Nightbloom (13 page)

“Paxon, please. You have to understand…”

I bit my lip, tears welling as I saw pain etched in his deep, brown eyes. One of those heavy sighs hissed out of him as he let go of me. I wanted him to hold me close, but he’d already withdrawn his affection. The distance between us grew when a cold shield lowered over his face.

“You know, Ella. One of these days, you’re going to have to make a choice.”

“Between you and Clayton? There was never a choice. You have to believe me.”

He shook his head.

“Between becoming the woman you were born to be or remaining the frightened girl hiding under the veil. One of you is meant to be mine. And it certainly wasn’t the one who disowned me back on those café steps.”

He stepped back with pain and heartbreak marking his face. He beat his great wings, lifting off into the sky, leaving me in a whirl of snow, wishing I could fade into the wind and disappear.

Frantic, I paced the front of the gallery for the hundredth time. I beat my brain, trying to find a way to confess to my parents that I was dating a Morgon and explain that Clayton might drag our family through the mud for vengeance. Only then could I admit everything to Paxon. I passed the Morgon sculpture again, the statue’s eyes piercing and accusing. Guilt sunk like a leaden ball in the pit of my stomach.

“What have I done?” I asked the statue. Of course, he made no reply.

My comm device beeped. Clamoring across the room and over the desk, I grabbed it to see my photo message icon blinking. I touched the icon, revealing Paxon’s name attached.

“Oh, thank God.”

He hadn’t given up on me completely. The photo expanded, revealing a close-up of a flower with purplish-black petals.

“Black Hellebore,” I said to myself.

The caption underneath read,
For my Winter Rose
.

I burst into tears, recalling the moonlit flower with the power to kill.

Immediately, I punched in his number.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Straight to audio message.

“Hi. It’s me. Please pick up. Paxon, I need to talk to you. Call me.”

I stared out at the falling snow, now soft downy flakes drifting to the white pavement. My comm beeped. I jumped, staring at the inbox.

“Damn it.”

Only Elsibeta. I answered.

“Hi, Ella. I won’t be coming back to the gallery. Things ran long on my end with this new artist, Marius. Would you mind locking up for me?”

“Sure. Uh, would you mind if I left a little early? There are some things I need to do.”

“Not a problem. See you Monday.”

I tried Paxon’s number again. Audio message box. I tried again. Then again. Finally, it relayed an automatic “message box full,” so I couldn’t even leave one if I wanted to.

I grabbed my coat and wrapped up tight, switching off all of the lights and locking up behind me. Jumping into my car and cranking the heater, I headed out of the Warwick District and punched in Sorcha’s number on my car comm.

A laughing Sorcha answered, lying across a bed with her fiery hair bouncing wildly.

“Would you go away!” She made cat-eyes at someone behind the device. Surely Lorian. A door clicked closed. “What’s up?”

“Sorcha, do you have Conn or Corbin Rowanflame’s number?”

She frowned. “Not anymore. But Jed would. What’s going on? You’re not interested in one of them, are you?”

“What? Oh! God
no
.”

“Damn. I was hoping you’d dropped that loser, Clayton. I could totally set you up, you know?”

“Well, I did drop that loser, Clayton, but that won’t be necessary. I’m with Paxon.”

Her auburn eyebrows shot up, brightening her green eyes. “What did you just say? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“No. You heard me.”

“Paxon Nightwing?”

“Is there another?” I blew out a breath as she fell into a fit of giggles.

“Sweet. You little, sneaky witch.”

“I’ll give you all the lurid details later, Sorcha, but I’ve seriously got to track him down right now.”

“You are definitely giving me each and every lurid detail. Have fun. And, oh, Ella?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful. Morgon men are fiercely loyal but can also be volatile when provoked.”

“Why would you say something like that?” Fearing she could see right through me, my heart sank.

“No reason. I just know your family’s opinion on Morgons. You’ll need to make it clear whose side you’re really on.”

“Shit, Sorcha. I
know
. Okay? More than you could possibly understand.”

