Undying Thirst (Crimson Coven #2)

15. Tobias

FIFTEEN

tobias

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Calliope’s tone was biting. She perched on the edge of the plush red seat cushion, leaning forward so her elbows rested on the edge of the table. She swirled a cocktail glass, swishing the red liquid side to side. The loud booming from the speakers assaulted my ears. Saphire Lounge was in full swing. I never understood how others enjoyed the raucousness of places like this. I smoothly glided into the seat next to her.

Damn mind reader —her thought cut off. I didn’t react. Thoughts from vampires came and went.

“Would you like a drink?” She waved a hand at the wine bottle. “I had it siphoned from a severely intoxicated human.”

“No, thank you.” I leaned forward, lacing my hands on the surface.

She snorted, shook her head and tipped her glass back. Never understood this one ? —

“I will get to the point before you continue to disparage me,” I said.

She stiffened.

“I must remind you, if you act against me, I will?—”

I put up my hand.

“Yes, yes, you will cause all sorts of havoc against us. The threats are unnecessary.” I sighed. “Today we had an uninvited visitor. Do you know anything about this?”

Her dark eyebrows furrowed. Someone attacked them?

“Why should I tell you anything when you killed one of my people?” Vampires and their notorious grudges.

I sucked in one breath to contain my aggravation.

“Cease with the melodramatics. I did you a favor.” My tone held the slightest bite. “Now, tell me, did you attack my Coven?”

She stiffened and met my eyes.

“No,” she snapped. “I didn’t send anyone to attack your precious Coven. I swear it on my dead Sire.” I’m not that stupid.

I crossed the threshold into our home.

Jax’s thoughts shouted at me from where he paced in the living room. He made the simple act of walking seem angry. Usually, I was able to stifle the ability so whatever thoughts filtered through became background noise, but since I focused on it with Calliope, my ability was especially sensitive.

She seemed so desolate. I took it too far —I entered the living room to find him pacing to and fro. So distracted that he did not see me. What was wrong with him? Like a storm on a rampage. He never relaxed enough for me to get much more than a few thoughts here and there, but words blared at me. Although Jax did not, or could not put into words what he felt, his thoughts indicated his guilt.

“What have you done, Jaxon?”

He jerked to a stop, and slowly turned to look at me. His eyebrows remained furrowed. Instead of waiting, I would find out myself. I made quick work of the stairs and was in Asher’s bedroom in seconds.

She lay on the floor, curled on her side, eyes closed. Her cheek pillowed against her hands, stained with tear tracks.

“You left her in this state?”

“I . . .”

Had she fallen? I’d caused this. I . . . hurt her ? His thoughts continued. A stream of thoughts I’d heard in plenty of human inner dialogue. Guilt.

“What have you said to her now?” I hissed. My patience wore thin. I scooped her up into my arms.

“Where are you taking her?”

“I’m going to get her cleaned up,” I retorted stiffly.

I want my scent all over her . . . his thought cut off. I scoffed. He had no right. I offered him a glare, but he was too deep in his head to register my disapproval.

I said her name on purpose. To drive a wedge between us. I couldn’t keep denying the tempta —the thought faded into static.