Blackthorn [3] Blood Torn (11 page)

‘It’s one of my best features.’

‘I’d say it was those brown eyes. When they’re not scowling at me.’

His compliment threw her for a moment, but he absorbed her silence quickly.

‘How have you survived so long with such an inability to read a situation?’ he asked.

‘I read situations just fine.’

‘Which is why you thought it okay to try and goad two lycans in a desolate part of this compound. Which is why you thought it was okay to provoke me.’

‘Like I said, you need to develop a sense of humour.’

He frowned again. ‘You think what you were trying to incite me to do was funny?’

‘I never said that.’

‘And you dared to call
me
arrogant. Is it really what you wanted? To be taken up against some dirty stone wall? By me?’

She stared deeper and longer into his eyes in a way she knew not many would dare
,
refusing to be intimidated by the sudden domineering silence as he awaited her response. A question to which she wasn’t sure there was a right answer. If there was, she couldn’t find it under the weight of his unrelenting gaze.

‘That’s a lot of erratic breathing for an experienced sexual predator,’ he said.

‘At least you can admit that’s what I am.’

‘I wasn’t referring to you.’

Her stomach flipped for all the wrong reasons.

‘Have you heard the fable of the boy who cried wolf?’ he asked.

‘Of course I have,’ she said, her breath, to her further irritation, catching in her throat.

‘You know the moral of the story then?’

‘You think I’m faking?’

‘Not
that
moral. I’m talking about the one whereby if you summon a wolf enough times, eventually one will appear.’

Despite her fight to stay calm, she couldn’t stop her pulse from racing. A pulse she knew he could hear – something which she had no doubt was sealing his satisfaction.

‘And I’ve whistled enough times, right?’ she said, refusing to be intimidated by the look in his eyes, the proximity, his unflinching attention.

‘Not quite,’ he said, his gaze tracing down her throat, to where his T-shirt hung loose around her neck, exposing part of her collar bone.

‘Rest assured, lycan, I have
no
intention of sleeping with anything that stinks of wet dog hair.’

His smile was betrayed by his terse exhale. ‘So if I came on to you, you’d turn me down, right?’

‘Not fast enough.’

‘Because you’ve got to be the one calling the shots, right? But tell me,’ he said, looking keenly back into her eyes, ‘what naïve part of you thinks I’d let you?’

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d had enough threats on the street, but they’d never looked at her the way he did then. And
they’d
never stunned her to silence.

‘You look surprised,’ he added. ‘I thought I was nothing but feral beneath the surface. I thought you said you can read situations.’ He leaned forward just a fraction, but enough to force her to lean back if their lips weren’t to meet. ‘Only you don’t look so sure now.’

‘It’s called indifference, Jask.’

He almost smiled before sucking air through his clenched teeth. ‘I could
so
easily prove you wrong.’

‘Maybe. And maybe I’d agree to you trying, if I didn’t have some semblance of taste.’

‘And like I said, some of us get mistaken for sweet and honourable when we’re anything but.’

‘Or so you’d like people to believe.’

‘I’d give it ten minutes before you’re screaming my name.’

‘I’d give it five before you’re screaming for your mother.’

This time he gave her a brief flash of his canines through his semi-smile. ‘Your reaction in the poolroom showed me everything I need to know. As do those vulnerable, bloodshot eyes.’ He gave her the quick once over before he pulled away.

It was the last thing she needed to hear. The last thing she needed him to believe. Just as she needed not to have faltered the minute he’d turned up the heat. ‘What, so you think a fear of water makes me weak?’ she called out before he reached the threshold.

‘No,’ he said, tucking the curtain aside. ‘The fact you don’t know when to listen, that you’ve got to do everything your own way, needing to always be in control – that’s what makes you weak.’

She frowned, unease tightening her chest. ‘I make you anxious, don’t I, Jask? That’s why you keep walking away.’

‘The only thing that makes me anxious is potentially losing my temper with you and killing you. And I can’t let that happen.’

‘Why, Jask? If this
is
about Kane, tell me,’ she said, closing the gap between them again, her bare feet padding on the tiles. ‘If I’ve appeared at just the right time like you said I have, why are you wasting it?’

