Unraveled (16 page)

He winked and passed the dessert over to me. “I won't tell if you won't, Genevieve.”

I frowned, wondering how he knew my name, but I was too hungry to care. “Thank you,” I said, and took a big bite.

It was just as fantastic as it looked. The chocolate mousse was light and fluffy, and the raspberries added a sweet, fruity flavor. The dark chocolate shell crunched under my teeth, then melted in my mouth, adding even more rich, decadent flavor to the dessert.

“Good, huh?” the man said in a teasing tone.

“Mmm-hmm.” I quickly polished off the rest of the dessert.

He winked at me again, then went back to work, piping more chocolate mousse from a pastry bag into those poinsettia molds.

I left the kitchen and headed to the very back of the house, where my mom's office was, overlooking the gardens. Workers were out there too, stringing up white holiday lights, thick boughs of evergreen mistletoe, and red velvet bows. One of my favorite things about the holidays were all the bright, bold colors, along with the shimmers of the lights and the sparkles of silver and gold—

“I can't do this anymore,” a voice said.

“Well, that's too bad, Eira,” another, snider voice replied. “You're part of the group, so you're in the thick of things, along with the rest of us, whether you like it or not.”

I frowned. He was talking to my mom. But what couldn't she do anymore?

I tiptoed down to the end of the hallway. The office door was cracked open, letting me see my mom sitting at her desk. She was so pretty with her long blond hair and blue eyes. Not for the first time, I wished that I looked like her the way that Bria and Annabella did. But instead, I'd gotten my father's dark brown hair and gray eyes, although I barely remembered him, since he'd died right after Bria had been born.

I eased to one side, staring at the other people in the office.

One of them was a beautiful woman with short blond hair that had been styled into loose, elegant waves. She was wearing a red cocktail dress, and a large heart-shaped pendant glinted around her neck. She must have been bored by the meeting because she was standing in front of some shelves, picking up my mom's snow globes, shaking them, and watching the glitter fly around inside, just like Bria had earlier.

A man was sitting in the chair off to one side of my mom's desk. A black suit jacket draped over his shoulders. It matched his hair and eyes, as well as the trimmed black goatee that clung to his chin. He smiled at my mom, revealing a set of fangs in his mouth, but his expression didn't seem to be all that friendly.

The vampire propped his elbows up on the chair arms and steepled his fingers together. “Let me make this simple, Eira. You can either continue to carry on your role within the group, or we will find someone else to take your place.”

She lifted her chin. “Go ahead, Hugh. Find someone else. That would suit me just fine.”

The vampire let out a low, ugly laugh. “You know as well as I do that there is only one way someone leaves the Circle.”

My mom crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that a threat? Because I don't take kindly to threats.”

The blond woman picked up another snow globe and shook it. “Really, Eira. Do you always have to be such a troublemaker? Why can't you just be a good girl and go along with things?”

“Because, Deirdre,” my mom snapped back, “unlike the rest of you, I happen to have a little bit of my conscience left.”

Deirdre rolled her eyes, but she put the globe down, turned around, and looked over at the vampire. “Spending all these years away from Ashland made me forget how self-righteous she always is. How do you stand to deal with her, Hugh?”

He shrugged.

My mom's lips pressed together into a tight line. “I never wanted
any
of this.”

“But you
are
part of the Circle, just as your parents were before you.” Hugh paused. “And just as your lovely daughters will be after you.”

Anger sparked in my mom's eyes, along with a shimmer of her Ice magic. “Leave my girls out of this. They have nothing to do with you and me and the rest of this rotten business.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Funny, but Tristan thought the same thing. And look what happened to him.”

I frowned. My dad had died in a car accident. What did that have to do with me, my sisters, or anything else? The two of them were talking in riddles that I didn't understand. But that was the way things had been around here lately. More often than not, Mom stayed holed up in her office for hours on end, talking on the phone or meeting with all sorts of strange people. Normally, before the annual holiday party, she would have been helping us decorate our tree, since that was our family tradition. But instead, she'd been back here all afternoon, meeting with one person after another.

I raised my hand to knock on the door but thought better of it. Mom wouldn't want to be interrupted. Besides, I didn't like the look of the woman or especially the vampire. Sure, he seemed like just another businessman, one of dozens that my mom dealt with, but his black eyes were cold and dead, like Christmas lights that had burned out. Eyes like that . . . they made me shiver.

There had been a lot of people with those sorts of eyes around here lately. It made me . . . uneasy. Oh, not that I was actually
worried
about anything. Not really. My mom was one of the strongest Ice elementals around, and she could easily take care of herself, as well as me and my sisters. But all these meetings and all these strange people . . . it just didn't seem like
her
.

Neither did the worry that tightened her face—worry that she just couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how hard she tried. Even when she was hanging out with Annabella, Bria, and me, Mom always seemed distracted and far away, as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

“Think over my proposal,” Hugh said, getting to his feet and buttoning his black suit jacket. “Maybe that will give you the illusion that you actually have a choice in all of this.”

Deirdre snickered, amused by his cryptic words.

More anger flared in my mom's eyes, but she got to her feet and gave him a curt nod. The two of them looked at each other over the top of her desk, each giving the other a flat stare. Finally, Hugh smiled and tipped his head at my mom, as though they were having a pleasant conversation instead of the tense . . . whatever this was. Deirdre walked over to him, and together, arm in arm, they headed for the door.

