Chapter 29
Cain
Nyx drew a detailed map of Nazaire’s lair for us.
She couldn’t resist a few artsy touches—a bat lurking in a corner, a Gothic chandelier marking the great room, a snake disappearing down the stairs to the lair.
The others noticed, especially Brien, who’d been one of the first vampires to buy her paintings.
But I figured that was just because he had a thing for good art.
No way he’d ever connect Nazaire’s socialite daughter to The Haunt.
She walked us through the map and together, we fleshed out the plan to rescue Perla. By the time the others finally headed out, it was well past midnight.
The door clicked shut behind them. I turned to Nyx.
She’d gotten off the stool but was holding the pad tightly to her chest, jaw set, like she was holding herself together by sheer will.
My gut twisted. “I’m sorry,” I said. “About Perla.”
She hitched a shoulder. “Collateral damage,” she reminded me flatly. “But hey, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? I’m helping you break into his lair.”
“Fuck what I wanted. She’s your friend, and I’m sorry she got dragged into this.” I took a step closer. “I want you to be happy, Nyx.”
“Really.” Her hazel eyes lifted.
There was so much pain in them, my lungs closed up. That emptiness that had hit me after finally putting Baker out of his misery? This was worse. Ten times worse.
“I did what I thought I had to do,” I said, giving her the truth because it was all I had left. “To protect my friends. But I’m sorry—so fucking sorry—that Perla got hurt because of it.”
She kneaded her brows with her knuckles. “I want to hate you,” she whispered. “I should hate you.” Stronger this time, like she was trying to convince herself. “I thought we had something.” A short laugh. “Something special. That maybe we were even mates.”
I flinched.
Her eyes lifted to mine. “Scared you, didn’t I? Don’t worry. I know a syndicate lieutenant would never claim a dhampir as a mate.”
“Like hell I wouldn’t. Maybe I used to think that way, but not anymore. I’d be fucking honored.”
One side of her mouth curled in a yeah-right smile.
Something deep inside me clenched. That she thought herself anyway inferior to me was just wrong.
“It’s the truth, damn it. If anything, you’re too good for me. You’re practically a princess, and I’m the fuckup Brien’s mother sprang from jail to babysit her son.”
Her lips parted. “You were in jail?”
“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand down my face, the shame still a part of me even all these years later.
“That shot I told you she offered me and Talon? That’s where she found us—the island jail.
Me and Talon both. She told me later she figured Brien needed friends who could think outside the box.
And she wanted men who had no previous ties to the syndicate so our only loyalty was to him. ”
She nodded slowly, like that explained a lot.
“But about you and me,” I continued, “when we met, I had a plan, and you weren’t a part of it.”
Her gaze flicked away. “Now that, I believe.”
“Hey, I admit I had my head up my ass. If I could do it over again, I would.”
I took a deep breath. Time to lay it all on the line.
“That night on the way to the bar? I was starting to think you could be my mate, if that was why I couldn’t seem to let you go.
And while I was still wrapping my mind around that, I find out you’d come to the meeting yourself—to negotiate with my uncle to kidnap me.
” I grimaced. “All I could think was you’d been lying to me the whole time.
That when it came down to it, you’d choose Nazaire over me. Every fucking time.”
“Like you chose your syndicate over me?” It wasn’t an accusation. It was a soft, wounded acknowledgment that somehow cut deeper.
I spread my hands. “They’re all I have. My family.”
“Yeah.” A sad smile ghosted across her lips. “You’d do anything for them, wouldn’t you? They’re lucky. And you should—I don’t even blame you for it.”
And then suddenly, I was feeling her emotions again, like a river flowing from her to me.
Hurt, yes, and some leftover anger. But underneath was something raw, something that hadn’t given up on us yet.
Maybe I could still save this?
I dropped to my knees on the terra cotta tiles before her. She pulled back, eyes wide, mouth ajar.
Guilt tore through me at her obvious surprise. She’d clearly never expected this from me.
I reached for her hands. She let me take them, her gaze glued to my face.
“Before you, I was hunting for a pureblood mate. To strengthen the syndicate. And,” I admitted, “to boost me. I guess I was still trying to prove I’m not the island loser.” I swallowed something prickly. “That I didn’t make lieutenant just because I’m Brien’s friend.”
Another rush of emotion, empathy and something steadier—velvet over steel. “Oh, Cain.” Her voice softened. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. It’s obvious that people respect you.” A corner of her mouth ticked up. “They’re even a little afraid of you.”
“I know. I even believe it—most of me. But there’s a part of me that never feels good enough.” I dropped my gaze to our hands.
First time I’d ever said it out loud—even Talon had never heard it—and it felt like stripping to the skin in the middle of a syndicate ball. Exposed. Naked. Vulnerable.