Before she could get another snarky word in, I clicked her off. Jed had Conn’s number. Thank goodness. I finally contacted Conn through audio only. It was still considered rude to contact people you didn’t know well enough via video comm. I didn’t want to piss him off, more than he would be already. After his warning that night at the Vaengar game about me breaking Paxon’s heart, I dreaded this call, but he was the only one I knew who could help me.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Conn. It’s Ella Barrow. Um, I wondered if you might know where Paxon is.”

Pause. “I figured he’d be with you if I caught the scent right.”

“Excuse me?”

A familiar-sounding sigh. What was it with Morgon men and their long-suffering sighs?

“Are you, or are you not, dating Paxon?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Then why don’t you know where he is?”

“You answer first. What did you mean by catching the scent right?”

“Humans.” A derisive snort. “That night at the bar when you laid a kiss on Paxon, he was already in your skin. His scent. He’d marked you, so I was pretty sure you two would be a couple.”

“But that night… we’d only kissed once before.”

“Yeah, and I smelled him on you the second you walked into the place. Now answer me, why don’t you know where he is?”

Pause. “I upset him. And now he’s not answering his comm. I
need
to speak with him, Conn.
Please.
Please help me. I have to explain something he’s got all wrong.”

“Right. Damn human girls.” Another long sigh. “Well, I’ll go check his parents’ place.”

“I don’t think he’s there. I’m pretty sure he’s at his place in the woods.”

Long, long pause.

“Conn? Are you still there?”

“How do you know about his place in the woods?”

“Because he brought me there.”

“Fuck.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s never brought a girl there before. He’s only taken a select group of family and his closest friends. Damn, he’s got it bad.”

Sigh.

“Would you stop all your heavy breathing into the damn comm and go find him? If I had wings, I’d do it myself!”

A rumbling laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“And call me back. Or tell him to call me.”

“Got it. Out.”

Click.

By now, I was pulling up the long drive and parked in the circle by the front. When I opened the front door, Milla was nearby and took my coat for me.

“Thank you. Is my mother home?”

“Yes. She’s in her private parlor. I believe she’s waiting for you.”

I was sure she was. “Thanks.”

I headed upstairs and entered the parlor attached to her bedchamber. She sat on a cushioned window seat, flipping the pages of what I knew to be her wedding album.

“Mom?” My chest tightened into a knot.

Her fingers paused on a page. When she finally looked up, I found a trail of tears.

“Is it true?” she asked, her voice brittle. “Are you with that-that Morgon?”

I winced at the venom in her voice, as if he were a piece of filth on her shoe.

“Mom, if you only knew how kind, how wonderful he is to me.”

“But, Ella, you can’t be serious.” She snapped her wedding album shut and stood, wiping her nose with a handkerchief in her hand. “What about Clayton? Is it true you betrayed him for this Nightwing…man?”

“Mom. You don’t know the real Clayton. He’s not the man he portrays in front of you and Dad.”

“What do you mean?”

She joined me by the fire, her face fallen. I swallowed the fear pooling in my gut and captured her wary gaze.

“I caught Clayton having sex with a Morgon girl in a bar storeroom on our last date.”

A shocked gasp. She covered her mouth. “Are you sure, dear? You’re sure it was him?”

“Oh, yes. Very sure. And I’m convinced it wasn’t the first time. He told me it was my fault because I wouldn’t give him what he needed.”

“He said that?” Her voice cracked on a whisper, the color completely draining away from her fair face.

I gave a stiff nod. Silence.

“There’s more.”

“More?”

“He threatened to do something if I didn’t agree to marry him, which I have refused to do already.”

She dabbed at the new fallen tears with her handkerchief.

There was no easy way to say this, but I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. “He plans to spread rumors in the social circle, our social circle, that I’m sleeping with Morgons around town.”

She held her kerchief up to her mouth. Her surprise converted to anger in a matter of seconds. “How could he possibly say such a thing? How could he even think people would believe him?”

“Because he has a video of me kissing a Morgon man in a public bar. He claims it’s enough to spread the lies people like to believe about girls like me.”

“Girls like you?”

“Innocent and ‘seemingly pure’ were his words, I believe. And I’m afraid there’s more.”

She didn’t even ask, but waited, her face ashen and drawn.

