02 Blood Roses - Blackthorn (9 page)

From the moment she was old enough, Sophie had been determined to track down who was responsible. She wanted to know every way possible to kill vampires. And, inevitably, during her research, she’d come across references to serryns.

How she’d kept her mouth shut when Sophie had probed her for information, Leila wasn’t sure, but she had. She remembered even now her pulse racing, her palms turning clammy as she’d been on the verge of confessing all. But she’d had to remind herself what her grandfather had said – it would put both of her sisters in danger. One mention of what she was outside of the four walls, and they would all be at threat.

And here they were – Sophie no doubt on her vampire vengeance mission and Alisha embroiled with one of the things. If she’d told them both, maybe neither of them would have been at risk. Instead, her aim to protect them had ironically evoked the very opposite.

‘Worried about how she might react?’ Caleb asked.

‘It’ll only create conflict and it’s a complication that isn’t needed before dawn. If she finds out what I am, and she works out you knew, she’s going to be on you for answers. It’s best if we keep it to ourselves. The simpler this is, then the better all round.’

‘I’m not going to argue with that.’

‘Good,’ she said, a little taken aback by his acquiescence.

‘Fine,’ he responded.

Her toes gripped the rug as she studied his eyes, trying to work out what was going on behind them; trying to work out what to say next whilst he purposely left her faltering.

Unable to handle the proximity anymore, she placed her coffee on the floor and stood. She needed to get away from him, where she could breathe again and forge some safe distance. She expected him to tell her to resume her seat, but he didn’t. She strolled to the periphery of the room, starting at the books nearest the door. ‘And I suppose I’m in here to keep Alisha and me apart?’

‘That and the unhealthy shade of blue you were turning. Like I said, you’re not exactly dungeon material.’

She glanced back at him. ‘Used it enough to know, have you? I thought your kind had moved on from all that torture and pain.’

‘You can’t believe everything you read.’

She broke from the coaxing in his eyes and focused on the seventeenth-, eighteenth- and nineteenth-century literature that she passed: history, politics, military, legends. There was everything, from calligraphy to identifying trees, to philosophy. She ran her fingers over the leather, canvas and paper bindings, thriving on the energy of knowledge contained within. ‘Where did you get all of these?’

‘This place was a library before it became a club.’

She glanced back at him too soon, she realised, not to mask the disapproval in her eyes. ‘You closed it down?’

‘It had shut down long before then. A fire had taken out the whole rear and left wing of the building. This is the only original part to remain.’

‘So the rest of the books were destroyed?’

‘A lot were. Some were stolen. Some were binned. Some got bought by collectors. I saved all the ones that remained when I bought the place. The rest are my own collection from over the years, particularly the first editions.’ He stood and cast his cigarette into the fire before taking his glass off the mantelpiece. He stepped in front of the fire, the amber glow of the backdrop darkening his outline, making him look even more intimidating.

She lifted one of the small, leather-bound books from the shelf. She opened the first page to check out the publication date. 1898. She looked back across at him
.
‘How old are you?’ she asked, surprising herself with her directness.

‘A lot older than you.’

‘I’m thirty-two,’ Leila declared, quickly realising she had said it with more pride than was warranted.

‘Like I said,’ he replied, lifting the glass to his lips, the remains of the ice clinking against the glass, ‘a lot
older than you.’

She stopped at the far side of the table. Scanning the shelves, she reached out to take out another title. She searched the front of the book for the publication date. 1917. Another first edition. She felt a shudder of elation and tenderly turned through the first few almost-transparent pages before placing it carefully back on the shelf and reaching for another. The weighty botanical reference book felt phenomenal in her hands. After a quick scan, she placed it back on the shelf and reached for another. The value of the scarce books, far more than just in monetary terms, overwhelmed her as she stumbled upon title after title that her archive records had dictated were lost.

But even in her absorption she sensed him approach behind her. She slotted the book back into place with clumsy hands and turned to face him just as he reached her side of the table. Bare feet silent on the wooden floor, his stealth only added to his sexiness, that predatory ease such a natural part of him.