“Hey,” she said. “You started as a soldier, right?” At my nod, she continued, “And you rose through the ranks until now you’re a lieutenant, a powerful one. I bet you worked twice as hard as anyone else to get where you are.”
“Everyone but Talon,” I said automatically. “He worked his ass off, too.”
“There you go. Sure, Brien’s your friend, but he wouldn’t have promoted you unless he thought you could hold off challengers. So of course you’re good enough. In fact, you’re fucking impressive.”
I huffed a laugh. “Fine. I’m impressive.”
She didn’t smile back. “You are. I knew it the moment I met you. You think you’re proving yourself, but don’t you see? You already have. That’s why Brien chose you. That’s why Talon respects you. The only one left to convince is you.”
My chest pulled tight, lungs dragging in air like I’d been underwater too long. And then it spilled out—the truth I’d been choking back. “I didn’t know what to do with you. You asked things from me, just by being you. I couldn’t let myself trust you. Couldn’t let myself trust us.”
Her voice was a thread of sound. “And now?”
My gaze roamed over her beautiful face. A face I’d never get tired of seeing. A mouth I’d never get tired of kissing.
She’d turned down my offer of sanctuary. I’d known even then she wanted more from me, something I hadn’t known how to give her. So I’d hidden behind duty to Brien and the syndicate. But that was a coward’s excuse, an obligation Brien had never laid on me.
Enough hiding. Time to stand bare and admit I wanted the same thing.
“Now,” I said, low and certain, “I want it all. Everything.”
She shook her head—but it didn’t feel like a no. More like I’d knocked her off balance and she had to find her footing again.
I soldiered on. “Nyx Nazaire, will you accept my mate bond? I’ll fight for you. Stand with you. Believe in you. Just—be yours. If you’ll have me.”
Her throat worked. Her eyes held mine, peeling back every layer until all that was left was the man beneath the vampire—the needy, unlovable kid I thought I’d buried six feet deep.
My jaw flexed. Instinct screamed at me to bolt, to pretend I didn’t need anyone or anything. But I stayed, holding her hands and holding her gaze. Letting her see me.
“Trust me,” I said, the plea raw in my throat. “Trust us.”
Then I felt it. A touch—a warmth, deep in my chest, as if Nyx’s heart had reached out to mine.
My own heart stuttered, the primal thing inside me coming alert, stretching like a beast coming awake after a long sleep. I started to smile.
But then her eyes slid sideways. The warmth retreated, a tide dragged back into black water. “I can’t,” she told our clasped hands.
My brow knotted. My fingers clenched on hers, like I could chain her to me through sheer will. “You…can’t?”
I dropped back on my heels, searching her features.
“No.” She gave a single shake of her head, still not looking at me.
“But—why?” My stomach turned sour. “Because of your father? You’re still choosing him over me?”
“No!” She reared back, tearing her hands from mine. “That has nothing to do with it.”
I rose to my feet. “Then what’s the problem? You feel it, too. I can tell—I’ve been getting flashes of emotion from you since Paris. Don’t tell me that isn’t the mate bond.”
“Stop pushing!” Her eyes blazed. “This is too sudden. Too much.”
That hurt. “Too much?”
She raised her hands, palms out. “I can’t think when you’re this close. I need space. Please.”
A beat passed. Long enough for me to notice the splinter working its way into my heart.
Long enough for dreams I’d barely known I had to crash down around my ears.
“Right.” I backed up, a jittery feeling running up my spine. My knee started to jiggle, like if I moved it fast enough, I could outrun the pain.
Nyx retreated to the opposite side of the couch, body shaking, breath jerking in and out, like she might shatter at a single touch.
Which made no fucking sense.
I peered at her. “What’s wrong, firefly?” The nickname slipped out—a plea. “Talk to me. I can’t fix this if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“This.” She waved a hand between us. “It’s too fast. One night I’m a prisoner and the next night you’re asking me to be your mate? I just…can’t.”
The splinter in my heart hit the softest part of me. I dug the heel of my hand into my sternum, like I could grind the ache out. “I see.”
Something flickered across her face—guilt, fear, maybe both—before she looked away. “I just need time.”
“Time,” I repeated flatly.
She licked her lips. Then her chin lifted in that tough, I know you’re a big bad vampire but you’re not going to push me around way that made something hot and reckless surge through me.
Made me want to show her exactly how bad I could be, and then drop to my knees again and beg her to take my bond.
“That’s right,” she said.
I exhaled. Brought my hand back to my side. “Okay. You need time, you’ve got it.”
Right then, she could’ve asked me for anything, and I would’ve bled myself dry to get it for her.
Anything, that is, except let her go.
I could handle the waiting, could stand here, hollowed out, and give her all the time she needed to catch up—to believe in me, in us.
But give her up?
No fucking way.