Текст книги "Heartless hunter"

Автор книги: Kristen Ciccarelli

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“I was cute?” she teased. “Am I not anymore?”

She couldn’t coerce the truth out of him with wine. But there were other ways to get information. Methods she’d used on plenty of unsuspecting young men.

The thought of using those same tricks on Gideon snarled her stomach in knots, but she’d run out of options. If she wanted to save Seraphine, she needed to find out where the Blood Guard was keeping her. Wherever that was, Gideon had likely put Seraphine there himself.

He turned the full force of his attention on her, and she shivered beneath the weight of it.

“Cute? No.” His eyes gleamed in the candlelight, taking her in. “No, I wouldn’t say that.”

She ran her fingers lightly down the edge of his lapel. “How would you describe me, then?”

Gideon stayed silent, watching her fingers.

Rune hated this part of the game. The flirtatious touching—which inevitably led to kissing—was always the last, most desperate step in obtaining information.

But it was a necessary evil. And Rune would do whatever was necessary to save more girls from sharing her grandmother’s fate. A fate Rune had delivered her to.

Gideon still hadn’t given her an answer.

“Well?” She pressed her hands to his chest, preparing to run them over his shoulders. “Surely, you—”

He reached for her wrist, stopping her. Rune looked up to find his attention fixed on the hand he’d captured.

Without speaking, his fingertips gently grazed her palm. Her heart climbed into her throat as he traced her fingers slowly, slowly, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he’d done it thousands of times before.

She swallowed, her skin sparking where he touched her.

Gideon leaned in, brushing his rough cheek against hers.

“Rune …” His breath was warm against her throat. “Do you want to go back?”

“Back?” she murmured.

“To the party.” His fingers traced down her neck and across her collarbone. “Your guests will wonder where we are.”

He was giving her an escape if she wanted it. Like a gentleman.

The thought startled her.

She shook her head. “Let them wonder. Unless …”

Rune pulled back a little, peering into his face. She saw now that his eyes weren’t black, but a deep, dark brown. “Do you want to go back?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “And do what? Make conversation with Bart Wentholt?” He scowled. “I have more stimulating conversations with my horse.”

It was so unexpected—Gideon Sharpe, making a joke—that a laugh burst out of Rune.

He let go of her hand, falling quiet. When her giggling subsided, she looked over to find a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Your laugh is like a fuse,” he said. “It lights you up.”

Rune’s heart thudded. No one had ever told her that before.

He doesn’t mean it.

Gideon Sharpe was a cold, heartless murderer. Not a softhearted suitor. He played the same game she did, and was more skilled at it than she’d thought.

Fear nipped at her.

Perhaps bringing him here had been a mistake.

Her gaze trailed over him: the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the corded muscles in his arms, the shadow of soon-to-be stubble darkening his cheeks. He was so much bigger than her. If he wanted to, he could easily lift her from this seat and carry her to the bed.

Rune froze.

Where had that thought come from?

She reached for the cup of wine, a little shaky, no longer caring about the spell it carried—she was already enchanted—and took another sip, careful to conceal the bottom with her cupped hands. She needed to calm her nerves. Their eyes locked over the lip of the cup, and Rune slowly lowered the wine into her lap.

As if knowing the effect he had on her, Gideon leaned in. Again, he lingered. Touching his temple to hers, running the backs of his fingers tenderly up her arm. Her skin blazed in his wake. His touch was stronger than the drink, pulling her under.

How is he so good at this?

Rune closed her eyes, trying to stay in control. “How much time do you have?”

“My next shift starts at dawn.”

His witch-hunting shift, she told herself. Emphasis on the witch-hunting.

When his thumb stroked the line of her jaw, Rune had to bite down on a whimper. It was almost as if he were a weapon specifically designed to compromise her.

“Hunting anyone in particular?” she asked.

“Perhaps.” His breath was hot on her neck.

“Who?”

He paused. “Why do you want to know?”

Rune swallowed. Was that suspicion in his voice, or flirtation?

Danger, danger, said her brain.

“What do you do with them, when you—”

Taking her chin gently in his fingers, Gideon turned her face toward his. His eyes were intense, his breathing shallow and uneven.

“Rune,” he said, pupils dilating. He looked hungry suddenly. Like a man who hadn’t eaten in years. “Less talking.”

He’s going to kiss me, she realized.

And the scariest thing was, Rune wanted him to. More than she wanted information, more than she wanted to rescue Seraphine … in this moment, she wanted to know how his mouth would feel against hers. If it would be soft or rough. If it would be as tender as his fingers, or if he’d give in to that ravenous hunger, taking his fill of her.

It shocked her out of her stupor.

