Chapter 3
TOBIAS
Itremble as the three shifters remain close. I wish they’d leave.
“How—how do you know Rip and Foxx?” I ask, still trying to make sense of things.
“I told you. They killed our pack sister,” Rowen says. “And Rip killed a friend of ours just a few days ago. Tried to kill another friend too.”
The bigger of the other two men—Sage or Red? I can’t be sure—looks like he wants to wring someone’s neck. Maybe this pack really does hate the coven as much as I do. Not that it matters. I can’t stay here.
“Would you tell us about the mark?” the smaller man asks again.
They seem almost desperate to know, like it’ll help them with the coven or something. It won’t. It will only get them killed.
I don’t want to talk about the mark, or Rip, or the damned coven. I pull the blanket tighter around me. It’s softer than anything I’ve had in years.
The man sighs and changes the topic. “I see you ate the food we left you. Are you still hungry?” When I still say nothing, he tries again. “I can make you another healing tonic, if you need it?”
“You going to shove that one down my throat too?” I snap.
He grimaces. “I’m sorry about that. I really was just trying to help.”
I sigh, looking between the three of them. Deep down, I believe him, even if it doesn’t make sense. These men don’t feel dangerous. Not in the way the vampires felt dangerous before.
“How did I get here?” I say.
“You don’t remember?”
I shake my head. “I remember there was an attack at the club, but… nothing after that.”
The smaller man shifts his weight. “You tried to run when the binding spells broke and—”
“Binding spells?”
He furrows his brow. “Yes. There was magic in the metal. It’s why they burned you. Did you not know? The club was covered in containment magic.”
Of course I knew. The magic burned me for weeks. Drove me mad with pain. “How did it break? He—Orem, I mean. He said the spells could never be broken.” I resist the urge to touch my shoulder; if only they had broken that spell too.
“Yes, well, we think the fire broke the spells,” the smaller man explains. “It’s how everyone got out. Once the fire started, the doors opened.”
I frown. Why can’t I remember this? Everything is a blur.
Only tiny pieces come back to me. Blue flames over the bar, wolves killing vampires, and the strange man…
the vampire trying to break my chains. He hadn’t been able to, and I didn’t understand why he would help me—or why Foxx was afraid of him.
“I remember the fire, but I don’t remember the chains breaking or leaving the club.”
“You tried to run, but we followed you. We knew you were a victim, so we wanted to help. I wanted to help, I mean,” Red says, his voice soft.
“I wanted to heal you, if I could. But you were so panicked. Plus, when I saw the mark on your shoulder…” He hesitates.
“I figured it meant you wouldn’t be safe on your own. ”
Again with the goddamn mark! I don’t have answers for them. I don’t even know what the mark is.
He sighs. “Anyway, we… um, convinced you to come here.”
I narrow my eyes. “Convinced?”
“A friend of ours compelled you,” Rowen says plainly.
“Rowen!”
“What? I’m not going to lie to him, Red. He needs to trust us.”
The smaller man—Red—groans while Sage scoffs. “I wouldn’t call Kaine a friend. Not even close. After what he did to Evan?”
Rowen rolls his eyes. “I know, but at least he’s helping us.”
“Yeah, for now,” Sage says bitterly. “I don’t trust that vamp for anything.”
Rowen grits his teeth, suggesting he doesn’t either.
My sluggish brain finally makes sense of what they’re saying, and my heart kicks into full gear. Sweat beads on my forehead. “You’re working with a v-vampire?”
“Two of them,” Rowen says. “We don’t know Kaine well, but Jericho is a close friend. We trust him.”
I scramble to my feet, attention darting to the door. The blanket falls around my shoulders as I step away. “No. No, I can’t do this. I can’t be—I have to go!”
“Tobias, please—”
“I can’t be around the vampires. I can’t!” Rowen touches my arm, but I jerk away. “Don’t!”
“I’m sorry. Look, I know you’re scared and confused, but we aren’t going to hurt you. You’re safe.” He lowers his voice, pleading. “Just give us a few days, okay? Things will make sense soon.”
“The vampires—”
“They aren’t here right now,” Rowen says calmly. “You’re safe.”
I shake my head. “No. No, I can’t.”
Rowen steps in front of me, speaking in a low tone. “Please try to trust us, Tobias. That’s all we ask. That you try. We’re going to keep you safe, but you have to let us.”
I’ve been around enough shifters to recognize when they use their alpha power.
It has no effect on me. Every instinct is saying I need to go.
To hide. To get far away from the bloodsucking demons.
But something in Rowen’s eyes, his expression, is making me pause.
I don’t trust him—I don’t trust any of them—but once again, there’s something inside me, something deep down, saying they won’t hurt me.
They want to kill vampires as much as I do.
Or at least, some vampires.
I rub my temple, head pounding as I still try to catch up. I’ve had a constant headache since I woke up. “Did you say his name was Jericho?”
Rowen nods. “Yes. He’s our friend. Why?”
I close my eyes, pulling the blanket back up. “I don’t—I don’t know. Foxx said… I can’t remember exactly, but he kept talking about Jericho. Like they were all looking for him or something.”
All three of them nod. “Foxx turned him about a year ago,” Sage says simply, “and he’s been hunting Jericho ever since. He wants him for his hoard of gifted vamps, but Jericho wants nothing to do with them except to turn him to ash. He’s on our side.”
Hoard of gifted vamps? Shit, these shifters really do know a lot about the coven. A hoard of freaks would be more accurate.
