02 Blood Roses - Blackthorn (34 page)

Leila cried out and shuddered, her muscles tightening around him, her pulsating enough to finally tip him over the edge.

Chapter Thirty-four

L
eila lay gazing up at Blackthorn’s sky.

The rain beat heavily against the glass again, the droplets glistening against the dark backdrop, an occasional gust of wind smashing a collection against the panes.

Caleb was characteristically silent as he lay beside her. But this time he didn’t leave her side. This time he gazed up at Blackthorn’s sky with her.

She turned her head to look across at him, his green eyes fixed above, the occasional blink of those dark lashes the only thing that told her he was conscious. Distant sounds of the pending dawn invaded the room, their cocoon, carried on the breeze that now caressed her through the open window above.

She looked back up at the sky. ‘How long do you think it’ll be before he calls?’

He looked across at her. ‘Does it matter now?’

She met his gaze. ‘I need to know.’

He pulled himself into a seated position. Leila scanned his taunt, lithe back as he sat there for a moment. Her gaze lingered on the Armun – the first time she’d been able to examine it properly. The symbol that foretold the destruction of everything they knew. The symbol which, unless she could persuade Caleb to find another way, would destroy him too.

He got to his feet and strolled across to the step, flexing his arms and shoulders as he did so.

Leila sat up. Pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them as she watched him pick up his phone, his continued silence igniting a stir of unease as he gazed down at the screen.

Her heart pounded. ‘Has something come through?’

He strolled back over to meet her. Sitting beside her, facing her, their bent knees side by side, he handed her the phone.

She took it in her hand. Stared down at the screen at the text message from Jake.

She’s still a serryn, Caleb.

Her heart thudded as reality of what she had done struck her.

A message from half an hour before.

Her gaze snapped back to his. ‘Tell me you didn’t know,’ she said. ‘Tell me you hadn’t read this before.’

The unapologetic look in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

Guilt coiled through her at her stupidity. The fact he could have taken her in place of her sisters seemed a worse betrayal than encouraging her to trust him.

‘You tricked me. Why?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t you just kill me? Why didn’t you end this? Why make this harder for us both? Or is it easier killing one of my sisters instead of me?’

‘I asked Jake to give Alisha his blood. She’s of no use to me.’

‘And Sophie?’

‘I’ll find her. Preferably before Feinith does.’

‘And then what?’ she asked, trying to suppress her dread. ‘You told me I could trust you.’

‘And you can. I gave you my word. Seven days, Leila. And I’d say you’ve got more motivation than you’ll ever need to make sure you succeed if I’m still the serryn hunter I once was.’

Seven days that she had pleaded for in the desperation of the moment. Seven days were nowhere near enough time.

‘You asked me to give you a chance to find another way,’ he said. ‘I’m doing exactly what you asked.’

‘At a price.’

‘You’re going to have to go back to Summerton to get what you need. I have to be sure you’ll come back to me.’

‘So you put a bounty on my sister’s head? That puts us right back where we started, Caleb.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I would have ended your life tonight if we were right back where we started rather than searching for any other way.’ He reached out and pushed her hair back behind her ear before tenderly cupping her face. ‘I don’t know if letting you live is the most selfish or selfless act I’ve ever committed. I don’t know if you’ll be my salvation or my damnation, but I can’t be without you, Leila.’

As he transfixed her with the solemnity of his gaze, never had she seen him more vulnerable in his sincerity.

‘Just don’t let me down. This love comes with a risk,’ he added ‘A risk for both of us. The way I feel about you. You understand that, right?’

Her stomach knotted. She nodded. ‘I understand. And don’t let me down,’ she said. ‘You find my sister alive and well and I’ll find the alternative.’

A darker, harder, more terrifying alternative if her vague recollections were correct. But he didn’t need to know that yet. No one needed to know that yet.

Her chest tightened, her stomach flipping as his eyes narrowed slightly, pensively, as if sensing her unease.

‘I’m trusting you, Leila,’ he said, sliding his hand around to gently clasp the nape of her neck.

‘And I’m trusting you,’ she said, holding his gaze

More than she’d ever needed to trust anyone. More than she’d ever dared trust anyone. A common thread they shared that she knew would be the very salvation or damnation that he spoke of.

Because she knew better than anyone there were consequences for breaking the rules. For breaking the lore.

Dire consequences she needed to find her way around.

