Chapter 9
Cain
Back on Lilith Island, I dropped my gear in my quarters and made straight for the war room. The place hummed with low voices and the glow of the security feeds—familiar, grounding. Brien was talking to the soldier on duty when I walked in, but he cut it off when he saw me.
“Cain.” He smiled and crossed the cavern, still in tactical pants and scuffed trainers like he’d come straight from the gym, and clapped me on the back. “Good to have you back.”
“Good to be back.” I shook his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Maybe firmer than necessary, like I had to prove to both of us that everything was fine. “Everything all right here?”
“Yeah—quiet, actually. What about you?”
I’d kept my promise to check in every few days, but otherwise I’d stayed silent. A good hacker—and vampire syndicates had the best in the world—could intercept even encrypted messages. No way I was risking that.
Too bad I wasn’t bringing good news. “I’ll tell you in your office.”
“Of course.” He waved me ahead of him and closed the door behind us.
I stopped a few steps in, waiting as he moved past and leaned a hip against the edge of his walnut desk. I’d had the whole flight back to Nova Scotia to decide what to tell him, and I’d settled on the bare truth.
“I got the proof we wanted. Nazaire was definitely the man behind Eden’s kidnapping. But I can’t use it without compromising my source.”
He lifted a brow. “Go on.”
“That’s it.” I dropped moodily into the leather armchair in front of his desk. “I promised myself I wouldn’t come back until I had Nazaire by the balls. And yet here I am.”
He zeroed in on the important part. “What d’you mean, you can’t use your proof?”
My fingers into the chair’s padded arms, frustration chewing at me. “I just can’t.”
Nyx had left Paris early the next evening.
I’d gone back to the hotel, determined to talk to her one more time.
Instead, I’d wasted a couple of hours confirming she was really gone, then contracted with a hotel-provided thrall for blood and sex.
But I hadn’t been able to bring myself to fuck the woman.
After drinking my fill, I paid her and sent her on her way.
By then it was too late to catch a flight home. I spent the rest of the night prowling around Paris—restless, wired, and wanting Nyx in a way that made my skin feel too tight.
I had this bad feeling that might’ve been the last time I’d see her, alone, anyway. I’d probably spot her at some syndicate party, flanked by guards or that asshole Rodrigo. The thought made my jaw clench so hard I was surprised my molars weren’t dust.
“Why not?” Brien asked.
“Because the proof—” that damn painting—“would out her to her syndicate. So I can’t use it. But she was on the island at Nazaire’s orders.”
He straightened. “Your contact was the other person on the island that night?”
Too late, I realized I’d made a mistake. I gave a reluctant nod. “Yes.”
“So she blew up the boat.”
My stomach sank. “Yeah. But she rigged it so we had time to get off before it exploded.”
“Or that’s just what she’s telling you. And you’re protecting her? What are you playing at, Cain?”
“Nothing. I gave my word she’d remain anonymous. She wouldn’t have helped us otherwise.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll allow you that. I won’t even remind you that as your primus, your first loyalty is to me, because you’re also a friend. A good one.”
“Thanks,” I started to say, but he wasn’t finished.
“I think I know who she is anyway.” He was too close, his gaze too knowing. I fought not to squirm on the hard leather cushion, but if I stood with Brien in this uncertain mood, he might see it as a challenge. “So the question is, what are we going to do about her?”
“Do about her?” I straightened in the chair, upset. “Look, she did what she could. She was the one who made sure Eden got food and water, and she bought us time to get off the boat.”
I realized I’d accepted Nyx’s explanation as the truth. That I’d begun to trust her.
“I see.” His expression iced over. “So let me get this straight—this bitch was there on the island with the bastards who kidnapped Eden. The ones who were trying to take Twilight, too. My fucking mate. And you want to let her off.”
“She didn’t have a choice, damn it.”
“Is that what she told you?”
“Yes, and I believe her. Didn’t you wonder why we had enough time to get a dinghy out and away from the boat before it caught fire? She was caught between us and Nazaire. She had to make it look like she tried to stop us from escaping.”
Brien’s lip curled. “Sounds like you’re thinking with your dick.”
That brought me to my feet. If I stayed in that chair one second more, I’d go for his throat. That was unacceptable—and not just because he was my primus, but because he had a valid point.
He made a low, gotcha sound. “So you are fucking her.”
“So? You got the intel you needed to take down Fleur and Lamaire’s blood-slave ring, didn’t you?”
