02 Blood Roses - Blackthorn (5 page)

She tried to relax, her head pressed back against the door, her breathing terse. His tongue felt cold, wet against her inner thigh as he licked her as if she was coated in sugar. Then, as he bit, she flinched, involuntarily gasped, and grasped his shoulders. She could feel him smile as he started to suck, one hand gripping her thigh so as to keep it steady, his other hand pressing against her hip, keeping her pinned to the door.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the discomfort, the sensation, the knowledge that, for those few moments, he was completely lost in her and her alone; not the multitude of others that swooned and crooned after him, scrabbling for his attention. In those few moments he was hers. In those few moments she was the one he wanted. The only one he wanted.

This is what Leila could never understand. Any more than Leila understood why she’d had to risk so much to save him.

❄ ❄ ❄

Leila seemingly remained oblivious to his presence as she sat perched on the edge of the round table, her gaze lost in the distance. Her bare toes rested on the bench, her knuckles pale as she hugged herself. Her fine, shoulder-length hair was caressed by the breeze, a breeze that swept the subtle aroma of strawberries and white lily towards him – a scent as fresh, delicate and enticing as the witch herself.

She looked so unguarded that Caleb almost doubted his suspicions, but he couldn’t doubt the spark in his defence mechanisms the moment their eyes had met. He’d hunted enough to know one when he saw one, whatever clever façade they hid behind. And the deadly female on his terrace was going to learn, if she didn’t already know, that not even the most adept of her kind fooled him.

Catching a glimpse of him in her blind spot, Leila flinched, her startled gaze meeting his.

‘Not quite Summerton, is it?’ he said, stepping across the threshold to join her.

She reverted her gaze to the view, but he knew she was remaining diligently aware of his approach in the corner of her eye.

‘And very different to what you’re used to, I’m sure,’ he added, strolling across to the barrier. Facing the view, he braced his arms on the rail as he surveyed the sector he’d built up from nothing but ruins. ‘It’s a very different view from up here,’ he said. ‘On the ground you see ruin, deprivation, neglect. Up here, looking over the expanse, you see a community. One that, despite its impoverished state, has found a way to work together, or at least maintain peace by staying apart. A community that knows it’ll take nothing for it to implode so abides by its own rules, its own laws, its own survival mechanisms.’

‘A community run by crime, by bullies, by intimidation, by a select few who have taken it upon themselves to be in charge. A community run by fear.’

He couldn’t help but smile at her ignorance. ‘Believe it or not, this used to be nothing but fields when I was a child. I spent my youth climbing trees and swimming in lakes around here under clear starry nights.’ He turned to face her, folding his arms as he leaned back against the barrier. ‘Long before the Regulations obviously.’

She squeezed her clenched hands in her lap. ‘Regulations that allowed our kind to be protected.’

‘Protection that brought with it all the privileges, despite the fact it was your kind who ruined the landscape in the first place.’

‘I’m not here to talk politics, Caleb.’

‘I thought you’d love the opportunity, what with those special little rings of yours.’

‘I’m entitled to an opinion.’

‘I never said you weren’t. I’m merely pointing out that at least we understand limitations whereas your kind’s selfishness knows no bounds.’

Her hazel eyes narrowed. ‘And where would your kind be without ours to sustain you? We die, you die. You die, we survive. I think there’s a pecking order in that, don’t you?’ The glare was brief before she reverted her attention back to the view, her pretty eyes brimming with a defiance and indignation that both irritated and aroused him.

‘Your vehemence is admirable, fledgling, even if the ignorance that gives it its foundation is laughable.’

‘I know more than you think.’

‘As if I would dare to underestimate someone so experienced and worldly. Someone with such textbook knowledge.’

Leila frowned at his mocking as her eyes snapped back to his. ‘Textbook knowledge that saved your brother’s life.’

But serryns didn’t save vampires. Not even if their last breath, the final beat of their heart, depended on it. Serryns existed for one purpose and one purpose only: to kill as many vampires as possible – male, female, even youths – in as cruel and vicious a way as they could.

And under any other circumstances, this witch’s – or if his instincts were right, this serryn’s – entertainment value would have taken some surpassing. And he would have already been breaking her down, stripping her of everything she was until she was nothing but a shell.

