Black bird a nevermore d.., p.52
Black Bird: A Nevermore Duet, page 52
“It won’t come to that. Once she gets what she’s after, everything will settle back into its usual chaos.”
“What is she really after, though?” Patrick asked. The game halted and they all looked at each other. “I know why she wants the blood. I’ve gathered enough to know that turning that Raine girl with my own blood connected her to me. I know she’s dead. I felt whatever that connection was break off.”
Decclan’s face turned grave. “Did you not tell Dahlia about this?” Tony felt his stomach flip. Patrick took another sip of his beer and shrugged.
“At some point, I decided that it seemed like she didn’t really care so much about that. She’s probably gonna get her hands on that Sarah chick and have that blood, anyway. I’m starting to realize that there’s somebody else that she’s more concerned with.”
“Best get over that, mate. Athan Kane has been the only one of us that’s ever struck a nerve with her. He’s the only bloke that’s ever left the coven and lived to tell about it, too.” Devin laid a card down. Tony tensed as Decclan leaned closer to Patrick.
“Dahlia’s always gonna hold out hope that Athan is her mate. She’ll never let the bastard go. He used to be a friend to me. When he conjured up some flighty idea to leave this place, I thought for sure she’d kill him. I tried talking him out of it. So many times, I tried. But that man would rather her try to put him down than spend another day here. She might not ever kill his ass, but she’ll never let him go. I wouldn’t try to hold onto the idea that she’ll forget about him, Patrick. It won’t ever happen,” Decclan seemed sincere.
“What do you mean, when you say she’s holding out hope that he’s her mate?” Patrick asked, blindly laying a card down. Tony knew full well that the kid had no idea what he was doing. Knew also, that the route this was going would lead nowhere good.
“Some of us get lucky enough to find our counterparts,” Tony answered, laying his card down over Patrick’s. “It’s a bond that’s otherwise unbreakable between you and the one fate chooses. Links you in a way that no one else ever will. Like the bond you had with that girl you mentioned? That’s a siring bond. It’s like that, but a thousand times stronger.” Decclan and Devin were too busy gathering the cards to see it, but Tony noticed the realization hit the youngster like a hammer. It said enough to him without him having to ask. This kid was Dahlia’s mate.
“Did that Kane guy ever call her by her name?” Patrick asked, his face paling.
Devin snorted as he dragged off his cigarette. “Kane used to talk to her like she was a piece of shit. Still does. I don’t think you understand … he really couldn’t have cared less if she offed him or not. He hates her. Hates her and hates what he is.”
“But why? I don’t think I could ever hate her.” They all paused again, and Patrick looked between them all.
“Not one of us was ever given a choice, kid. And not all of us are that accepting of it. Kane’s biggest issue was that he clung to his humanity for dear life. I don’t need to tell you how well she handles that,” Decclan said, looking to Tony. “We get punished pretty severely for it … or worse.”
Tony nodded slowly. “You’re young … even for a human, Patrick. You’ve got a long ways to go until you start understanding all the mechanics of our immortality. Just do as she says. Take it day by day. Dahlia’s nothing if not brutally honest. And I don’t mean that loosely. Everything will work itself out, kid.”
“Why don’t you work out how the fuck you just won this game without even looking at the card you just laid down!” Devin barked, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. They all chuckled and Decclan gathered the cards and started shuffling them again.
“One more game.”
Patrick seemed a little more relaxed, and Tony gathered the empty bottles to go get them another round. The conversation seemed lighter, but the feeling in his stomach got worse. He tried his best to ignore it. “Deal me in, lad.” Tony smiled, setting the bottles on the bar.
She was starting to feel her control slip right through her pale grasp. She’d never admit to anyone but herself how she loved Athan Kane. How it filled her with rage whenever she thought of how hard she fought against the very word. She hated him so much but couldn’t overcome how deeply that man had consumed her. The fact that he hated her with every fiber of his being, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, only made her want him more. Seeing him fall all over himself with that little cunt had ignited a fire so destructive inside her, that she had room for little else. Dahlia also could no longer deny that a love of an entirely different sort was threatening to crumble her completely. A love that was real … gentle … passionate. She didn’t want any of that. Didn’t want it, and yet did. Maybe it was the loss of that control. Maybe it was the way her coven was beginning to see her, the farther she let Patrick in. Maybe it was merely because that kind of love was reciprocated by someone she didn’t expect … someone who looked like him but wasn’t.
She’d allowed herself time to talk herself out of it all. She’d have whatever man she wanted. And she would never surrender any power for the affection of any man. There would be more. They were replaceable … but she knew deep down there was one thing in this equation that could never be replaced. Not ever. To keep this position, this power … she’d sacrifice this. There could be no distraction. No obstacle to get in the way of what she was … who she’d always be. Hatred and fear were always more potent than love. Evil was always stronger than the pliant softness of anything good. She’d lived too long and worked too hard to get this far. So, Dahlia fit herself into her thick, long-sleeved black dress, and gloved her hands. She pressed curls at the ends of her long, icy blonde locks. Dolled herself up to look the part. A queen. She was their queen. Sometimes royalty had to pass difficult judgments. Make difficult decisions. Be the leader and enforce that position on the ones beneath her.
