Saving His Heart (Sisterhood of Jade Book 11) Page 8

  “Was it Aquinas in the Chamber? Did he come to…gloat over your captivity?”

  No response.

  He exhaled. His patience would be tested. He knew that. But he’d never dreamed she’d be this unreasonable. Her opposition was childish. He wanted to open the cage and shake her.

  Then test her lips. Taste her slim neck. Smell the silk of her hair.

  No!

  He stretched his neck, tipping it left then right. The kink in his shoulder remained.

  I will not open the cell.

  Instead, he studied her beauty, looking for a flaw. Evil could not completely hide. If it could, more would suffer. But she had no artifice. She was without the usual Porn Star make-up and low cut, short-skirted dresses so many of this time favored. She was…

  She was either like a Venus Fly Trap or… She wasn’t evil.

  He couldn’t say. The fact that he couldn’t infuriated him. She should be sobbing. Crying. Begging him for mercy. She should be telling him her side. He got none of that. Just as he found nothing, saw nothing but perfection when he sought to find a flaw.

  That was because she had none.

  Even her small nose was graceful and swept down in a beautiful line. Her lips pale pink, the bottom ever so slightly puffy as if it were made for him to kiss—

  He stopped his hand from reaching for the lock.

  “You will never leave this cell. I will ensure you stay here, locked away forever if I feel it will be safer—”

  She didn’t raise a hand, but she brought a snap of air down on his head, slicing along his cheek. Shocked, and now more pissed off than frustrated, he retaliated. He hated himself even as he struck. She was knocked backward—hard—against the cell wall. She erupted into movement, landing on her feet like a cat, hands up, fangs exposed. No doubt ready to rip him to shreds.

  “Enough!” he shouted. “You will—”

  “Enough?” she mocked. “You bring me here, and you think to make demands of me? You can’t keep me here. No one can and most certainly not you! Do you believe so? Do you?” she screamed.

  “Yes,” he bellowed back at her. “I will keep you here. And in time you will see, I have the power to do whatever I wish to you.”

  Shit. Had he just shouted at her? Shouted that at her?

  Her eyes flew wide. Her tiny nostrils flared. Instead of screaming at him, she slowly walked up until she was a scant inch from the harmful potion on the bars. Meeting his gaze, hers turned icy black.

  “You will never have power over me. You forfeited that right.”

  His anger melted. Dread took its place. She knew. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but finding out what he needed from her.

  “I have all the power. The sooner you understand that the better. I will keep you in here until you answer my questions. Until I know you are no longer a threat. Until—”

  “Until I am longer a threat?” she cried, fisting her hands at her hips. She leaned closer. Too close. The poison. Her smooth skin. Protect.

  I fucking put her there!

  “Tell me, Bryson, would you have slept through it? Would you have remained here, secure in your mountain home while I burned until nothing remained?” Her icy gaze roamed his face. What she saw he couldn’t imagine. A monster.

  “Or maybe not slept…” Her attention lifted to the cell’s ceiling as if she could see through the five feet of solid stone. “Perhaps you didn’t choose sleep, but this, instead.” She held up her hand. With a soft sound, his opium landed in it. The burgundy velvet bag overflowed her small palm.

  Every dream he’d ever tried to conjure with this woman had ended in horror. Always. Because, basically, she was a killer and there wasn’t a happy ever after when you fucked up shit like that. She’d not merely killed but murdered his friend and his king.

  There had never been a happy ending for him and Isobel. There never will be.

  But nothing prepared him for this, his darkest, vilest weakness laid bare before a woman who appeared unsurprised to find him so deficient.

  “Mates were created for one thing. To be to each other what no one else in the world can ever be.” Her eyes were hypnotic. Even as her words sliced him deep, he couldn’t look away. “Their protectors. If your life could have been given for mine, it should have been! But you had this.” She threw the sack to the ground. The opium exploded in a black dust cloud that blossomed between them. “And this is all you will ever have!”

