And I’d dismissed it.
I thought about Lewis. The blood. His family. That was Jonathan. That was just the start.
“You told me that we were fighting with the vampires to save our fucking bloodlines,” Alexus hissed. He slammed his palms down on the table, the impact a slap against the air. He lifted a hand to point at me. “She is the reason it’s now cut in half. I don’t doubt this vampire will make true on his promise.”
I didn’t doubt it either.
That was the whole point of this. Jonathan was playing the long game. Or the simple game. Kill everyone until I was the last left standing. Or at least until someone like Alexus got too possessed by fear to fight back, so he’d hand me over. And Jonathan would kill him anyway.
My nails bit into my palms under the table.
“So you suggest we surrender. To vampires,” Thorne said evenly.
The insult was clear.
“No, I suggest we get rid of the vampire who’s responsible for all this,” Alexus hissed. “The one you’re fucking. It’s time, Thorne. To make the choice between your family, your fucking species, or your vampire whore.”
He’d barely said the words before Thorne was across the table, his hands fastened around Alexus’s neck. He lifted him out of his chair and then off his feet. “I thought I was clear on what your fate would be if you insulted Isla again,” he bit out.
The men who had been grumbling during the exchange tried to rush forward. They were stopped by Thorne’s men and women. And one vampire.
Duncan plucked a human with an enchanted blade out of the air, holding him in much the same way that Thorne had Alexus. “Are we allowed to kill these ones or not?” he asked, his twang strong and full of amusement. “I keep losin’ track.”
I glanced to where Silver and Chace were struggling with more men trying to get at Thorne.
“We’ll just maim, not kill at this stage,” I said to Duncan, then turned my head. “Now, if all you boys are quite finished,” I said a little louder. Obviously no one listened. I sighed and reached for the gun that was strapped to a rogue Slayer’s belt.
The shot I fired into the roof got their attention.
I grinned as all eyes went to me, then quickly snapped the gun in two. “Now that I’ve got your attention, the vampire whore would like to speak. Any objections? No? Excellent.” I eyed the mix of murderous glares and slightly less murderous glares.
“You all need to grow some balls. Seriously. We’re in the middle of the worst war of our kind. You really think it was going to happen without the big bully rebel leader coming in and demanding things and killing people?” I shook my head. “That’s kind of how war works. How losing works. The first rule in fighting bullies—and that’s what dictators are, big fucking bullies—is don’t give them your lunch money just because they’ve punched you in the face.” I sighed. “I mean, seriously, dudes.”
There was a long and loaded silence following my words. Well, it wasn’t exactly silent, since Thorne was still strangling Alexus, and the man in question was clawing at Thorne’s hands, kicking his feet and making horrible and unpleasant gurgling sounds.
I reasoned it could go either way. I was prepared for both violence and battle plans. I really hoped for battle plans. Jonathan needed to die. And it needed to be by my hands.
“The vampire is right,” a deep voice boomed.
I’d expected such a statement from someone—because I was right—but it was coming from the person I’d literally expected to kill me rather than agree with me.
No Neck pushed aside the man he’d been facing off with, his eyes not on me but the men around him. “Trust me, I’d be the first one to agree with giving him the vamp in other circumstances.” He glared at me. I blew him a kiss. “But we hand her to him, I guarantee he’ll attack us full strength until every last one of us is dead,” he said, saying my thoughts out loud and making me reconsider the opinion that there was hamburger meat where his brain was meant to be. “And he’ll likely succeed, because we’d have lost all our vampire allies in the fight.”
His gaze touched on Duncan, who he almost hated as much as he hated me. But Duncan hadn’t cut his eye out, so I was still in the lead.
Score.
“This isn’t about personal grievances with vampires,” he continued. “It’s about survival. And survival is about knowing your strengths, but more importantly knowing your weaknesses. We’re human. They’re not. It’s that simple. We gotta fight, we gotta win, and that means we’re gonna have to fight with some bloodsuckers to make it so.” His eye centered on me once more. “But once we win, all bets are off. We can go back to killin’ the things that feed on humans.”
Thorne glanced around. “No you can’t,” he hissed. “You will never be able to hurt Isla, or those allied with her, as long as I’m at the helm.”
No Neck glanced to him. “Ah, that’s politics. And that’s for another day. Another century, perhaps. For now, we’re united.” His gaze was heavy, despite the fact that it was missing an eyeball. “We fight with the vampires, or we die.”
And on that, he stomped out.
Chapter 9
After No Neck’s surprising speech, things got somewhat calm. Alexus was still gunning for my head, to be sure, but he no longer had the full support of his men. And he wasn’t a stupid man. He would agree with the alliance.
Then, when it was over—or maybe even if he found an opportunity before it was over—he’d try to kill me.
But for now, Thorne had invited them to take up residence in some of the empty and newer houses, on the proviso that they agree to his rules. “And if you so much as look at Isla the wrong way, you’re out. The vampires can have you.”
Sweet, but unnecessary.
We’d decided now was not the time to make the announcement about me killing Stacy, and Duncan had already been dispatched to dispose of the body.