Yet something about this one was already niggling him. Beneath her flattering knee-length tea dress, her feminine, slender body was toned but most definitely not honed from training or combat. There were no bruises, no marks and not a single scar that he could detect. Every inch of her skin was pale, smooth and unblemished. Even her long, delicate fingers ended with flawless nails.

He looked back at her pretty eyes, her sensual mouth, not a hint of make-up to emphasise either. But it wasn’t that her appearance was void of purposeful seduction, it was that her whole demeanour was. Because although he knew only too well from experience that a serryn’s facade didn’t have to mean a thing, her nervous tension in his presence most certainly did. He was either looking at his first latent or she was one hell of an actress.

‘And you did good tonight,’ he said in response. ‘You and your textbook.’

‘I did what I had to,’ she said, maintaining her avoidance of the intimacy of eye contact.

Strolling over to join her, he eased up onto the table beside her, purposefully an inch too close so that their thighs were almost touching. ‘I know it wasn’t easy for you.’

Leila tensed, her breath quickening, but she didn’t move, her eyes saturated with unwavering tenacity.

He leaned back on one arm, bracing it just behind her, not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to feel the threat of its proximity. Her cheeks flushed and she clenched her hands until her knuckles were pale, holding her breath for longer than he was sure was comfortable. But still the wilful little witch remained rooted to the spot. ‘In fact, it must have really stung, considering how you feel about us.’

When she refused to respond, he couldn’t help but smile.

‘I make you uneasy, don’t I?’

She met his gaze, albeit fleetingly again. ‘You don’t.’

He raked his gaze slowly and purposely intrusively from her dainty feet, up over her shapely legs, her pert chest to then linger on her eyes. ‘So, is all this nervous tension because you’ve never been alone with a vampire before? Or is it that you’re not good with males of either species?’

She frowned. ‘You’re a vampire and I’m, as you like to put it, a witch. Our kinds have never exactly got along have they?’

‘Which makes you coming here tonight all the more brave. Alisha tells me this is your first time out of Summerton.’

‘I’ve been to Midtown before.’

‘But never Blackthorn.’

‘I have no reason to come here.’

‘I bet you’re itching to get home, aren’t you? It must be very uncomfortable for someone like you here, with nothing but vampires for miles.’

She glanced at him, the wariness clear in her eyes. He could hear her heart pound and predicted what was to follow.

He caught her wrist as soon as her feet touched the floor. ‘Something wrong?’

She could barely look at him. ‘I’m going to check on Alisha.’

‘Alisha’s fine. She’ll be down in the club with Jake by now.’

Her eyes flared in panic. ‘But I told her to get our things together.’

‘I told her there was no hurry.’

Scowling, she moved to step away, but Caleb caught her by the hip and tugged her between his thighs. Pushing the wrist he held behind her back, the static surge surprised him as their eyes met again. He’d known too many of them. Too many to justify what she inexplicably roused in him. And he knew her kind too well to know she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she was.

She slammed her hand to his chest in protest. ‘What are you doing?’

Panic. Genuine panic. She was becoming more intriguing by the minute and those ragged, shallow breaths were almost as enticing as the soft, warm body he contained between his legs. He tauntingly appraised her throat and cleavage. ‘You’re not as confident as you like to portray, are you?’

‘Let me go,’ she warned.

Peeling her hand from his chest, interlacing his fingers with hers, he gently pushed it behind her back to join the other, holding them securely with one of his. ‘Something tells me you’ve been in that cosy little nest of yours too long, fledgling.’

She tried to tug free, her erratic breaths caressing his lips. ‘Maybe I just don’t like being this close to you.’

‘Flatterer,’ he said, gently brushing her hair back from her neck. He traced his lips up her smooth warm skin, her scent powerful, pure and dangerously compelling.

She flinched and futilely tried to pull back, panic flaring in her eyes. ‘Don’t,’ she warned. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,’ he whispered against her ear. He reached into his back pocket and flicked the lid off a syringe. ‘As you’re about to discover.
Serryn
.’

