Текст книги "Burning Blood"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Chapter Thirty-Two

LUCIEN STOPPED BREATHING AS THE elderly couple came to a stop a short distance away, their eyes locked on the panther.

Whisper stalked forward and snarled.

“Come here, you stupid beast,” Lucien commanded, his voice gravelly and tense.

Whisper immediately went to his side, glancing worriedly at his master.

It didn’t escape my notice that Lucien placed his free hand on Whisper’s scruff—not to hold the cat at bay, but to hold himself. His other hand stayed locked around my wrist, his fingers digging into Whisper and me as if begging both of us to stop him if he lost control.

The longer we stood in a stand-off with the weathered couple, the more rigid he became.

I could feel him.

Feel him becoming dangerously hot as his heat pulsed in slow, scorching waves. His flames slipped into my bones, setting up a second fireplace inside me—searing me alive, causing frost to bloom over my heart. An icy breeze gathered, percolating in my belly as if summoned by Lucien’s pyre—delivering not just pain but hazy auras, tinnitus, and vertigo.

The woman broke first, unable to withstand the silence any longer. “Who are you?” She narrowed her black eyes, speaking English instead of Chinese. I hadn’t understood what she’d whispered to her husband while coming toward us, but it couldn’t have been anything good.

Whisper growled, sending the pair skittering backward. The old man almost fell over, his cane swinging wildly.

Lucien flinched as if he was going to offer help but then resumed his impersonation of a statue. “The cat won’t hurt you.”

“You expect us to believe that?” the woman snapped. “He’s a menace. You’re a menace. You and that damn helicopter tore up our gardens and terrorised our carp.” Crossing her arms, her scrappy temper matched her short height. She looked as if she’d been a headmistress in another life—the kind who used a ruler on misbehaving children.

“You’re lost,” she snipped, brushing back silvering black hair. “There aren’t any tourist attractions here. No reason for you to visit.” Pointing toward the road that snaked through the forest in the distance, she added, “The closest village is that way. I suggest you start walking.” She grinned like a little savage. “It gets dark out here. No lights you see. Only the stars and they don’t shine on outsiders.”

“Wife...” the old man muttered. “Easy.”

“Easy?” She spun on him. “How can I be easy when the last time helicopters flew in, they took Meilin, Jin, and little Luxin and we never saw them again.” Turning back to face us, she flung up her arms, entirely fearless even as Whisper bared his fangs. “Go away. Leave.” She tried to shoo us.

Whisper stepped forward, his hackles bristling.

“Don’t.” Lucien’s voice was faint as if he was running out of strength.

Another blast of his agonising heat fed into me.

The cold inside me thickened, expanding through my marrow like a gathering glacier.

Lucien shuddered as if he felt it—

I bit my bottom lip as pain came on the coattails of cold, lodging itself in my chest until every breath felt like air crystallising in my lungs.

“I apologise for my wife,” the old man said calmly, softly. “But I agree with her that you really ought to go.” He waved his cane at the road. “You’re trespassing and it’s at least a two-hour walk to the village. Best be on your way.”

Lucien didn’t speak, didn’t move, but his silence was loud.

It pressed against me like a living thing, fury and violence coiled so tightly it made my teeth ache.

I rested my hand on his back.

He shuddered as if my touch snuffed out some of his fire.

His heat faded just enough for him to clear his throat and lock gazes with the woman. “You’re a lot greyer than I remember but you still have a sharp tongue.” His stare slid to the man. “And you...we might be unrelated by blood, but you always treated me like your own.”

“My own?” The old man coughed. “What do you mean?”

Lucien stayed unyielding and hot. “Why are you still here? I expected Ashfall Cliff to be abandoned. Are you that loyal or have you claimed it as your own?”

Everyone froze.

But then the woman stumbled a little closer. “It...can’t be.”

“What can’t be?” The old man squinted and pulled out a pair of glasses from his navy trousers. Putting them on his nose, he stepped closer, scanning Lucien from head to toe. “Do we know him?”

Lucien let the pair study him—his fingers never loosening around my wrist.

Whisper grumbled, not liking the strange tension in the air.

“It’s...just not possible,” the woman whispered, stepping closer, no longer aware of anything but Lucien.