  The silence that followed should have been followed by her disappearing in that cloud of dust. Instead, something almost as bad happened.

  His alarms tingled a warning.

  Someone approached. His fangs lengthened and dropped at this new threat. Few knew of this home. Protect her.

  It wasn’t Jaxon. He wouldn’t have set the alarm off.

  It wasn’t the boy—he’d come in before and not set them off.

  He tried to harness his thoughts. No one, not even Jaxon, had ever been below to this barricaded, dungeon level. There was no hint of its existence. Thus he should not fear someone had discovered Isobel. But tension tightened his stomach to the point of pain. He battled his instincts down. His fangs retracted.

  He sensed her alertness. She also felt the alarm.

  How is that possible? How is this nightmare even possible?

  “I will return, Isobel. I want answers. Do not think to test me in this.”

  The threat fell between them. Amazing him, she lifted her lip in a sneer. Clearly she was not impressed. Or the least bit fearful of him. With the residue of opium powder still floating on the air, he could understand why.

  “You will stay here, in this cell, until I have those answers. Trust me, you will never break free. I am the one in power now. When you accept this, then you will talk.”

  “Then I will never speak.”

  Amazed, he studied her mulish expression. She might not. Did it matter?

  Yes.

  No.

  He left, leaving her intoxicating scent before he opened the door to her cage and dragged her out to claim her.

  Chapter Nine

  Throughout the dark centuries Isobel had regained consciousness enough to know that the walls still held her captive. The claustrophobic awareness that nothing she did would free her had nearly driven her mad. It had only been made worse by knowing that no one in the universe would come. Her brother had been taken. With him, anyone who might have aided her had also been annihilated.

  And yet, there had been someone.

  She had sensed it the way a wild creature knew that danger lurked under the deception of the traps laid by hunters.

  It was him. Bryson.

  I sensed him. In all those years, he never came to me. Never ventured to her hiding place, nor sought to release her from the endless torture. Not until he’d taken her from the darkness and cast her to burn in the light.

  Rage and more pain threatened to choke her. Yet this wasn’t directed at the Vampires responsible for her brother’s plight. This was directed at the one being on this planet who should have laid down his life, if it saved her from one ounce of pain.

  The anger built. It grew dangerous as she worked her mind around the bars holding her. Spells were there as well as punishing toxins. She knew both would cause her pain. Worse than pain, possibly leave her scarred. I am already scarred. I will seek the sun when this is finished. Scars will not matter, nothing will.

  Above her she could not sense Bryson. She could feel things, possessions of his, but not him—or whoever had triggered his alarms. Cloaking. She had heard of it. Assassins used something similar. But for a Vampire to cloak one level of his home from another… His dungeon? From the upper, living area… Impressive.

  The walls of her cell were primitive, cut out of the stone bedrock of the mountains he called home. Always it was this way with Vampires. They went to high ground. At least among those who could. Their homes were isolated, protected more by nature and its forces rather than spells they drew around themselves.
>
  Not so with Bryson. This home was a fortress not only high in the clouds, but swirling with enough protections to thwart even the most cunning.

  Especially on this level.

  “He has several libraries.”

  Isobel started. Faolan? She took several steps backward before she could stop herself. The boy walked out of the gloom of the corridor, smiling sadly. His short brown hair had fallen in his eyes, but he didn’t remove it or smile at her. The expression he wore… Worried?

  “He’s hurt you. I didn’t think he would do that. I don’t think he knows what to do with you.”

  “How…?” Her throat was dry. She swallowed. Studied him. Underneath the warm glow of his skin, there was power. Something she’d caught before but couldn’t understand. “How did you get here?”

  “I’ve been here before.” He glanced over his shoulder then frowned back at her.

  Her brain couldn’t seem to match what he’d said with meaning. “You were in these cells?”

