Chapter 4
Nyx
Cain pinned me to the red-and-black tiles, his breath hot against my nape, one hand clamping my wrists behind my back.
“Let me go, damn you!” I bucked against him, struggling to break free. “You got your answers. What else do you want?”
He easily controlled me. “I told you,” he said, slapping his free hand to the wall beside my head. “I want a fucking reason.”
“You’re not my lieutenant,” I hissed. “I don’t answer to you.”
He didn’t like that. His powerful body pressed mine harder into the tiles. “Then I guess I’ll have to give Brien and Talon the name of the other person on that island. Better start watching your back because I can’t promise what Talon will do when he hears.”
I sucked in a breath. The last thing I needed was a vampire with a grudge hunting me. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Something in my throat pinched. Cain would never choose me over his friends, I knew that. But it hurt.
“You can’t prove anything.”
“This isn’t a court of law. That painting is all the proof I need.”
“Only to you. To anyone else, it’s just one of The Haunt’s weird, made-up creations. Bengal tigers don’t live in Nova Scotia, and a fire can burn anywhere.”
“It’s proof enough that Nazaire’s behind this. You don’t do anything without Daddy’s say-so.”
I went rigid. Was it that obvious to everyone else that my father pulled my strings like a puppet?
“He’ll laugh in your face. You’ll look like an ass.”
He ignored that to muse, “And I wonder what Dussault will think?”
A chill ran up my spine. My father had no idea I was The Haunt, and I was desperate to keep it that way.
If Cain and Brien took this to my father’s primus, my secret would be exposed.
Dussault wouldn’t care that I was The Haunt—he’d probably consider it a feather in his cap—but my father would be livid.
First, that I’d revealed my presence on the island, tying him to Lamaire’s op.
And second, that I’d been hiding something this big, something that let me earn an income he didn’t control.
I swallowed sickly. I could feel Cain’s gaze on my profile. I had the eerie feeling he could see straight through skin and bone to the frantic thrum underneath.
I forced a scoff. “You think Dussault gives a damn about a Maritime thrall?” Or any thrall, for that matter.
“I trusted you,” he ground out. “Or was that the plan? Were you laughing at me the whole time?”
“I helped you,” I snapped back. I’d risked my life, meeting him in secret, feeding him intel.
“Brien and Twilight would never have gotten in the door of that blood-slave ring if I hadn’t passed along that info to you.
If Dussault ever finds out that was me, I’m toast. Literally.
He’ll stake me out in the sun and let me fry. ”
The QCS primus wasn’t known for mercy.
“As for why I was on the island, my father sent me—you’re right about that. He said he wanted someone he trusted to keep an eye on Lemaire.” I gave a self-mocking laugh. “Ironic, huh?”
Cain turned me to face him, his fingers locked around my wrists. We were so close, I could feel his heat even through my clothes. My nipples tightened, my hormones not getting the message that this man wanted to wring my neck, not fuck me.
Something in his expression shifted. “You were the other person on the island,” he said slowly, like he’d finally figured the last piece of a puzzle out. “The operative we never saw.”
My heart lurched into my throat. “So?”
“The explosion.” His face went cold, every line sharpening. “That was you. You’re the person who booby-trapped our boat.”
A punch of real fear stole my breath. This was a side of Cain I’d never seen. I had to fight not to shrink back.
“I—you’re vampires. I knew you’d survive.”
“Really?” His lip curled. “Kinda hard to heal yourself when your brain and body is scattered across North Atlantic. The sun would’ve risen before we found all the pieces.
And Eden’s human. We barely got her off the boat in time, and then we had to row her to Lilith Island in a fucking inflatable dinghy. ”
Shame heated my skin. “I knew you’d save her, that you’d find the leak in time.”
“And if we hadn’t?”
I licked my lips. “I—it was a calculated risk, yes. But I had to make it look good, because—” My gaze slid from his. He was right. The simple, ugly truth was that I’d been too afraid to help Eden escape. “I’m sorry,” I said, low-voiced.
Gods, I was a coward.
And now I’d lost Cain’s respect. Or maybe he’d never respected me.
Maybe he’d been stringing me along, trading orgasms for information.