“What’s not possible?” The old man almost stomped his foot with impatience. “Wife, what are you—don’t touch him for heaven’s sake.”

Whisper’s tail lashed as the woman stood on her tiptoes and pressed fleeting fingertips to Lucien’s cheek.

Lucien allowed it even though a flash of heat escaped him.

Ripping her hand away as if he’d burned her, she staggered back and shook her head. “But...you’re dead.”

“Who’s dead?”

“Oh good grief, man!” The woman suddenly turned on her husband. “Look, you dumb old goat. Look!” She swatted him with the back of her hand. “Those glasses were a waste of money. He’s the spitting image of Jin Ashfall!”

“What?” The old man jerked. “But Master Jin is dead.”

“Exactly!”

“Then...” He trailed off, his knees wobbling as he clutched his cane. Shaking his head, his face turned white as if he’d seen a ghost. “We’ve finally gone senile after all this time.” He pointed at Whisper who bared his teeth. “Look, wife. We’ve lost the plot. See? Why else is there a jaguar—”

“Panther,” Lucien cut in. “Actually.”

“Panther,” the woman repeated in a daze. Cocking her head, she smiled a little wistfully. “Even your voice sounds like—”

She choked as comprehension finally clicked into place.

Her knees buckled.

The old man caught her just in time, wrapping his arm around her as if protecting her from us.

But then she started to cry. “Xiao Lu?”

A skin-sizzling burst of fire escaped Lucien, arrowing into me as if I was the containment of his pain. Frost answered. Snow howled. I gasped with agony.

But Lucien just clutched me hard as he nodded and said, “Hello, Uncle Wen, Auntie Mei.”

Absolute chaos broke out....

Chapter Thirty-Three

EVERYTHING HAPPENED IN A FEVER DREAM.

I was awake but not.

Conscious but burning.

Uncle Wen joined his wife in tears and Auntie Mei tried to kowtow at my feet, only to jerk upright as Whisper stalked forward and hissed.

They tried to touch me; Rook stepped in and shielded me.

They jabbered about so many things; my ears rang too loudly to hear.

They beckoned me to go home...I followed.

However, I didn’t remember moving as we left the cliff and stepped through the black and gold gates of Ashfall Cliff.

I didn’t know how I operated my hands and feet when I could no longer feel such things.

All I could feel was fire.

Burning.

Burning.

People came from all directions, disgruntled and peeved until Uncle Wen flung out his arms and presented me like I was a long-lost prince.

I locked down every muscle as Uncle Wen gathered everyone into the central courtyard, introducing me to every gardener, cook, maid, and handyman, reeling off far too many names.

I braced myself as they touched me for good luck.

I gritted my teeth as hands—far, far too many hands worshipped me and welcomed me, making my insides roar with flames.

“You’re alive!” someone said.

“How is this possible?” another cried.

“Why did you not come home sooner?”

“Where have you been?!”

I gritted my teeth and couldn’t answer.

Whisper never left my side and Rook...she was the only reason I didn’t break. She was a drop of cold in my world of heat. A snowflake that I clung to even as my bones melted.

Something was wrong with me.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

I needed space.

I needed ice.

I need her—

“Xiao Lu,” Uncle Wen cut into my surging thoughts.

I was suddenly seven again—knees scraped, hands sticky from candied hawthorn—my mother laughing as she brushed dirt from my trousers, telling me not to run so fast—

That nickname from my youth.

The innocence of such a thing that’d become the worst sort of foreshadowing.

Did my parents call me Luxin because they knew all along what I was? Did they know what I would become? That I would die on the very same day that I returned home, detonating into a pile of ash on the marble tiles where I’d played as a little boy?

“You must be hungry, Xiao Lu,” Auntie Mei said.

“I’ll get you something to drink, sir.” A serving girl smiled.

“Come. Sit. Tell us where you’ve been all this time,” Uncle Wen urged.

Too much.

Too much!

Whisper lost all his obedience, feeling me so close to snapping. Launching forward, he shoved them all back with a fanged snarl and clawed swipe.

And I didn’t have the strength to stop him.

These people thought I was the same innocent child that’d been stolen.

They would never understand the depth of my hatred for Marcus and the board members who’d betrayed me. Never know the bloodthirsty savagery to slaughter them all—

Only one person could come close.