For all their sakes.

Chapter Thirty-five

J
ask descended the narrow, worn, warped slabs into the depths of the derelict ruins. Even over the damp and the mildew, the place reeked of vampires. But he could also smell his own.

His boot steps resounded down the low-ceilinged corridor as he marched ahead. ‘They’d better have a damned good reason for being here,’ he said, refusing to conceal the annoyance in his tone. If he was close enough to smell the other lycans so clearly, they were close enough to hear him. ‘Let alone dragging
me
over to this part of the district.’

‘If what they told me is true, I get the feeling it’s going to be worth the inconvenience,’ Corbin said, keeping up with his strides.

Jask turned the corner.

The two younger lycans stood outside an open doorway, their backs to the wall, their gazes straight ahead like privates in a drill.

As Corbin stepped into the room, Jask stopped square-on in front of them, his glare burning into Samson’s grey eyes before searing into Rone’s.

Neither dared look up at him. Neither dared speak.

Rone nervously blew his fair hair back from his eyes and spread his feet slightly further apart as he plastered his hands back behind his back.

‘You
especially
know better,’ he said to him, the youth still unable to meet his gaze.

Rone gave a single nod.

‘Jask, you’re going to want to see this!’ Corbin called out.

Jask crossed the threshold into the dank, stone chamber. The only source of light emanated from the two candles on the cusp of burning out on the wooden table in the centre, hardened wax having rippled down the wine bottles that held them.

He stepped past the table so he could get a clearer view of the figure sat manacled in the far left-hand corner of the room.

Head lowered, her mop of dark hair concealed her face. Her arms were outstretched, her slender wrists roped to rusted hoops on each adjacent wall.

Two vampire bodies lay on the floor in front of her, their contorted faces oozing coagulated blood from their mouths, eyes and ears, their bodies twisted, their limbs stiff and contorted from dying in agony.

He looked back at the female, partially concealed by the shadows.

‘Rone said they walked in just as the vampires went in for the feed. The spasms started instantly,’ Corbin explained.

Jask stepped up to her, stopping just a foot away. He expected startled eyes at least, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even lift her head.

He lowered to his haunches in front of her.

Still she didn’t flinch.

He pushed back her unwashed bobbed hair and gently cupped her jaw to tilt her head so she had to look at him.

Far from the fear and trauma that should have been indicative of her predicament, angry, spirited brown eyes glowered back at him through smudged, smoky-grey eye shadow. Her mask of heavy eye make-up made her look hard, but her pretty features were soft, youthful – mid- to late-twenties at most. And from the way she yanked her jaw from his grip, she was used to looking after herself, or at least prepared to. The cuts and grazes on her cheek and eyebrow, let alone the hint of bruising on her jaw, told him she didn’t go down without a fight. But from the ill-fitting black sweatshirt and combat trousers she wore, she certainly hadn’t been dressed for the hunt that night. Not for a seductive hunt at least.

He caught hold of her jaw again and pushed her hair back to examine her neck. The bite there was smeared in dry blood. So was her inner arm. ‘Most definitely a feast gone wrong,’ Jask said. ‘For them at least.’

Her bold glare remained locked on his.

‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you the interesting one? But I’m no vampire, sweetheart, so that toxic stare doesn’t work on me.’

‘I know what you are,’ she said, her tone laced with as much affront as her glower. ‘And I know
who
you are. You’re Kane Malloy’s pet lycan, right, Jask?’

He couldn’t help but smile at her nerve, at the purposeful goad in her tone, despite her insolence instantly grating on his nerves. ‘And what’s your name, sweetness?’

She raised her eyebrows slightly, her glare unwavering.

‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves a handful,’ Corbin said, folding his arms.

‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves a serryn,’ Jask remarked. He coaxingly held her gaze. ‘But nothing that can’t be tamed.’

She snatched back a breath that would have been undetectable to the human ear, her eyes flaring in indignation.

‘Oh yes, witch,’ he said. ‘I know exactly what
you
are, too.’ He tilted his head to the side slightly as he tightened the grip on her jaw just enough to let her know who was in charge. ‘And you couldn’t have turned up at a better time.’

LETTER FROM
LINDSAY J. PRYOR

Dear Reader,

Blood Roses
is the second instalment in my Blackthorn series but, for some of you, this may have been your first visit. Whether you’re here for the first time or back for more, I really hope you enjoyed Caleb and Leila’s story and their revelations about the world of Blackthorn.

