Текст книги "Darkest distiny"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter Fifty-One

I STAGGERED AGAINST THE WALL THE moment I closed the door.

I couldn’t control my heart rate.

Grabbing the sink, I bent over and glowered at myself in the mirror.

What the hell was that?

What the fuck did we do?

My fingers dug into the cold marble as blissful aftershocks continued to detonate in my blood.

I waited for the vitalsync core to punish me.

For Marcus to see how ragged my pulse was and knock me out like usual.

I braced for it.

I cursed it.

The thought of sleeping through my own rebellion made me want to howl and snarl and...

Nothing happened.

Or if it did, it didn’t affect me.

Straightening warily, I pulled aside my shirt.

A red light flickered.

By all accounts, I should be on the floor writhing in absolute agony.

But I wasn’t...

I narrowed my eyes at the hated piece of metal just waiting for it to trick me. But it just kept flashing, harmless and numb.

How?

Why?

A disbelieving laugh escaped. “That’s it?” I shook my head. “That’s the trick?”

I’d spent two decades suffering, yet I’d never once felt pleasure. True raw, sexual pleasure.

Until now.

The realisation smacked me hard.

All those nights I’d fought the torment—all those times I’d been forced to my knees in despair. If I’d actually lowered myself to jerking off, would I have had this level of release?

Or was it because of her?

The second I thought about her, my body tightened as I relived every touch, every rock and squeeze and clench.

I’d never felt anything like it.

Never wanted to.

But now, I didn’t think I’d survive without doing it again and again and again.

Fuck, I wanted her—

Whisper scratched at the door, jerking me back into urgency.

If I wanted her, then I had to focus.

I didn’t have time to waste.

I’d committed to seeing this through and everything else would have to wait.

Because today was the day.

By tonight, I would be free...or dead.

And the very execution of my breakout relied entirely on the very woman who’d just scrambled my heart, set fire to my blood, and blown apart my very existence.

All those rules of never going near a girl still stood.

All my promises that I would die a virgin—so I never ran the risk of cursing another like me, remained.

And yet...

If I managed to get out tonight.

If I somehow won after twenty years of slavery?

Well then...

My reward would be her.

As often as she’d have me.

Chapter Fifty-Two

“ARE YOU FEELING OKAY?” I WHISPERED, unhooking the last blood bag from his cuffed wrist and sticking the printed barcode onto it.

I really hadn’t the mental capacity to deal with bleeding him today.

Not after what happened between us.

Not after what we did.

But it seemed as if I was the only one still utterly drunk on need because Lucien had returned to being cold and callous.

There was something about him that set my teeth on edge. A level of tension that hadn’t been there before.

“I’m fine.” Resting his head against the recliner beside the computers that’d already sent notice that a fresh batch of Ashfall blood was ready to collect, he sighed heavily. Blue painted his lips again and exhaustion muted him, making my heart flutter.

Resting the back of my hand on his forehead, I cursed the contradiction of him.

His eyes flew wide, locking onto mine. “What are you doing?”

I couldn’t look away, even as I dropped my hand.

His lips might be blue, but his skin was fiery.

His face looked almost corpse-like in the harsh lighting, but there was an undercurrent too. Something that made him seem more alive, more dangerous than ever before.

“Well?” he demanded.

“I was checking you don’t have a temperature. You look like you’re coming down with something.”

“What could I possibly be coming down with?” He smiled tightly. “No viruses exist in here and no one gets close to me but you.”

My stomach clenched, ridiculously pleased that I was the only one to touch him, pleasure him.

“Bleeding yourself every three days isn’t sustainable. It’s killing you—”

“You’re calling me weak?” His energy went sharp, daring me to call him out on his suffering.

God, I wanted to.

I wanted to pick a fight with him.

To lay claim to him, to demand he finish what he started back in his bedroom, but...my headache hadn’t receded and no matter how much water I’d splashed on my face in the bathroom, I couldn’t seem to rid myself of the feverish heat he’d caused.

If he didn’t want to talk about what happened, then fine.

Tomorrow was another day.

“I’m not calling you anything,” I muttered, carrying his horribly cooling blood to the fridge. Placing it on the rocking shelf, it looked like a snack for a vampire.

A wave of nausea made my skin prickle.

I slammed the glass door and spun to face him. “Is that everything? Can I go?”

“No, you can’t.” Grabbing the armrests, he climbed unsteadily to his feet. “Today isn’t over.”

I frowned because usually on the days I bled him, he’d spend the rest of it in bed.

