Текст книги "Darkest distiny"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“GO AND TATTLE, I DON’T CARE.” Moving toward the cat, I ducked and pressed a loud kiss on his giant silky head. “I’m leaving. Tell that nasty boss that I’m taking tomorrow off for sanity reasons.”

I’d hoped after our stolen softness in the dark last night, that my relationship with the master of this mansion might’ve improved.

But it hadn’t.

When I’d woken this morning, Lucien was nowhere to be found and the cloudy, drizzly day did its best to convince me it had all been a strange kind of dream.

By the time Whisper had appeared to drag me to work, I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t.

No sign that Lucien had slept beside me.

No note. No messages.

Even the apple that he’d snatched from my teeth and tossed across the room had been placed—with a single bite missing—on the kitchen bench.

I’d worked on my own for hours. Doing things for the sake of doing them all while hyper-focused on the smallest sound, waiting for Lucien to appear and continue our...whatever this was.

But he hadn’t appeared and I was sick of toiling.

My feet ached. My back smarted. My hands were chapped and shoulders twinged and all I wanted to do was take a nap.

I missed my lazy lifestyle.

I missed doing nothing whenever I wanted to do nothing.

I missed zoning out and letting life happen around me without having to participate.

Ever since I’d been dragged into Cinderkeep, I’d been forced to be an active participant, and it was getting rather troublesome.

“He hasn’t let me have a day off since I started working for him,” I complained to my manager, the panther, as I headed toward the kitchen. “I’ve been working for free all this time. I have a good mind to write up a contract with employment laws stating how badly he abuses me.”

Whisper snorted as he followed me into the kitchen.

“He won’t pay me, so...I’ll have to improvise.” Beelining for the cupboard holding all the delicious floral, fruity wine, I wrenched open the door and smiled at the mismatched earthen jars.

I pilfered the closest one. A cherry-blossom concoction that I’d tried last week and found to be pleasantly potent.

It would work well as a sleeping draught and hopefully, once I woke up, my constant headache would be gone.

Hugging the wine, I turned to face Whisper.

“See you around, tiny cat.”

My legs broke into a fast walk, eagerness to be alone making me rush.

If Lucien didn’t want to clear the air between us from yesterday, fine. I was stupid to expect anything different. But I wouldn’t let him manipulate me with emotions or work like an idiot.

It was either cold distance or thawing friendship.

Not both.

Whisper shadowed me as I left Lucien’s quarters and made my way down the labyrinth of corridors. Arriving at the octagon-shaped foyer, I hugged the wine jar, ridiculously excited at the thought of a heavenly afternoon doing nothing—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I squeaked and spun around.

The wine slipped from my arms.

It fell—

In a streak of black, Lucien darted forward and caught the cherry-blossom alcohol before it smashed to the marble floor.

Straightening, he glowered at me. “Stealing?”

I backed up a little. “I thought you were hiding from me.”

“And you thought you’d leave? Without my permission?”

“I’m tired.”

“So?”

“I’m not feeling very well.”

“And I am?”

I scowled. “This isn’t a competition.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Backing up, he smirked coldly. “You work for me, and you can only go when I say you can go.”

The urge to stomp my feet or sit down in protest made my head throb. “I’ve been working for weeks in a row. I deserve a day off.”

“Deserve?” His eyes narrowed. “That’s a strong word.”

Heat flared in my chest.

Was he deliberately being nasty again after the moment we’d shared last night?

Because if he was...ugh.

I didn’t have the capacity to suffer whiplash from my feelings. My headache would happily turn into a migraine and all these little moments where he left me wondering and questioning would only compound until I suffered a blackout.

Crossing my arms, my voice came out as cold as his, “I’ve cleaned your crypt of a palace until my fingers are raw. I’ve done every ridiculous chore you’ve thrown at me. I’ve even dusted your bookshelves multiple times—which, by the way, did not need dusting.”

His mouth curved into a mocking smile. “And in return, I’ve kept you alive and safe in my company. A fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I’d prefer a few days away from your company,” I muttered.

