Текст книги "Darkest distiny"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Three

I WOKE UP STARVING.

The adrenaline and stress of yesterday had left me with a hollowed-out feeling. Whisper also hadn’t come to visit me in the night, which made me fear that Lucien still wasn’t well.

The urge to check on him caught me by surprise.

What did it matter to me that he was hurting?

He was a stranger. An enemy.

He was the reason I was in this mess.

Not really though...

He wasn’t the one who’d tested my blood and thrown me in here.

In a way, we were allies and all the men outside Cinderkeep were the true villains.

I sighed, unable to even convince myself that I wasn’t in humongous trouble where he was concerned.

My gaze went to the gravel-rash that’d long since healed on my palm. The men who’d trapped me here under false pretences had stolen my DNA to see if I was compatible with him. At the time, I hadn’t understood, and I still had far too many unanswered questions, but...if his blood was different from other humans, I supposed it made sense that they’d need to find someone with a similar make-up?

But what does it mean that they chose me?

Were we similar?

We seemed to share an unnatural habit of passing out at random times but that only meant we sucked at life in general, not that we were special.

My stomach growled again, forcing me from my bed and into the white-tiled shower.

Once I’d dressed in a cream floaty dress that didn’t dare cling to me too tightly, I went straight to the wine cupboard.

When the pantry and fridge had been restocked the other day, the wine hadn’t been replaced, and even though I knew the shelves were bare, I still had to check.

My plans for the day—after submitting to awful servitude yesterday—included lying in the garden, soaking up the wonderful sunshine, and taking a long, restorative nap once I’d devoured a picnic for one.

But...no wine meant my nap might not be as deep and as long as I hoped.

Fine.

Closing the cupboard, I glanced around for my flip-flops then decided to take a page out from the master of this Cinderkeep’s playbook and go barefoot instead.

I knew where there was wine.

In his kitchen.

There were multiple bottles of every kind.

So what I was about to commit daylight robbery? So what I might be using the excuse of wine-hunting to check on him? So what I was worried about him and felt responsible?

Striding from my pavilion, I squinted against the bright sun and made my way through the impressive estate. Staying on the thick, carpet-like grass, I made my way to the black stone palace in the distance.

All around me, birds flitted and sang, bumblebees darted and buzzed, and the many little streams running like veins from one central heart babbled and bubbled. If I was a painter, I might be inspired to capture such countryside perfection.

But painting required far too much concentration.

I wasn’t lying when I said I was lazy.

Yes, I had to avoid all kinds of stress, but I genuinely enjoyed just watching the world go by rather than participating in it.

The moment I had some medication in the form of apple-blossom wine, I would spend the rest of the day giving my poor hands time to heal from their blisters. However, the moment I rounded a hedge of camellias, all those plans popped like bubbles.

Slamming to a stop, my toes dug into the grass.

Most of the women—at least the ones still alive—lounged in a sun-drenched garden like smug cats. Some sat beneath the shade of an intricately carved sala, while others lay on plaid blankets in full light.

Platters of fruit and cheese waited to be devoured. One blonde girl poured glasses of icy liquid, the pitcher dripping in the morning summer heat.

My mouth watered.

They all went deathly silent the second they saw me.

“Well, well,” a nameless girl purred. “You were telling the truth, Evelyn. She is still alive.”

“Didn’t think you’d survive past the first hour,” another added, smirking over her glass. “After seeing how you turned catatonic in the ballroom that first day, every breath you take is through sheer dumb luck.”

Laughter rippled.

I crossed my arms and tried to look tougher than I was. “Morning to you too.”

“Morning?” one scoffed. “It’s practically noon.”

The chorus of giggles stung like nettles.

Shifting to leave, my gaze caught on a girl with mousy brown hair, naturally pink lips, and stunningly blue eyes. She didn’t join in the others laughing, sitting on the outskirts, knees tucked up and arms wrapped around herself. Her no-nonsense jeans and white t-shirt said she might fall into the same category I did: mistake.

Giving her a quick smile, I padded away from the group only—

The girl shot to her feet.

The others hurled their hate in her direction instead of mine.

“Remind us again how you’re still alive?” A couple of girls giggled. “You’re such a waste of space, Laura.”

“You’re still wearing the same clothes as when you were thrown in here. Have you been living under a bush?” More laughter.

“I’m guessing you smell so bad now, even the panther refuses to eat you.”

Laura blushed, her shoulders rounding as she hugged herself.

She looked on the verge of tears. Afraid and alone and I couldn’t help myself.