Did that mean he wanted me to join him in bed?

I swallowed hard as hope—

“Come with me.” His footsteps sounded as lethal as Whisper’s panther paws as he headed toward the cupboard full of nasty implements, needles, and vials. Noises echoed—the tear of plastic, the clink of metal, followed by a masculine hiss.

I blanched as he hooked up yet another blood bag and gritted his teeth as glossy dark red siphoned into the empty bladder.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Dashing toward him, I grabbed his forearm, trying to unhook the line from his silver cuff. His bare arm stung my fingertips. The rolled-up cuff of his black shirt was far too sexy.

Pushing me away with his free hand, he huffed, “Grab me a vial.” He cocked his chin at the drawer by my hip, his voice as dry as ash. “Do it.”

I wanted so badly to refuse because I knew what he was doing, and it made guilt settle like a boulder in my chest.

Gritting my teeth so I didn’t say something I’d regret, I did as he asked and grabbed the same sort of vial that Evelyn and Lydia had stolen from me.

“Unhook me and empty the bag into the bottle.” He shoved his arm out, blood still flowing. I wanted to argue. To cringe away. But I wouldn’t let him bleed any more than he already had.

With now-practised hands, I grabbed his thick cuff and pinched the sterile coupling. Twisting counterclockwise, the seal broke with a soft click. A few droplets of blood smeared the silver, but I dabbed them up with gauze.

Nausea gushed through me as he swayed backward, planting a palm against the side table. Needing to distract myself—so I didn’t wrap my arms around him—I blurted any stupid question. Mainly to stop myself from begging him to talk to me. To demand to know what we were now, after we’d...you know.

“The permanent access points in your veins. How do they work?”

He chuckled under his breath, sounding so tired he was almost drunk. “Why? Is that vial not enough? Are you trying to figure out how to get more the next time I’m unconscious?”

I didn’t even have the capacity to scowl or scold him. It took all my willpower not to throw up as I cut the top of the blood bag and squeezed his blood into the small glass bottle. “Forget it.”

Was he deliberately putting distance between us again? Because it was working.

He watched me transfer the blood, his hand massaging his forearm above that nasty cuff. I expected him to stay quiet—to drag out the scratchy silence like he was so good at, but he murmured, “Most permanent ports are on the chest, close to the heart.” His lips twisted. “However, my heart is already host to a different kind of device.” Holding both hands up, he shrugged. “The wrists and forearms have multiple veins in them. The stabilising cuffs mean I can’t remove or accidentally dislodge their access.” He dropped his arms. “They can drain my heart blood whenever they damn well want, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

His voice turned arctic, his hands balling.

I shuddered. “I’m suddenly very sorry I asked.”

“You’re squeamish.” He laughed again before pinching the bridge of his nose as if he suffered the same headache I did. “How ironic.”

I didn’t know what was ironic about that.

And I didn’t want to stay in this horrid place any longer.

Screwing on the lid, I planted the vial full of thick red liquid in front of him. “All done. Can I go now?”

Lowering his arm, he stood to his full height and captured my eyes with his. “Drink it.”

My jaw fell open. “Drink it. What, now? When it’s still...warm?” I swallowed hard, fighting, fighting, fighting against the urge to be sick.

“I gave you some straight from the source last night. This is no different.”

“If you gave me some last night, why do I need more?” I swallowed hard. “I feel fine.”

“Liar. You’re wobbling all over the place. And I need you strong.”

“I’m fine.”

“Drink it,” he commanded coldly.

“No way.” I backed up, shaking my head. “I can’t.”

“Anyone else would gulp that back in a heartbeat—or sell it to the highest bidder.”

“Then keep it.” I eyed up the sink to toss it away, regardless of the waste. “I don’t—”

He stepped into me, caging me against the cupboard. “You already know it helps with whatever issues you have. You also already know it’s the only painkiller I can offer you.” Snatching it up, he forced it into my grip. “Drink it.”

“I’m good.” I tried to give it back. “Thanks, though.”

He slammed both hands on the cupboards, trapping me against his body. “What if I insist?”

I clutched the tiny bottle, flinching at his closeness. “I still won’t agree.”

His head tipped down, his forehead almost kissing mine. “What if I held you down and poured it down your throat?”

I tried to morph into the cupboard, his presence burning me alive. “Then you’d probably end up wearing it because I’d throw it all back up again.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

My heart stopped beating.