I love hearing from readers and can be contacted through my website
www.lindsayjpryor.com
, or you can follow me on
Twitter @lindsayjpryor
and
Facebook
. I can also be found on Goodreads where I am always grateful to read reader reviews.

Blackthorn is a journey into a world fighting for survival but, above all else, it is a love story. Whether for right or wrong, salvation or damnation, the love between each of the couples you meet will play a pivotal role in all their futures.

In
Blood Shadows
, book one in the series, I gave you some insight into the human control behind Blackthorn. Here, in
Blood Roses
, I plunged you a little deeper in the vampire world that exists within its guarded walls. Next, I’ll be introducing you to the clandestine lycans.

Jask was first introduced in
Blood Shadows
. He always deserved a story of his own.
Blood Torn
is that story. I hope you look forwards to sharing it with me as much as I am with you. I can guarantee he’s going to be a force to be reckoned with.

Lindsay

PS. Read on to get a glimpse of the opening scene from
Blood Torn
- I hope you’ll be intrigued!

BLOOD TORN

Chapter One

T
his was not good. This was not good at all.

Just when she thought the night couldn’t have got any worse, Jask Tao walked into the equation.

Sophia glowered into the lycan leader’s exquisite azure-blue eyes, his dark lashes a sharp contrast to the untamed fair hair that fell around his defined, stubbled jaw.

‘You need to let me go,’ she said, as he remained crouched in front of her at eye level, his firm grip on her jaw as unrelenting as his gaze.

‘And why would I want to do that?’

It undoubtedly sounded like a ludicrous suggestion, surrounded as she was by four lycans, her outstretched wrists roped to the rusted rings embedded in the dank, subterranean walls. But she said it anyway. ‘I’m warning you – you’re making a mistake.’

He examined her pensively – those uncompromising eyes betraying his angelic, albeit rugged, appearance. He let go of her jaw and stood up, his candlelit shadow looming on the moss-encased walls of the ruins.

It had been three days since Marid had abducted her – ambushed her. The sleazy vampire knew about The Alliance. And if word was out there about the covert operation, the others were at risk too. She’d already wasted the time Marid had held her hostage, let alone the past three hours she’d been trapped down there since he’d sold her on. She needed to get back to the rest of the group. She needed to warn them.

But more than that, more than anything, she needed to find out what the hell was going on with her two sisters.

She glanced at the two dead vampires lying on the stone-slabbed floor ahead – the vampires that had bartered with Marid over her like she was nothing. Her skin crawled as she thought back to the way they’d grinned conspiratorially at each other as they’d tied her to the wall. And she’d known from the malicious look in their eyes, let alone the conversation they’d had whilst drinking and laughing at the table, they’d planned far more than just a feed.

But they’d seen it coming less than she had.

She’d realised what had happened the minute the shock had subsided. There was only one explanation – only one type of blood that killed a vampire that quickly and that painfully: serryn blood.

She sure hadn’t been a serryn before she’d entered that chamber – the leech, Marid, had proven that point. But the evidence spoke for itself – the vampires’ bodies now twisted and contorted from biting into her, her blood having imploded every one of their veins. It had taken only seconds for her toxic blood to penetrate their systems.

She knew only too well from her research that only serryns caused that reaction – a rare bloodline of witch long thought extinct. Just as she knew there was only one way anyone not born a serryn would become one – the so-called curse jumping from an older sibling to a younger if one if the former committed either of the two serryn taboos: suicide by their own hand, or falling in love with and consummating it with a vampire. Right then, both seemed as implausible as her big sister Leila being a serryn in the first place.

If the indisputable proof hadn’t been plain in front of her, she would have laughed any of the possibilities off. Now she needed to know
exactly
what was going on. Forget The Alliance’s rules about no outside contact – this was family. Not only was her little sister, Alisha, in trouble, but now seemingly so was Leila.

Which meant, even more so, that she had no time to waste on lycans.

She glowered back up at Jask.

Feet braced apart, hands low on his lithe hips, she had no doubt his stature was imposing enough when stood eye-to-eye with him. The last thing she needed was her forced submissive position on the floor exacerbating it.