Rune was no longer the mimic spider, luring her victim into a trap. She was inside her own trap … about to be devoured by her prey.

Desperate to extricate herself, Rune remembered the cup still in her hands.

Before Gideon completely overwhelmed her, she dumped her wine down the front of his suit.

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TWELVE RUNE

GIDEON SHOT LIKE LIGHTNING from the sofa. On his feet, he stumbled away from Rune, staring down at the dark stain seeping through his rare and expensive jacket.

Guilt pricked her like a pin.

“Oh, Gideon! I’m so sorry …” Rising from the love seat, Rune grabbed the wool shawl hanging off the back of her dresser chair. She felt shaky. Light-headed. “Clumsy me. Let me clean you up …”

He backed away from her, arms raised. “It’s fine. Please—don’t ruin your shawl.” He unbuttoned the jacket, shrugged it off, and held it out to inspect the damage.

“I’ll call for Lizbeth. Maybe if she soaks it—”

“What is going on here?” a voice exclaimed from the doorway.

Rune spun to find Verity entering the room, pearls gleaming from her neck and wrists. She looked windblown and out of breath, as if she’d heard Rune’s startled cry and, expecting the worst, ran to her bedroom.

At the sight of Gideon, Verity abruptly halted, staring like she’d caught them in the middle of something scandalous. Her heart-shaped mouth formed a shocked O.

“This appears to be my cue to leave,” said Gideon. Folding his soggy jacket over one arm, he caught Rune’s eye. “I’ll see myself out, Miss Winters. Good night.”

Before she could answer, he trod past a still-gaping Verity and disappeared into the hall.

When he was out of earshot, Verity hissed, “Are you out of your mind?”

She’d gone dark as a thundercloud.

“That”—Verity’s index finger sliced the air in the direction Gideon had gone—“was not the plan. Gideon Sharpe is not on your list!”

Rune crept to the door and peered out, watching the Blood Guard captain’s form recede down the hall. She was warm all over, her body humming with the memory of their close encounter. When Gideon was good and truly gone, she said, “That’s because he’s never shown interest.”

Verity went quiet. “Has he shown interest?”

Rune’s skin buzzed where Gideon had reached for her chin. She could still hear the hunger in him as he murmured her name.

Maybe?

Either that, or he was a cold, calculating master of seduction.

“I don’t know.” Rune closed the door and turned to her friend. “But he showed up tonight and gave me this.” She tugged the silk rose from her hair, wincing as several strands came with it, and held it out for Verity to see. “Suddenly, none of the names on your list were good enough. I had to improvise.”

Verity’s mouth thinned to a hard line. She took the flower as if it were a living rose, full of thorns. “Something’s amiss here,” she said. “Gideon Sharpe doesn’t court girls like Rune Winters.”

Ouch.

For some reason, that stung.

“Gee, thanks, Verity.”

Verity glanced up. “Oh, Rune. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Rune brushed off the comment. “Maybe he needs a rich wife. Maybe he gambles too much and is neck-deep in debt.”

“Or maybe he’s playing you,” said Verity.

Rune looked away, thinking of the enchanted wine, of the way his tracing hands knew exactly how to disarm her. He was experienced in a way Rune wasn’t. That had been clear.

Verity’s right. I’m in way over my head.

Gideon had turned the tables on her tonight. First, with the wine. Then, on the love seat. And finally, by refusing to give up Blood Guard secrets despite passionate distraction. None of her tricks had worked on him. Courting him, therefore, would mean enduring a high level of danger, but for how much reward?

Sighing, Rune walked over to the bed and fell backward, letting the duvet catch her in its downy softness. Closing her tired eyes, she said, “It seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

“It’s too much of a risk.” Verity sat down on the bed and took Rune’s hand, gripping it tight. Quietly, she said, “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Rune heard what her friend didn’t say: I lost my sisters. You’re all I have left.

It was true for them both. Rune and Verity had lost the people who mattered most and only had each other now. And Alex.

The bed’s promise of blissful tranquility called to Rune. She’d ridden hard through terrible weather to get to Seraphine. Every bone in her body ached for rest. The longer she lay here, the more likely it was to drag her under.

“Promise me you’ll reject him and choose someone safer,” said Verity.

Rune knew she should heed her friend’s wise advice. It only made sense to pursue someone easier and less dangerous than Gideon Shape. But if Gideon already suspected her, wasn’t courting him the best way to put those suspicions to rest?

“Reject who?” interrupted a new voice.

Rune’s eyes flew open. She raised herself to her elbows, groaning a little at the fight against gravity, and saw Alex enter the room.

“Your brother.” Verity’s hand was still clenched around the rose’s wire stem. She held it out to him. “Maybe you can talk some sense into Rune.”