“Hey.” Marching into their midst, I scowled. “You can be mean to me but not to others who ended up here by accident.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I heard Rina killed one of you ‘accidents’ a few nights ago. Can’t have you distracting Lucien Ashfall, now can we?” More snickers.

“Wait...” I swallowed hard. “You killed a girl?”

“So what?” A curvy woman smirked. “We came here for a reason, and we won’t let any of you lottery cards ruin it.”

“So what your blood got you in?” another girl with a thick brown ponytail muttered. “No matter where they found you, the idea that a bumbling, clueless idiot will attract Lucien is ridiculous. No, it’s worse than ridiculous, it’s downright insulting.”

“You’re all nasty pieces of work.” I glowered at them even as my headache turned borderline. “I suddenly have no sympathy for you if Lucien decides to remove the trash.”

The cattier girls sat upright and almost hissed. “Careful, accident. Your blood might be compatible, but it can still be drained.”

“Leave us alone.” Grabbing Laura’s hand, I dragged her away from the hate-filled picnic. The girl trotted beside me, wincing as the others whispered, not-so-quietly, about how we were taking up valuable resources and if Lucien didn’t kill us soon, perhaps it would fall to them to do something about it.

Goosebumps shot down my spine at the thought.

I probably shouldn’t have engaged with them.

I wouldn’t last long if the girls all turned on one another. I’d be slaughtered in my sleep and wouldn’t even know I’d been killed.

“Thank you,” Laura said softly as I let her go but kept walking. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” I gave her a smile, nausea from standing up for her making me pay a little. “But I couldn’t leave you there to be hounded. I don’t do well with bullies.” The faster the adrenaline of what I’d done wore off, the stronger my headache became.

God, couldn’t I be free from pain just for a little while?

Rubbing my temples, I grimaced.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Hiding my discomfort and hoping it would fade instead of getting worse, I slowed my fast pace. “You were caught up in this too?”

“Yep.” She sighed heavily, rubbing her arms even though the sun was surprisingly warm. “I was in London visiting the flea markets to furnish the studio apartment I’ve just moved into. My ex dumped me after emptying my bank accounts and...I’ve been feeling rather sorry for myself. So when a guy approached with an invitation and dangled the opportunity to enjoy a free spa weekend, I took it. Stupidly.”

“Hey, if you’re stupid, then I’m an idiot.” I smiled. “You just hoped this place would be something that could cure your grief and make you feel a bit better. Me? I was just greedy.”

She met my smile with her own. “I’m Laura Milay.”

“Rook Snowden.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That’s an interesting name.”

It’s better than my pseudonym.

I nodded. “My parents wanted something different.”

“Is it related to anything?” Her nose wrinkled. “The crow perhaps?”

“Who knows?” I shrugged with a smile.

I’d grown used to the way people reacted to hearing my name for the first time. Sure, I had jet black hair and matching dark eyes, but either naming me after an ominous bird or a castle-like chess piece, didn’t really make much sense.

Unlike Lucien...that’s a nice name.

I froze.

Wait. Where the hell did that thought come from?

“Where are you going?” Laura asked, her face hopeful. “Do you want some company?”

My cheeks pinked. I could lie but I sucked at it, and this was the first time I’d felt a sense of togetherness with someone in here—not including the monster in the middle of this nightmare’s web.

I didn’t want to ruin whatever friendship could exist before it could begin. Besides, if she was another mistake like me, didn’t that mean we had an obligation to stick together? That I owed it to her to ask Lucien to save her life, just like he was saving mine?

Perhaps he needs a second maid?

His house was certainly big enough.

“If you’re alright on your own,” I said. “I’m going to steal some wine from the main house. Once I’m back, we could meet somewhere and share a drink if you wanted?”

What I really wanted was some alone time and a nap, but she looked so miserable and afraid and...safety in numbers.

“The main house?” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re that familiar with the Ashfall castle to call it a house?”

“Not really.” I laughed.

“Do you know anything about him? About why we were brought here?”

I kept walking toward the hulking palace in the distance. She followed me, leaving behind the other gossiping women. “I’m beginning to learn a little, but I still have many, many questions.”

“You can ask me if you want.”

I caught her eyes. “I thought you said you were here by bad luck.”

“Oh, I am.” She shook her head with a wry grin. “But I’m also incredibly nosy and with nothing to do this week—apart from unravel the mystery of why I’m here and who’s trapped in here with us, I’ve been bugging the others—or at least the ones who will talk to me—with lots and lots of questions.”