The moment stretched on and on and on, but then he finally nodded, pushed away, and stepped back wearily. “Fine.” He raked a hand through his thick hair. “I won’t force you because I know what that’s like.” His eyes snapped to mine, his face filling with harsh command. “But you will keep it on you at all times. If you become borderline catatonic, then you take it. Do you hear me?”

My heart translated his order as concern, all while common sense tried to keep me in– line. “What are you up to? Why do I get the feeling something’s wrong?”

He sucked in a breath as if fortifying himself. “Nothing’s wrong. Not yet anyway.”

“Does that mean something is going to be wrong?”

“Possibly. That’s why I can’t have you being a hindrance.”

“A hindrance?” I frowned, studying him. He seemed so different today and not just because he was dealing with the aftereffects of blood loss. He almost seemed resigned to something but also tightly wound as if going to battle. “I can’t do this anymore. What aren’t you telling me? What the hell is going on?”

He shot me a look and moved as steadily as he could toward the desk tucked on the office side of this strange hospital room. Without a word, he ducked, wrenched out the bottom drawer, and placed it on the tabletop. Angling it sideways, he ran his hand beneath it and gritted his teeth as he found whatever he was looking for.

The sound of tape ripping filled the room as he pulled off a small silk pouch from the underside and pocketed it.

I stepped toward him, my ears ringing thanks to rapidly building stress. “What’s that?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Leaving the drawer on the desk, he headed toward one of the filing cabinets. His gaze flashed to mine. “Did you ever take that silver pill Whisper delivered to you that first night?”

“What pill...?” A memory of a tin case and an oversized glossy silver pill filled my mind. “Oh no...” I shook my head. “I didn’t.”

“Do you have it with you?”

“It’s on the bedside cabinet in—”

“Forget it.” Opening the top drawer, Lucien yanked out my rucksack.

“Hey.” My eyes popped wide. “You have my bag—”

“Catch.” He threw it to me.

I caught it as he strode to the door.

“Come along,” he barked.

“Where are we going?” I slung the familiar tatty strap onto my shoulder, tucking the vial of blood into the small side pocket.

“To kill someone.”

My feet tripped over one another. “Eh...shouldn’t you be going to bed? You need to sleep like you always do after an afternoon in here.”

“I can rest later.”

“Murder is that important to you?”

He looked at me as he yanked open the door and prowled down the corridor. “I thought you’d learned by now that murder is my favourite pastime.”

I shuddered as Whisper appeared from wherever he’d been, attaching himself to Lucien.

I chased after both of them, my nose wrinkling. I really, really didn’t like his energy. Didn’t like the overall tension or that Whisper kept flicking looks between us as if he sensed it too.

Why had Lucien given me back my things?

Who was he going to kill?

Hadn’t he already gotten rid of the assassins?

I really didn’t want to watch another woman die today.

Besides, it was daylight.

He was a creature of routine.

He should be returning to his window seat and a good book if he wasn’t going to bed.

Yet none of this made any sense.

Was it my fault?

Had I disturbed him that much by coming on his hand and then giving him the same release?

Because...that wasn’t entirely my fault.

It’d taken two to play—

Did he regret it?

Did he hate me for overstepping, and I’d destroyed whatever peace he’d found?

By the time we stepped into the impressive foyer, I was a wreck. A headachy, teary mess who really needed a nap.

Lucien groaned as he wrenched open the double doors and thunder rumbled. Clouds piled on top of one another, turning white to stormy grey.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “It can’t rain. Not yet.”

“Why can’t it rain?” I asked, coming to join him as he stood on the portico. Whisper padded into the garden, his hackles prickling at the incoming bad weather.

Lucien glowered at the heavens as if he could personally smite the weather god. “They won’t fly the drones if it’s pelting.”

“The drones?” I scowled. “Why do you want them to spy on you any more than they already do?” An awful prickle ran down my spine. “What the hell are you up to?”

Turning to face me, he grabbed my wrist and jerked me into him. Our bodies slammed together. My free palm landed on his chest for balance as he smiled a vicious little smile. Bowing over me, he whispered in my ear, “You sound anxious, Rook. What’s the matter? Are you going to faint on me again?”

Rook.

He called me Rook for the second time.

That shouldn’t excite me nearly as much as it did.

I struggled in his hold as my heart went berserk.

I was seconds away from pouncing on this damn man.

I needed to know where I stood with him.

I needed him to kiss me, put me out of my misery, and tell me everything would be okay.

“Let go of me.”

“I told you, you should’ve taken my blood.” He let me go with a tight smirk, almost as if he’d shut down all his emotions in preparation for something I couldn’t see. “There’s still time.”

