Chapter 8
8
I woke up at dusk, surprisingly well-rested. It had taken me a while to fall asleep, but once I had, it had felt like floating. I’d been peaceful and content with no anxious thoughts interrupting my slumber. I wasn’t sure if it had been because of Henry’s blood, the wine, or the combination of both.
Unease was back, though, the moment I opened my eyes. I’d let Henry feed from me and had tasted his blood. I hadn’t liked the way it had made me feel. Or, rather, I had liked it, and that was what was truly upsetting me, making me feel like a traitor, as if I’d betrayed myself and my beliefs. My chest tight, I heaved a heavy sigh and left the bed.
After washing my face, I rooted around the dresser until I found the green dress I’d personally selected yesterday at Madam Claremont’s. It was shorter, so I pulled on a pair of thin leggings and then stepped into a pair of new brown boots. The new clothing paid for by the Duvals also made me feel like a traitor, but I hadn’t brought much with me from home and needed something to wear. Scowling at my reflection in the mirror, I swept half of my hair up and pinned it away from my face, letting the other half cascade down my back. I took a deep, measured breath and left the bedroom, feeling a surge of determination. If last night had proven anything, it was that I needed to find the Tear as quickly as possible.
The house was quiet as I hurried through the long halls until I reached Henry’s study. Unsure of how much time I had before the Lord was up for the night, I quickly slipped through the door, closing it softly behind me. Striding to the painting of Vincent Duval, I lifted it off the hooks before carefully setting it down on the floor to rest against the wall.
My mind raced as I stared at the safe. What could be the combination? I began to pace, tapping my chin, as I looked around the study in search of an answer. Rounding the desk, I hunched over it, my palms flat on the mahogany surface as I studied the paper depicting the clans. My gaze snagged on the name of Vincent Duval with his date of birth written underneath before gliding over the other objects on the desk. One of them was a small black frame holding a portrait of the Duval clan. It must have been painted before the Red War because Rosalind and Gerard were still in it, along with Vincent, Henry, and Isabelle. I studied the portrait for a few seconds. The Duvals looked happy in it. Their features were still cool and unnaturally flawless, but they looked like a real family.
Vincent was like a father to me, I remembered Henry’s words.
A thought occurred to me then, and I walked back to the safe, my eyes dropping to the painting of Vincent sitting on the floor.
“Could it be that simple?” I murmured, lifting my hand to the dial on the safe to try Vincent’s birth date as the combination.
My pulse quickened with every faint click, and by the time I turned the dial to the last number, my heart was hammering against my ribs. A shuddering breath left me when the safe unlocked. I couldn’t believe the combination had worked. Swallowing, I opened the safe and peered inside. Disappointment washed over me, and I let out a rough exhale when all I found were banknotes and coins.
“It’s not in there,” came a male voice from the entrance to the study.
I whirled from the safe and saw Wren strolling in. He looked relaxed, walking toward me, one side of his mouth turning up.
“What?” I asked shakily, all color draining from my face.
Wren had just caught me breaking into Henry’s safe, and I didn’t know if he would turn me in.
“Josephine’s Tear. It’s not in the safe,” he explained calmly, coming closer.
My eyes widened in disbelief.
“You know about the Tear?” I asked in a hushed tone, my gaze flicking to the door to make sure Wren had shut it behind him.
The young man nodded instead of replying and closed the safe before lifting the painting off the floor and hanging it back on the wall.
“I’ve searched the mansion,” he said, facing me. “Everywhere, except for Henry’s bedroom. He locks it even when he’s not there.”
I’d wondered about that…First things first.
“How do you know about the Tear?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
“From the Order of Light,” Wren replied without skipping a beat.
My brows lifted. “You know about the Order?”
Another nod. “Ravagers have been terrorizing people all over the region, not just in New Haven. We heard about the Order Waylon had established here and created a similar one in Weldon Heights. I am a part of that Order.”
I hadn’t known that the other towns in the region experienced Ravager attacks, but I supposed it would be foolish to assume only New Haven was affected. Anger and desperation burned in my blood. The situation was so much worse than I had thought. I needed to find the Tear.
It was suspicious Wren knew about the amulet. My father and I had only told Waylon about it. We had chosen to keep the information a secret from everyone else because the more people knew about it, the higher the risk that vampires or Dark Witches would learn about it.
“And the Order in your town knows about the Tear?” I pressed, narrowing my eyes at Wren.
“Yes, and they sent me to participate in the Selection. Well, I volunteered, hoping to gain access to the Duval Estate, so I could search for the amulet. I figured you were on the same mission when I caught you sneaking around Henry’s study.”
That could be possible, I reasoned with myself. My mother couldn’t have been the only one who’d known about the Tear.