She tried so hard not to look back down at his chest as he stood leaning against the table, one hand loosely holding the edge. His candour as he stood almost half-naked in front of her was as intoxicating as the rest of him. To be that relaxed, to be that confident, to be that, quite frankly, territorial. And even from where he stood, almost six feet away, she could still pick up hints of the enticing, musky scent of his aftershave.

‘So is this your plan – to keep me in here until dawn?’ she asked.

‘You’re free to wander the penthouse.’

‘And see Alisha?’

‘Like you said, this is best kept simple.’

She stepped backwards a little further along the bookcase – anything to create some distance, but not daring to turn her back on him.

‘Were you telling the truth when you said no one knows you’re here?’ he asked, lifting the glass to his lips.

She frowned, feeling her defensiveness kick in. ‘Considering I was warned against telling the authorities, yes.’

Not that she had anyone but the authorities
to
tell. The truth of her own isolation scraped through her. If she lost Alisha, she was totally and utterly alone. That was why she had acted so impulsively that night – that was the truth of why she had just gone straight there without a strategic plan. Like a parent diving in an icy river after their swept-away child, she had thought only to do what she could as quick as she could. But Caleb didn’t need to know how negligently impulsive she had been.

‘No backup plan? No telling anyone where you were going? Nothing?’

She glanced across at him. ‘I’m not the one who has problems sticking to their side of the deal.’

He smiled briefly, revealing a flash of his additional incisors – much narrower and sharper than his neighbouring canines – amidst his even, white teeth. If,
if
, he had been human, if they were a million miles away from there, where none of this was happening, the beat that her heart skipped there and then, the shiver of excitement she felt, would have flagged the instant undeniable truth that Caleb was more than just handsome – he had the potential to be irresistible.

She slotted the book back in place and backed up a little further.

‘Your mother was killed by a vampire, right?’ he asked.

Her stomach knotted. There was only one way he knew that. She felt a surge of anger at Alisha for allowing the intrusion.

‘A serryn with the perfect excuse for vengeance on top of an insuppressible instinct to slay my kind,’ he continued, ‘and instead of fulfilling your duties, you tuck yourself away in a library repairing books. Fascinating.’

‘Instead of speculating, you should be grateful.’

‘Grateful?’

‘That I choose not to act on it.’

He raked the length of her body with his gaze in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck involuntarily spike. ‘Don’t hold back on my account.’

Her breath caught in her throat. The playfulness in his eyes was intoxicating, stunning her for a moment. He was flirting with her. Or challenging her. More likely the latter. This was
not
how it was supposed to be – a vampire taunting a serryn, coaxing her to action.

A cool breeze swept through the open window, causing the curtains to breathe. Smatters of rain hit the pain, exacerbating the silence.

‘And is that what you’re hoping?’ she asked. ‘That I’ll prove myself to be what you believe I am, so you have the perfect excuse to go back on your word and slaughter me?’

‘If I want to slaughter you, I’ll slaughter you. I already have excuse enough.’

‘So the fact I’ve made a choice to abstain counts for nothing?’

‘That’s just it, isn’t it? A serryn with enough courage to come into vampire-infested Blackthorn, but is afraid of her own existence.’ He placed his glass on the table and strolled towards her. ‘You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you?’

She braced herself as he stepped in front of her, flattened herself against the bookcase when he placed a hand beside her shoulder.

‘And if you’re telling me the truth,’ he said, ‘I have myself an exceptionally talented serryn grappling with what she is. And I’m intrigued as to why.’

‘I’m not grappling with anything. I told you, I just came here as an interpreter.’

‘Interpreter. Witch. Poisonous temptress. Makes no difference.’

A cold panic consumed her at her body’s instinctive sparking to his close proximity. She pressed herself tighter against the bookcase to break the intimacy – to create some distance between her and the stunning but deadly vampire who was staring her down, all five foot eleven inches of perfection in one lethal package. ‘You need to back off, Caleb.’