After making sure that Thorne’s little sis was well looked after and not traumatized, we were back at my apartment. I’d almost forgotten about the present Sophie mentioned until I found an empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table. Beside it was a packet of condoms and a hammered silver ring with a small onyx crystal in the middle.
A note lay between them.
Wearing one of these will make sure you don’t get preggers. Guess witch.
Pun intended.
As was my inebriation.
S
X
My stomach dipped as I sent the bottle smashing to the ground with my eagerness to snatch the ring. It fit perfectly, and warmth radiated up my arm as the stone glowed slightly before dulling.
“Isla?” Thorne demanded, surely thinking the smash was another assassination attempt after the day’s events. It was the first word he’d spoken since we’d left the compound. We’d ridden in silence so heavy, so thick, so saturated with Jonathan’s malicious and poisonous presence that there wasn’t room for words.
I’d dreaded the words that would be forced out in this apartment.
But now there was no need for words.
I whirled, eyes devouring Thorne as my restrained panic, sorrow, and pain all circled together with my desire, electrifying every nerve ending. I crossed the room in a blur, yanking his head to meet mine.
He didn’t fight me. He might on a lot of things, and me him, but this was one thing we never fought on.
His mouth crashed into mine with a brutal intensity that told me he was pouring the events of the day into the kiss.
It wasn’t tender. Soulful. Beautiful.
It was ugly. Frantic. Urgent.
I ripped at his shirt, tearing it in my hands so I could rake my nails over his taut muscles. He hissed as I drew blood. I brought my fingers up to my mouth, licking his blood off my fingers, the small taste driving me wilder than I already was.
Then my shirt met the same fate as his, the fabric tearing under his violent hands. The same hands that cupped my breast, tweaked my nipple through the thin lace of my bra.
/>
“Isla,” he gritted out, his voice thick. “I can’t go another night, another fucking second without being inside you.” He fastened his mouth over top of my bra, sucking at my nipple. I tangled my fingers into his hair, crying out from the brutal kiss.
My stomach burned with desire, as did every single part of me. I focused on his wild irises. “Well, that’s convenient, since you won’t have to,” I rasped, yanking him upward so his eyes met mine. I held my hand up and the stone glowed once more. “Sophie dropped by.”
Thorne’s eyes seemed to glow like the ring as he understood the meaning behind the small piece of jewelry. “Remind me to owe her my eternal fucking gratitude,” he growled, voice guttural.
But then there were no more words, because there was no room for them. There was only room for us.
The rest of the world would rush back in eventually.
Along with death.
A lot of it.
For now, there was life. And sex.
A lot of it.
The sun kissed the rumpled sheets of my bed, providing us with the evidence that we had quite literally had sex all night.
My body ached with the beautiful evidence of Thorne’s brutal touch. And for once I didn’t curse my slow healing. I wanted to hold onto that pain, the bruises spattering my body providing me evidence of his violence.
But they were already fading as the rays warmed my skin.
Thorne’s finger lazily circled my nipple, his lips resting against my neck. His own was smeared with blood, torn with two rather large puncture marks. Scratches covered his shoulders.
I had been brutal too.
“We owe Sophie a drink,” he murmured.
“We owe that witch a small country,” I countered. “I’ve got an island in the Caribbean I never use. I’ll give her that,” I said dreamily.
He toyed with the ring on my finger, tracing around the gem and the warm metal. “This is really going to work?” he asked, voice strange and thick.
My thoughts ricocheted back to the screaming argument we’d had about children. The wounds were still fresh for both of us, and by the looks of this battle, we’d have no chance to heal, only rip them open wider.
“Well, unless she wants to say goodbye to one of her limbs, I’d say she was sure,” I said, clinging to sarcasm to chase away any seriousness that would fuck up my post-orgasm glow.
He was silent, still tracing the sensitive area of my nipple.
I relaxed when it seemed the conversation was going to be banished to the corner where we kept all our issues that might fuck things up. It was getting pretty crowded.
I sighed. “I have to get up.”
Thorne’s arms tightened around mine, showing his response to such a statement.
I turned my head to meet his gaze, smiling lazily. “I would much rather stay here and get ravaged by you all day, but I’ve got a date with the witch to help with another witch—the bad one.” I narrowed my eyes. “You know, the one if we figure out how to kill, I likely won’t die and we’ve got a much bigger chance at this whole fight.”
His jaw hardened. “Well I’m coming.”
I waited for him to release me. “I expect nothing less. You and the wolf can trade ideas about alpha male tendencies or something while Sophie and I do all the work.” I winked over my shoulder at him, admiring the glow of the sun illuminating the ridges of his naked body. “But for now, I’m taking a shower, and you’re coming to fuck me in it.”
He was out of the bed before I reached the bathroom.
Yeah, we owed Sophie big-time.
“We need to talk about him,” Thorne said, his voice tight.
“Who?” I asked, swiping my face with blush and pretending to be innocent.
It didn’t work well, despite me being an excellent actress. Someone as fucked up as me couldn’t even feign innocence; they could only ruin it.
Plus, I knew who he was talking about. I could sense it in his very words. We hadn’t uttered his name since we left the compound, and the all-night sexathon did not warrant such conversation.