My interest immediately piqued. “Oh?” Taking her elbow, I guided her toward a wrought iron bench overlooking a small pond. The crystal surface was broken by the occasional bubbles thanks to the black koi carp darting below. My need for wine and lunch paused thanks to my need for answers. “Can you give me the highlights?”

“Sure.” She sat down. Our knees touched as we turned to face each other. “Honestly, part of it sounds so crazy, I wouldn’t be surprised if the others made up stories just to mock me but from what I know...”

I leaned in, my ears almost ringing for information.

“According to them, Lucien Ashfall used to be the crown jewel of Brimstone Industries. His grandparents—the founding members of the company—figured out how to use the energy of volcanic activity and used magma to create clean, renewable energy. The company became incredibly powerful, almost overnight, and now multiple countries all rely on him and his power grid.”

My mind raced, wishing I’d paid more attention in the work meetings. Surely, Brimstone Industries would’ve been mentioned. It had to have been, seeing as his company was the exact opposite of ours. We dealt in ice and polar properties; he dealt in fire and the destructive force of volcanoes.

It just wasn’t logically possible that my research team, accounting team, and even all those exorbitant lawyers kept on retainer wouldn’t know intimate details.

So why did they keep it from me?

“Apparently, the Ashfalls have been working on this method for decades. The secrecy of their patents, keycodes, and other sensitive information is all hidden in a vault that can only be opened with fresh Ashfall blood—along with a password no one can guess.”

My heart skipped a beat, soaking up every word she gave me.

“Twenty years ago, when Lucien turned nine, his parents died in some magma backflow disaster, and he became the CEO. Not because a nine-year-old can run such a dangerous company, but because they needed his blood to turn on every machine. According to Evelyn, the harvesting of volcanic energy will turn off after ten hours and require the blood of an Ashfall to turn on again. It’s a failsafe so the reactors don’t overheat, blow up, or the technology falls into the wrong hands.”

I blinked, my mind racing with the consequences of such advanced tech.

The Ashfalls probably thought they’d made their company water-tight against corrupt staff members or their patents falling into the grasp of their enemies, not realising they’d just condemned their entire bloodline.

“So he’s here to keep the company running?” I asked quietly, shooting a glance at Lucien’s home, glittering like a black jewel in the sun.

“He’s here because he tried to sabotage it and almost succeeded in blowing up the reactors. And...” She threw a look around the empty garden where we sat. Leaning closer, she said quietly, “Lydia heard a rumour that...ugh it’s so far out there, I’m sure it’s not real.”

“Just say it.” My interest turned razor sharp. “Doesn’t really matter if it’s real or not. All information is good information.”

She exhaled heavily as if even saying it out loud tainted her. “Apparently, his parents were brother and sister. They were forced to have a child because the board wanted the purest blood to run it.”

Okay...that wasn’t what I was expecting—

“And the reason Lucien went wild on his ninth birthday and tried to destroy everything was because they’d locked him in his bedroom with five older women. They wanted to see if he could start getting them pregnant—to get a head start on breeding as many babies with his blood as possible. But...he was a kid!” She shuddered. “Probably hadn’t even hit puberty.”

Sickness slammed into me as my head spasmed. “So that’s their plan? To get him to sire as many back-up blood bags as possible, then kill him once they have a puppet of their choosing in power?”

My stomach turned over.

My stress ignited.

Silence fell between us, dark and miserable.

Laura didn’t speak, her gaze locked on the fish blowing bubbles before us.

Time stretched before I asked quietly, “So...he’s been in here ever since?”

“Sounds like it,” she muttered. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Each time I hear screams at night and see another body carried out, I hate him. I’m petrified I’ll never get out of here and I’ve barely slept in over a week, but...I’d probably do the same if I was him if I’m honest. I would kill all those trying to hurt me, just out of principle.”

In the distance, Whisper appeared.

The black panther stood out like a fairytale beast, his pelt sleek and diamond-black in the sunlight. Sniffing the air, his tail twitched.

He looked directly at us as if he’d smelled me on the breeze.

“Uh-oh.” Laura shot to her feet and went to run. “It’s that monster again.” Reaching for my hand, she pulled me up. “Come on. We have to go. The place I’m staying at isn’t far from here, we can—”

Too late.

Whisper broke into a run and covered the distance in a feline flash. Skidding to a halt, his whiskers bristled. He revealed the tips of his fangs, then came to headbutt my hip.

