Bound to Blackwood (19 page)

How could he? No one spoke to him like that, except maybe Kaden, but he didn’t count. Funny then, that he wasn’t annoyed about it. He rather liked it in fact. Actually pushing him over? Whole different story. He rubbed his chin, double checking he’d got rid of the grit.

“Well?” Lena prompted.

“No. I haven’t forgotten.”

She just stood there, defiant.

Thorn sighed. “Fine. We go together. You want to hold my hand? Make sure I don’t run off?”

Her beautiful blue eyes widened before she suddenly felt the need to inspect her boots. Lena looked embarrassed! Did she
want
to hold his hand? As soon as he thought it, his brow knitted. Lena holding hands with anyone was ridiculous. Besides, he couldn’t be sure what she wanted; the damned woman hardly ever gave anything away.
 

His mouth lifted into a small smile.
She did growl though
. Shaking his head, he stalked towards the front door, Lena by his side. Whatever the hell was going on between them would have to wait. Again.
 

Lena tried to match her stride to Thorn’s. It was nigh on impossible and left her feeling like those stupid power-walkers she’d seen charging round Hyde Park. Minus the Lycra, of course.

As they approached the front door, the sickly-sweet smell of marzipan hung so heavy in the air, Lena felt like she was inhaling treacle. “Ugh. I hate C-4.”

“Yeah, but it could be worse,” Thorn replied.

He was right. C-4 was pretty simple in the grand scheme of things. Easy to detect, easy to defuse and — unlike in the movies — it didn’t blow up if you so much as sneezed on it.

Lena watched Thorn tracking the sweet smell. There was no point in them both doing it. Besides, after her calling him an idiot and then burning up at his “want to hold my hand” comment, she didn’t think she could stand being so close to him.

Thorn was poking about in the flowerbed, bent at the waist. Lena bit down on her lower lip to stop the moan desperate to escape. Thorn’s combats stretched tight across his thighs and his t-shirt had ridden up to display a small strip of exquisite flesh. The taste of copper bloomed in her mouth as she watched him move, his muscles bunching and flexing like a well-oiled machine.

“Lena, have a look at this!”

She swiped her tongue over her lip, making sure her self-inflicted wound healed before Thorn noticed. She looked down at the flowerbed and arched a brow. “Well, he did say it was rigged to look like an accident.”

Despite the pungent smell of almonds, there wasn’t actually that much C-4. Thorn had dug down and moved some recently disturbed earth to expose the gas main that ran parallel to the front of the house. The explosive moulded to the side of the pipe was no bigger than a butter bean. The detonator and fuse weren’t anything special either, though both were almost guaranteed to be obliterated once the gas ignited.

Lena knew this wasn’t Thorn’s first bomb disposal. She knew, as explosives went, C-4 was almost as stable as you could wish for. She knew he was safe. Ninety-nine percent sure anyway.

As Thorn pulled the detonator out from its plasticine-like home with a slow steady movement, that one percent of doubt flooded her mind. She held her breath as her heart staccatoed in her chest.
She thought it very likely that for those few agonising seconds, the world stopped spinning on its axis.
 

Thorn stood up, detonator and fuse in one hand and a marble of C-4 in the other. Self-satisfaction flowed from him like an ocean wave so that the sweet almond smell of the explosive was almost undecipherable under the mask of his arrogance. “Well, that was easy!”

Lena rolled her eyes. “C’mon, MacGyver. Let's check the rest of the house.”

“Let’s make it quick. I still don’t like how quiet it is around here.” He scanned the skyline. “And we’re running out of time.”

Lena led the way as they checked the rest of the perimeter. They found four other charges, the detonators all set at intervals. Of course, Thorn played superman for each one. And every time, Lena’s universe stood still. Exhausted, she finally took a proper breath when Thorn placed the last ball of C-4 in a plastic bag and stashed it in the lower pocket of his combat trousers. Without the detonators and fuses, they were about as harmless as play-dough but that didn’t stop the bile rising in her throat at the thought of Thorn carrying explosives in his pocket.

The colour of the sky was changing, getting lighter. The new yellow tones streaking across the horizon reflected in Thorn’s eyes so that they burned with a new intensity.

“Lena?”

Shit.
She was staring again. “Sorry. What?”
 

“I said, let’s get inside.”

God, she was a moron
. Lena nodded as Thorn opened the front door.
 

Silence.

“Told you it was too bloody quiet. Even this close to sunrise, it shouldn’t be like this.”

Thorn was right. It was quieter than the grave. Lena sent her senses out, washing down the entrance hall and through the rest of the house. The images of the ground floor that came back were monochrome with not even the barest hint of life.

Lena pushed out a frustrated breath. “Nothing.”

“Try harder. We have to be sure.”

She closed her eyes and followed the map in her mind. The black and white image made House Bowman look like a movie trailer for a ghost story. Nothing had any substance, each object fading into the next like whirling smoke. She rounded corner after corner, down corridors and through rooms. The lounge they had sat in earlier was empty, as was Crane’s office.

She continued down the hall until she came to a door she couldn’t penetrate. She focused all her strength but her mind couldn’t get past it. Given the way these journeys were reported back to her, she couldn’t see the door as a whole. She took a step back, studying each part of it individually, the edges bleeding out of her field of vision.

On the surface, it looked much the same as all the other doors. It wasn’t. The oak skin matched, but the door itself was solid metal. Lena took in the bluish-grey lustre peeking out from behind the hinges. It had to be Osmium.

Her mind was just starting to turn away when she caught something else. There, at the lower right hand corner was a soft pink glow. Only Vampires burnt brilliant red on Lena’s charts. If they were defended by a solid wall of Osmium, the only thing on the planet impervious to any Fae powers, then it stood to reason that their light would dim.