It wasn’t helped by the fact she knew more about the uncomfortably good-looking lycan than just his zero-tolerance leadership – he was bad-tempered, temperamental, and fiercely protective of his pack. And – though it was irrelevant it slipped into her mind anyway – rumoured to be proficient in bed. He was certainly well-equipped enough to live up to his reputation – his jeans temptingly fitting those solid thighs, his biceps distractingly taut through his shirt, those rolled-up sleeves exposing well-toned forearms. She lingered over the brown leather straps wrapped around his wrists, matching the ones around his neck, a small platinum pendant nestled in the hollow of his throat.

She glanced at the other lycan beside him: Corbin Saylen – Jask’s second in command, with a reputation equally uncompromising. He had a presence all of his own, stood there, arms folded, his grey eyes locked on hers.

But then, when you were one of the minority third species in Blackthorn, you had to have a reputation to survive.

‘Get in here and tell me what happened,’ Jask demanded, summoning the two lycans from beyond the doorway.

The one she knew to be Rone entered first. On appearance they had to be twenty years younger than Jask – but it was as impossible to tell with lycans as it was with vampires. He and his comrade, Samson, had deliberated over what to do with her for the best part of an hour after gatecrashing the vampire feast gone wrong. They’d paced the room, arguing over whether to just leave her there. Despite having tried to barter with them, she’d seen their faces and that was finally enough for them to relent into calling for backup. Backup being Corbin and, from what she had picked up from overhearing their panicked phone call, and despite their protests, Corbin deciding to inform Jask.

‘We were across at the warehouse,’ Rone stated. ‘We heard the noise she was creating so came out to look. She was putting up a hell of a fight.’

‘And then?’ Jask asked.

‘We saw them bring her down here.’

‘And knowing you never interfere in vampire business, you walked away,’ Jask added, the disapproval emanating in his eyes.

‘We were going to,’ Samson said.

‘But it was two on one,’ Rone interjected. ‘They were getting violent with her.’

Jask looked back at Sophia, but she knew he wasn’t looking at her – he was examining the evidence of the cuts and grazes on her face. ‘The vampires do their thing, we do ours,’ he said, looking back at Rone and Samson.

Sophia raised her eyebrows at the indifference in his words. Seemingly his reputation as a heartless bastard was equally justified.

‘That’s the only way the segregation works and you know it,’ he added. ‘We have enough to do in protecting our own, without trying to save every helpless victim in this district.’

She nearly protested at the victim remark, but resolved to keep her mouth shut. All that mattered was getting loose.

‘We thought she was just a girl,’ Rone explained. ‘What did she do to them? I’ve never seen vampires go down that fast. It was all over within minutes.’

‘Just be grateful your discovery is sufficient enough to save me ripping into you right now. What were you were doing on this side of the district?’

The two youths glanced nervously at each other.

‘We had a deal going,’ Rone declared, instantly dropping his gaze to the floor in response to Jask’s thunderous glare.

‘A deal? With vampires?’ he asked, distaste exuding from his tone.

After a moment’s hesitation, Rone gave a single nod.

Jask exhaled with exasperation. ‘So there’s someone who knew you were here?’

‘What if they think this was something to do with us?’ Samson asked, echoing the line of thought that had no doubt provoked Jask’s further irritation with them.

He took two steps towards them. ‘
This
is why you don’t come here.
This
is why you stay in Northern territory.
This
is why we’re going to clear up this mess and get you back to the compound so I can deal with you properly.’

He removed something from his back pocket, flicked open a switchblade that glinted in the candlelight as he turned to face her.

Sophia braced herself as he expertly sliced through the ropes that bound her arms to the wall. She barely had time to rub her throbbing wrists or rotate her aching shoulders before he’d grabbed her by the upper arm and tugged her to her feet as if she was weightless.

‘Corbin, get her up to the bikes,’ he said, shoving her towards him. ‘We’ve spent too long here already.’

She was a little unsteady for a moment, but quickly regained her balance as Corbin wrapped a firm hand around her upper arm.

She refrained from struggling, knowing she stood a hell of a better chance one-on-one against Corbin if Jask and the other two remained distracted for long enough.

As Corbin led her towards the door, Jask stepped over to the table to pick up what was left of a bottle of whisky and the remains of one of the burning candles. It took no imagination to work out
how
he planned to get rid of the bodies, especially all traces of serryn blood.

Corbin tugged her out into the corridor before she could see any more.

