Killian
He hid his car a short distance away, but he was much later than he’d agreed to be. The fact that he didn’t want to be here was evident not only in his pace, but in his sour expression.
“Are they even here? They haven’t been at the theatre in months.”
“This is the last show of the season. They will be here.”
“It sounds like you’re not prepared to do what is necessary.”
“I’m not prepared to waste my time if they’re not even here.”
“Do I need to remind you what’s at stake here?”
“I know exactly what’s at stake. It’s the same thing that’s been at stake for the last 112 years. That’s not going to change even after I do this.”
“Well, how about we change that?” Killian’s eyes widened at Drachen’s suggestion. “If you End her, I will release Eryn.”
Drachen’s offer knocked the breath from Killian’s lungs, and the resulting smile on his Sire’s face was the picture of self-satisfaction. Drachen released his hold on Killian and took a step back, raising his hand to proffer a handshake. Without thought, Killian reached out and shook it firmly.
“Are you ready?”
Killian wordlessly opened his coat to reveal a bandolier filled with his newly obtained silver throwing knives. Drachen’s eyes flashed in approval as they dragged over the weapons, and he gave Killian a triumphant grin before heading towards the doors.
Once they were settled in their seats, Drachen pointed out Leseldh’s private box and Killian peered up at it. It was empty. Killian threw an incredulous look at his Sire.
“They’ll be here.” Drachen’s certainty felt undeserved. Killian sighed and leaned back in his seat.
Drachen spoke again in a low voice. “I trust you can do this.”
It wasn’t a question, but Killian could hear the desperation in Drachen’s words.
He wanted—no, needed—this to happen. Whether Killian wanted it or not, he needed it too.
Eryn’s life and sanity depended on it. With his new agreement in place, the only thing missing was his target.
Dread festered in Killian’s stomach like rotting fruit.
They were a considerable distance from the box, and Killian assessed whether he could even make the shot. But he’d trained for this, and after a quick assessment, he knew it was achievable.
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” The words tasted like ash on his tongue, but he stuffed his distaste down and continued to stare up at the box.
Killian wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing or a curse, but either way, he was surprised when Ivy appeared, accompanied by not only Leseldh, but her two Broodmates.
Voresta and Finare seated themselves in the first row of seats, and Leseldh and Ivy sat behind them, in a slightly elevated position.
But it wasn’t enough; Voresta’s head blocked Ivy perfectly.
It added an unanticipated layer of complexity.
“Fuck, it’s normally just her and Leseldh.”
“We’ll have to wait for an opportunity,” Killian responded quietly and without conviction. Drachen fell silent, but when Killian glanced over, he saw that his Sire’s features were twisted into a frustrated scowl. Killian fought the smirk that threatened to crack his features.
The lights dimmed and the performance started.
It was a concert performed by a chamber orchestra consisting entirely of Werewolves.
All bar one Werewolf were in their Human form—the exception was the unique feature of their act.
The wolf incorporated mournful howls into the scores of music, which gave the performance a haunting and sombre tone.
But Killian wasn’t interested in the activities on the stage—he kept his eyes firmly fixed upon the private box to his left.
He couldn’t help but notice how breathtakingly attractive Ivy looked tonight.
She wore a floor-length dress in shade of green that matched her eyes.
Her hair was unbound and fell in gentle waves to her waist, and he couldn’t help but sneer when he observed Leseldh reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear.
That hand drifted downward, and although his view was obscured, he knew it rested upon her thigh.
The possessive touch filled Killian with a rage he didn’t quite understand but embraced anyway.
The anger might just help him fulfil his purpose to not only free Eryn but get them both out of Drachen’s house.
As the performance wore on, Killian’s eyes remained on the private box.
He observed Leseldh’s eyes roving over Ivy, and the way she squirmed next to him—what were his hands doing?
He remembered Drachen’s recount of a similar night at the theatre and his mind started to envision where the contact was leading.
Frustrated by the display, his eyes drifted to Ivy’s Broodmates.
The orchestra was unable to hold Finare’s focus—he dipped out of the private box and was gone for a significant part of the performance.
Voresta looked similarly disinterested but his eyes remained on the stage.
He hadn’t yet noticed Killian, which made him chuckle inwardly. Letting your guard down, Voresta?
His focus inevitably returned to Ivy, and he noticed her attention drift to her surroundings.
She found him in the crowd, and he saw her breath hitch when their eyes collided.
His lips kicked up into a smirk and he risked a tiny wave.
Her only acknowledgement was to shift awkwardly in her seat, which pulled Leseldh’s focus to her.
Killian scowled as he fussed over her, but she waved him off and returned her attention to the stage.
A show of its own continued on the upper level, and Killian watched on intently.
Much to his irritation, Leseldh’s movements resumed, and Killian envisioned what Leseldh’s hands were doing in a way that drove him mad.