I scrambled back down the hallway, not wanting them to know that I'd been eavesdropping. But Deirdre and Hugh were too quick for me, and the vampire opened the door before I could vanish around the corner. So I surged forward again, pretending like I had just gotten here, although the knowing look he gave me told me that he realized I'd been listening to them the whole time.

“Hello, little Genevieve,” he murmured. “So lovely to see you again.”

Again? I'd never seen him before, but for the second time tonight, a strange man knew my name.

Deirdre held her hand out in front of her, studying her long red nails, as if she were debating whether she needed a manicure. She completely ignored me, but Tucker kept staring at me. I shifted on my feet, trying not to shiver under his intense black gaze.

“You're looking very well today. And so much like your father. More and more all the time.”

My mom appeared in the office door. “Good-bye, Hugh,” she said in a loud, pointed tone.

Hugh winked at me, then strode down the hallway, with Deirdre still on his arm. They disappeared around the corner, but I could hear the echo of their footsteps as they moved through the house, each one banging against the floor seemingly as loud as a drum.

My mom listened to them go, her lips flattening out into a thin, worried line again. “He'll be back,” she whispered, almost to herself. “And then things will be worse.”

Worse? Worse than what? What had the vampire done to her? And what did she think that he was going to do to her in the future? I looked up at my mom, but she was still staring down the hallway, lost in her troubles, worries, and fears. . . .

My eyes snapped open, and I sucked in a ragged breath. For a moment, I didn't remember where I was, but then a warm body shifted beside me, and Owen rolled over onto his side, so that he was facing me.

“Gin?” His voice was thick with sleep. “Is everything okay? You were mumbling in your sleep.”

“Everything's fine,” I whispered, trying to calm my racing heart. “Just fine.”

But Owen heard the tension in my voice, and he blinked, coming a little more fully awake. “What is it? Did you have another bad dream?”

Owen and I often spent the night together, so he was well acquainted with my nightmares, all the memories of the past that crowded into my mind when I slept. More than once, I'd woken him in the middle of the night as I thrashed around and screamed my fool head off about some long-ago battle.

But I hardly ever dreamed about my mother, save for her murder. That nightmare had haunted me for years until I'd gotten my revenge on Mab Monroe—revenge that had seemed false, hollow, and empty ever since Tucker had told me that the Circle had given Mab the go-ahead to kill my mother. Now, to realize that he and Deirdre had been in her office, in our mansion, threatening her and my sisters . . . it was just another horror show to add to my ever-growing collection. I rubbed my hand across my forehead. I wondered what other terrible things I would remember before this was all said and done.

“What did you dream about this time?” Owen asked.

I turned over onto my side so that I was facing him. “It was Christmas. The last Christmas that my mother and Annabella were alive. We were decorating our tree, and I went to my mother's office to see if she wanted to help us. Tucker was there. So was Deirdre.”

Owen frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

I told him all the dirty details, and he lay there, digesting my words. “But you don't know what they were meeting about?”

I shook my head. “No. But I know there's more to the dream than that. There always is. It'll come to me sooner or later. Given what she was involved in, I might wish that it was later, though.”

“Nobody's parents are perfect,” Owen pointed out. “Mine certainly weren't, especially not my dad with his gambling problems.”

“I know.” I sighed. “But I always thought that my mom was this good person, this great woman. She always seemed so kind, caring, and strong. So much
better
than me. I know that I don't have any right to judge her, not given all the terrible things that I've done. But now to realize that she was involved with the Circle, that she probably did a lot of bad things, either on their orders or of her own free will . . . I don't know what to think about that. I don't know what to
feel
about that.”

Owen pulled me into his arms, so that my head was resting on his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

He held me like that for a long time, both of us lost in our own troubled thoughts about our parents.

But eventually, I grew sick of wondering and worrying about my mother, Tucker, and the Circle. I didn't want to do that anymore. No, for the rest of this night, I wanted to focus on the one thing that I knew was true—my love for Owen and his for me.

I propped myself up on one elbow, staring down at him. Moonlight slipped in through the crack in the white curtains, casting Owen's face in shadow, except for the glitter of his violet eyes. I reached out and traced my fingers over the sharp planes of his face, dipping into all the shadows that the night created. He grabbed my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm, right in the center of my spider rune scar.

Owen was only wearing black boxers, and he lay back against the pillows as I continued my slow, languid explorations, trailing my fingers down his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his warm, solid muscles. One spot right along his ribs was particularly sensitive, bunching and flexing under every flick of my fingers.

“Why, Mr. Grayson,” I murmured, “I do believe that you're a bit ticklish tonight.”

“Me? Ticklish? Never.”

He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together, as though holding back a laugh. That only made me concentrate on that one spot, lightly running my fingers over it again and again, staring at him the whole time.

Finally, Owen gave in and started laughing, his whole chest shaking with his soft chuckles. I laughed with him, tickling him for another minute, before sliding my hand lower, dipping below the waistband of his boxers, and wrapping my fingers around his thick, hard length.

His laughter vanished, replaced by sharp, ragged gasps as I started stroking him.

“Is this ticklish too?” I teased.

He slid his hand up underneath the soft T-shirt I was wearing and cupped my breast, rolling my nipple in his fingers. “Just as ticklish as this is.”

The soft, warm desire that had been simmering in my veins flared hotter, and I rose up and stripped off my T-shirt and panties while he got rid of his boxers. Owen moved forward, flicking his tongue over my nipple before nipping at it with his teeth. I groaned, and he drew me down on top of him, his lips coming up to meet mine. He kissed me, his tongue plunging into my mouth over and over again. I wound my fingers in his hair and drew him closer.