turned to set Denver down, just about to bend over to let him out and close the door, and—and she’d turned just in time for someone to hit her in the face with something hard … something metal . She’d hit the floor and scrambled to find something to fight him off with. What was he wearing? The floor lamp had fallen over, and the bulb broke on the floor when she grabbed around, and he’d kicked her in the ribs. They weren’t boots. Loafers … he was wearing dark brown loafers, an d black slacks. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen his face—no—she hadn’t … it was covered.

When he’d grabbed her shoulders to bring her up from the floor, she’d swung both her fists, blindly. She remembered hitting him at least once in the face, and he hit her back hard. A ring. He had a ring, and he was left-handed. He turned her around and she could faintly recall the smell of him. Bourbon and cigar smoke. Then he’d hit her in the side of her head and that was the gist of what she could remember.

Wren stilled as the realization hit her. Bourbon and cigar smoke—loafers. Ugly-ass loafers that only rich old men and doctors wear. “Shit …” she whispered into the empty basement, raising her head and dropping her mouth open.

“I didn’t expect you to be awake this soon.” She knew that voice. Knew it without even having to piece it all together. Conrad Stratford slithered around from behind her and stood a few feet away from her chair, swirling whiskey in a short crystal glass. “How’s your head?”

“ Fuck you … ” Wren hissed through her teeth. Conrad grimaced, taking a sip from the cup and cocking his head to look closer at her face.

“I suppose I deserve that. I banged you up pretty good. I apologize. I didn’t realize you had that much fight in you.”

“Why did you bring me here, Stratford? What the hell do you think you’re gonna get from doing this? Besides a slow death?” Wren tried to reel in her emotions, and will herself calm.

“I’d be careful what manner of words you choose, Miss Vintorri. I’m not the one tied to a chair.”

“What, you’re gonna kill me?” Wren forced a shallow laugh. “You think that’s gonna get you what you want?”

“Yes, actually. If your whore friend wants you alive, she’ll give me exactly what I want.”

“Psh … you don’t even know her. You’re such a fucking coward. And a fool. Sarah is the most incredible person anyone could ever call a friend. She would have gladly given you what you wanted if you’d just asked her. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Conrad clicked his tongue. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, I’m afraid. It’s a shame, really. But … I’ve learned through many years in politics that if you want something done right, you just do it yourself. My son is a weak little piece of shit. He couldn’t handle something as easy as fucking her and getting simple information. I find this sends a clearer message.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Senator. I’ve never much cared for Brent, but he’s not as weak as you think. You’ve fucked up. The other side of Sarah isn’t so gentle, and there’s really no gentle side to Detective Kane. You have no idea what you’ve done. I hope I live to see the hell they’re all gonna rain down on you … you fucking snake .” Wren spit at his feet. Conrad took a step backward and sneered at her. “Oh, I’m sorry … did I get any on your fancy bedroom slippers?” She made it a point to grin at him through lowered brows and disheveled hair. “Guess not … come closer so I can try again, you dusty-ass, leather jock strap. ”

Conrad threw his liquor into her face, and the bourbon set her split lip on fire. There wasn’t much difference in the way it ignited her swollen eye, either. Wren bit back a scream and squeezed her eyes shut just as he backhanded her and knocked the entire chair over, causing her to hit the uninjured side of her head on the concrete floor. “I was gonna chain you to the wall and let you eat, but you can starve tonight. Maybe you’ll play nice in the morning after being stuck like that for a while. If you can’t watch your smart mouth, I’ll gag you. Do we understand each other?”

Wren held tight to her dignity and forced another smile with her cheek against the floor. “Gross …” she ground out. “I’m already gagging, you son-of-a-bitch. Old men are so fucking disgusting.”

“Suit yourself, bitch.”

He left her there, and from this angle she could see him walk up a long set of rickety-looking steps and slam a heavy door that was out of sight. Once she was confident he wasn’t coming back, she quietly sobbed. They’d come for her. She’d make it through this. She had to be as strong as Sarah had been this entire ordeal. Her good eye caught movement near what looked to be a nasty mattress on the floor near the wall. When she squinted, and blinked back tears, it became a little clearer. A spider—a big one … moving toward her. Wren shrieked, struggling against her restraints, and having absolutely no luck as she heaved heavy sobs.

She hadn’t called on him for sex in a very long time. So long, that he couldn’t rightly remember when. Decclan had been just as surprised by the summon, as he was by the very different ways that she had him bed her this time. His queen had seemed softer—more affectionate—as if some foreign part of her was starved and she didn’t know how to satisfy it. He couldn’t remember a time that she’d kissed him on the mouth, especially not as passionately as she seemed to right now. Her long claw-like fingernails were once so bloodthirsty, but now barely scraped the side of his face. He knew deep down that being on the receiving end of this behavior wasn’t because she suddenly realized that she loved him—loved him the way he’s always loved her.