But as he noticed Ivy’s gaze flicking down to him constantly, it tempered his mood and filled him with satisfaction that his mere presence bothered her.
When the curtains lowered for intermission and the house lights were raised, Drachen’s attention snapped up to the private box.
“Keep your eyes on them,” Drachen breathed, unaware that Killian didn’t need the instruction. He noted the excitement nipping at the edges of his Sire’s tone.
With a rising sense of dread, Killian reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pair of light gloves from an inner pocket. He slipped them on and ran his fingers over the throwing knives, their silver blades now harmless against his gloved fingers.
When he encountered the Idthrakis in Oaris, he’d been on his way to place the order for the knives with his weaponsmith.
Although conceding to Voresta was a tactical move, the loss made him more eager to order the weapons, if only to use them on Voresta himself.
But when he was notified that they were ready just a week ago, the reality of why they were purchased set in, and he felt ill at the prospect.
The image of Eryn’s coffin in his mind was the only thing that made him free a knife from the bandolier as he stared up at his quarry.
Both Killian and Drachen watched on in silence as Voresta and Finare made their way out of the box.
It opened a line of sight that sent a spear of nervousness through Killian’s heart—this was it.
He waited to see if Leseldh and Ivy would also leave the box, as the shot would be easier if she stood, but they both remained seated.
His eyes were fixed on the couple as Leseldh leaned towards Ivy and engaged her in a long, passionate kiss that made Killian’s blood boil.
He clutched the knife, feeling the urge to sink it into Leseldh’s back, or better yet, the back of his head.
He imagined the sizzle of the blood as it poured out of the wound and the fantasy made him smile.
“He’s blocking her. Do you think he knows?” Drachen’s voice was laden with frustration, and he sunk down in his seat, but his eyes didn’t leave the box above them.
Killian was too busy warring with his emotions to respond. With a confusing mixture of dismay and relief, Killian watched as Ivy pulled away from Leseldh and rose to stand.
“Now’s your chance! Killian!”
She excused herself and retreated from the booth, but Killian hesitated as she disappeared from view.
“What are you doing?! That was the moment!” Drachen’s eyes were blood-red as he glared at Killian, but Killian merely gave him a glare of his own and rose from his seat.
“I’ll handle it. Stay here.”
Killian headed for the stairs that led to the upper level.
He spotted Finare leaning against the bar, his attention firmly fixed on the bartender.
Voresta was nowhere to be found, so he remained vigilant.
Ivy was heading in his direction, but she hadn’t noticed him yet.
He ducked into the doorway of one of the other private boxes and watched as she approached.
Her steps slowed as she neared. She scanned her surroundings and took a few tentative steps forward. When she was within reach, Killian grasped her by the wrist and dragged her into the doorway. He shifted to block her retreat and stared down at her.
“You look ravishing tonight.” He made a point of looking her up and down, taking in the details of her appearance. They were almost touching, and her intoxicating scent invaded his senses.
“They don’t do feedings here, so if you’re hungry, you should try Sabor Sanguine. Or maybe The Succ. That seems more your style.” The attitude she managed to push into her voice took him by surprise.
Her words made a devilish grin spark to life on his lips. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
“I would, if that’s what I hungered for.” He injected a sultry tone into his voice, and her resulting shiver against his body made him ripple with satisfaction.
“Still chasing redemption?” Her words sent the reminder of his purpose jangling through him.
Killian shoved the taunt aside and leaned in to inhale her smoke and cherry scent, only to find something was missing.
Her heart was racing, her body trembled against his, but the tang of fear was noticeably absent from her scent.
His eyes snapped up to hers as he realised, she wasn’t afraid—she was excited.
Killian let his grip around her waist loosen, daring to rest his hands on her hips. She didn’t fight against his grip. She didn’t attempt to pull away.
“You don’t look like you’re having much fun up there.”
“It’s an incredibly moving performance.”
“That’s not what I meant. I saw the way your Resonant’s hands were all over you during the show, but your eyes were all over me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ivy’s words were hollow, and Killian let out a deep chuckle.
“I think you do. I wonder if it’s not the first time that you’ve been thinking of me while his hands were on you.” Killian’s taunt was unsubstantiated, but when he saw the resulting blush spread across her cheeks, his eyes widened in delight.
“My, my. You naughty little thing. If you want my hands all over you, Ivy, you only need to ask.” He twitched his fingers on her sides, as if to reinforce his point. She actually squirmed against him, and his heartbeat quickened in response.
A silence fell in the theatre, indicating the intermission was over. Ivy’s eyes widened with panic, and she finally started to struggle against him.
“I need to go. Please.”
Killian had everything he needed in this moment to gain Eryn’s freedom. But he found himself loosening his grip on Ivy, allowing her to slide out of their hiding place. He looked over his shoulder to watch the curtain of her raven-black hair streaming behind her as she disappeared.