A shockingly terrible thought filled my head as he descended the steps as steadily as he could. I trailed after him in a horrified daze.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Would he?

“Are you...” I swallowed hard. “Are you going to kill me? Is that why you’re acting so weird and wanting me to be pain free? I’m the one you’re going to kill?” I lost control of my tongue. “If it’s because of what happened, it never has to happen again. We can just stay friends. Forget everything else, okay? You don’t have to kill me.”

Stopping at the bottom of the steps, he smiled and held out his hand like a handsome suitor from a different dynasty. “Come here.”

Against my control, I went to him—almost as if I didn’t have a choice. As if he’d hijacked my motor control and manipulated me so completely.

My hand slipped into his. Cold to hot. Shaky to savage. His dark eyes tightened, the depths full of misery and chaos. “You’re right that someone is going to die today.”

I gulped.

I didn’t have the courage to ask who.

Wrapping his fingers tight around mine, he dragged me away from the palace. Down the gravel pathway, past rose bushes and sleeping torches, around fountains and over quaint bridges. Whisper kept pace, guarding us, despite not seeing any women. I supposed they were all tucked beneath a dry roof, preparing to ride out the storm.

We kept walking until the mosquito-like buzzing of drones echoed in the sky.

Four black smudges darted over the wall in the distance, skimming under the heavy clouds as if racing against the rain.

“What’s...what’s going on?” I squeaked as he stopped in the small space where maple trees had been planted in a pentagram, framing the white gravel with their auburn pretty leaves. “You’ve got to tell me before I go insane.”

My head throbbed with fear and panic and stress.

Ignoring me, Lucien glanced at Whisper. “You stay in the shrubbery until I say otherwise.” His eyes narrowed on the cat’s. “Do not try to intervene, no matter what happens.”

“Intervene?” I asked as the drones arrowed directly for us. “Why would he intervene?”

“Don’t ask questions,” he snapped. “Your only job is to stay awake.” He looked me up and down. “Is that even going to be possible for you?”

“It might prove difficult if you keep being mean to me. What the hell are you up to?”

“Keep your voice down,” he ordered. “And mean?” He snorted. “I haven’t even started yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just control your issues and do what I say.” He pointed at the panther. “You, too. I know what I’m doing.”

The drones zipped far too fast, sending goosebumps down my back as Lucien muttered quietly, “If you stay calm, you help my pain. I don’t know how it works but...I really need you to stay calm, alright?”

A laugh escaped me, the weight of my rucksack like a mountain. “Don’t you think I’ve spent years trying to teach myself how to do that? I suck at it.”

“Yes, well, now you’ve run out of time so just do it.”

The drones hovered above our heads like little alien ships.

I glowered at them because why did they even care we’d come out for a pre-storm stroll?

Was it because Lucien hardly ever went out during the day?

Because his appearance was a novelty?

Or because the men operating them sensed what I did?

That something was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

Lucien’s fingers tightened around mine until he cut off my blood supply.

And only once the four machines hovered low enough to study every eyelash, did he yank me into his arms and whisper into my ear, “I’m worn out, Rook. I’m tired of pain and after a lifetime living like this, you had to come along and mess everything up. I’m going to break with how much you tempt me. Eventually, I’m going to fuck you, and I will never allow that to happen while I’m trapped in here.”

Pulling back, his face returned to the man I’d first met. The man who slaughtered and didn’t care. Cupping my cheeks, his fingers trembled just a little as he pulled me forward and murmured ever so quietly, “They threw you into my nightmare, but what they don’t know is...you’re the key I’ve been waiting for all along. If this works, then I’ll extract every debt they owe me. I’ll steal every droplet of blood they took from me. It’s about fucking time I made them pay.”

Trailing his lips over my cheek, he wrapped his arm around my waist, fusing me to him as thoroughly as he had this morning. “So yes, someone is dying today, but...that someone isn’t you...”

Pulling back, he pressed his forehead to mine and breathed, “It’s me.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

“W-WHAT?” I STAGGERED BACKWARD.

He went with me, lashing his arm around my waist again and jerking me close.

What was he talking about?

What’s going on?!

A mad smile twitched his mouth as he caught my eyes and dragged me into him.

I fought him.

I pummelled his chest with my fists, needing to understand. Needing him to talk to me.

“What are you doing?” I panted as his gaze locked on my lips. “What are you—”

“I’m ensuring they won’t kill you once it’s done.” His fingers locked around my nape, tugging my loose hair.