He stepped toward me, the wine cradled carelessly in one hand, his tall height casting me in shadow. Whisper pressed against my leg with a low rumble as if sensing the crackling chemistry flying between me and his master. “Are you saying you don’t like being around me or are you suddenly bored of living?”

I lifted my chin. “How can I like you when you refuse to open up to me? We had a moment last night, but you—”

“Ah.” He nodded, his eyes sharp and cutting. “So you are sick of living.”

I gave up.

“I’m sick of working, that’s for sure.”

Turning on his heel, he ordered, “Follow me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s Sunday.”

My pulse spiked. The way he said it. With icy finality and careful disinterest.

I didn’t need to ask what he meant.

It was one of those days.

“You know what?” I forced a smile. “I’ll take the housework—”

“That wasn’t a request.” He strode away, long legs eating up the corridor.

Whisper nudged me, urging me forward.

I groaned as my head pounded.

“Unpaid maid, part-time nurse, and blood-bank technician,” I muttered, following him reluctantly. “I definitely need a raise.”

* * * * *

“Draw another bag.”

“What?” I froze by the fridge after putting the usual two full bags on the moving shelf. Where it went or who came to collect it, I didn’t ask. Didn’t want to know. The thought of anyone touching Lucien’s blood made my stomach clench and chest feel tight.

In those many sleepless moments in my pavilion, I envisioned the men running his family’s company—men who were meant to protect and guide him—using his stolen blood on the very machines that Laura said refused to work without constant access to fresh Ashfall DNA and it made me angry. Very angry.

“You never do more than two,” I said warily.

“Today is an exception.” Lucien exhaled heavily from where he sat in the chair. “Do it.”

“No, I won’t do it. You’ve taken enough. Look at you, you need some sugar, a blanket, and a nap.”

The computer screens had turned off beside him the moment the harvesting had been completed. The barcoded stickers had been printed, and the draining tubes had been removed from his cuffs. No way would I repeat the process. How much blood could a person lose before they keeled over and died?

“Fuck, you’re disobedient.” His curse might’ve been cruel but his husky, tired voice made it sound almost pitiful.

“Are you only just realising this?” I headed toward him. “I consistently do the bare minimum of whatever you ask. It’s a talent.”

“Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Gritting his teeth, he grabbed another pre-prepared bag from the medical trolley, stabbed a new port line into it, then locked the other end onto the cuff on his left wrist.

“Wait!” I dashed forward, squeamish and slightly sick but also burning with a rush of unexplainable possessiveness. He’d made this my job. He’d forced me to do this ten times too many. He never took more than two bags, and frankly, with how white and cold and tired he was, I never wanted to see him take more. “What the hell are you doing?”

I went to stop him, but his hand locked tight around my wrist.

He shuddered as yet more blood flowed from his body and into the empty bag.

“Stop it.” I fought him but his hand merely tightened around me. His head tipped up, looking at me from the chair. His face was white and lips slightly blue but his gaze burned with embers. “Do you always talk back like this to your other employers?”

“I’ve never had other employers.”

He frowned. “How is that possible?”

“Why are you drawing more?” I twisted my arm, trying to get him to release me, hoping he wouldn’t realise I’d changed the subject.

“Your questions vex me.” Rolling his eyes, he swayed a little as if lack of blood made him dizzy. Swallowing hard, he let me go, then unhooked the line from his cuff.

His fingers slipped a little, his head tipping forward.

The line didn’t fully unhook, leaving the port open.

A spray of dark red arced through the air—splattering across my bare arms, my collarbone, my dress.

I choked.

He froze.

I gagged as crimson droplets soaked into the grey cotton of my dress like some sick artwork. My stomach lurched; my head went heavy.

I gagged.

Lucien’s gaze snapped to my face. “Don’t you dare throw up.”

I staggered back, hands trembling. “W-Why...what are you—” I couldn’t finish, glancing at the morbid mess covering me.

My throat closed.

His jaw worked as he yanked the line out and the port in his cuff closed. Blood covered his thigh from where he’d leaked but he didn’t seem to care. Standing carefully, he stepped toward me. “You’re shaking.”

I swallowed hard. “I-I’m fine.”