I recall the way Jericho’s hands burned that night. How Foxx had looked at Jericho. The fear in his eyes. He’d talked for so long about wanting Jericho for himself, yet that night he seemed too afraid to get anywhere near him.
Could the vampire really be on the shifter’s side?
I say nothing for a long time, rubbing my temples.
“We can see you’re overwhelmed,” Red says. “We’ll give you some space.”
Fear tightens in my belly. Are they going to lock me in this room again? Keep me prisoner until I give them more information?
They step away, and Sage gestures to something on the floor. “Ro, clean this shit up.”
With a sigh, Rowen kneels by the door and begins gathering something off the floor.
He inspects each piece carefully, brushing them off one at a time.
When he sees me watching, he holds something out for me in his palm.
It looks like a tart of some kind, roughly the size of a half dollar.
The dent on the side reveals a gooey golden filling inside. It looks divine.
“Try it,” he encourages. “They’re my favorite.”
When I don’t reach for it, Rowen takes a bite of it, raising his brows as if to say, “See? Not poisoned.”
He offers a similar treat from the plate. This time, I accept, slowly lifting it to my nose. The sweet cinnamon scent makes my mouth water, and I take a bite. The moment it hits my tongue, my eyes go wide.
Rowen grins, his brown eyes softening. “What did I tell you? Good, huh?”
It’s not just good. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in a long time.
I finish it off quickly, making Rowen chuckle.
“My mom made them. That’s Jasmine, but I don’t think you’ve met her yet.”
I lick my lips, wishing I had more of the apple treat. After a moment, I ask, “Did she make the granola bars too?”
“Yeah. She does all the cooking here. She’s kind of obsessed with it, honestly. Hardly lets anyone else in the kitchen. I think it’s her way of decompressing, you know. She even makes money doing it. I’m sure she’d love to make something for you if it would make you feel more comfortable here.”
I stare at him, stunned. Is he serious right now? Most days I’m grateful to get food at all, let alone choose.
Rowen laughs weakly before getting to his feet. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
I’m not sure why he’s nervous when he’s the one with the advantage here.
Not only are we in his house, but Rowen is a shifter with more power and finesse than I’ll ever have.
Plus, he’s a few inches taller than me and definitely has more muscle.
But Rowen isn’t what I expected either. There’s something about him that’s soft and kind.
Maybe it’s his warm hazel-brown eyes. They’re the kind of hazel that would look gold under a certain light.
It makes me long for my camera.
“My mom was like that too,” I say without thinking.
He turns back to me, surprised. “Oh, yeah?”
“She liked to be in the kitchen.” When she could, anyway.
Rowen slants his head. “Did you say was? She’s not around anymore?”
I flinch. Shit. I shouldn’t tell them too much about me.
Turning around, I walk to the window, but Rowen follows, keeping his distance. After eating a treat from his plate, he says, “I’m sorry you lost her. I know that pain. My dad died about five years ago.”
I don’t look at him or reply.
“What was your favorite thing that she made?”
It’s an innocent question, but it still makes my heart clench. I chew the inside of my cheek.
He leans against the dresser, waiting.
“Ice cream,” I say finally. “I’ve never had ice cream like hers.”
Rowen’s brows lift, and the half-amused, half-confused glint in his eyes almost makes me laugh.
“I… you know, I don’t think I’ve ever had homemade ice cream before.
” He considers it, then shakes his head.
“No, I don’t think so. Which is kind of surprising when I think about it.
Mom makes everything from scratch, so why not ice cream?
We usually just buy the cartons at the store. ”
I don’t reply.
Rowen holds the plate of treats out, and I take a chocolate ball, enjoying the silky, minty goodness on my tongue.
“What was your favorite flavor?” Rowen asks. “Of ice cream, I mean.”
“Is all of them an appropriate answer?”
He laughs. “Okay. Yes, it is. All ice cream is good. But if you had to choose. What would be your top three?”
I have to think about it. There are so many flavors I’ve missed over the years. “Butter pecan, chocolate peanut butter, and lemon.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Lemon?”
I shrug. “Mom used real lemons, so there was a tartness that matched the sweet. I know it sounds weird, but it was really good.”
He reaches for another apple treat. “It’s not weird. Mom uses the tartest apples to make these. Like, they’re awful before they’re cooked down. I can’t stand them. But after?” He takes a bite and moans. “Heaven.”
“Tobias?”
We both turn to see Red holding a stack of clothes in his hands. I blink in surprise when he holds them out to me. I thought I’d have to steal some.
“These should fit you, since we’re similar in size.
” When I don’t accept them, Red sets the clothes on the bed.
“There’s three pairs of pants and, oh… maybe half a dozen shirts?
I’ll find you some sweaters too, since it’s so cold.
Oh, and I brought you some more tonics too.
” He pulls two amber bottles from his pocket, explaining each of them.
“The taller one is a plain lavender blend. No magic. Just something to calm your nerves, if you want it. And the other one is the same healing tonic I’ve already given you, except without the sleeping draught. ”
The gifts are too much. Way more than I expected. I don’t know what to do, or say. My eyes suddenly burn with unshed tears.
He gives a small smile as he sets the bottles on the dresser.
“I’ve instructed everyone to give you space for now, but you’re free to come down when you’re ready.
We won’t lock the door anymore. I apologize for that, by the way.
I just didn’t want you to leave when we were cutting down our Christmas tree. ”
My eyes widen. It’s Christmastime?
Red exits the room, leaving the door open.
Rowen gently touches my elbow before pulling away. “Come out when you’re ready, okay?”
I stare after the men in a daze. Maybe I haven’t landed in another hellhole after all.