Laura’s mouth fell open.

I glanced at her as I pried our fingers apart. “I think that’s my cue to go.”

“Go?”

I merely nodded. “I’ll see you around, though, okay? I managed to find a pavilion on the outskirts. Come find me, and I’ll keep you company when I’m free.”

“Okay.” She gave me a shy smile. “Thanks.”

Whisper moved to my side, opening his mouth to grab my wrist.

“No need for that, pussy cat.” Holding my arms up to avoid his bite, I nudged past him. “I know the way.”

Laura didn’t say a word as the panther herded me toward the palace, no doubt instructed by his master to collect me.

The entire journey I wondered what fresh torture Lucien had planned and why, despite my imprisonment here and lack of certainty about my future, I no longer hated him.

I’d already felt something I shouldn’t thanks to last night, but now...now I struggled in entirely different ways.

How could I hate someone far more tragic than me?

How could I fear someone who hadn’t stepped outside in twenty years?

I had a nervous system that liked to make me blackout in stressful situations.

But Lucien?

He carried a blood that condemned him to a cage.

A cage that I doubted he would ever be able to break out of.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” LUCIEN demanded the moment I stepped into the East-West blended foyer.

I scowled as Whisper escorted me right to Lucien’s side. “I’m aware you haven’t seen much of the outside world and don’t have a good experience with guests, but the thing we usually say to each other when we haven’t seen each other overnight is ‘Good morning. How are you? Did you sleep well?’” I smiled and crossed my arms. “Now, you try it.”

“Follow me if you don’t want me to kill you.” Turning around, once again barefoot, as if he owned no shoes in this godforsaken place, he marched in the same direction as yesterday.

My headache grew worse as I sighed.

Whisper snorted, nudging my hand as if commiserating with my frustration.

I didn’t want to spend another day cleaning.

If that made me ridiculously spoiled and painfully lazy, then so be it. Another rush of vertigo caught me unaware. I grabbed onto the panther, swallowing against the small prickle of nausea.

This always happened.

Even if the stress didn’t make an absolute fool of me, the aftereffects of a worrisome day always did.

The wine and a nap were a medicinal excuse to recalibrate my system before I fritzed.

Whisper grumbled something in panther speak and strode ahead, his tail flicking. Looking back over his shoulder at me, he raised a furry brow.

I sighed loudly and followed.

Lucien didn’t turn around the entire time he led me deeper into the palace he called a prison. When we reached the octagonal-shaped foyer with its eight corridors branching off with lines scribed into the marble that reminded me of a Bagua symbol, Lucien didn’t go in the direction he’d led me yesterday.

Instead, he balled his hands and in a ripple of black loose trousers and flowing black coat, he led me down a different one. The air cooled the further we travelled as if the walls were warning us not to enter.

Wrenching to a halt at the end, he pushed open a set of iron inlaid doors. They swung open too silently, too easily—as if he came in here often. The entire vibe of the place set my stomach clenching and skin prickling.

“In here,” he ordered, striding into the room.

I lingered on the threshold.

Whisper padded to join Lucien.

What the hell is this place?

Dark navy wallpaper with lotus blooms and crescent moons covered the high walls. The black ceiling pressed down on us with oppressive weight and the polished wooden floor had droplets staining it in multiple places.

My eyes locked onto a particularly large splodge.

Lucien caught me staring. “If you’re wondering if it’s blood, you’re right.”

And there went my headache again.

Gritting my teeth, I glanced at the rest of the room. From the impressive redwood desk, rows of official-looking filing cabinets, to the huge recliner beneath a large spotlight. Glass-fronted refrigerators lined the far wall, their empty racks waiting for something.

Alongside them, shelves of boxes, plastic tubing, and other medical items sat proudly, along with a biohazard bin. A stainless-steel trolley gleamed with instruments: butterfly needles, clamps, and vials.

My gaze shot back to the recliner.

I noticed what I hadn’t before.

A chair that was meant to be used for rest and comfort was bolted to the floor, leather straps dangled from each armrest, and a row of monitor screens sprung to life as if on sensors.

My mouth went dry.

Half an office, half a hospital—the two places grafted together in one of the freakiest rooms I’d ever seen.

Sucking in a breath, my eyes turned hazy as the punch of copper, antiseptic, and wax polish hit my nose.

I backed up again.

“You run, and it will be the last thing you do,” Lucien murmured, grabbing a few empty IV bags and pushing the stainless-steel trolley toward the recliner.