  “No.” Faolan laughed merrily. The somberness vanished. He tossed the hair out of his brown eyes. “It was upstairs. It’s nicer up there. It’s also nicer out here. Can I let you out?”

  She tilted her head. “I am not certain. Can you?”

  “Will you harm Bryson?”

  Stunned. The audacity…

  Harm him? I will kill him. She considered not murdering Bryson for what he’d done to her while gnawing a nail. He deserved to be harmed. He’d known of her. He had been older. She had known him by name only. But he had come. Once. He had come to the Dragon Blooding. He would have seen me. Was I not to his liking? Was I not strong enough? Realizing what she did when she bit down on another nail, she ceased.

  ‘Show weakness—any weakness—and it will be used against you.’ Why hadn’t her brother heeded his own advice?

  “Why do you ask me this?” Perhaps the boy cared for Bryson. But why would a warrior allow a boy here? He cared for the boy? Highly unlikely. But predicting the unpredictable was always part of war.

  “He harmed you.”

  She touched her cheek. It had been a warning, nothing more. Why? Why not more? I was bound by the cell, otherwise my strike would have toppled the ceiling on him. But he’d retaliated with a small strike. The pain was not even remembered. Not compared to what else he had done to her.

  For some reason, she couldn’t regain the rage she’d felt moments before.

  She grudgingly admitted to herself she wouldn’t harm Bryson. Unless he attacked again. He might. The buzz of the anger neared but drew back. Bonding? She had heard, everyone had, that emotions ran high for a couple when they first discovered each other. Just as other things did. The thought of him harming her brought the rage closer. Imagining him keeping her in here…haze.

  Useful.

  The drug still filled the air with its heavy scent. A weakness like that stunned her. What would drive a strong warrior to take such a release from reality? She bent and picked up the half-empty bag, tipping it so the powder shifted to the floor of the cell. The scent was pleasing. But the draw lost to her. He would have to ingest an entire bag to bring on the effects.

  “Why would he seek to use this?”

  “To escape.”

  She hadn’t expected an answer, especially from a boy. She lifted her attention to his cherubic face. He had taken a seat near the bars of her cell. Legs crossed, elbows on his knees, he’d been staring at her. Fascinated by me?

  “What would he have to escape from? He was free.”

  “Your death.”

  My death? Was that why he sought the darkness?

  She considered that. Bryson clearly thought her a killer. Why bring me here, and not back to Aidan? It was clear he was honorable. He is misled by his beliefs. One of the masses unable to think for himself, or was he more?

  He should have been more.

  Haze.

  He keeps me from my duty. Confines me. Strikes at me—if somewhat gently. He cannot keep me here!

  The cell was designed to hold a Vampire. The spells were lined with intricate designs, knotting the eye and trapping a person as firmly as the bars. Vampires loved puzzles. The more intricate the pattern, the better. She knew this and avoided them. They would not keep her.

  The barriers lining his property, though. His mind was solid, a firm, harsh wall that expanded outward, enclosing his house within it. That would be harder to break through.

  “The cell is not the only barrier. But if you release me from this, and the house, I will not harm Bryson. Unless he attempts to harm me.”

  “What will you do if I release you?”

  “I will go.”

  Faolan sighed, as if disappointed in her. He reminded her of her old mentor, Rowan. A sad smile lifted her lips. Rowan, if you had but been there…but you, too, are gone from me.

  “Then I can’t let you out. If you go, he might hurt himself looking for you again. Already he has broken trust with his friends. Already he has chosen you over others who have earned his loyalty.”

  “Why do you speak to me of these things? They are not true. He gave me over to die.” Anger seethed. Haze returning.

  Faolan frowned as if she’d given him a riddle he couldn’t figure out…yet. “He would never allow you to die.”

  She blinked and sat on the cold stone. Bryson had come to her. It had been before the sun would have burned her. Well before. Confused, she buried her head in her hands.

  Focus. Revenge. Kill. Return Jorge to his Tessa. Meet the sun.