Thorne’s quicksilver gaze bored into my reflection. “Your fucking husband.”
I paused for a sliver of a second before I resumed applying my makeup. “I’d say that our marriage is considered null and void after he faked his own death and then tried to kill us both, don’t you?” It was a considerable effort to keep my voice tight with sarcasm and nothing else, but I did it.
“He was something to you, Isla. You told me as much when you told me the story of his death.” He paused. “He was something to you, and now he wants you back. And he’s made it quite clear that he’s going to kill every single person who gets in his way. I didn’t miss your reaction when Alexus said those words.”
I put the brush down, laying my palms flat on the marble counter, glaring at his reflection. “No, he was something to the human I used to be,” I corrected, my voice rising slightly. “He’s nothing to the vampire I am now. Nothing but another target to take out in the middle of this war.” The lie sounded weak even to my ears.
Thorne stepped forward, face tight and blank, his energy swirling around me. “You may be able to lie to yourself about that, but you can’t lie to me. There’s still something there. He still has something over you,” he rasped, coming to stand behind me but not touching me.
I pretended I didn’t care, that I didn’t crave his touch, that I didn’t need it to chase away the sickness that carried Jonathan’s memories. “He doesn’t. Videos weren’t invented five hundred years ago, so he can’t show everyone how dreadfully dense I was,” I retorted. “Nor can he broadcast my equally dreadful fashion sense, so I’m good.”
Abruptly, Thorne’s fist shattered my reflection. Glass rained down around us, and the fragrance of his blood filled the air, mingling with his hot and wild fury.
“Stop it!” he roared, snatching my shoulders to painfully twist me around.
The pop of my shoulder dislocating echoed through the room.
I gaped at his fury-filled eyes. They were so far gone he hadn’t even noticed injuring me in the midst of it.
“Stop with the jokes, with the sarcasm,” he hissed, voice a blade. “I watched it. I watched you fucking freeze and turn into some kind of robot in the middle of the battle at your parents’ house. Watched you walk toward him. Nothing has control over you. Or I’d thought that until I saw him. He has control over you, Isla.” It was an accusation, but it was something else too, something more than jealousy.
Something like dread. A sickening premonition of the visceral fear he’d feel when we were faced with Jonathan again.
But I wasn’t about to inspect it, because it would mean that I had to recognize whatever feelings had been dredged up from the grave along with Jonathan. “No one has control over me, Thorne,” I lied. “Not even me.” My voice was pure ice. “And especially not you.”
I wrenched myself out of his grip and stormed from the room.
He didn’t follow me.
“Hey, bloodsucker,” Sophie greeted, not looking up from her computer. “I’m trying to hack into some government mainframes in order to get all satellite footage and run through image recognition software of your mother to trace her whereabouts,” she said, voice mild.
I glanced at the gun lying on her desk. “Oh, I’ll give you an easier way to find her. Look for plagues of locusts, crop circles, cattle deaths, general misery—there she is,” I muttered, distracted and feeling a slight hangover. Not from any form of alcohol but forms of emotions.
All of them.
No wonder humans ate all sorts of drugs as much as they stuffed their faces with sugar—the need for blessed numbness was overwhelming. The alternative of walking around with razorblades known as feelings was just not an option.
Sugar or drugs wouldn’t help me get that numbness.
Murder might, though.
I snatched the gun from the table, not wondering what it was doing there, just glad it was. Then I saunter
ed out into the open area that housed the cage and the evil witch responsible for all of this. She was just standing in the middle of the cage, the same position she was in when I strode in here. Her eyes were devoid of anything but the gaping chasm of evil, hair lank around her bony shoulders, and she swayed slightly, as if she was moving to some kind of wretched melody.
“This is all because of you,” I hissed. “If only you’d been content with your little cave and ready to atone for your sins, I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”
Obviously she didn’t answer, merely twitched the top of her mouth upward in a grimace that might’ve been an attempt at a smile.
I emptied the chamber into her body, the resounding roar of the gun ricocheting off the walls and echoing through the wide-open space of Sophie’s warehouse. Still, it wasn’t louder than my freaking heart. The heart that had been pounding with a renewed ferocity ever since the yelling match with Thorne in my bathroom. Ever since he shot me in the face with a little bullet called the truth.
Malena’s body jerked with the impact of the numerous bullets, but she didn’t even go back on one foot. She just stood there, black ooze leaking from the spots where the bullets had shredded her flesh. The sides of her mouth crept up even more as she taunted me with her utter inability to die.
I scowled and dropped the gun to the floor with a clatter. “Well, that’s just unsatisfying and gross,” I hissed at her, trying to stretch my anger across the room, make it blanket the truth.
It wasn’t exactly working.
I stomped back into Sophie’s office—she hadn’t moved, used to such things from me and pretty darn focused on the computer. I guessed she was seriously motivated to get the creepy witch out of the cage, out of our lives and right off the face of the earth.
“Thorne and I had a fight,” I said in explanation, sinking into her sofa and punching a pillow for good measure.
“I figured,” she replied, her voice flat, merging with the sound of her fingers tapping on the keyboard. “Either that or Scott ruined another pair of shoes.”