I clutched the doorframe and bit my lip—granting pain to keep me awake and not pass out on the blood-spotted floor. “What...what is this place?”

“This is where you become useful,” he replied, voice soft and dangerous.

“What do you expect me to do?” I broke out into a cold sweat.

Whisper prowled around the space, his agitation obvious. His hackles raised and tail whipped side to side.

“I’ll show you.” Beckoning me closer, Lucien added, “I won’t hurt you as long as you do what I say. The blood you’ll be spilling is mine, not yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come. Here.” He scowled, typing a few things on the keyboard, bringing up a few programs on the monitors. Once done, he sat in the recliner and spread his legs. His all-black attire made him seem both ancient and angry. “I won’t ask again.”

I stayed where I was, clutching the doorframe. “It’s not that I’m deliberately disobeying you, it’s just that I physically can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No. I can’t.” I swallowed hard. “I-I have this problem where stress isn’t kind to me.”

“The sooner you get it over with, the better.”

“But—”

“Refuse again and your little problem will be the least of your worries.”

Our eyes locked.

His hands balled.

No sign of what we shared last night. No glimmer of the man who’d made me feel so many inexplicable things.

Never looking away from me, he shrugged off his coat, unbuttoned his black shirt, and removed it.

My heart fluttered for an entirely different reason.

Watching him undress actually helped in a weird way. It made everything about this moment awkwardly intimate and highly intense, keeping me hyper-focused on him instead of fight or flight.

He smirked, revealing he’d done it on purpose—using the fact that I’d told him I found him beautiful to distract me.

Well played...

Holding up his arms, he flashed the silver cuffs on his wrists. The silver disc remained over his heart, flashing with a few lights as if he was part human, part machine. “I’m not going to wait all day, you know.”

As long as I kept my eyes on his lean muscles—as long as I didn’t think too far ahead of what he wanted me to do—I could breathe.

Moving toward him, I eyed up the leather straps on the armrests of the recliner he sat in. “I’m not shackling you to that chair, I’m telling you right now.”

He smiled, almost softly. “Don’t worry. I haven’t needed the restraints in a very long time. I’ve done this job myself for eleven years. But now I have you.”

Now I have you...

Why did those four little words affect me so?

Stress throbbed in my temples, but I kept it at bay as my eyes roamed over his bare, almost hairless chest. He didn’t have an inch of fat on him, leaving his muscles pronounced and sharp.

Did he shave or was he just naturally annoyingly gorgeous?

“Where are you from?” I asked before I could censor myself, mortification painting my cheeks.

He smirked, his gaze roaming over me just like mine roamed over him. “Why? Suddenly curious about me?”

“Would you kill me if I said yes?”

“Probably.”

I exhaled heavily. “Fine. Forget I—”

“Where are you from?” He cut in, wrenching my eyes to his.

His first personal question about me.

His first curiosity.

My heart skipped a beat. “Me? I’m—”

“Forget it.” He bared his teeth as if shocked he’d even asked. “I don’t care.”

But he didn’t look away, and his voice couldn’t quite hide the lie.

Could it be possible?

Was he feeling things like me?

Was he as confused and wary as I was?

Falling into his dark eyes, I blurted, “You know...you still haven’t asked me what my name is.”

He scowled, his belly tensing as he sucked in a breath. “Why would I ask the names of those wanting to kill or seduce me?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not, in fact, trying to kill you.” I shrugged and arched my chin at all the needles and medical paraphernalia. “If I was, you’re playing a very risky game bringing me here.”

He smiled coldly. “Do you honestly think Whisper would let you lay a single finger on me that I didn’t allow?”

My hand moved on its own accord, landing over his forearm on the chair rest.

He jolted.

I froze.

Whisper dashed forward and nuzzled where we joined as if approving rather than forbidding it.

The panther’s whiskers tickled. I wrenched my hand away.

Clearing his throat, Lucien shook out his arm as if I’d burned him. His eyes danced to mine, wide with surprise, but then his heartless composure slammed back into place like a well-worn mask.

“Stop wasting time.” Turning both arms upward, so each wrist faced me, he glowered at the small holes in the silver cuffs. “Attach the drains.”

“Do what now?”

“Those tubes right there. Insert them into the ports. The program is already prepared. One bag for each wrist.”

My stomach turned.

I looked at the coils of tubing and the empty IV bags stamped with barcodes.

Horror filled me as I finally understood what this place was. Why it reminded me of a doctor’s surgery. Why the reek of antiseptic tried to hurtle me into memories of all those tests I’d subjected myself to after watching my parents turn to bone-soup in front of me.