His eyes narrowed. “Stand down, Lieutenant.”
I met his stare, refusing to blink. The air between us tightened. A long, dangerous beat stretched—two predators sizing each other up.
Then I spun on my heel and paced away before I did something I’d regret, like pulling a blade on my fucking primus. When I turned back, I had myself in check.
“You’re wrong about her,” I said evenly. “She did everything she could for us. Anything more and Nazaire would’ve figured out she was the reason we got off that boat alive. As it was, he punished her for screwing up.”
Brien unfolded his arms. “I don’t trust her, Cain. And if she’s who I think she is, you shouldn’t either. Nazaire is a snake. It would be just like him to use his own spawn to seduce one of my lieutenants.”
“Not this time. I made the first move. I’m the one who went after her, not the other way around.”
Or had I? A sliver of uneasiness worked its way under my skin. Looking back, I couldn’t say for sure.
Our first meeting at the Tremblay Castle had been like something out of a fucking rom-com.
Across a packed ballroom—a high-class gala hosted by the new Tremblay prima and her mate—we’d locked eyes.
Nyx had wet her lips. Then she turned and sauntered toward the exit, her short purple skirt swaying like bait.
At the doorway, she stopped and thrown me an over-the-shoulder glance.
I’d followed, telling myself she might be a useful contact. Someone I could cultivate, pump for information.
She’d been waiting in the castle’s sweet-smelling garden, the moonlight turning her red hair into dark fire. Ten minutes after that, I had her up against the wall in one of the stone turrets, that tease of a skirt flipped up, my fingers inside her…
Brien circled behind his desk and dropped into his chair. “Yeah, her intel has been solid. But she had to give you something to gain your trust. How useful has that intel really been?”
“We couldn’t have taken down Fleur’s lair without it.”
“True—and yet, Lemaire wasn’t there that night.
How do we know Nazaire didn’t tip him off?
Maybe he wanted Fleur out of the picture.
The three of them were splitting the profit for that blood-slave ring.
Take Fleur out of the equation and suddenly he and Lemaire get a bigger cut—and Nazaire’s hands stay clean. ”
I eyed him, jaw working. “Maybe you’re right. But whatever she did was because of Nazaire’s orders. He’s the one you want, not her.”
Brien made a sound—half grunt, half warning—that said I was only seeing the part I wanted to see. “What I’m wondering is just how deep your involvement with this woman goes.”
“About that…” I leaned against the door, deliberately loose, like I wasn’t dropping another bombshell. “I offered her sanctuary—here, on the island.”
“You did what?” His whole body went rigid. “Yeah, it sucks she was punished for letting us escape, but you only have her word for that. And—”
“She turned me down flat,” I cut in. “Says she’s no blood-rat.”
“Yeah?” He blinked. “Well, good for her.”
“But the way I see it,” I continued, “she has a right to our protection. She’s stuck her neck out for us twice now. And Nazaire treats her like shit—locks her up, orders her around.” Doesn’t let her make her fucking art. “She’s treated more like a thrall than his—”
“Daughter?” Brien finished helpfully.
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.” I wasn’t breaking my promise; he’d obviously figured out my contact’s identity. “If she—Nyx—changes her mind, we owe it to her to take her in.”
“And give Nazaire the high ground? I can just picture how he’ll spin it.”
“You didn’t see how it was in Paris. Nazaire has always kept her on a tight leash, but now she doesn’t go anywhere without a bodyguard.
And she seemed different—on edge. Afraid, even.
She’s good at hiding it, but—” I swallowed.
“We know Nazaire’s an abusive, controlling sonuvabitch.
I just figured Nyx was an exception, that the fact that she was his own spawn means something to the man. ”
I should’ve realized it before now. Should’ve recognized the signs.
The way she jumped to please him but was never good enough. The fact that she was rarely seen in public without Nazaire or one of his men nearby.
She couldn’t even claim her paintings as her own. She was a fucking world-class artist, and no one knew it. Why was that?
A sick feeling gathered in my gut.
I knew what it was like to be under someone’s thumb. To never be good enough. To swallow your tears because crying only makes it worse.
“Something doesn’t smell right,” I told Brien. “What if he’s starting to suspect she’s helping us? If he gets any proof, I’m not sure what he’ll do to her.” I blew out a breath. “You may as well know—I told her if she changed her mind, the offer was open.”
“Hades.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t have run it by me first?”