Bound to Blackwood (9 page)

Unlike other women — who were willowy and full of grace, Lena’s body was hard and toned. She was blessed with what he would describe as “child bearing hips,” that no amount of workouts would change, and a generous bust. Not too generous, but certainly generous enough for his tastes.

As he strolled back around his antique Georgian partner’s desk, he caught sight of himself in the gilt mirror behind it. His unruly dark hair was in need of a cut, but that wasn’t what had caught his eye. His fangs were on full display in one of the daftest grins he had ever seen. He shook his head as if to knock loose the expression and then a deep chuckle sprang forth.

“
You’d better watch yourself, Thorn Blackwood. That woman is nothing but trouble.”
 

He was beginning to see what Kaden meant.

The conversation with Mercury went better than Lena expected. When she sent the message for the Guardian and his brethren to meet her back in the Command Centre, she half expected that none of them would show. They did. They were men of honour after all.

After a few snide remarks at the mention of the Fallen Archives, Mercury actually looked pleased that his talents were going to be put to use. Thorn was right; Skylar was still sulking. Even he managed to look a little enthusiastic at the thought of delving into the archives though.

Now she was supposed to be meeting with Thorn. Even worse, they were headed out to House Greenshire together. Just the two of them
. Bloody hell.
 

Her feet dragged as she made her way up to the main house. The dining room was at the front of the house but Lena took the long way. Eventually she found herself outside the dining room door, but her hand hesitated on the handle.

Man up, Lena.

It didn’t work and she retreated back up the hallway, only to spin on her heels and march back down again. Still, she hesitated.

 Come on woman, it's not like it's a date or anything.
It wasn’t. It was just her and her boss on an assignment. That her boss had brilliant golden eyes and a near perfect arse had nothing to do with it.
Jesus. What was wrong with her?
 

Suddenly the door opened and those amber-on-gold eyes met her own. “Um. Hi!” Her voice was shrill as she almost catapulted herself to the other side of the hall.
God she was an idiot
.
 

Thorn’s fangs flashed her in a wide smile. “What are you doing skulking in the corridor?”

“I wasn’t skulking. You just opened the door before I had a chance,” she replied defensively.

Thorn held the door open and swept his hand in a welcoming gesture. Lena let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding and marched in. She headed straight for the dining table.

As always it was laden with all sorts of goodies; steak, chicken, prawns, seven varieties of bread rolls, chips, dips, lemon meringue, some sort of death-by-chocolate, and a huge raspberry Pavlova that beckoned to her. Lena ignored them all. Yes, she was a Vampire. Yes, she had one of the fastest metabolisms in the known universe. No, she wasn’t going to pig out in front of the King.

She never really ate that much in front of any of her brethren. Not anymore.

As a child, her parents hadn’t been able to afford anything on this table. When she came to live with the Order she’d gorged herself on fine meat, cakes, biscuits, anything she could get her hands on. The boys teased her rotten about it.

Around the time she reached maturity, which for a Vampire was at twenty-one, she’d realised that she wasn’t one of the boys. She grew curves and breasts and great big hips. She was suddenly a woman and although she fought and swore like a trooper, and a male one at that, she wanted just one thing that was ladylike. Not pigging out was it. She knew damn well it was stupid, but then Lena did have a strange way of looking at things.

Thorn took his seat, stabbed his fork into what could only be described as half-a-cow’s-worth of steak and loaded it on his already overflowing plate.

Lena arched her brow. “What happened to grabbing a sandwich?”

Thorn looked down at his plate. “I have meat. I have bread. That constitutes a sandwich in my book,” he said whilst recharging his fork with another mouthful.

Lena went with the grilled prawns, salad and a glass of water and took a seat opposite Thorn to watch him commence his steak-a-thon.

“Here. Catch!” She hardly had time to put her plate down when Thorn launched a Blood Box at her. She caught in one hand just before it hit her square in the face.

“Thanks,” she said as she took the little straw out of its plastic sleeve and stabbed it through the foil circle on the top. As she brought the box up to her mouth, the red “Rayo Rojo” logo twinkled in the light. Her eyes zeroed in on the “O Negative” written in silver script below it. It had to be a coincidence. There was no way Thorn would know it was her favourite.
Was there?
 

Sucking on her straw, she realised she hadn’t
fed
for days and she was grateful Thorn thought of it. She’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Eden and Kaden, it hadn’t even occurred to her. Now, as the first sips of the sweet claret hit her system her body gave an almost audible sigh of relief.
 

She was so absorbed in the sensory overload, it took her a while to notice Thorn was staring at her. Fighting the urge to check she hadn’t spilled blood over her clothes or down her chin she stared back. “What?”

“Nothing.” He hid a grin behind yet another fork full of rib eye.

“It’s rude to stare, you know? You shouldn’t do it.”

“I know. But since I’m the King, I find I can do almost anything I please.”

God he was arrogant!
“That’s beside the point and you know it."
 

Thorn’s eyes flashed amber and Lena gulped. It had been fifty years, but she often forgot Thorn was no longer just a Guardian. She really should keep her big gob shut.

A deep, rumbling, masculine laugh erupted from Thorn and filled the room. Lena frowned. She hadn’t said anything particularly funny had she? Or was he laughing at her? Yes, that was more likely, though what she’d done, she couldn’t be sure. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, confusion painted all over her face.

Once over his fit of hysterics, Thorn let her in on the joke. “You and Soraya are the only people who ever put me in my place like that,” he said, still smirking. “I find it curious.”