‘You need me to back off, you mean. Is that latent serryn in you calling for me to bite?’

‘I think I’d be putting a little more effort in if I was trying to seduce you, don’t you?’

‘You don’t have to be offering it on a platter to be tempting, fledgling. Quite the opposite, if you know what makes a vampire tick. Thrill of the chase, the oldest thrill in the book. Because my kind are, after all, hunters by nature.’ He ran the back of his cool hand gently across her collarbone. ‘Just as your kind were put on this earth to debase and degrade yourself with us for the good of the human race.’

She struggled to swallow against her arid throat, her heart jolting at the feel of his skin against hers – the surprisingly delicate caress a stark contrast to the callousness of his raw words. She flinched, but refused to move. ‘And like I said: if that’s what you’re hoping for between now and dawn, you are going to be bitterly disappointed.’

‘I admire your self-proclaimed resolve, but you can only fight what you are for so long. Eventually the hand that nature has dealt you will make you become what you were meant to be. You have no control over it.’

A light perspiration encompassed her as panic consumed her not only at what he would do, but the thought of what she wanted him to do. She bit back shallow breaths. A hot flush ignited her cheeks, every muscle in her body tensing, heat rushing between her legs. And as he gazed deep into her eyes, she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. And it took all her strength not to respond to the overwhelming draw of those enticingly masculine lips.

‘I know what I’m capable of,’ she said. ‘And you being in here alone with me is putting us all at risk. This is all about your ego taking a battering because a serryn saved your brother’s life, and now you’ve got to prove, by having me wander around the place, that you’re still the one in charge – that you’re in control.’

His gaze lingered on hers until she felt he wasn’t going to look away again. But she needed to show him she wasn’t afraid of him, for the sake of her dignity if nothing else. Serryns weren’t afraid of vampires. It was the other way around. That was the way it was supposed to be. He was revelling in her nervousness and she was only helping fuel his arrogance.

‘How long have you known what you are?’ he asked.

The question took her aback. ‘What does that matter?’

‘You were nine when your mother was killed, right? Alisha was telling me Sophie looked into it a few years ago. That she was the one who found out a vampire was responsible. You must have been in your mid-twenties then. I’m surprised you’d never looked into it yourself. Unless you already knew. Knew and still did nothing about it. So I’ll ask you again, how did you find out what you are?’

She stared at him but remained silent, her grip tightening on the shelf at the small of her back.

‘Was it on purpose? Or by accident?’ he persisted. ‘Because we’ve already established there was at least one before Tay. And taken from your fear responses down in that dungeon, it wasn’t a pleasant first time. It was certainly distressing enough that, if you’re telling me the truth, you couldn’t bear to face it again. An experience so bad as to repress those urges and instincts. We’re talking real deep-rooted trauma here.’

Unease wrenched at her stomach at his perceptive line of thought.

‘What was your mother doing down some dark alley anyway?’ he asked.

She rubbed her fingers over her clammy palms before clutching the shelf again.

‘Only I’m wondering if maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault,’ he added.

‘Not his fault that he chose to tear her throat out, you mean?’

‘I’m just saying if she was playing in dark places she shouldn’t have been—’

Resentment soared through her – a need to defend her mother. ‘She was on her way back from a school play.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

His gaze lingered on hers. ‘Whose?’

Discomfort stirred in the pit of her stomach. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Was she a teacher?’

‘No.’

‘Then a doting parent. Whose play was it? Yours? Alisha was only two at the time so it wouldn’t have been hers. Or Sophie’s? Because if she was on her way home, I’m guessing one of you had to be with her. And as Sophie had to look into what happened, I’m guessing it wasn’t her. Which means it had to be you.’ His gaze was intensely unrelenting. ‘Something tells me that your mother being killed and you finding out you were a serryn might have coincided. Maybe rather than you picking on some poor bastard as your first victim, some poor bastard picked on you. He took a chunk out of your mother then came for you and got far more than he bargained for.’