“What do you know about the amulet?” I asked. “The only clue I have is?—”
“Vincent Duval,” Wren finished my thought. “It’s the only lead we have as well. That’s why I’m here.”
After a moment of hesitation, I let myself relax, deciding to believe Wren. I didn’t know him well, but I couldn’t think of a reason why he would lie. Besides, it would be nice to have an ally in this place. Now I understood why he had so eagerly embraced his role as a vassal. I also had to admire his dedication. He was much better at the game of pretense than I was.
“I am not truly Henry’s vassal,” I admitted. “He doesn’t feed from me. I only act as his vassal in public.”
“I figured,” Wren said, surprising me. “You seemed very on edge yesterday when he drank from your wrist.” His pale-blue eyes searched mine for a moment before he said, “Sophie, you need to get inside Henry’s bedroom so you can search it.”
“How do you suggest I do that? You said he locked it at all times.”
Wren’s eyes danced with amusement as a little smile played on his lips.
“The Lord selected you. He wants you. I’m sure you can convince him to let you inside his bedroom.”
My cheeks heated at what he was implying. I knew that he was right, but I refused to admit it, even to myself, so I changed the subject.
“So, if you’re in the Order of Light, it means you know how to fight, right?” I arched a brow.
“Yes,” Wren said hesitantly, looking unsure.
“Do you know how to sword fight?” I asked, hopeful.
“Yes,” Wren drew the word out, now looking worried.
My gaze snapped to the two short swords above the fireplace as the corners of my mouth lifted. Nervous energy buzzed through my veins, and I needed to expel it from my system. It was a combination of residual rage from what I’d witnessed last night at the ball and steadily increasing panic about what I would soon have to do to try and get into Henry’s bedroom.
Grabbing one of the chairs by the credenza, I dragged it closer to the fireplace.
“What are you doing?” Wren’s brows knitted.
I climbed on top of the chair and pulled the swords out of the hooks mounting them on the wall. When I tossed one of the swords to Wren, he caught it skillfully with a surprised look on his face. I jumped down from the chair and lifted my sword, making sure my legs were braced and my feet were shoulder width apart.
“Show me what you got,” I challenged Wren in a playful manner, excitement tampering down my anxiety.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Sophie,” Wren warned, his sword still lowered.
“Oh, come on,” I whined with a breath of frustration. “I haven’t practiced in a while. It’ll be fun.”
A hint of excitement crossed Wren’s features as he prowled around me before facing me again and raising his sword.
“Protect yourself,” he said, his eyes bright.
He attacked, but I deflected the blow, the metal of our swords clashing with a loud clink. For a moment, we just grinned at each other before I snapped into action, swinging my sword around. I was quick, but Wren was quick too, moving with the grace of a dancer. We exchanged blows for a while, our chests rising and falling rapidly until, suddenly, something flickered across Wren’s features. He lunged at me with a look of determination on his face. I darted out of the way, narrowly avoiding his swipe.
“Wren—” I tried to get his attention, deflecting another blow, but he kept coming at me.
The next time he shot forward, thrusting his sword out, my foot slipped, and I lost my balance, stumbling backward. Hot, sharp pain sliced through my skin as the edge of Wren’s sword nicked the outer side of my left arm. I dropped my sword and heard it clatter on the floor. Covering the wound with my right hand, I breathed through the pain as my warm blood seeped through my fingers.
“Shit! Sophie…” Wren paled, staring at me with wide eyes. He tossed his sword to the side and pulled his shirt over his head. “Here, we need to stop the bleeding.”
He moved to come closer, but I instinctively backed away since he’d been the one who’d hurt me, even if not on purpose.
His jaw tightened as his eyes roamed my face. I didn’t say anything as my gaze dropped to his bare torso covered in Isabelle’s bite marks. Seeing them was a shock to my senses. Wren was willing to go to such lengths in order to obtain the amulet. I really didn’t have the right to cower away from what I would have to do to gain access to Henry’s bedroom. After all, it was a small price to pay if I could find the amulet or a clue in his room.
“I’m sorry,” Wren rasped, trying to reach for me again, but before he could touch me, Henry stormed into the study, his nostrils flaring.
“Sophie! Why are you bleeding?” he growled, at my side in an instant.
“I…we were just sword fighting,” I said meekly.
“What?” His eyes flashed in anger as he turned to Wren. “What did you do?!”
“It was an accident,” Wren and I both said at the same time.
“Here, we need to put pressure on the wound,” Wren added, offering his shirt again.
“I think you have done enough,” Henry snarled at him. “Get out.”