‘I’m
not
wasting time. I’m just doing what I have to.’

‘Which is what? Taming me? What the fuck does that mean anyway? If you want me to do something for you, tell me now. Then maybe we can actually get somewhere.’

‘We’re already getting somewhere,’ he said. He cocked his head out into the bedroom. ‘Now get in there and get something to eat before you pass out on me. Unless you’re so proud that you’d rather starve than keep up your strength.’

He’d walked away – proof enough that claiming ownership wasn’t half as rewarding as earning it for him.

Round five. Round fucking five to him.

But food was good. Food was calming. Food was a break away without admitting defeat. Food was a distracter.

She stepped up to the threshold, but didn’t cross it as he brushed past her and headed to the sink. Instead she leaned against the doorframe, determined not to show any sign of intimidation in the wake of his threat. ‘Are you going to join me?’

‘I’m going to get some sleep.’ He reached for a toothbrush and applied some paste from the pot by the sink. ‘The same as you are after you’ve eaten.’

She looked across her shoulder at the makeshift bed that was now dangerously inviting. And all the more so with the prospect of him being in it. ‘With you?’ she asked, looking back at him.

He glanced in the mirror, his eyes momentarily meeting hers as he started to brush.

He bent over and spat out some paste. ‘Even lycans need to sleep. Or is that one of the rumours you missed?’

Her gaze raked his taut back, his tight waist, his pert, masculine behind through his wet jeans as he leaned over to rinse before standing back up to continue brushing.

She folded her arms. ‘So it’s true your sort sleep in the mornings then?’ Met with his silence, she added, ‘Dawn and late evenings are the best hunting times, right?’

He bent over to rinse his mouth under the tap again. He wiped his mouth on the towel before discarding it back onto the vanity unit. Not making eye contact, he strolled past her, unfastening his belt buckle as he did so.

Without registering what he was crossing the bathroom to do, she remained mindlessly mesmerised by the male perfection that sauntered past her.

‘You planning on watching me urinate as well?’ he asked as he reached the toilet. ‘Or are you going to drop the curtain on your way out?’

She blushed and backed off. Stepping into the bedroom, she let the curtain drop into place.

She stared back at the bed. If he’d wanted her, if he’d meant the threat, he would have taken her. But he didn’t want her. That much was clear.

The fact that serryns were supposed to be the most inherently seductive of all the species – irresistible to vampires, but with an acquired charm to affect any species on some level – seemed like a joke now. Either that or, uncharacteristic to his reputation, Jask Tao truly did have something of an honourable streak.

She sat on the window seat beside the tray – salad, chopped fruit and garnished potatoes with a couple of slices of bread. All no doubt grown and prepared in the compound. It was one thing she had to give the species credit for – they worked hard on what small fragment of land they had, avoiding, where they could, the crap that the Global Council allowed to be delivered into Blackthorn. The herbs and spices that they grew, of course, were different – they were a necessity, whereas what lay in front of her was a luxury. A luxury he was willing to share a fraction of with her. She felt a small fragment of guilt.

She took the first mouthful of food as she glanced back out across Blackthorn – not just a prison for humans but, though she hated to admit it, the third species forced to reside there too.

But they weren’t her concern – and still didn’t excuse the way they lorded themselves over the district. And Jask was an integral one of those.

She looked back across her shoulder as she heard movement, just in time to see Jask slipping out of his wet jeans. Distracted by thighs and a behind as toned and powerful as the rest of him, she unintentionally tipped the balancing food from her fork, the spillage irritatingly interrupting her viewing as she wiped her lap.

When she glanced back up, Jask was in bed. He eased down onto his back, one leg bent, his lax arm behind his head emphasising the strength in his torso and biceps, the blankets resting enticingly low on his waist.

She took a few more mouthfuls of food, his closed eyes allowing her appreciative gaze to linger comfortably whilst she felt another pang of envy towards the blonde in the dining hall.

‘So is it true about why you lycans sleep on the floor – so you can pick up the vibrations of intruders? Some old inherited wolf thing?’