“You can’t be serious.” I shook my head. “You...you expect me to bleed you?”

He showed no compassion whatsoever. “If I don’t, they’ll come and do it for me while I’m unconscious.” He smiled, thin and ruthless. “I can’t avoid it, and I prefer being awake instead of drugged. Therefore, I don’t have a choice.” His eyes narrowed. “Now do as you’re told and attach the drains.”

He might not want to pass out, but I certainly did.

Whisper nudged me as if commiserating with my inadequacies.

“Ten minutes and then you’re free,” he whispered. “You can leave the moment it’s done.”

My heart pounded as I met his stare.

No way.

There was no way I could do this—

“You can.” His jaw clenched as if fighting his own revulsion of this place, this room, this request. “Do it so we both can leave.”

Just like last night with him on top of me, sharing his pain, seeing how much he hurt, I fell into him. I fell into everything he refused to say and all the secrets trapping him.

And somehow, it was no longer about me.

Eleven years he’d bled himself.

How many years before that had they done it for him?

How rough were they? How much had he screamed when he was younger as they buckled him onto that chair?

My stomach turned over for an entirely different reason. Anger on his behalf. Injustice for all he’d endured. The rush of rage and pity pushed back my dizziness, and I reached for the tubing.

I didn’t say a word as I eyed up the metal ports. My hands shook as I gripped the metal connection on the tube, wincing as it clinked against his silver cuff. My heart raced as I shoved hair over my shoulder and bent over his wrist.

With my teeth clenched and mind carefully devoid of what I was doing, I fiddled with the mechanism, trying to lock the two together.

He exhaled with impatience but didn’t rush me.

Finally, with a twist, the port connected.

Instantly, a rush of bright red blood shot out of him, siphoning down the tube and pooling into the bag.

My eyes snapped closed.

I swayed.

“If you pass out, I can’t guarantee you’ll wake up again,” he murmured.

Images of him as a boy having this done to him. Echoes of what Laura had told me about his parents and their deaths and how his board treated him like an animal.

A rush of violent possessiveness toward him shut down my stress and I attached the other port.

If doing this meant they stayed the hell away from him, so be it.

I would do whatever he asked of me if it meant he stopped hurting so much.

Once both tubes sucked thick, hot blood, I backed up and balled my hands. “W-What else do I have to do?” My voice wavered a little, but I hadn’t passed out so I took that as a win.

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

He looked as if he wanted to ask why I’d suddenly become brave but the way he watched me said he knew. He correctly read my rage on his behalf and just nodded, accepting that there was something going on between us and neither of us had the guts to acknowledge it.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Just wait. The newer bags are already laced with anticoagulants. I used to have to inject it myself, but they’ve made it more efficient in recent years.”

“That’s...nice of them?”

He chuckled.

I blinked.

A new, savage kind of loyalty rose from nothing, tangling tight around my heart. Loyalty toward him.

The bags continued to fill with dark, thick, horribly warm blood. The more they swelled, the whiter he became until his lips went a horrifying shade of blue.

Finally, when I thought my heart would hammer its way through my ribs to run, something hissed, clicked, and the computer monitor flashed with a pop-up box.

“Unhook the ports,” he commanded, his tone quieter than usual.

My hands trembled all over again as I obeyed.

“Toss the tubes into the biohazard bin.” Leaning forward, Lucien gathered his shirt and slowly shrugged it on. The urge to help him became unbearable but I locked down every emotion and did as he requested. The red stained tubes vanished into the bin, and I cringed as my eyes fell on the two bags of his blood.

He smirked, his arrogance showing even now. “Click the ‘yes’ button and attach the label that the printer will spit out.”

Feeling sick, I obeyed.

Gathering the two labels that appeared a moment later, I held them up.

I already knew what he was about to say but I hoped he’d do it. “Here.” I tried to give them to him. “I don’t think I can—”

“Stick the labels onto each bag and place them in the fridge.”

“I really can’t—”

“Do it or die.” He pushed to his feet, wobbling a little.

Instinct made me reach for him. My arm snapped around his waist.

Whisper snorted.

Lucien stiffened.

God, Rook. Have you lost your damn mind?!

Neither of us spoke and I couldn’t move away. Sheer fear or something kept me glued to his side.

Finally, he cleared his throat and growled, “Hold me any longer and I’ll suspect you’re trying to get me into bed like the rest of them.”

The fact that he was the opposite to other men.