One person I desperately needed to help me...

I reached for her blindly and found her beside me, cold and calm and mine.

Her presence snapped around me as I crushed her against my side.

Someone tried to press a plate of sweets into my hand.

Someone offered me wine.

Whisper kept most of the crowd at bay, but it wasn’t enough.

I’d thought coming home would be silent and still.

That the estate would be abandoned, and I could gather my strength for the war I still had to win.

Why were there so many people here?

Were they still loyal to my lineage or to Marcus?

The huge gates clanged shut and the spacious courtyard started to blur. Blossoms bled into ponds; pillars tumbled into the lawn.

I was trapped.

Going insane.

Burning.

“I-I need to get the hell out of here,” I choked, pressing my lips to Rook’s icy temple. “Help. Now.”

The inferno howled inside me.

Even her wintery energy wasn’t enough.

A throbbing in my chest.

A tearing in my bones.

Flames roared through my blood so abruptly, my knees threatened to buckle.

Rook locked her arm around my waist, taking some of my weight as I straddled the line of awake and passing out.

I wanted to pass out.

At least the fire would stop.

Another wave tore through me—violent and volcanic—like magma replaced my blood. The marble pavers beneath my boots scorched black.

Someone gasped at the smoke.

Someone mumbled a scared question.

Whisper snarled, ears flat, hissing at my pain.

My heart slammed so hard, it felt like it might rupture.

Too much.

Too many.

Too hot.

So hot.

I couldn’t breathe.

I can’t breathe—

Make it stop!

Chapter Thirty-Four

PEOPLE CROWDED US FROM ALL directions.

Some old, some young, all of them in a state of shock at having Lucien home.

More and more appeared—popping out from pavilions and corridors, bringing gifts and trinkets and welcome.

And with each person’s arrival, Lucien grew worse.

My skin burned where I clutched him as if I pressed my hands to a bubbling kettle about to blow. Dozens of staff in earthy-coloured clothes crowded us, oblivious to how dangerous Lucien was.

But Whisper knew.

He snarled and chased, prowling around Lucien and me, creating an island where his master couldn’t be touched.

“He has his father’s eyes!” A gardener—by the looks of his soil-stained hands—beamed.

“He looks exactly like Jin Ashfall!”

“Where have you been, Master Luxin?”

“Why didn’t you come home sooner?!”

Their voices collided into a rising wall of noise, never knowing that the prodigal son who’d returned home had been a lonely prisoner for most of his life.

Lucien staggered against me, his hand clamping over his metal-trapped heart as if he was moments away from incinerating. Heat coiled off him in thick, blistering waves, warping the air—

“Please,” he panted against my hair. “You have to make it stop.”

Memories of the ice plunge where I’d found him in Cinderkeep haunted me.

He needed that.

He needed a blizzard—an arctic storm to blow out his pain.

He groaned again, fumbling for my hand.

I winced as his fingers wrapped painfully tight around mine.

My own agony made everything warp and shiver. I was only standing by sheer stubbornness and a lifetime of surviving constant nausea and headaches.

Locking everything down, I stopped trying to be polite and shouted rudely over the babble of voices. “It’s been a long day! Can we do this another time? When Lucien is washed and fed and rested?”

“Oh goodness, what are we doing?!” The woman Lucien had called Auntie Mei lamented, cutting through the crowd like a tiny scythe. “Of course. Of course. Where are our manners? Of course you’re tired. Come.” She shooed a few girls away—pretty girls who couldn’t take their eyes off Lucien.

My hackles rose at their obvious interest, followed by another punch of pain.

“This way.” She bowed a little and pointed toward a corridor that swept high with winged eaves, flanked by lily-pad dotted ponds.

Black specks danced on the edges of my vision as I stepped forward, hoping Lucien wouldn’t pass out before we were behind closed doors. “Come on,” I murmured. “Let’s go.”

His scarlet-ringed eyes found mine, tight with discomfort. “Don’t stop touching me.”

“I won’t.”

Forcing himself to walk, he slung his arm over my shoulders. I knew he used me as a crutch, but I couldn’t help throwing a glance at the girls who fancied him, hoping they saw, hoping they understood, that he was mine and no one else’s.

His arm spasmed around me as we made our way toward the open-air corridor and Auntie Mei who was waiting.