  “He did let them take you to Aidan, but he also went to free you. Only you had freed yourself, much like my friend Elsa. She was the one that killed Samuel. You will like her. She will teach you many things, even though she is young.”

  Isobel considered that and the boy. So Samuel was gone. The knowledge settled over her, creating a new reality. Three are gone. Three more, Jorge. Only three more.

  “So you see, he is not so terribly bad, is he?”

  She wasn’t about to agree to that. “You seek normalcy. You wish for your family to be happy. Bryson is your family, as well, is he not?”

  “Yes. Bryson is my family. Elsa and Jamie are my family. I have more, too, but they would not want to meet you, yet. Not until you find what you seek. But Elsa would. She is brave. She would understand.”

  She shook her head. “Understand what?”

  “You.”

  The solemn tone, matched with his smile, was something she had never encountered before. She laughed, caught off guard by him. “No one can understand me, Faolan.”

  “I do. You are not evil. You do not need to kill these Vampires, but you will because you care about what is right and wrong. Like Bryson. If you tell him—”

  “I will tell him nothing!” She bared her fangs.

  “He will listen to you—”

  “I will not guide him to the truth because I do not care if he knows the truth.” The dangerous anger returned, and with it the pain. She needed gone from this boy. From this man. From this place. Here she faced a danger she had never considered.

  “You do care, I can tell.”

  “Boy. There is no one left to care about. Leave me.”

  “Of course there is. There are a—”

  “I care for nothing and no one!”

  Faolan stood and reached out as if to touch the bars.

  “No! Do not touch them like that!”

  Faolan nodded and his smile returned. “See? You do care.”

  Chapter Ten

  Fucked. I’m fucked.

  Bryson had to pretend to give a shit about an ancient scroll Christian had brought. Ancient texts were valuable. They usually mesmerized him. This was one… Who gives a fuck? I’m fucked.

  She knows. Hates me.

  If that wasn’t enough, a Vampire stood not five feet away from him who would like nothing better than to rip Isobel’s throat out.

  Christian.

  Long ago, Bryson had let the Vampire into this stronghold. Now, he regr
etted that confidence more than anything else in his existence.

  Christian’s being was determined to find—and annihilate—Isobel. More than any Hunter Bryson had ever encountered, Christian behaved like a man who was doing more than following orders. It almost seemed personal.

  Before she explained why she killed Aaron?

  She killed Aaron because he had her brother executed.

  “This appears straightforward.” Bryson rolled the parchment and returned it to the FedEx tube. “Why bring it here?”

  Christian gave him a floored look. “I thought you would want to see it. Longer.”

  “It’s from Gia’s library?”

  “Yes, and if this is authentic, then we’re dealing with more than a temporary pact with the Salem coven.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be authentic?” Bryson asked. “Who would forge it?” Even touching the parchment had been distasteful. The signatures had been in blood. All of them, including the witches. He didn’t want it near him. The blood was not theirs. It had been taken from a virgin. She, or he, would have been killed after they’d secured enough for the oaths. “It is hard to read the signatures, nearly impossible in some cases. We know Gia’s House to be evil, this only provides more proof. Aidan has seen it?”

  “He has.”

  “Then this could have waited. At least until the meeting.” Coming to his home uninvited was only done when no other means of communicating existed. For Christian to come here, now, after so many centuries, right when he had Isobel mere feet below them was impossible to credit to chance.

  Nothing is ever chance.

  Then how was it that after centuries I happened upon the entombment of my bonded?

  He handed the container back. Christian hesitated over accepting it. Maybe I’m seeing enemies everywhere because I am now the enemy. Still, he couldn’t shake his unease.

  “Why did you come here, Christian?”

  Face tense, the Vampire bounced the tube against his thigh. “I didn’t want to come to you with this, what with all your work on the council, but we’ve had no luck getting closer to finding Isobel.”