As much as he’d silently prayed for a union that felt like this, a huge part of him was apprehensive after what she’d done to the newborn, who the entire coven now knew was her mate. His loyalty had suddenly felt so wrong, and many of the others felt the same, though they wouldn’t dare express it. For the first time in hundreds of years, he questioned his deep regard for Dahlia Van Hausen. The heartbeat of his coven had slowed with the death of one of their own that they barely even had the chance to know. Even with as many of their own as she’d slaughtered with her bare hands, the heaviness of Patrick’s demise weighed far too much on them all. Decclan tried earnestly not to think on it as he effortlessly brought the queen to her euphoria. She thanked him by offering her throat.

As he graciously fed from her, he exploded inside her body, raking the deepest growl free from his chest at the way that she quivered around him. They quieted and her eyes remained closed as she slumped on his bare chest. They had been closed the majority of this time together, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been right to think that she was imagining someone else inside her. The hard truth was … it could have been more than one person. The longer he held her in silence, the more the question festered within him like some kind of infection waging war on all his good sense. Before he could think to stop himself, Decclan lowered his face to look at her.

“What is it that you love so much about him?” He regretted that ushering of words the moment they left his mouth … but there was no way now of taking them back. Dahlia’s eyes opened and her slender eyebrows drew together as she raised her head and peered into him.

“Excuse me?”

Well … the damage was done now. If she killed him, he supposed he’d be deserving of it. He decided in that moment that maybe it was for the best, as long as she would at least give him the truth. Didn’t he deserve that, too?

“ Kane . You cling to him like a lifeline. You always have. I’ve considered him a friend, if that’s what you could even call it all these years. But you know how he feels about you. You allowed him freedom. You allowed him to call you by your name, and outwardly and forcefully hate you. He never received a fate like Patrick’s, and still, you lie here with me, offering your very blood while you see his face behind your eyelids and yearn for his touch.” Some rush of relief flooded him as soon as he’d said it, though it was laced with a fear of losing his very life. Dahlia looked as if he’d backhanded her. “Why? Why do you love him so? Why could you never love me the way that you love someone who despises you? Or love me reluctantly … like you did Patrick?”

“Is that what you want from me, Decclan? Love?” Dahlia’s mouth curled into a smile that he couldn’t read, no matter how hard he tried. “You’re a fool. Courageous … but a fool. Do you want to know why Patrick sits in an urn above this bed? Do you want to have the same fate Athan Kane will have when he comes crawling back to this coven, begging for the life of that pathetic human filth?” She raised onto her elbows and leaned into his face. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told my mate before he burned for something as fickle as love , Decclan. Love is a weakness. Power is power. There’s no room for the two to co-exist. If you’re trying to tell me that you’ve loved me all this time, then consider this our last fuck. I cannot afford to lose another thing right now. Don’t think that I haven’t suffered because of fucking love .” Tears began to line her eyes like mercury glistening under the sun. “I do pity you, Decclan. I do. Because, like me … you’ve fallen for someone who doesn’t even care that you exist. Be grateful that you only fell once. ”

And there it was. The truth. No one could help who they fell in love with. She couldn’t help it any more than he could. And she didn’t care that he was even here, giving her everything she could have ever wanted. It seemed pointless to say how many times it butchered him to hear her sounds of pleasure at someone else’s hands while he stood watch outside her door. Seemed pointless to tell her how incredibly beautiful she was, even now that she seemed at her most vulnerable. He couldn’t even be angry with her about her honesty. It was what he’d asked for. Decclan swallowed around the growing knot in his throat, and she sneered at him as if it disgusted her to appear so—human.

“Whatever you’re thinking of saying, don’t. Train yourself to hate me if that’s what you have to do, Decclan. Do not make me kill you, too. Get out of my room.” As he’d just taken her blood, he couldn’t stay even if he begged to. She let him up, and he grabbed his clothes, not even bothering to dress himself as he walked out of her door, slamming it behind him.

One or two members glanced at him on his way through the halls, but no one dared say a word. When he’d finally made it to his chambers, he stormed into the bath. He suddenly had to have any trace of her off of him. Her scent … her blood. But no matter how hard he scrubbed at his immortal skin, the words she spoke would linger and eat away at what little he had left of his dead heart. Decclan finally found himself wondering if he’d lived long enough. An eternity feeling the way he did right now … felt tremendously hopeless.