Satisfied, her mind snapped back to the entrance hall and she rocked on her heels as she opened her eyes.

“Well?” Thorn asked.

“They’re safe.”

“You’re sure?”

“There’s some sort of safe room at the opposite end of the corridor to Crane’s office.”

“How safe is safe?”

“Osmium-door-safe.”

“Blimey! No wonder it's quiet around here. House Bowman has deep pockets!”

Lena scoffed. “House Bowman is paranoid, more like!”

“Losing your mate can do that to you.” Thorn’s tone dropped, his disapproval washed over her.

She winced. Lena never thought she’d feel sorry for Larissa Bowman, but she did in that moment. Only true mated pairs could produce offspring and Larissa and Blaine had two sons. When Blaine died, Larissa lost the other half of her soul.

Lena sighed. Thorn was right. Again.

She looked at Thorn as he scrutinised the horizon from the front door. For the first time in her life she wanted to be a better person. Not a better Guardian. Not a better Warrior. A better person. And it was all Thorn’s fault.

She chewed her bottom lip as she considered her epiphany. She didn’t know what to think, much less what to do about it. She’d never changed for anybody. She’d never needed to. She’d certainly never
wanted
to.
 

“I’m betting they don’t use that room all the time,” Thorn said, bringing her out of her daydream.

Dawn was breaking. Their ability to dematerialise during the day diminished considerably. They couldn’t travel the distances they could at night and materialising to the wrong place in broad daylight could be excruciating. The Order was some distance away. If they left it any longer, they’d be stuck here. “We haven’t got time, Thorn.”

Once again, unable to meet Thorn’s eyes, she pushed past him and out onto the gravel driveway. Lena was perfectly capable of dematerialising by herself, but there was no way she was leaving first. She stared back at him, watching him closely.

His golden eyes narrowed as if he was considering his options. Before he even said anything, Lena sighed, knowing full well that they weren’t going anywhere.

“Funny they should use it now though.”

“So, they’re in a magic room. We can come back tomorrow,” Lena said.

“I think not.”

Damn him
. The cadence of his voice vibrated right through her. The order made her body hum with excitement and anger at the same time. The anger she expected; orders didn’t sit well with her. Excitement? At an order? Yep, she was in real trouble.
 

Chapter 12

Kaden made his way to the day room. His steps were slow but they were a lot steadier than they had been. Once he got there, he flopped down on the tatty sofa. Now he’d made the epic forty foot journey, he had no idea what to do with himself.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He wanted to talk to Soraya. He
needed
to talk to Soraya, but that wasn’t happening. He closed his eyes, the memory of her precious gift still very fresh in his mind. And body. The agony he felt just twenty-four hours ago had faded to a dull ache, her blood soothing and repairing as it coursed through his veins.
 

He hadn’t seen her since it happened. After she admitted what she’d done, she ran. Kaden was in too much of a state of shock to go after her, even if he had felt like he was King of the world.

The race considered their blood sacred, female Vampire blood even more so. The blood of a Princess? There were no words to describe how precious it was. A Princess never shared her blood, except with her mate; it was expressly forbidden. Giving him her blood was an extraordinary act. Kaden sighed as he opened his eyes; Thorn was going to kill him!

A small smile crept across his face despite the thought of Thorn’s wrath. She may have run, but she hadn’t left. She was still here. He could feel her. She was in her office, no doubt curled up in that silly pink chair of hers, nose deep in one of her books. His smile broadened as he leant back in his seat, content to daydream about the wondrous Soraya. Soppy fool that he was.

A crash sounded from the direction of the office and Kaden surged to his feet. He moved as fast as his damaged body would allow. The scream that came with the commotion made the very blood in his veins run cold with fear.

“Thorn!” Soraya’s scream may have terrified him, but his knees buckled at the frost that gripped his heart.

His breath came in short, ragged pants as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Horrid realisation dawned as he searched within himself. When it did, his breathing stopped entirely.

It was Thorn. Or, rather, it wasn’t Thorn. He just wasn’t there. Kaden had no sense of Thorn at all.

Soraya came careening around the corner and fell to her knees in front of him. “Oh God, Kaden! It’s Thorn!”

“I know,” was all he could say.

“What do we do, Kaden? Oh God! What do we do?”

Bright red tears trickled down her face and Kaden reached out to wipe them away. His hand stopped mid-motion as more icy fingers curled around his heart.

“Kaden?” Soraya gripped his shoulders as he struggled to breathe. “Kaden!” she screamed again.

“Lena,” Kaden finally rasped.

Soraya’s beautiful golden eyes widened as she covered her gasp with a delicate hand.

Kaden had no words. How could he explain that Thorn and Lena had just disappeared? They weren’t injured. They weren’t dead. If either of those things happened, Kaden probably wouldn’t survive in his current state. The pain and loss would be indescribable.

Heavy boots clattered down the hallway as the rest of the Order rushed in, Mercury the last to arrive. His one good eye blazed bronze and his face was drawn tight, making the scar that marred his face all the more prominent. Kaden looked from Mercury’s stricken face to the rest of the guys and back again. Each face was painted grey with worry and each set of eyes stared at him, waiting for him to explain away their fear.

Kaden was probably in more shock than anyone else. Fallen chemicals had ravaged his body. His ability to Keep anyone safe had diminished and his bonds ran deeper than anyone else’s. The depth of feeling was overwhelming. Had he been at full strength, he’d be in the Command Centre
coordinating some sort of rescue effort. As it was, he was on the floor of the medical centre, a
crumpled heap of a warrior, struggling to breathe with no idea what was going on.
Fuck this was bad
.