Her face fell as she finally took note of the state Lucien was in. How sweat rolled down his cheeks. How he trembled uncontrollably. How the air felt uncomfortably warm around him.

“Are you...are you okay, Xiao Lu?”

Xiao Lu.

What did that mean?

A nickname? A pet name?

Whatever it was, Lucien flinched whenever it was used.

“I’m fine,” he clipped, his voice as dry as ash.

Whisper snapped at the crowd one last time before coming to join us.

“This way. I’m sure you remember the way, Xiao Lu.” She threw him a doting smile. “I’ll bring you your favourite food once you’re rested.” Auntie Mei guided us down the corridor and blessedly away from the crowd. “Your quarters are just how you left them. I didn’t let anyone change a thing.” She sniffed, tears glossing her eyes. “You know, I never thought I’d live to see the day. We were told so often that you were dead, we even set up a memorial tablet in the ancestral temple for you. However...there was always the fact that Brimstone kept operating that kept us doubting.”

Turning to look at us over her shoulder, she never stopped walking. “Only Ashfall blood can turn on the reactors so...we’ve lived in hope. We tried to go to the company headquarters for answers, only to be told that operations had been moved to England.”

Her fists balled as her walk became an angry march. “That nasty snake Marcus Ward took over far too fast for anyone to stop him. Him and that good-for-nothing board.” She spat on the ground, revealing just how she truly felt. “The day he took you and your parents, I knew something was wrong. I watched those helicopters take off and fainted when the news came that you’d all died in a crash.”

Lucien tripped against me, burning.

I didn’t know how much he could hear beneath his agony, but my ears pricked with rapt attention. “So...you’re not working for Marcus?” I asked, doing my best to get answers that Lucien would undoubtedly need to hear. I’d felt how close he’d been to a panic attack when the gates had swung closed—trapping him behind yet another wall.

I’d felt the same way. The rush of claustrophobia at being imprisoned again made me long to call Dillon.

“Pei, pei, pei.” She pretended to spit as if warding off bad luck. “Don’t ever link me to that evil demon.”

“Then how...?” I glanced around the stunning estate—at the obvious running costs of such a kingdom. “If you’re not employed, then how—?”

“The Ashfalls gave us wealth beyond our dreams. The day Luxin was born, we were no longer their housekeeper and chief steward, we were family. And that man,” Auntie Mei hissed. “That parasite has tried to sink his claws into this place ever since. Spies in the guise of staff. Drones watching us from above.” She narrowed her eyes on mine, not looking where she was going as if she’d trod these winding open-walled halls a million times before. “None of his tricks work. This is Ashfall land. And regardless that we never believed we’d see another, we’ve stayed custodian of their home.” She exhaled heavily. “Hope is hard to cut out, you see. It’s like a weed that just keeps coming back so...here we are.”

Her gaze landed on Lucien with beaming pride, switching emotions so easily. “Here you are, Xiao Lu. Finally back where you belong.”

Lucien had given up trying to pretend he wasn’t on death’s door.

Crimson shadows danced beneath his skin, flaring up his neck and beneath his collar. Sweat poured down my spine from being tucked under his hot arm, and my skull threatened to crack open from our combined misery.

“Wait, is he okay?” Auntie Mei slammed to a stop. “Is he sick?”

“He’ll be okay once he rests.” I forced a smile. “Jetlag.”

She scowled, obviously not believing me.

Lucien groaned, his knees threatening to buckle.

“Do you mind if we keep going?” I urged.

She fell back into a walk, studying us both carefully. “You’re protective of him.”

I chose my words carefully. “Just returning the favour.”

“Are you his wife?”

I choked. “Eh...”

She studied me while I tried and failed with what to say. She took pity on me. “We can talk later. For now, let’s focus on Xiao Lu.”

“I agree.” I sagged with relief. “That’s—”

“You’ll tell me if he needs anything?”

I nodded, my migraine slipping closer to blackout.

Auntie Mei didn’t speak again as she led us deeper into the estate.

Latching onto the scenery, I used it to stay conscious.

The open-air corridor was framed with polished dark timber, its beams carved with dragons and curling clouds. Gold lattice screens filtered the sunlight, creating delicate patterns across the wooden floorboards.