His growl made every muscle in my body tense up. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. By the time we got back, Eden was dehydrated and half-frozen. You’re lucky she didn’t lose the baby.”
My shoulders slumped. I nodded dully. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Nyx!” Jerome thumped on the door again.
Cain’s mouth snapped shut. Like magic, a switchblade appeared in his hand. He touched the point to my throat above the choker, a silent warning.
I stared back, shocked. He couldn’t have cut deeper if he’d driven that switchblade straight into my heart.
Maybe he was right not to trust me. I was Nazaire’s daughter, after all, and even though I wanted out, I was only willing to go so far to help Cain.
It’s not like the Maritime Syndicate were saints. They were vampires with blood on their hands, same as my father. Same as me, if I was being honest.
It still felt like a betrayal. My whole life, the people closest to me had lied to me, used me, discarded me. Starting with my mother, who’d handed me over to Nazaire the day after I turned four—for a million euros.
Was I that easy to give away? That unlovable?
“Answer me, Nyx.” Jerome again. The door handle jiggled. “What are you doing in there?”
“Answer him,” Cain mouthed. He’d retracted his fangs, but he didn’t look any less dangerous.
“Une minute, s'il te pla?t,” I called back.
Cain leaned in, voice ice-cold. “We’re not done.”
I worked my jaw from side to side. I just wanted to go back to the hotel and lick my wounds in peace. “Yes, we are,” I said wearily.
“The Hotel de Nuit,” he said like I hadn’t spoken. “I’ll come to you—midnight.”
I heaved a breath. Since that fiasco on the island, my father had increased the eyes watching me. Slipping away got riskier each time. But Cain wasn’t going to let this drop.
“Not in my suite,” I told him. “I’ll meet you in La Cave.” The vampire speakeasy beneath the hotel.
A curt nod. “I’ll be at the bar—the man with the stainless-steel pin on his lapel. And clean up.” He sniffed my throat, an insulting drag of breath. “My scent is all over you.”
He grabbed his jacket, tossed me my thong, and vanished into the shadows.
Jerome banged again. “Open this door. Now, Nyx.”
I ground my back teeth together. “I said, in a minute.”
I quickly washed up and smoothed on some of the Dioriviera lotion on the washroom counter. Now I smelled of roses instead of Cain.
I stepped into my thong, biting my lower lip when it brushed against my sensitized skin. I’d be feeling Cain for the rest of the night, including a phantom pain where his teeth had sunk into me. I tugged my skirt down, aware he must be watching.
A frisson went over my skin. Fear and a messed-up kind of arousal.
I drew a slow inhale and eyed my reflection—wrecked hair, smudged makeup.
I hadn’t brought a purse, but I made use of the makeup samples in a glass bowl on the counter, touching up my eyes and mouth, finger-combing my hair.
Then I unlocked the door, pulled back my shoulders, and sauntered into the hall.
Jerome was waiting, his mouth in a thin line. He pushed past me without a word.
I kept walking.
He wouldn’t find anything. Cain would’ve slipped out of the door behind me.
Jerome might be my bodyguard, but he wasn’t allowed to touch me. All he could do was report back to my father, and what would he say? That I’d spent too long in the washroom?
Back in the gallery, I inserted myself into the circle that had formed around the painting of the island.
“Why the fire?” asked a vampire from the Madrid Syndicate, a woman named Viviana. “What’s its significance?”
“Fire cleanses,” said the man with her.
“Fire represents rebirth,” murmured a third women.
Viviana smiled. “Perhaps the vampire in the forest makes her burn.”
They were close, but nobody quite got it. “Maybe,” I offered, my gaze flicking toward the washrooms, “she’s saying nothing’s permanent. Love. Alliances.” I kept my tone light, even as something bitter rose in my throat. “Even the promises we give people right before we throw them away.”
“Deep,” said a ponytailed dhampir from California.
I nodded, but I’d drawn the wrong kind of attention. Several people had turned their heads to eye me, brows raised.
Jerome had returned to the gallery. He sent me a last, scowling look that made my skin tighten, then headed back upstairs.
I dredged up a light laugh. “But what do I know?” I added and melted into the crowd.