Wren’s hand holding the shirt balled into a fist before he lowered it to his side. With one last look at me, his eyes apologetic, he turned and strode out of the study. As soon as the door closed behind him, Henry bared his fangs and bit into his wrist. I watched with wide eyes as deep-red blood began trailing down his forearm. My mind flashed back to the last time I’d tasted it, and panic flared in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t want—” Before I could finish the sentence, Henry pressed his torn wrist to my lips.
“Drink,” he ordered, clasping the back of my neck, leaving me no choice but to comply.
Closing my mouth around the wound, I quickly swallowed a few gulps of his blood, feeling it coarse down my throat. Sooner than I’d expected, Henry let go of my neck, pulling his wrist away from my lips and wiping it on his loose white shirt. The second he let me go, I shoved at his chest.
“Don’t ever do that again!” I seethed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Don’t do anything foolish again, and I won’t have to,” Henry snapped. “Sword fighting? What were you thinking?” he asked, his tone exasperated.
It took a few seconds for his question to sink in because my mind was becoming hazy from ingesting his blood.
“I was bored,” I said, lifting a shoulder.
“You were…” He exhaled roughly, briefly closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sophie, the clans are still here. You were bleeding in a house full of vampires.”
Somehow, I had forgotten about that. Suddenly, I did feel very foolish for starting the sword fight.
Henry opened his eyes, and his gaze dropped to my arm, which I realized didn’t hurt anymore. I looked at it and found the cut had healed, with only a pink mark remaining.
“You’re welcome,” the Lord said in a clipped tone, and I met his piercing gaze.
We stared at each other for a few minutes as my skin began to hum. My heartbeat quickened as liquid heat invaded my body, seeping into my muscles and pooling in my core. I sucked in a sharp breath as a throbbing ache settled between my thighs, so much more potent than what I’d felt last night at the ball. The longer I stared at Henry, the hotter I felt, my skin becoming flushed and sensitive. Wren’s words floated up from the recesses of my mind, The Lord wants you. I’m sure you can convince him to let you inside his bedroom.
Swallowing to relieve my dry throat, I stepped closer to Henry, running my fingertips down his hard chest. He stilled, his lips parting on a soft inhale. The angles of his face became stark in the soft glow of the fireplace as his eyes turned several shades darker. My gaze flicked over his tousled hair, and I realized he must have just gotten out of bed. I intended to put him back in it.
“Sophie,” Henry ground out as if in warning. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I whispered, arching my back to bring my chest flush with his powerful body.
The Lord swallowed thickly before he rasped, “You had my blood. It’s making you not think clearly. The haze will pass, but you need to stop doing what you’re doing.”
“Why? Do you not like it?” I asked innocently, gazing up at him from beneath my lashes.
Henry’s eyes fluttered closed for a second as if he were fighting an inner battle. When he opened them again, they were almost black.
“I do like it,” he murmured, low and rough. “But you will not like yourself if we go through with what you are trying to initiate.”
In the back of my mind, I knew he was right because I was at the same time in control of my body and not. I thought what I was doing was intentional, but a small part of me knew my actions were not entirely my own. They were guided by the pulsing desire ignited by Henry’s blood. I was trying to use what I was experiencing to my advantage, hoping it would help me go through with what I didn’t have the courage to do with a clear head.
“Take me to your bedroom,” I whispered, gliding my lips over Henry’s jaw, my hands fisting in his shirt.
His hands curled into fists at his sides as he stood unmoving, his muscles tense and coiled tight.
Just when I thought he would deny me, his chin dipped, and he lowered his head, his thick black hair spilling across his forehead. My breath caught as his dark lashes lowered. I felt his intense gaze on my mouth and my lips parted in anticipation.
My plan is working. He is going to kiss me, I thought to myself as he brought his mouth closer to mine. His cool breath coasted over my lips, eliciting a shiver from me. Any second now, he would claim my mouth. The pleasant ache between my thighs pulsed through me at the thought.
“No,” he whispered against my lips, and my heart dropped. “You only think you want that. It’s the blood.” He gently pried my hands from his shirt and stepped away. “I suggest you go to your room until the effects of it wear off. You didn’t drink much, so it shouldn’t take long.”
I swayed on my feet. It felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on my head. My face turning several shades of red, I lowered my hands, balling them into fists at my sides. I’d only been trying to seduce the Lord so I could search his bedroom, but the rejection still stung. I also felt a hint of disappointment that he hadn’t kissed me. Internally, I recoiled at the thought—I shouldn’t feel disappointment, only relief.
My eyes pricked with tears as I turned and left the study, feeling very foolish. I followed Henry’s advice and went to my room but didn’t stay there long. After strapping my dagger to my thigh, I snuck out of the mansion, leaving the estate.