Beyond the railings, sunshine gilded flowers, trees, and courtyards.

We crossed a small bridge and then another.

It felt like a maze.

An endless, ornate maze that we needed to solve as fast as possible before Lucien burned himself out.

He staggered as if his legs threatened to fail. My own knees thought that sounded like a great idea. But we kept going.

Clutching each other, we entered another corridor with carved red pillars. It guided us around an oval garden with so many flowers, the fallen petals looked like pink snow.

I didn’t think I could go on as we stepped through a huge stone wall—the circular entrance guarded by a pair of ornate bronze cranes, their wings outstretched in flight.

A fountain bubbled somewhere, making my head ache a thousand times worse. Cicadas chittered, a gnarled tree rustled, and Auntie Mei drew to a halt in front of a majestic pavilion that looked as if it’d been long forgotten.

Dried leaves scattered the front portico and the two stone lions on either side of the double entryway had dandelions growing out of their ears.

Whisper growled at them as if they might leap to life, his hackles bristling as Lucien gathered whatever strength he had left and dragged me around Auntie Mei.

“You may go,” he said softly. “I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”

Carting me up the two steps, he slammed his palm against the seam of the double doors and pushed. They swung wide as if they’d been waiting all this time for him to come home.

Lucien staggered across the threshold, clutching me so tightly it hurt. He dragged me like I was his prisoner, all while Whisper pressed against his other side, ready to catch him if he fell.

I turned to apologise to his aunt, but the moment we tripped inside, I couldn’t look away.

“I’ll send someone to clean—” Auntie Mei called.

“I don’t want anyone near this courtyard!” Lucien shouted back, just as the doors clanged shut behind us.

Pushing me away from him, Lucien lurched back and locked them. Panting hard, he planted both hands on the carved wood, his head tipping down as if basking in the silence.

I left him to breathe, drifting forward as my eyes drank in his childhood.

His pavilion was incredible.

Polished dark wood, lacquered pearlescent walls, and a ceiling so high and sweeping it looked like the innards of a temple. The beams were painted with vibrant reds and golds, decorated with flying phoenixes and roaring dragons. A massive circular window dominated the far wall, looking out over the endless drop of the cliff and mist-wreathed mountains.

Carved lattice partitions separated parts of the room.

Behind one—a low writing desk, neatly stacked with books as if they’d been waiting all this time for him to finally read them again. Behind another—a low dining table, complete with scattered cushions on the floor.

But it was the bed that stole my breath.

A massive four-poster draped in gauzy mosquito nets. Thick carved pillars framed each corner, etched with crackling flames—

A strangled noise tore out of Lucien.

I spun around, leaving half my balance behind.

He rested against the door, watching me. His hands balled and the heat pouring out of him suffocated the room in an instant.

“Lucien, are you—?”

He choked on a snarl, pushing off the door and clawing at his coat. “I can’t...I can’t take it anymore.” Smoke erupted from his back with thick, choking plumes. His shirt singed and crisped beneath his hands.

He glowered at me with blazing eyes. Incandescent eyes. “You’re in my bedroom. In my family home. You’re the only one who will ever visit Ashfall Cliff and before I pass out—which I seriously hope I do—you’re going to tell me everything.”

“R-Right now?”

Tripping toward me, he grabbed my shoulders and squeezed me ever so hard. “Right now. Let’s start with the fact that you think you’re my greatest enemy.” His forehead dropped to mine, his breath scorching my lips. “Because I think I might be running out of time and you’re the only thing standing between me and death.”

Letting me go, he glowered at me like a fire-licked devil straight from hell. “Prove to me, Rook. Prove to me, right here. Right now. Show me that you aren’t like them. Convince me that you won’t betray me. Prove to me that I can trust you. That you won’t fucking ruin me any more than you already have.”

My lungs seized as if I’d inhaled winter itself. Ice crystals formed in my eyes, my blood, my heart. The world rimmed with white and silver.

I tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Frost sealed my throat shut, freezing my vocal cords and making them useless.

Lucien’s nostrils flared. “Say something.”

I shook my head, tapping my frozen neck, my breath coming out in foggy bursts.

What was happening?

Why was he affecting me so badly?

How—

“SPEAK!” he roared.

His voice ripped through me like an avalanche.

My legs gave out—