His eyes were fixed ahead, his grip on her arm unrelenting as she tried to match her strides to his. His shoulder-length hair blew in the mild breeze as they turned the corner. Tall, broad and with the lithe strength of all lycans, they may have been no match on appearance, but she’d taken down bigger than him.

Just as she’d take Marid down when she caught up with him again. Because she would. And the sharper the object she used to say what she had to say, the better.

The stone corridor seemed endless. She hadn’t seen much of it on the way there – she’d spent too long slamming her heels or fists into every available inch of soft flesh on the two vampires who had dared to drag her down there.

The stairwell, when they eventually reached it, was as narrow as she remembered, her knees having scraped against stone as one had held her legs, the other restraining her arms around her as they’d carried her bucking and protesting down there.

Now Corbin pushed her up ahead of him, his size forcing him to be more behind her than next to her, but he didn’t let go of her arm.

As soon as she saw moonlight on the steps, she tried to yank her arm from his. ‘You’re hurting me.’

‘Then keep moving.’

‘Seriously,’ she said, stopping abruptly. ‘Just give me a second, okay?’ She wrenched her arm from his as she feigned weakness. ‘I don’t feel too good.’ She slid down the wall to collapse onto the steps.

He let go of her just for a second.

It was what she needed.

She snapped her head towards the top of the stairwell and faked a look of shock. As she’d hoped, it was enough to evoke his curiosity – a luxury of a split second when his eyes were averted from her.

With both hands she grabbed his lower leg and yanked with every ounce of strength she had left.

Corbin’s startled gaze met hers as he slammed his hands onto either side of the wall to brace himself.

It granted her another split second to slide along to the middle of the step, to pull back her leg before slamming her foot hard into his groin.

He instinctively bent over double and lost balance. He tumbled backwards, but she didn’t stop to watch.

She turned and clambered up the remaining steps, her thighs heavy as she struggled to her feet to take the last few steps two at a time.

She heard Corbin’s voice echo up the steps behind her – one single call: ‘Jask!’

She fell up the last step, her palms scuffing concrete. The dark and barren wasteland loomed ahead – nowhere to hide for at least seventy feet to where the outline of some old factory buildings lay in the distance against the overcast night sky. She had to get to them. Hiding was no use with the lycans’ proficient sense of smell, but something would be there that she could use to defend herself. Damn it, the outskirts of the east side of Blackthorn were renowned for their reclusiveness.

Like a runner at the start of a race, she lunged forward, taking off with as much speed as her aching body would allow. She kept her attention firmly on the closest building, the vision in front of her the equivalent of being on the deck of a ship in a storm, her eyes blurring against the cold night air, the terrain rough and uneven beneath her boots.

She told herself not to look over her shoulder, not to dare lose her pace for one moment, but instinct overwhelmed her.

She turned to see an outline closing in on her from maybe only forty feet behind.

Her heart lunged and she ran faster, her throat parched and constricted. She ignored the shooting pains in her chest, the laceration of agony in her side that under any other circumstances would have forced her to stop.

But common sense screamed in her head – she couldn’t outrun a lycan even on the best of days. She had to conserve what little energy she had left. She had to take the only chance she could of getting away.

She forced herself to stop despite her instincts urging her to keep running.

She struggled to catch her breath in the few seconds she had as she turned to face Jask coming to a standstill a few feet away.

He clearly hadn’t expected her to stop. And, if she had her way, in the last few minutes they were going to have together, he was about to learn a hell of a lot more.

Not least that her refined defence mechanisms evoked only one response to a threat of
any
kind: retaliation.

The dance of amusement in his eyes almost masked the irritation, had the latter not exuded from him so intensely. ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough fights for one night?’

‘I’m not going with you,’ she said, despite annoyingly ragged breaths.

He raked her swiftly with his gaze. ‘So you seem to think.’

‘Walk away, Jask, and save yourself the trouble.’

She could have sworn she saw another glint of amusement in his eyes.

‘Walk to the shed over there with dignity,’ he said, cocking his head over his shoulder. ‘And we can forget you tried to run on me.’

‘I have a better idea. Go join your puppies and bike it back to your Northern pound. You’ve got no business being here. And you’ve got
no
business with me.’

He took a few steps closer. ‘I’ll let that first comment go, on account of it being a stressful night for you. But as I’m
making
what’s in those veins my business, you either be a good girl and do as you’re told or I’ll be a bad lycan. Your choice.’