Chapter Five

L
eila woke lying on her back on a cold, stone floor. Sensing her constraints, she gasped against her gag. Her arms were manacled either side of her head, and her legs, spread a foot or so apart, were also bound.

The room spun and pulsated from her heavy sedation as she scanned the bare, moonlit chamber. At first she thought it was her giddiness, but realised the floor had a subtle decline –a decline towards some kind of drain below. More manacles hung on the wall behind her and further manacles to her right, dark stains marring the stone beneath them. A breeze channelled through the high, barred window to her left, adding to dankness of the thirty-foot-square enclosure. She strained her neck to look behind her left shoulder towards the sound of male voices distant beyond the open steel door.

Serryn
.

It was the last thing he’d said to her as he’d held her arms behind her back – as he’d held her against him with a strength that had sent a surge of simultaneous panic and arousal through her body. He’d brushed his lips against her neck as a cruel taunt, causing goosebumps to ripple over her skin. She’d been convinced he was going to bite – believing that serryns were indeed powerful enough to wipe out any vampire’s notorious self-preservation. Even inept, latent serryns like her.

Caleb knew.

Somehow he knew what she was.

She shivered. Still delirious and disorientated, she wriggled her wrists and ankles, trying to see if there was any give in her binds. She coughed with the effort, her throat arid.

And heard footsteps.

She stared back over at the door, her heart pounding, her breath held.

The second Caleb appeared, her stomach vaulted. She stared at the sword in his right hand, its blade glinting in the moonlight.

Jake followed close behind him. Metal grinded against stone as he dragged someone strapped to a chair along with him, slamming him to a halt under the window.

The man in the chair was maybe in his late twenties, trim but muscular, his floppy fair hair almost masking his eyes. Another vampire. She could sense it. There were grazes on his face and both his lips, and one eye was swollen. He sent a wary glance in Leila’s direction as he watched Caleb approach her.

She kept perfectly still, her breaths curt and erratic behind her gag as Caleb stepped astride her hips. His eyes, darkened by the moonlight, were as hostile as the room he was intending to either slaughter or imprison her in. Eyes she didn’t dare break from as he placed the tip of his sword against the base of her throat with an unnervingly steady precision.

‘Leila, meet Tay. Tay, meet Leila.’

She shot a nervous glance at Tay, who anxiously glanced back at her.

‘You two might have a lot in common,’ Caleb said as he slid the sword slowly down her cleavage and over her knotted stomach, before stepping away again. ‘Tay’s been a very bad vampire, even if he does insist on denying it.’

Tay’s nervous gaze locked on Caleb as he approached, his wrists straining under the pressure of the ropes that bound his arms to the armrests.

‘Tay made the unforgivable mistake of thinking he could double-cross me and Jake. Swindle us. Unfortunately he made the fatal error of overlooking the loyalty of our nearest and dearest work associates – associates whose loyalty can’t be bought at
any
price.’ He pressed the tip of the sword against Tay’s throat.

Tay’s eyes bulged in fear. His hands clenched, his wrists and legs straining against the restraints, the veins in his neck and his temple throbbing.

‘Even more unfortunately, I have a complete intolerance for anyone who thinks they can deceive me.’ Caleb pushed the tip of the sword into his flesh, just a little, but enough to make him bleed. Tay squealed behind his gag, his eyes wide and pleading as they stared up into Caleb’s. ‘Which Tay should know only too well,’ he added. He lowered the sword again and stepped away, twirling the heavy weaponry as if wielding a child’s toy.

As he sauntered back over towards her, she knew it would be the easiest thing in the world for him to drive the blade through her right there and then. But she guessed that wasn’t his intent.

Not yet.

Caleb crouched beside her, on the far side from Tay. She flinched as he brushed a few loose strands from her eyes and cheek.

‘I’ve been mulling over what to do with you, Tay,’ he said, addressing the bound vampire despite looking at Leila. ‘Whether to make an example of you or make you disappear like you never even existed.’ He slid the back of his cool hand gently down over Leila’s throat, the tension thickening in the already dense room. ‘Then along comes the perfect solution.’

Leila’s pulse raced as Caleb lay the sword beside her. He pulled a roll of leather from his back pocket and unravelled it to reveal an array of syringes. Her heart leapt.

