Chapter 17 #2
Her whimper of protest went straight to my cock. I deserved a blue ribbon for this. No, a fucking gold medal. Somewhere up there a couple of angels were high-fiving each other and laughing their asses off at me.
“Cain.” She strained to get closer to me. “Please.”
“I can’t.” I rested my forehead against hers. “I gave you my word. And you’re sick—still recovering.”
I waited for her to say something. If she released me from the promise—told me she felt better now—maybe we could continue this. Find a loophole. She could touch me, for example.
But she didn’t say a word. We stayed like that, eyes closed, breathing the same air, my hands resting on her hips, the firm, warm shape of them both grounding me and tempting me in equal measure. The seconds ticked by, heavy and slow, stretching out around us like they didn’t want to let go.
Then her hand pressed lightly against my chest.
I swallowed the frustration, the want, the whole mess of it, and let her go.
She took a long step backward. “You’re right. I—” She bit her lip and turned away.
I buttoned up my shirt and tucked it in, then shook out my hands, that twitchy need to move, to run, pressing at me.
Nyx eased up the right sleeve of her sweater so she could rub her wrist.
I focused on her, my agitation less important than her pain. “That should’ve healed by now.”
“The other one is better. This one was worse.”
The one I’d grabbed. I winced inwardly.
“Lemme see.” I held out my hand. When she hesitated, I added, “Please?”
She put her hand in mine. The blisters had closed over, but the wrist looked painful, red and swollen.
I sucked a breath between my teeth. “Damn it, Nyx. You should’ve said something.”
“You had my arm locked behind my back. Was I supposed to ask you to play nice?”
I worked my jaw, conceding the point with a low exhale. I let go of her hand and reached for the phone on the cot.
“I’ll get you another salt-water rinse.”
“Don’t bother.” She sank onto the thin mattress. “It wouldn’t help—the silver feels like it’s spread everywhere. I just have to ride it out. I’m better though. Just tired.” She steepled her fingers, shoved them between her thighs. “Look, what are you going to do about the texts?”
“Answer them.”
“Answer them how?”
“I’ll say you’re on Lilith Island. That you came willingly, and that you’ll be living here from now on.”
Her mouth hooked sideways, a joke’s-on-you smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You might as well stake me now. Because if he ever gets me back, I’m—” She shook her head.
“What d’you mean? You’re his only spawn, aren’t you?”
“But I’m a dhampir,” she responded, that odd smile still on her lips.
“An embarrassment, proof he slipped and sired a child on a human. He’s obsessed with finding his ‘true’ mate.
” Her fingers carved air-quotes between us.
“A vampire, someone he can make a perfect little pureblood with—like Brien—and when that happens, I’ll be nothing to him.
I told you, I think he was getting suspicious, that he might’ve heard something about us, and this will just confirm it. He might just leave me here to rot.”
The guilt was more than a twinge now. “He’ll come,” I muttered. “If he doesn’t, we’ll leak that we have his daughter. He won’t risk looking weak.”
Nyx went still, like the words had brushed a bruise she’d been pretending didn’t exist. “Yeah. That would work.”
“You don’t have to go with him,” I pointed out.
“Right.” She gave a short laugh. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Almost makes me think this was your plan all along.”
“Wrong,” I ground out. “Yeah, it crossed my mind, but I never acted on it—and I could have. You’ve been alone with me more than once. Paris. London. Montreal. If I wanted to kidnap you, I could’ve done it in then.”
She only shrugged, unconvinced.
The guilt was a thrumming in my blood now, hot and insistent. When I stripped everything else away, was I any better than Nazaire?
I’d gone to Paris to try and weaponize Nyx, turn her against her sire. To twist whatever spark that existed between us into something that served me. I’d wanted proof, and she was my best shot at getting it.
And if she’d resisted? I’d even toyed with the idea of snatching her, retribution for Nazaire hunting our women.
I opened my mouth. I didn’t even know what I meant to say, but Jude’s small face flashed through my mind, the trusting way he’d burrowed into that space between my neck and shoulder. If Nazaire had gotten his way, that kid would’ve been born a blood slave.
My teeth clamped together. I pulled up Nazaire’s messages and drafted a reply in French.
NYX: I’m with the lieutenant. He offered me sanctuary & I said yes.
I showed her the message.
A shadow passed over her face. “Please don’t send that. If you care for me at all—”
I punched Send.
Because I didn’t care for her—I couldn’t. My brothers were the important ones here. Them and their mates—and Jude. Most of all, Jude.
Her swallow was noisy in the small cell. “Why are you doing this to me?”
My chest tightened. “I’m not doing it to you. I’m doing it to him.”
“Got it.” Another bitter laugh. “I’m just collateral damage.”
I exhaled, reminding myself of the stakes if we didn’t neutralize Nazaire. But I had the stomach-churning sensation of something slipping through my fingers, something good. Something I hadn’t appreciated until now, when I was about to lose it.
“You remember telling me Nazaire didn’t give you a choice? Well, he hasn’t given me one either. It’s him—or us.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Understood. This isn’t personal.”
I ground my teeth together and turned toward the door. But I couldn’t leave it like that.
I swung back to Nyx. “Look at me,” I demanded.
Her eyes lifted. “What?”
“You’re wrong about me and you. I fucked you because I couldn’t stay away.
I’m a Maritime lieutenant—I have a duty to my syndicate, to my brothers.
Yeah, I was looking for an edge, a way to get to your sire, and you know why.
But you and me?” My voice dropped, low and rough.
“That was real. You were never a job. Believe that if you believe nothing else.”