The hallways were dark and quiet. Her heels clicked softly on the stone and echoed through the bleak darkness behind her. Every sound made her head split as she took another step toward the large, studded door that led into the club. She opened the door and let it shut loudly behind her, gaining the attention of all the members that were casually biding their time inside. Time stood still, as it usually did when they were at attention, and they all stood as she made her way towards the bar. All the chatter silenced. Every head lowered. No one made eye contact with her. Respect. Obedience. That was the true love in her immortal life. And she would give it up for no one. Tony backed himself away from the bar as she rounded the end and met eyes with Decclan first.
“Mi’lady.” He tightened his mouth in a thin smile. She ignored him and then looked at Patrick, who watched her in the middle. A half-finished card game laid on the bar, along with several beer bottles.
“Having fun, are we?” Dahlia smiled sweetly.
“They’re uh … teaching me how to play.” Patrick smirked, waving a hand over the cards. “Can’t say I’m taking in much, but I’m trying.”
Dahlia circled around Decclan and crept up behind Patrick. Devin stood still as death, and quiet next to him. She slid her gloved hands around Patrick’s abdomen and rested her chin over his shoulder. “Is this your hand?” she asked, looking at the small stack in front of his stool.
“Yeah,” he snickered.
She reached over, sliding one aside. “I’d say you’re taking in more than you realize. Or they’re going easy on you.” She turned her face into the column of his neck and gently kissed it. “Why don’t you throw this one, and come with me? I’ve something for you.”
Something like relief relaxed his body against her and she continued kissing his neck. “I thought you were angry with me,” he breathed, leaning into her.
“Come with me,” she whispered against his skin, trailing her mouth to his earlobe and taking it between her teeth. She knew he had no choice but to obey her. Whether he wanted to or not. Patrick turned around and she took his hand, leading him back through the bar towards the door she’d come out of. She didn’t pretend not to notice Decclan and Devin’s concerned stares … or the kind bartender. A few other heads had turned before they made it back through the door and it slammed shut. Patrick came to stride beside her, and she thumbed over the back of his hand as they walked. “I’ve come to understand something that I thought you should know,” she admitted as they turned into a doorway with a set of stairs leading up.
“I think I might have an idea of what it is.” Patrick gripped her hand tighter as they started up the dark stairwell.
“Oh?” The staircase winded farther up, and she looked over at him.
“We’re mates … right? Is that what happened that day in your office? Why I feel like I can’t breathe without you?”
Dahlia looked away, lifting her skirts with her free hand, and continuing up the stairs. “That’s correct.”
“Is that why you’re different with me? Because you feel it, too?”
“Perhaps.” She stopped them on a step and turned to face him. “What is it that you think I feel for you, Patrick?”
Patrick’s breathing shuddered and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I was hoping that you loved me. The way that I love you.”
Dahlia felt the war rage within her and her breathing quickened. She leaned in and kissed him, and he returned it with that same eagerness he’d had for weeks. She fought it off and broke away. “I do.” She gripped his hand and started back up the stairs, pulling him along with her. It wasn’t a lie. She truly did love him. Telling him that was the least she could do for her mate—the only one she’d ever have. Fate was putting up a brutal fight.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that. I thought—I thought you wanted that other guy.” Patrick followed her up to the landing at the top and then they started down a long hallway with a single door at the very end.
“You’re a good man, Patrick. One I don’t deserve, and likely never will. I really never expected to fall for you. Mate or not.”
“You deserve everything. You deserve love just as much as anyone else. I’m grateful that we met. I’m glad that I somehow ended up being the one to give it to you.” Another slash of Fate’s deadly blade. They approached the door, and she stopped them, turning him to face her and placing her hands on his face.
“The truth is, Patrick … I don’t have room for love. I only have room for power. I’ve built this empire from nothing, and sadly … there will only ever be one throne. And it belongs to me.” She battled with the ache in her chest as the bitterness of anguish settled over his familiar face.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you should have never come to this club. I’m saying that you should have had the gall enough to stand up for yourself and show that little bitch what she was giving up when she broke you. I’m saying that in my long years, Patrick … I’ve never experienced the pain that I feel, having met you. And it isn’t because I don’t love you. It’s because I do … and in doing so … I have to make this decision.”
Patrick’s eyes welled, and his breath hitched. “Make what decision, Dahlia?”
She blinked back tears and leaned in, kissing his lips. Her hands dropped away from his face, and she stepped back, straightening her spine. “Open the door.”
She could tell that he strained against her command but started moving toward it. She moved further into the darkness of the hallway. Patrick grabbed the handle and pushed it down, cracking the door open and harsh noon sunlight trickled in. He panicked, his breathing growing wild and tears flowing down his face. “Dahlia … Dahlia, please … don’t do this. Don’t do this, I love you. I love you!” The door opened wider, and he strained his chin over his shoulder to look at her. “Dahlia!”
“I love you, too. I’m sorry, Patrick.” A single tear crept down her cheek and her lip quivered. “Step out and close the door behind you.”