She was met with silence.

‘Do you take the meds or are you one of the ones who embraces the darkness inside?’

‘Because that’s all our so-called shadows are to your kind, aren’t they, serryn?’ he said, not even flinching. ‘Darkness. Never mind what we do, what we say; those shadows are our moral death sentence, in your eyes.’

‘Basic law of religion.’

‘This set-up is nothing about religion – it’s about politics and power, nothing more.’

She took a few more mouthfuls. This was not the time to be antagonistic, and for once she’d do herself proud. Besides, maybe sleepiness made him more amenable. More open.

‘Do you sleep for long?’ she asked, changing the subject to one less contentious.

‘A couple of hours.’

‘But more sporadically and frequently than vampires, right?’

‘It varies.’

She drank from the glass of water as she looked out of the window, hesitating before asking him the next question. ‘So what’s the love-hate relationship between vampires and lycans all about?’

‘There is no love-hate relationship – only what your authorities portray. We’re not as attuned to difference as you are.’

‘But you have a pact of segregation.’

‘An enforced segregation – your authorities’ way of making sure there’s some division between the third species in each district. They wouldn’t want us joining forces, now, would they?’

‘It’s not like you’re going anywhere.’

He looked across at her, his azure eyes ignited by the weak sunlight. But he didn’t say anything as he rolled his head back into position and closed them again.

She pushed the tray aside and wiped any trace of food from the corners of her mouth. ‘Do you have a spare toothbrush?’

‘Top drawer of the vanity unit.’

She headed back into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, smoothed down her hair, took a few steady breaths, used the toilet and stepped back over to the curtain.

She pushed it aside, sauntered across the floorboards and stepped onto the edge of the soft, plump rug. ‘Where am I supposed to sleep?’

Without opening his eyes, without moving anything other than his right arm, he pulled the duvet aside to expose a space next to him.

Right next to him.

Her heart skipped a beat.

‘I’ve had better chat-up lines,’ she remarked, trampling over the cushions to slide into the place he’d reserved.

She lay down beside him and pulled the duvet to her chest. She looked up at the ceiling as she wriggled to get into a more comfortable position.

As his silence persisted, she looked back across at him. ‘You’re taking a big risk lying there with your eyes shut.’

‘Why, what are you going to do – stab me with my spare toothbrush?’

‘I’m still a serryn. I might not be toxic to you, but I’m still lethal.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘You’re an arrogant bastard, you know that?’

‘I’ve been called worse.’

‘I bet you have.’ She lingered on his stubbled jaw, the leather straps around his neck, the small platinum pendant nestled in the hollow of his throat, before sliding her gaze down his bare chest, to where the duvet sat low on his hips. ‘Are you naked under there?’

‘Does it bother you?’

‘No. But it might bother your mate.’

It was an intentionally searching question but when he didn’t answer, she gazed up at the ceiling rose.

Despite all her boasting, she’d only had five partners. For two of those, she’d been too drunk to remember much. So had they. Then there was Daniel – her friend she’d fallen into bed with too many times now. But they understood each other and it never needed to get complicated. Because the last thing she ever needed was complicated.

And now there was Jask under the covers beside her. Naked. But clearly with no intention of sleeping with her whatsoever. His silence made sharing his bed feel horribly clinical, horribly detached.

She pulled the covers over her chest.

‘Have you ever been with a human?’ she asked, unable to take the silence.

‘They sob a lot.’

Her gaze snapped across her shoulder at him.

‘I think it’s the pace,’ he said, not having flinched. ‘Apparently it’s true that we’re feral. During the sex act more than any other time.’

He opened his eyes, looked across at her, his lips curling into a hint of a smirk as he echoed her jibe from earlier.

He’d taken notice of what she’d said. And this time he’d retorted with humour. It wasn’t just her stomach that jolted, it was her heart.

He closed his eyes again and turned his face back towards the ceiling. ‘Or I could just be bullshitting you. Must be rubbing off.’

All she could do was stare at him. Stare at the perfection that lay beside her who, more troublingly, clearly had a sense of humour after all.