His gaze searched mine, his lips far too colourless. Reaching for my hand, he murmured, “Come. I’ll clean it off you.”

His fingers brushed my wrist.

A sting of electricity bit into me with the sharpest teeth.

And I couldn’t do it.

Spinning around, I raced toward the sink in the corner of the room. Wrenching on the tap, I washed my face, my neck, my chest, and arms with panicked swipes.

“Rook—”

I froze.

My name.

He said my name.

Dripping wet, and still streaked in his blood, I slowly turned to face him. “What did you just say?”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. Guilt? Amusement? Annoyance? “Nothing.” Turning away, he moved carefully toward the stainless-steel medical table by the fridge, the mostly empty blood bag dangling from his fingers.

With methodical precision, he slit the top with a sterile scalpel.

“What are you doing?” Snatching a fresh towel from the shelf, I scrubbed myself dry and drifted toward him, hating how deliberately he moved as if every action threatened to knock him out.

I knew that feeling.

I knew the strength it took to look normal all while your body forsook you.

Not looking at me, he opened a drawer and selected a small glass vial. “Hold this.”

I obeyed on instinct, allowing him to insert the vial into my hand. His jaw clenched as our skin touched again. His fingers trembled as another conduit of crackling current flowed hotly between us.

Narrowing his eyes, he tipped up the blood bag and poured out the small amount into the vial. The thick red river settled at the bottom.

I didn’t breathe as he tapped the final droplets into the small glass tube. If he got more blood on me...I honestly didn’t know what I’d do.

Tossing the empty bag into the biohazard bin, he stole the vial off me, screwed on the cap, and held it up to the harsh light of the fridge.

The gleam of scarlet, the knowledge that it was his—

“Here.” Grabbing my hand, he pressed the still-warm bottle into my palm.

I backed up so fast, I crashed into the bench. Looking at the awful gift, I stuttered, “W-Why would you give me this?”

His mouth twitched into a half-smile, drawn and tired. “Weren’t you just complaining I don’t give you a salary?”

I stared at him, trying to understand this man who must be clinically insane. “You’re paying me in blood?”

“It’s the only thing of value I have.” His eyes caught mine, something tight and secretive burning behind his exhaustion. “It’s worth a lot to those who want it.”

My skin crawled as I held something so intimately fundamental to a person’s survival, all while he reduced it to a currency that others would kill for. All I wanted to do was throw it away. Pour it down the sink. Stop him from having to submit to the monsters who trapped him here and drained him.

His forehead furrowed, sensing where my thoughts had gone. “If you throw that away, I’ll make you regret it.” Stepping into me, he leaned close. I wasn’t expecting him to get so near, to lower his head, to brush his lips against my ear.

All those needs. All that heat.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

I shivered as he whispered, “I’ve never given someone a gift before. Let alone something so sought after.”

Pulling away, he tucked black hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek and sending yet another bolt of connection directly into my heart. “Don’t make me angry by refusing it.”

“But...” I swallowed hard, my cheeks on fire with how near he was. How scarily tender. How he made me react and feel and ache. “I don’t have any need for it.”

“Yes, you do.” Backing up, he clutched his head as he swayed a little but then stood to his full height as if forcing himself to seem unaffected. He moved carefully toward the door. “It will help with your headaches and your other...complications.”

My mouth fell open. “You expect me to drink this?”

He reached the doorframe and leaned against it. His face darkened with annoyance as he turned to look at me. “Not all at once, obviously.”

“There’s nothing in this world that could get me to willingly ingest this—”

“You already have and it helped, didn’t it?”

“That was...” My mind filled with memories of his salty, metallic taste as he’d pressed his wrist to my mouth when I’d had a particularly bad attack. How Whisper had brought him to my rescue. How that was the first moment I’d felt something other than terror toward him.

“Just take a couple of drops and it will help.” Sagging against the door, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

I went toward him, drawn to his pain. “But how? How does it help? Who are you?”

His head tipped up and in the time it took for him to don his mask, I saw a possession instead of a person. A man who’d been forced to bleed himself for decades. A man who was hollow and hurting, full of scars and savagery.