Patrick took two steps out onto the roof of the building and his screams bounced off every wall down the hall. Dahlia winced, catching a few seconds of his charring skin before he slammed the door closed. She started to cry a little harder then, rushing to the door and locking it as he beat against the other side and continued to scream. She turned and leaned her back against the door, sliding down it and crying harder as she slunk to the floor. He continued to beat on it and footsteps sounded from the stairwell ahead of her. Decclan and Devin barreled down the hallway, mouths gaping as Patrick’s cries started to finally die out and the beating stopped. The loss of his bond was an emptiness inside her that she’d never felt before, and she knew he was truly gone. It was a cold stab that pierced her evil soul. Neither one of them said anything. They only stood in shock and stared at her.
The quiet felt like a knife twisting in her chest. Fate had wounded her … but she delivered the killing blow. She gathered herself and slowly stood, peeling off her gloves and raising her face to the men. “Don’t leave him up there. At sundown, gather his ashes. Bring them to me.”
They parted and let her through as she walked forward and straightened herself. She raised her chin and refused to cry another tear as she slipped down the stairwell.
A Black Friday, indeed.
CHAPTER 25
SILVER LINING
Brandon Jenkins had never been much for secrets. He avoided drama at all costs. It was probably why he made a decent detective. Exposing said secrets and crushing drama under a badge. It was also likely the reason that the secret he was being forced to keep about the fierce woman that he loved, ate at him with such force that his very skin crawled with it. He had called so many times to that burner number Rhaena had been talking to him on, and after about the tenth try, she’d finally answered him. She had sounded so pitiful. So wrecked, and helpless. Knowing she wasn’t alone did little to keep his need to be with her at bay. She had finally given him a chance. He wanted her to know that he’d stand by her … no matter what she was, or how scary she thought it might be. He’d begged her to let him come up before she changed tonight, but she very forcefully denied him.
When they’d hung up, he made her promise that she’d speak to him again before sunset. He was hoping that she’d at least allow the call to stay open so he could offer his support through the line. Jenkins stopped for coffee at the truck that always posted up on the corner of 3rd and Main. They had the best roast in Boston, and it seemed like the vendor never ran out of fresh brew. He dialed Captain Foley, getting no answer. Once he’d paid and started making his way back to his car, he called again. This time, it didn’t even ring. It went straight to his voicemail.
“Hey, Cap. It’s Jenkins. Everything is fine, and I don’t have anything new to report. I was calling to let you know that I’d need the night off, but I’ll be available if you try to reach me for anything. There’s some personal things I need to handle today. Thanks, sir.”
He stepped off the curb and hot coffee spilled over his hand. He cursed, shaking it off, and abruptly turned back to grab napkins from the coffee truck. Agent Foster was standing behind him.
“They have caution labels on those cups for a reason, detective.” She offered him a napkin. “I used to find them really stupid, but I’m starting to understand their appeal.”
He took the napkin and wiped down the side of his paper cup. “Thanks.”
“Couldn’t help overhearing. Taking a personal day?” She sipped her own coffee and quirked a brow.
“I’m allowed that. Got some shit to take care of,” he said without looking at her, wiping down the front of his shirt.
“Mmm … wouldn’t have anything to do with your girlfriend, would it? Isn’t she on vacation as well?” Foster smiled and lowered her cup.
“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.” Jenkins narrowed his eyes at her.
“It’s my business where it concerns the case I’m assigned to.”
Jenkins huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well … her only involvement in your case was doing her job. You’re not gonna find anything to pin on her the way you smeared dirt on her partner.”
“You sure about that? My understanding is that she and her partner were also romantically involved for a time. I’m not saying I blame her.” She turned her coffee up again. “But aren’t you a bit curious about that?”
“I know what you’re doing, Agent Foster. It’s not gonna work. Your tactics are surprisingly predictable. Everybody knows Kane and Northwood were fucking. Other than being close, that’s all it ever was. She’s been honest with me about that, and again, it’s none of your business. So, if there’s nothing else …” He turned away and started to walk toward his car.
“They’re both hiding something, detective!” Foster called out from behind him. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I’m gonna find out what it is, and if you get tangled up in whatever they’re going down for, then don’t ever say I didn’t warn you.” She pointed at him with her cup and winked. “Have a pleasant day off.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Hmm …” Foster tightened her mouth. “Interesting.”
Jenkins continued forward, jerking his door open and sliding inside. Foster raised her cup in farewell, smiling as he drove off.
It had been a long-ass day. Rhaena hadn’t seemed as bad off as she’d been last month, but today was a different story. Sarah and Wren had moved the animals into the living room, near the fireplace, both of them secured in their cages. Athan was helping Rhaena battle her way out of her clothes, while she sweat profusely and heaved heavy breaths. The sun would set in about twenty minutes, and he could already see her eyes flickering with the beast inside that was itching to break out.
“Lock me in,” Rhaena heaved as a long stream of saliva hung from her bottom lip. It was bad. The chill in the bedroom almost caused steam to cloud over her blistering-hot skin. Deep growls started working their way up from her throat and she lowered her naked body into the small closet while he started chaining her up.