Alex took the rose.

Sighing, Verity pushed herself from the bed. “I’ll see you both back at the party.”

If I can make it that far, thought Rune, falling into the covers once more.

Alex stared after Verity. “What’s with her?”

Rune made an inarticulate noise, too tired to explain.

Claiming the spot Verity had vacated, Alex lay down beside her. Even with several inches between them, Rune felt the warmth of his body. Together, they lay on their backs, staring at the stucco ceiling.

“Where’s Gideon?” Alex asked, voice tightening around his brother’s name. He held up the silk flower, contemplating it.

Rune winced, remembering their thinly veiled argument on the stairs earlier.

She and Verity hadn’t told him about the list of suitors, knowing he wouldn’t approve. Better to tell him once it’s over and done, Verity said when she first made the list. Remembering Alex’s interference tonight, Rune found herself inclined to agree.

Alex was fiercely protective of his older brother.

“Gideon went home.” Rune’s eyes closed. The comforting call of sleep lapped against her mind like waves against the shore.

A little voice inside Rune reminded her that her party wasn’t over. That she needed to get up, go downstairs, and resume her role as hostess.

Just a little rest, she told the voice. And then I’ll go down.

Silence filled the space between them as Alex went to that quiet place inside himself where he could collect his thoughts. Considering and arranging each one before showing them to the world.

There was a time when his long stretches of silence had unnerved Rune. She didn’t know what they meant and tried to fill the space with her words. But nearly a decade of friendship had taught her to love his silence, and now it was as comforting as his music.

When he finally spoke, she was closer to asleep than awake.

“Rune?”

“Mmmm.”

“Whatever you’re doing with my brother needs to stop.” The bed moved as he sat up, and Rune felt him reach down for her shoes, sliding one off, then the other. She wanted to tell him to keep them on, because she had to go back downstairs, but he continued before she could. “Hunting witches is Gideon’s obsession. If he discovers what you are, he won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Why does he hate me so much?” she asked, eyes still closed.

Rune felt him lie back down beside her, then turn his face toward her, his breath feathering her cheek. “My brother saw horrible things when he lived at the palace. Things that damage a person irreparably.”

She thought of Gideon refusing the wine earlier. There was a time when I needed it to survive.

She wanted to know more, but it was wrong to pry one brother’s secrets out of the other.

Alex hadn’t really answered her question, though. Gideon had disapproved of Rune since the day they’d met five years ago, long before this damage Alex spoke of. It seemed there was something unique about Rune that Gideon couldn’t abide.

It bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Alex stretched out his arm toward her. It roused Rune a little, and she lifted her head, letting him tuck his arm under her like a pillow.

“It’s too late for Gideon,” he said, turning her on her side and pulling her back against his chest. “You, on the other hand, can still be saved.”

If her eyes were open, she would have rolled them.

We’ve known each other for seven years, she thought, remembering when she first met Alex. She’d been eleven, and accompanying Nan to the Royal Library, which was a glass building full of every spell book in existence—before the Blood Guard burned them all and converted the building into their headquarters. As she wandered the aisles of books, Rune heard music coming from somewhere in the library. The song brimmed with emotion, and she’d searched every floor until she found the boy playing it.

In all those years, how many times have I needed saving?

She must have asked aloud, because Alex said: “It’s not the times you don’t need saving that I’m worried about. It’s the one time you’ll need it, and there will be no one to do it.”

If she hadn’t been so tired, she might have pinched his arm. Instead, she shifted closer, nestling into him. Breathing in the clean smell of his freshly ironed shirt, Rune let herself relax for the first time all day.

Alex was familiar.

Alex was safe.

“Rune?”

But whatever he said next was lost in the sound of her snoring.

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THIRTEEN RUNE

TWO YEARS PRIOR

THE DAY RUNE LEARNED she was a witch, she was hosting Alex’s sixteenth birthday. She’d spent months planning the event at Thornwood Hall—ordering the decorations, hiring the entertainment, and deciding on the menu weeks in advance.

By the evening, Rune was tired and achy from being on her feet all day. But when the dancing began, there was a new ache in her body: an unfamiliar cramping low in her abdomen. It was so painful, she couldn’t hold a conversation, never mind concentrate on the steps of a waltz. But Rune was the hostess; she was determined to see the evening through to the end.

It was only when a sudden wetness appeared between her legs that she excused herself and made for the bathroom. There, she hiked up her skirts, pulled down her underwear, and found …

Blood.

Black blood.

That couldn’t be right.

It had soaked through the cotton. So she took the underwear off and ran the tap at the sink, shoving them under the water. Then she grabbed the soap and started to scrub.