He sucked in a breath as if he knew I’d seen him.

The real him.

Seen his defeat and despair after fighting on his own for so long, chained to an existence he couldn’t end and couldn’t escape.

When he finally spoke, it was so low I almost missed it. “It’s not who I am,” he whispered, “But what they’ve made me.”

Something in my chest ached so hard, I almost doubled over.

He wasn’t just dangerous.

He was devastating.

I suddenly didn’t care if he never let me in.

I didn’t care if he kept his walls up and refused to trust me.

I couldn’t stay here—I couldn’t live with him and spend time with him and see him without doing something.

I’d run away from life because it broke me—he broke daily just to survive.

I would help him.

Not out of pity but because somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d started to want him.

And he deserved to have at least one person care, even if I was utterly powerless to get him free.

Clearing his throat, he looked away, breaking the spell and gathering his temper as a shield. “Leave. I’m going to bed.” Looking at me with hooded eyes that couldn’t hide the depth of his exhaustion, he added, “Don’t disturb me. You do, and the next blood you’ll be covered in is your own.”

On that pleasant farewell, he left.

Chapter Thirty

“WELL, WELL...YOU’RE STILL NOT dead.”

I sighed heavily.

God, not again.

Almost every day these two accosted me. And every time I had to put up with their prying questions and snide remarks that if Lucien didn’t kill me soon, they would.

“Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep for an evening of stalking?” I asked with a tight smile, my fist snapping closed around the vial and tucking it behind my back as Evelyn and Lydia morphed out of the gloomy afternoon.

The bottle stung my palm as if it were venom, the red liquid sloshing with every tremble.

Even as stress made my head pound, the thought of drinking its contents...

I almost threw up.

Evelyn wore all black—no longer trying to hide her murderous intentions, while Lydia wore a slinky red dress, looking like the flames that danced in the gardens at night.

I needed a shower. A blazing, burning shower.

I swore a coppery tang clung to me, the splatters of Lucien’s blood on my dress thick in my nose.

The two girls smiled, their teeth blindingly white.

“Honestly, I have no idea what Lucien Ashfall sees in you.” Lydia drifted forward, circling me like a shark.

I wished Whisper had followed me instead of chasing after his master. On the days the panther escorted me back to my pavilion, these two never bothered me. But today...I had a horrible feeling my blood might be joining Lucien’s already covering me.

My headache increased to warning levels.

Evelyn drifted to a stop, smirking as Lydia continued to pace. “Are you really going to stick with the lie that you’re this rumpled and dirty from being his housekeeper?” Evelyn stabbed her finger into a particularly large blood stain on my chest. “Because we all know you’re serving him on your back.”

“Are you pregnant yet?” Lydia said from behind me. “You better tell us if you are because it might be the only thing that will save you.” Reaching between her breasts, she pulled out a tiny, jewelled knife. “We’re getting a little bored, you see.”

My breath caught in my throat; anxiety made me jittery.

I backed up, my spine colliding with one of the black torches that wouldn’t come to life until dusk fell.

Evelyn sucked in a breath, her eyes narrowing on my dirty dress. “Wait...is that blood?” Sudden ferocity filled her pretty face. “Whose blood? His or yours?”

“Might be the panther’s?” Lydia came to face me, eyeing up the red droplets I couldn’t hide.

Grabbing my arms, Evelyn twisted me left and right before shoving me around. “No wounds on you. So it’s his? That’s Ashfall blood covering you?”

My arms flung out for balance, the glass vial glittering in my palm.

“What’s that?” Lydia snatched my wrist.

“Nothing!” I cried out, my entire body flinching in pain as she dug her thumb into the webbing of my hand and pried the vial out of my fist.

Both girls swore under their breath. “What the fuck?” Evelyn spun to face me. “Is that his? Why do you have this? Did you hurt him and take it?”

My mind blanked.

I had no idea what to say or how to protect everything that happened between Lucien and me. If they knew he bled himself every three days and suffered the consequences, they’d burst in there as a horde and hurt him. I knew they would. But if I lied and told them I was the one who cornered him and made him give me his blood...how was that believable?