Hell, no, this wasn’t happening. He couldn’t drug her again. Whatever he was planning, she couldn’t be unconscious. She stared up at him and shook her head, her eyes wide with panic.

‘What’s the saying?’ Caleb removed one of the empty syringes, flicking off the lid. ‘Killing two birds with one stone?’ He met her gaze. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, this will only hurt a little.’

Caleb wrapped his cool hand around her forearm and pressed the tip of the needle against a vein in the crook of her arm. Leila pleaded behind her gag, cried out in protest, but still he slid the needle inside.

She flinched, closed her eyes and twisted her head away, wincing as he extracted her blood.

Withdrawing the needle, he left Leila palpitating as he stood and strolled back over to Tay, the loaded syringe in his hand.

And then she knew.

The horror struck her hard, fast and painfully.

She knew exactly what was coming next.

❄ ❄ ❄

Caleb stood in front of Tay, the vampire’s cold blue eyes glowering up at him in fear. It was a necessity like so many necessities in Blackthorn. It was about survival and survival was about reputation. Not just anybody became somebody in Blackthorn, and it was even harder becoming a somebody when you were a nobody. Caleb had the fortune of his reputation – his history of being one of the few intrepid serryn hunters – but he still had to stay ahead, and staying ahead meant never letting his guard down. Ever. It meant no mercy and no second chances. Any sign of pity could be fatal. He had to maintain his reputation for being guarded, disciplined and brutal, especially in his line of work. Running a club was hard. It was the core of their culture. And holding on to the most successful club in Blackthorn was no easy feat, not when there was always someone waiting to step into those shoes.

Tay had worked with him long enough to know better than to try. He needed to be an example for any others who might think the same way.

The same was true for the serryn behind him. If he was right, if there was a ploy involved in her coming there, she needed to know exactly what she was up against. She needed to know that when it came to her kind, Caleb had no compassion or mercy at all.

‘Do you know what this is, Tay?’ Caleb asked, holding the syringe up. ‘This is a vampire’s worst nightmare. A stake through the heart, burnt to ashes, being beheaded – they’re all child’s play compared to this. Merciful even. This here is a little tube of agony like you can’t comprehend. A few droplets of this blood will weaken you more than a month without feeding. Half of the contents will leave you delusional, delirious and sweating blood. It’ll send pins and needles so excruciating through your body that you can’t walk, you can’t see, you can’t even think. A couple more syringes will make you lose control of every limb, every function. It’ll saturate your brain so your skull expands with the pressure of the swelling. It’s all you’ll know for days, weeks even. One extra little dose on top of that will make every single one of your veins explode, every internal organ implode, an agony you’ll feel right until the last moment. This little tube of terror, Tay, is pure serryn blood – fresh, warm and straight from the source. I should know – I hunted them for long enough.’

Tay stared warily back at Leila before glancing back at the syringe. He shook his head and mumbled something behind the gag.

Caleb reached for it and tugged it down. ‘What was that?’

‘There ain’t no serryns anymore,’ Tay said, his eyes brimming with fear, spittle trickling down his chin. He slid his tongue tersely over his bottom lip. ‘They’re extinct. Everybody knows that.’

Caleb exhaled a curt laugh. He looked at Jake, and Jake smiled back. ‘He doesn’t believe me.’

Jake folded his arms. ‘Oh dear, I think he’s calling you a liar, Caleb.’

Caleb shrugged. ‘Maybe I
am
wrong. It’s been a long time since I’ve run into a serryn. No, sorry, strike that – it’s been a long time since I’ve tracked one down, tortured her, slaughtered her and burnt every toxic part of her. So, maybe this time I have made a mistake. Maybe I’m losing my infamous touch. Maybe you’re right, Tay, buddy. Maybe that girl over there is just a regular little witch.’ He held up the syringe, his thumb on the plunger. ‘Shall we see?’

Tay recoiled into his seat, his eyes wide. ‘Wait!’

‘What? Not so sure now?’ Caleb asked, strolling around the back of him.

‘You’ve had your fun, Caleb. I fucked up, okay? I admit it. You let me go, and we’ll work this out. I’ll do whatever you want.’

