8. Rowan
EIGHT
ROWAN
“No,” Rowan growled.
Lane’s face bloomed with color. “You’d rather call me a liar than prove I’m not, you stubborn fucking asshole?”
That wasn’t it at all. Rowan had to keep his anger in check before this got out of hand. He wasn’t mad at Lane. Not this time. “I don’t hypnotize people for no reason. Taking choice away is a vile power to hold over someone.”
“But I’m telling you to do it. Dammit, Rowan, I’m telling the truth, and if you won’t let me prove it—”
“Please stop. I believe you, Lane.” Rowan watched the fight drain out of him, his shoulders sagging.
There was no need to taint this moment. Lane’s offer to put himself at the mercy of Rowan’s hypnosis was proof enough, and Rowan had the impression that accepting Lane at his word mattered.
Lane wasn’t a master of hiding emotion, and the way he spoke, his regret was clear.
Pain over his father’s rejection was right there for Rowan to see.
The whole story rang true. It fit everything Rowan had seen of Lane, and his motivation for spying wasn’t one Rowan dared argue with.
Lane had been concerned for the safety of others and ready to protect them.
Rowan’s chest expanded. “I don’t need hypnosis. I believe you.”
“Oh.” For a heartbeat, Lane seemed utterly lost. “Sorry for calling you an asshole.”
“Don’t be.” Rowan looked briefly to the ceiling, then cleared his throat. “I have been an asshole.”
Lane’s eyes crinkled, his lips twitching until the hint of a smile won out. “So have I. Here and there.”
“No, you haven’t.”
His tentative smile grew into a smirk. “You’re right. I’m the better person here. Not an asshole at all.”
Rowan almost laughed. “Why did your father claim you were gathering information on me?”
“He asked me to. He didn’t know I was looking into how humans were treated at your bite nights. He wanted to find out who you kept close when you weren’t doing official business. Who you talked to regularly. Things like that. I had other priorities.”
All Lane had cared about was whether Rowan put humans in danger. It was exactly what Rowan would have done in his shoes. Seems he’d have been a perfect ally. “Too bad you couldn’t convince Marshall to believe you.”
Lane’s face fell, betraying none of the regret or bitterness Rowan expected. He looked sad.
Rowan hated Marshall Blackburn for not listening and hurting Lane like this. For setting their covens at odds. Marshall had been manipulated, but if he’d trusted his son rather than his powerful new friends, everything could have been different.
“I’m surprised you stuck by your father after everything.” Rowan wouldn’t have, but perhaps comparison was unfair. Their situations weren’t the same, and he didn’t know what Lane’s life was like.
Lane averted his gaze. “I couldn’t exactly stay in Shearwater Landing.”
Had there been no other option than to follow his coven?
Rowan’s stomach dropped, guilt hot on his face.
But Lane’s conflict with his father wasn’t entirely his fault.
He’d done what was best at the time. He wouldn’t have believed Lane’s story then, which was probably why Lane hadn’t attempted to tell it.
“What happened with the Sherwoods after you left?” He’d assumed they’d stayed allies, but Lane hadn’t mentioned them when talking about his coven’s current trouble.
Lane scowled at the book on his lap. “They dropped us like spoiled goods as soon as we were no use to them. I have no idea where they ended up. Didn’t keep track.”
Rowan would have to look into that.
Wet earth crunched under Rowan’s feet, the air thick with fog. Where was he?
That’s right, he’d left the house. He shouldn’t have, but he’d been alone for so long and couldn’t take it. This was better than endless waiting.
Rowan walked through dark woods, following the presence imbedded in his immortal soul. Searching.
At last, a figure appeared out of the mist. “Rowan,” Cris’s deep voice called. “I told you to stay.”
“I did. Everything is in order. But I needed—”
Cris’s palm cracked across Rowan’s cheek. “Needy swine. I said to stay until I returned.”
Rowan trembled. “I sensed you coming.”
“And yet you were incapable of waiting. Damned useless.”
Rowan should have held out, but he’d been in the house for too long, drinking old blood. He was achingly hungry, and so alone he’d convinced himself this was better than nothing.
He’d been wrong.
Fog swelled. Cris was right in his face, fangs lengthening. Rowan braced himself for pain. When it came, he tried not to cry out. Emotional displays always made it worse. He held off for what felt like forever, but Cris never stopped until he broke.
“Rowan!” A firm grip tightened on Rowan’s shoulder. It wasn’t Cris’s voice.
Rowan choked, a scream lodged in his throat. He was in bed and hadn’t walked through that forest in a century.
He lurched forward, pushing Lane off.
Cris had been nothing but a dream. A memory. So why did hunger gnaw at his insides, setting his veins ablaze as if he’d fed on nothing but old blood for months? Why did Cris’s presence lurk in his soul as if the sire-bond were still alive?
“Rowan?” Lane sounded hesitant now. He didn’t touch Rowan again.
Heat crawled down his neck, and he brushed tangled hair from his face. “I’m fine. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep.”
“What—”
“It’s not the curse. Go to sleep.”
Lane stared at him with defiant concern, his expression clear as day in the dark room. For once, Rowan wished he lacked vampire sight. He turned away and settled against his pillow. Eventually, Lane did the same.
There was a knock at the door.
Damn vampire hearing. Rowan snatched his phone off the bedside table. There was a message from Felix, checking on him. Instead of answering the door, Rowan replied to the message. Felix understood flashbacks and didn’t press once Rowan told him all was well.
Sleep didn’t return.
Rowan cursed himself. He hadn’t had a nightmare in decades. And of everyone, it had to be Lane who witnessed him screaming like a child, catching sight of the moisture threatening at the corners of his eyes as every emotion he suppressed exploded out of him.
Humiliation twisted Rowan’s insides. Was it over what Lane had witnessed, or what Cris had done all those years ago?
He feared it was both.