“He plans on telling those who don’t know, and reminding those who’ve forgotten, that you were raped by a Morgon man.” She flinched, turning toward the window. I forced myself to go on. “Because of what happened to you, he will tell everyone that I’m shaming our family by becoming a Morgon whore.”

She spun, anger flaring her cheeks pink. “You could
never
shame our family.” She swiped at her face with the back of her hand. “The shame was mine.”

“No, Mom!” I grabbed her and hugged her tight. “What happened to you was against your will. There’s no shame in what’s beyond your control. You didn’t will it to happen.”

She cried, sniffling into my shoulder for some time. “I never wanted you to know.”

I patted her back, being her nurturer for once. “I know. Even before Clayton confirmed my suspicions, I knew it somehow. I knew your fear came from something terrible, but it was never your fault. And not all Morgons are like that, Mom. The ones I know are so different than you used to describe them to me.”

I patted and rocked her till she quieted.

“Ella, why were you kissing a Morgon man in a bar?”

I smiled. My heart smiling with me. “His name is Paxon Nightwing.”

“Your boss?”

“More than my boss. But not my lover. Not yet.”

She pushed out of my arms. “Ella. I might agree that not all Morgons are cruel, but I do
not
approve of you dating one of them.”

I tucked my hands in my pockets and swallowed the little girl’s fear of disappointing her mother. “I’m sorry to hear that. Because I won’t bring him home until I know you will welcome him.”

She didn’t say a word, her mouth ajar from my unusually stern words.

“You’d date him…without my approval?” The look of sheer puzzlement on her face nearly made me laugh. She couldn’t fathom the possibility of a Morgon being the object of my affection, of my love.

“He’s gentle and kind and caring. He’s everything I want. He’s more than I ever dreamed.”

She shook her head. “I can’t allow it, Ella.”

I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms, hugging her tight. “I love you, Mom.” I pulled back, wishing she didn’t look so frail and tired when I gave her the hard truth. “But I’m not asking your permission.”

With a tight squeeze, I then turned to leave.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“To find him,” I said as I reached the door “and beg him to take me back if he’ll have me.”

As I wound down the staircase, she called over the upper balcony. “Be careful, dear.”

“No way!” I yelled, running down the stairs. “I’ve always been careful. That’s been my problem all along.”

I found Milla at the front door, my coat in hand. I didn’t ask how she knew I was heading out again. Somehow, the servants knew before we did what was going on. I grabbed Milla and gave her a kiss on the cheek, something I hadn’t done since I was a little girl.

“Wish me luck, Milla. I’m going to find my Morgon man and propose to him.”

Running down the steps to my car, I heard her mumble “good luck,” and my heart lifted with that whispered prayer on the wind.

Halfway into the city and on my third call to Conn, he finally picked up. My car filled with roaring noise through audio comm.

“Well, I found him!” he yelled over the crowd.

“Where the hell are you, Conn?” A familiar toll of bells echoed in the background. “Are you at the stadium?”

“Huh? Yeah. He lost his phone.”

“Lost it?”

“Not exactly lost. He smashed it into a rock actually.”

“What?”

“Just a little Morgon temper. I can ask him to call you on mine, but he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood. As a matter of fact, when I said your name, he growled and went back to the bar for another beer.”

“Crap. Is he okay? Is he drinking too much?” I’d already spun my car around and headed for the stadium. “Aw, hell. Never mind.”

“What?” Someone cheered right next to him, drowning out Conn’s voice.

“Never mind!”
Click.
“I’m coming,” I told fate or whatever gods might be listening. It was high time I made a stand of my own.

Only one thing mattered right now. And I couldn’t get there fast enough.

The stadium parking lot was packed—plenty of humans came out to cheer on the Vaengar games. I wrapped my—well Paxon’s scarf—around my neck, tucked my hands in my pockets and jogged into the stadium, then climbed the ramp at a brisk walk.

Bong!
Another match was setting up. A lull in the crowd, then a wave of noise as the match began. I couldn’t see any of it as I climbed, but I knew the game well enough to imagine the scene. Nothing like blood and violence to make a Morgon crowd go wild.