‘I’ve got plenty who will do whatever I want, ones who know better than to step over the line. But thanks for the confession.’ Caleb yanked Tay’s head back by his hair. Exposing his neck, he slammed the syringe into his artery and pressed down the plunger.

Tay eyes bulged. His fingers flexed. His whole body went into spasm. He thrust his chin upwards, exposing his neck, his veins distending.

Caleb sauntered away, twirling the syringe in his fingers before crouching by Leila again. He reached across her, tucked the syringe back in the leather roll, glanced back over his shoulder at Tay before looking back down at her. ‘Potent little thing, aren’t you?’

Leila turned her head away, the look in her eyes one of genuine horror.

He caught her by the jaw. ‘What? Don’t you want to watch? I thought this was the best bit for you?’

But Leila defiantly slammed her eyes shut.

Caleb glanced over his shoulder again as Tay jerked more violently. Blood started to splutter from his mouth and trickle from his eyes as he cried out in pain.

Jake took a step back. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘From one syringe?’

‘I told you she was powerful,’ Caleb said, standing. He strolled back towards his brother as he twirled his sword again, comfortable and lax in his hand.

‘How long’s this going to go on for?’ Jake asked.

‘Could be hours. Could be days.’

Tay flailed as he gurgled in agony.

‘Could be weeks.’ Caleb stopped in front of Tay and watched him for a few moments.

He snatched a glance at his brother, at the distress and discomfort in his eyes. Seeing serryn effects for the first time wasn’t easy. But he needed him to know; he needed him to understand why he had to keep Leila there. He needed him to understand what her kind was capable of. And he needed to be sure his brother kept a safe distance. Just one mouthful of her blood in his system and no amount of spells or potions were going to bring him back this time – temporarily or not.

He returned his full attention to Tay. He might have been a thief and a liar, but no vampire deserved that level of suffering. And Caleb refused to be
that
much of a bastard. He’d done what was necessary. He’d made his point.

He drew back his sword-wielding arm and thrust the blade with swift and fatal precision direct into Tay’s heart.

And there was silence.

❄ ❄ ❄

Lying frozen and shuddering on the dungeon floor, Leila kept her head turned away from the worse macabre nightmare she had witnessed since that one night.

As the rain pounded outside the dungeon window, gushing down from the drainpipes, lashing against the walls beyond, her drug-induced state re-evoked the long-suppressed childhood memories.

She was back in the alley, sickness rising at the back of her throat, her small frail legs leaden as she stared down at her mother’s limp body discarded to the ground. Then she was turning to run, just like her mother had screamed at her to do.

She was pounding through overfilled puddles, the cold murky water saturating her plimsolls and jeans. Squeezing through the gap in the broken door, she was entering the dark, abandoned building. She was running through and under crates, scrabbling, leaping, falling and picking herself up again as she heard him tearing the door off its hinges. All the time she could hear him closing in on her – the flap of his coat, his terrifying laughter.

He grabbed the scruff of her neck and lifted her off the ground, letting her dangle as he stared into her eyes. He laughed as she swiped futilely at his face and kicked at his chest.

He tore her coat, her jumper, exposing her neck. His incisors extended through his sneer and he bit. Hard. Mercilessly.

She had jerked at the excruciating pain, her breaths curt, tears filling her eyes.

And she’d fallen hard to the floor as he’d released her.

She hadn’t understood the gurgling sound he’d made. Hadn’t been able to work out why he stared at her the way he did when he stumbled back, his hands clutching his throat.

She hadn’t understood why he’d fallen to his knees as he coughed up blood, his nails tearing the stone floor.

And she hadn’t wanted to understand.

She’d run back the way she’d come – back through the torn-off door and back up the alley towards her mother. She’d grabbed her arm and tried to pull her towards the road, pleading with her to wake up, pleading with her to run with her. But her mother hadn’t moved. Her mother had been silent, staring up at her with glazed, dead eyes, blood still pumping from the artery in her neck.

And Leila had collapsed to the ground beside her, her face buried in her dead mother’s clothes as the clouds released their own tears.

She was nine years old when it had happened, four years after her grandfather first discovered her talent for reading the archaic languages. He told her the whole truth the night after he’d brought her back from the alley.