And scrub.

And scrub.

The stain wouldn’t come out. In fact, it was spreading unnaturally fast.

I’m not a witch, she thought, as black water circled the drain. I can’t be a witch.

The cramping worsened. Rune wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor and rock until it went away. This will be fine, she told herself. I’ll hide these in my purse and go straight home to Wintersea. No one will even know.

But when Rune glanced over her shoulder to check the back of her dress, she found the stain seeping through its yellow silk, too.

If anyone saw—or had already seen—it wouldn’t only be humiliating, but incriminating.

Her breath sharpened. Desperation drove her now. She peeled off her dress and held it under the tap, scrubbing at the black blood. Scrubbing until her fingers felt raw and her arms hurt.

But the stain didn’t lift, only spread across the yellow silk.

She couldn’t deny it any longer.

The magic of her first bleeding was turning her dress black.

I’m a witch.

The realization turned her cold.

The doorknob rattled. Rune jerked her head toward it, found the door opening, and quickly threw herself against it.

“There’s another bathroom on the second floor!” called Rune, her heart beating in her throat.

“Oh!” Lola Parsons said from the other side. “Sorry, Rune.”

Naked now, Rune pressed herself against the painted wood, waiting until Lola was gone before locking the door.

This bathroom didn’t have a window she could sneak out of, and the only door led to the hallway where Alex’s guests walked back and forth. With her clothes not only wet, but growing blacker by the second, she couldn’t leave.

She was trapped.

A knock on the door made her jump.

“Rune?” Alex called from the other side of the wood. “Everything all right? You’ve been gone for almost an hour.”

Alex, help! she wanted to say.

But that would require admitting the truth. And if she did, he’d report her. He might be her oldest friend, but he’d also murdered a witch queen and been rewarded for it.

Rune’s wet clothes slipped from her hands, landing on the floor with a splat.

“Rune?” Alex repeated.

“I’m n-not feeling well,” she managed.

The handle turned. But when Alex pushed, the lock held it shut.

She stepped back, fear zipping down her spine.

“Rune, let me in.”

“I’d really rather not,” she whispered.

“You’re scaring me,” he said. “I have the key, Rune. I can open the door myself, but I’d prefer that you do it.”

Knowing she couldn’t stay in here forever, knowing she had no other choice—if she was a witch, Alex was going to find out, one way or another—Rune grabbed one of the bath towels and wrapped it around herself. She brushed the tears from her cheeks, unlocked the door, and stepped back.

Alex opened it and the door swung in. He nearly stepped inside when the sight of her in nothing but a towel made him halt. “Why are you …?” Spots of pink appeared on his cheeks, and he seemed about to look away when he noticed her tear-streaked face—or perhaps her smudged makeup.

Finally, he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Rune backed up until her shoulders hit the wall, feeling like this was it, the end of everything—their friendship, her life. She sat down on the tiles, letting more tears fall.

“What is this really about?”

His attention snagged on her dress in a heap on the floor, then the underwear in the sink. The black stain still spreading across the fabric.

Rune saw the realization sink in.

His face fell. “Oh, Rune. No …”

He stood staring at the clothes, his hands curling into fists.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Stay here,” he said. “Don’t leave this room.”

Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out, locking her in.

He’ll report me now, she thought, lying down on the tiles, pulling her legs into her chest. She closed her eyes against the ache in her abdomen, weeping quietly, waiting for the Blood Guard to arrive.

She could open the door and make a run for it, but what would be the point? And where would she go? The Blood Guard would only hunt her down.

When the door opened, it was Alex who stepped inside, locking it again behind him. A bundle of clothes was tucked under one arm, and in his hand was a mug of steaming tea.

Rune didn’t bother sitting up.

“These are Emily’s,” he said, setting the clothes on the floor beside Rune. Emily was his cook. “This is also from her.” He set down the mug. “She says it will help ease the pain.”

She frowned, not understanding.

“I’m going to prepare a hot bath for you, all right?”

Rune pushed herself to a sitting position, watching him run the water in the tub. “Where’s the Guard?”

He cocked his head at her. “What?”

She cleared her throat. “The Blood Guard. Wh-when will they arrive?”

Alex stared at her like she’d gone mad.

“Rune. Your secret is safe here.” Letting the water run, he came back to her. Getting down on his knees, he touched her cheek. “You can sleep in the spare room tonight. And tomorrow morning, we’ll figure out what to do.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “If they find out, they’ll kill you, too.”

He smiled at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They can go right ahead.”

Rune flung her arms around him, clinging tightly. He pulled her close, holding her for a long time. It was there, in his arms, that Rune realized for the first time she could trust Alexander Sharpe with her life.

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