“I...”

“Tell us.” Lydia pressed her knife against my throat. “Right now. Or you die.”

Swallowing hard, I stretched on tiptoe, pressing against the torch, trying to avoid her blade.

Shit.

Think, Rook. Think!

“Better hurry up,” Evelyn murmured, accepting the vial as Lydia passed it to her. “After staying in this place for so long with nothing to do, we’re getting very, very anxious to get the show on the road, if you get our drift.”

My eyes flicked back to the black stone palace.

No movement from inside because Lucien only lived in the heart of it. Right now, he’d be passed out in his bed with Whisper guarding him closely. He wouldn’t know what happened out here. He’d never hear what I would say.

I could lie as much as I wanted or tell every droplet of truth, and yet...I found myself wanting to hoard everything.

They didn’t deserve to know a single thing about him. Fact or fiction.

“Speak,” Lydia hissed, her blade cutting me just enough to send a hot droplet rolling down my throat.

I strained away from her dagger, rising as high as I could go. My mind raced. I panicked. “It...it was a gift!”

Lydia slowly lowered her arm, her face contorting into a scowl. “A gift?”

Pressing two fingers to the small cut, I nodded and stuck as close to the truth as I could. “He...he overheard me complaining I wasn’t being paid for my labour. I guess he grew sick of it and...” I shrugged, waving at the vial in Evelyn’s grabby hand. “He gave me that for services rendered.”

The girls gawked at each other.

“He just gave you his blood?” Evelyn rolled the vial between her fingers. “He cut himself, put it into this bottle, and gave it...to you?”

There was a trap in that sentence, but I couldn’t see it.

I nodded like an idiot.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you even know the value of that? What his blood is worth? To the machines that require it to start? To the scientists trying to synthesise it?”

“I have some idea.”

“And you’re saying he just gave it to you for no other reason than covering an hourly wage?” She crowded me against the huge torch, her breasts touching mine. “You expect us to believe he’s that generous to you?”

My heart flurried. “Like I said...it was to shut me up.”

“With something this precious?” She strangled the vial. “Why?” She looked me up and down, her upper lip curling as if I’d crawled from the gutter. “What is it about you that he finds so tolerable? Why would he even care that you were whinging? You’re trapped in here at his mercy—he can make you do whatever he wants.”

“No idea.” I swallowed hard as nausea built. “If that’s all, I’ll just—”

“Shut up.” Holding the vial to the darkening sky, she studied it as if she didn’t believe me. The red thickness flowed in the glass as she turned it. The longer she studied it, the more her suspicion blended with greed. “Could you get more?”

My head pounded. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

Evelyn grinned and cupped my cheek. “Wrong answer.” She tapped me hard enough to be a slap.

I clenched my teeth as more pain drenched my system.

I fought against it and didn’t make a sound. I definitely didn’t retaliate.

But I needed to go—soon, if I didn’t want to collapse at their feet.

Lydia laughed and slipped the jewelled knife back between her breasts. “Get us another vial and we won’t kill you.”

Hugging myself, I shrugged as innocently as I could. “Why do you even want it? It’s not like it’s any use to you in here.”

“Does it look like we care what you think?” Evelyn snipped.

“Nope.”

“Glad you’re finally showing some intelligence after all this time.” Evelyn slipped the vial into her black leggings pocket. Backing up, she pointed down the path. “Run along then. Straight to bed, so you’re energised to clean like a good little slave tomorrow.”

Stepping past her, my ears rang as another wash of nausea squeezed my throat.

Damn stress.

Damn ridiculous nervous system.

“Don’t forget what you owe us.” Lydia waggled her fingers in goodbye. “Stay alive now, you hear? Work hard for him like a good girl.”

I didn’t bother replying as I ran.

I hadn’t wanted his blood.

I would never have drunk it.

But having it taken off me?

I shivered.

If Lucien found out, how much trouble would I be in?

If he knew the very girls trying to kill and seduce him had stolen the very reason he was trapped in this cage, how angry would he be?

And what would he do to me in retribution?