Curious?
Well, that was better than accusing her of insubordination or treason, she supposed. Really, after one hundred and eighty-three years she should be used to living so close to the Royal Court, but being a courtier wasn’t really her style. She struggled with the more traditional side of the monarchy and often forgot her manners. She was a Guardian — no, a Steward now, and that meant she didn’t have the time or patience for pomp and ceremony. Plus, for one hundred and thirty three of those years, Thorn had just been another Guardian, the King’s brother, but still a Guardian.
 

Realising he was still gazing intently at her, she searched for something to say. “Is that bad?” seemed the best she could come up with.

“No, it’s not bad. You remind me what it is to be a Guardian.” He looked almost wistful as he said it.

Thorn only took the throne when his brother, Jett, died. Lena knew he never wanted it, but with no other heirs, he had no choice. With his privileged upbringing she hadn’t really thought to feel sorry for him, but looking at his face now, she may have been a little harsh. It would seem that even the King didn’t always get what he wanted.

He shook his head and blinked several times, as if banishing daydreams. He cleared his throat and Lena waited for him to say something else. He didn’t. Instead, he scraped his chair on the stone floor and headed for the bar.

Grabbing a bottled lager from the fridge he twisted the top off. The beer made a fizzing noise as foam raced up the bottle-neck in a bid for freedom. Thorn caught it as he placed his lips to it and took long hard gulps. He’d almost finished the whole bottle before he turned back to Lena.

“I’ve changed my mind. There’s only a few hours before sunrise and I think we could all do with a break.”

Lena almost gaped. Only almost. The goldfish episode was still fresh in her mind. “W-what do you mean,” she stammered. “What about Eden?” He was the one who had said the
Onærelen
couldn’t be allowed to stand, yet here he was suggesting they take a night off. It didn’t make any sense.
 

“Eden can hold on for one more day. Besides, I think you could do with rebuilding your bridges with the rest of the Order, don’t you?”

What was she supposed to say? He was right of course, but she would far rather be hunting Fallen in the middle of the day, in the desert, than she would spending a relaxing night with her brethren. She puffed out a breath. “I think I’ll hit the gym instead,” she suggested, hoping Thorn wouldn’t see through the thinly veiled excuse.

“You will not. You will hit the den. With me.”

Oh crap
. The den was the boy’s territory. Not officially, but it was their space. It was filled with boy stuff like dartboards, a pool table, PlayStation, Xbox, Wii, home cinema, and an amazingly elaborate sound system. Lena hung out there from time to time, but she always felt like a guest. Tonight she would probably be an unwelcome guest
. Just brilliant.
 

 The walk to the den only brought her anxiety closer to the surface, but when they entered, Lena’s brow shot up in surprise. Soraya leant up against the pool table, cue in hand. She could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Soraya mixing with the Order informally.

She wasn’t entirely sure what Thorn's sister did with her spare time, but she was amazed that the Princess even knew what a cue was, let alone how to use it. Soraya always seemed so reserved. Well, apart from when she was talking to her brother. Soraya had Thorn wrapped around her little finger.

The rest of the Order was there too, though whether they were there already or whether they were following orders, she couldn’t be sure. Ryver was sprawled out on one of the huge couches at the far end of the room. Beer in hand, he raised it in salute as Lena made her way over to him. She plonked herself down next to his feet and let out a sigh.

“Rough night, Steward?” Ryver asked, a little smirk forming on his lips.

She knew he was teasing her but found she was too exhausted to take the bait. She smiled back at him and gave a short laugh. “What do you think?” She quickly added, “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

She didn’t want the telepath to see her flippant remark as an invitation to wander around her addled brain. She regretted saying it though as she saw his hazel eyes flash green.

“Sorry, Ryver. I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah you did.”

What was it Thorn said?
You could do with rebuilding your bridges. Nice one Lena
. She’d been here for less than five minutes and already she’d offended one of the few friends she had by insinuating he would tap into her thoughts on a whim.
Well, this was going well
. She felt her brow knit as she struggled to find the right words.
 

“Jesus. Don’t be so uptight, Lena.” he said, letting her off the hook.

She glanced over at him and saw his eyes sparkle with amusement and couldn’t help but return the look. Soon, a wide, slightly crooked, grin broke on Ryver’s face and she couldn’t contain her laugh. She threw a pillow at him in mock annoyance and he chuckled.

“You want a beer?” he asked.

“It’s okay. I’ll get them.”

“No need,” he said, mischief plastered all over his face. He lifted the arm of the chair and reached inside, pulling out two ice-cold beers. “Here you go.”

“Ryver, what have you done to the sofa?” Lena asked in alarm. Kaden had decorated this room and he was somewhat particular about things, like not ripping the sofa apart.

“Me and Mercury made some improvements.” Ryver smiled innocently. “Look!”

She leaned over to get a better view. He lifted the arm up again, and sure enough, there was a small beer fridge. It held around ten beers and a couple of cans of Coke.”

“Bloody Nora, Ryver!”

“I know. We’re awesome. You don’t have to say it.”

A belly laugh erupted, uninvited from Lena’s lips. Once it started, she found she couldn’t stop and Ryver soon joined her. She laughed until she was clutching her ribs in protest, the pair of them rolling around on the sofa like a couple of kids. The pure normalcy of what Ryver said served as just the tonic she needed.

She was still grinning like an idiot when she took the first swig of her beer and looked around the rest of the room. The others were playing a game of doubles on the pool table and Mercury looked like he was physically connected to the PlayStation as he killed a platoon of Nazi’s with a rocket launcher. So normal. She realised she really ought to do this more often.