“Done?” My heart shot into my throat. “What’s done?”

His lips crashed over mine, shutting me up with a kiss.

Not gently.

Not kindly.

He kissed me as if the sky was about to fall, along with the fat raindrops splashing almost on cue. He squeezed the back of my neck and held me impossibly close, turning his head and bruising our lips as if sharing the most passionate of kisses.

But it wasn’t real.

I moaned at the fakery of it.

The overdone callous performance.

The hate pouring off him.

I went stiff in his embrace.

He wasn’t kissing me because he wanted to.

He kissed me for the drones—for the guards watching us on their screens. He kissed me because of an agenda I still didn’t understand. For a goal he was determined to reach.

I clawed at his waist, his voice echoing over and over in my head. “It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.”

If he planned to die today, then how would he complete his revenge?

How would he get out?

How did he plan on enraging his keepers by doing the one thing they wanted him to do?

They wanted him to be sexually active. They wanted the repercussions of pregnancy—

His hand landed on the neckline of my dress. The delicate fabric gave in to his fierce tug, sliding down my shoulder and baring the top of my breast.

“Wait—” I panted against his hard mouth.

In answer, his fingers tightened in my hair. His lips softened just a little. His eyes flashed open, checking to see we were still being watched, before a low growl rumbled in his chest and he gathered me painfully close.

I gasped as he crushed me.

I moaned as he hurt me.

His tongue speared past my parted lips, plunging deep into my mouth.

And the world ruptured.

He might’ve kissed me for show but...his tongue.

His taste.

His heat and power and violence.

I snapped.

Digging my nails into his waist, I stroked his tongue with mine.

His reaction was instantaneous.

The pantomime shattered, exploding into reality as he snatched me up and kissed me.

Properly.

Passionately.

With all the pain and pleasure we suffered.

His hand gripped my nape as his mouth opened wide and devoured me.

He went from a man vowing never to touch me, to a beast intent on eating me alive.

His need and breath and fury tangled into one impossible collision. The world spun; the maple leaves blurred to blood-red streaks. My pulse drummed against his, two wild hearts in sync for one treacherous moment.

The impact of his kiss stole the air from my lungs and left my pulse thrashing in my veins. I moaned as he angled his mouth, kissing me deeper, harder, trying to pour pain directly into me.

The orgasm he’d given me wasn’t enough.

That had just been a tease—a temptation to the real violence of how much I needed him.

My very existence shrank to the slick, hot slide of his tongue, the press of his body, and his small, involuntary groan.

He set fire to my out-of-control heart.

He kissed me messily, madly—as if this was yet another first for him just like it was a first for me.

And that knowledge—the history of why I was the only girl he’d ever kissed or touched or trusted threatened to break down all my walls.

My fingers found his shirt collar, fisting it and holding on for dear life, all while pulling him into me and begging for more.

I licked him.

His breath caught, a shudder quaking down his spine.

He kissed me harder.

We lost ourselves as the heavens opened.

Rain crashed over us.

There was no rhythm, no mercy—just heat and tongue and the brutal scrape of teeth.

The drones didn’t matter. The storm didn’t distract us. There was only this madness. This crazy, chaotic consummation.

Something inside me cracked open, flooding me in molten waves.

My fingers clawed at his shirt, his neck, needing, needing, needing.

He growled into my mouth, low and helpless.

My stomach tangled. My core clenched.

And—

Then he was gone.

Staggering backward, he panted hard. His hand slapped over the disc on his heart, bending forward as if it had dosed him with a brutal punch of pain. For a heartbeat, he just stared at me—his lips glistening, chest heaving, pupils blown wide like he was seconds away from throwing me on the ground and fucking me.

Time hung suspended between us.

Gritting his teeth, he stood to his full height, battling agony and weakness, before reaching into his pocket. His eyes shuttered with unreadable curtains, snuffing out the fury, the lust, the yearning.

Tripping into me, he grabbed my hand and smacked the dagger into it before wrapping my fingers tightly around the hilt.

I looked down, dazed and horrified.

The weight of the knife was familiar and dreadfully sharp.

Comprehension slammed back into me.

I went to drop it but he whisper-snarled, “Let go of it and I’ll snap your neck right here.”

My gaze shot to his. “What...what do you expect me to do?”

His gleaming wet lips twisted into a sneer.

He broke the very same heart he’d just kissed half to death as he ordered, “Kill me, of course.”

To be continued in BURNING BLOOD...coming out in a few weeks!

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