Chapter Eleven

 

Bastian paced inside the infirmary with Quentin. Ophelia was securing Lora in one of their holding cells. He’d wanted to call the Segals, but Demetrius insisted they question Quentin first.

Two parents were frantic that their kid had given himself to the underworld, but Demetrius wanted to question him first.

Bastian’s jaw ached from clenching it. He’d asked if Antonia could see the boy.

No, again.

You don’t understand the complexities of people, he’d told Demetrius.

Perhaps not. But I do understand that all the members of our society are in danger and it’s my job to keep them safe. It’s what I’ve dedicated my life to. So if I have to make a kid uncomfortable for another hour while I ask him questions, so be it.

At least Bastian was allowed to stay with the kid. The smell of blood and brimstone clung to the air. Would they make Quentin wait to take a shower, too, until Demetrius was done with him?

Demetrius reclined against the edge of the counter, his steel gaze on the kid.

“I still don’t understand,” Quentin said. “Why can’t I just go home?”

Demetrius didn’t soften. “Your parents will be notified shortly. Want to tell me what happened?”

Quentin squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his palms against them. “Ugh. I don’t know anymore. Lora and I started talking and one thing led to another. One night, she told me about demons and how my parents were working for them and how I wasn’t safe. But she knew a way for me to be safe.” Quentin carefully pried his hands off his face and blinked his eyes open. “Next thing I know, we’re at that place and she was asking me to say something.”

“You two had a sexual relationship?” Demetrius asked.

Quentin’s cheeks flushed. “Y-yes. We were in a relationship.”

“Didn’t the stench of sulfur turn you off?” Quentin had gotten close enough to her that he should’ve smelled the sulfur clinging to the female.

Darkness flickered in Quentin’s eyes. He scrubbed his face. “She smelled…nice. I didn’t notice.”

Lavender-vanilla-brimstone was nice? Demetrius looked like he wanted to snort. Bastian remembered his teenage years well and discovering the other gender. He could believe that Quentin hadn’t noticed.

“When did Lora start coming on to you?”

The boy trembled like he was ready to collapse under the strain. Bastian wanted to do nothing but send him home to the care of his parents.

“I dunno. Maybe a few months ago. It’s not like she jumped in my bed. We started talking and stuff.”

Oh, that wasn’t good. It’d been long enough to cement into the kid’s mind that she liked him, and that maybe they were even in love. Quentin would have a hard time not seeing Lora as a victim.

Demetrius’s expression said he’d come to the same conclusion. He withdrew his phone and thumbed in a message. “Look, Quentin, we need you to stay here for a couple of days. I think you’re safer here.”

Quentin’s eyes widened. “I can’t. I mean, I have school…”

A muscle flexed in Demetrius’s jaw. “Under the circumstances, school will have to wait.”

A rap on the door made Quentin jump. The giant blond marched in. He planted himself by the door and crossed his arms. A wave of cold air descended on the room. Quentin shivered.

Demetrius opened a cabinet and withdrew a blanket. He tossed it to the boy. “Get some rest. Bishop will stay with you for the next few hours.” He beckoned Bastian to leave the room with him.

He knew better than to argue in front of Quentin. The kid was already frightened and confused enough. But once outside, Bastian couldn’t hold back any longer. Thirty-two years of waiting on primes only carried so far.

“Why are you keeping him away from his parents?” Bastian hissed.

Demetrius kept walking.

Bastard.

He tried again. “He’s a scared kid, but you’re treating him like a prisoner.”

Demetrius rounded a corner and stopped. “And you’re treating him like a fragile child, which he is.” Bastian shook his head, but Demetrius amended, “He’s been sleeping with a grown female, one who up until a few months ago was the hired help. That’s gotta mess with the mind—in a way that worsened once you and Ophelia swooped in to the rescue.”

And keeping him here with a colossal half breed for a guard was going to help? “I get what you’re saying. But why keep him from his parents?”

Demetrius leveled him with a calm stare. “Have you considered that I may be protecting his parents? I don’t know how far Lora’s propaganda has burrowed into him. What if he hurts them and launches some half-brained rescue attempt?”

Bastian’s first instinct was to say that was crazy. But here he was after rescuing two kids from the clutches of the underworld.

“And there’s something else,” Demetrius continued. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something he’s not telling us. It could be how deep his feelings run for Lora. It could be how willing he’d been until the moment of no return. I don’t know. I also don’t like how the sulfur smell hasn’t diminished since he’s been here.”

“Maybe it was me. I’m covered in Shankre’s blood.”

“Maybe.” Demetrius didn’t look convinced. “You can return to your room.”

“Where’s Ophelia?”

There was a subtle lift to Demetrius’s brow. “I’m going to visit with her now.”

“And question Lora?”

Demetrius stared at him.

“Right,” Bastian said. “I’m not part of the team, neither am I prime. And you take your cues from the Synod by keeping your information close to the vest.” Even if it endangers others.

“Go get some rest. You did good tonight.” Demetrius walked away, and Bastian knew a dismissal better than anyone.

You did good tonight. Did Demetrius think he was talking to a kid like Quentin?

He glanced down at himself. Dried blood—both his own and the demon’s. Holes had singed through his clothes where the demon’s blood had landed. His skin had already healed, but his body ached.

He trudged back to his room.

Antonia’s door flew open, and she leaned out. “Fyra said you rescued Tiny. Is he here? Is he okay?” She blinked at his clothing. “Holy shiii… Uh, did you fight somebody? Are you okay?”

“I did. And I am.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, but I helped.”

“Not cool, huh?” she said.

“Had to be done. It was a demon,” he finished as if that’d explain everything. “Quentin’s not ready for visitors and they want to make sure he’s okay before they reunite him with his parents.”

Her expression fell. “Can I see him before he leaves?”

“Maybe.”

“And we’re stuck here until we find out where Father went.”

That was about it. “I’ll start looking for him at sundown.” There were a few hours until dawn, but not enough time to drive Master Gaston out from his hiding place, wherever that was.

“Okay. Get some rest.” Her expression was drawn as she ducked back into her room. The monotony, the not knowing, the boredom, it was all getting to her.

Would she break? Would she do something rash? She was watched heavily, but he couldn’t stifle his worry for her. How close had she come to being turned over to a demon? How long had she been in danger and he’d been blissfully unaware, just like the Segals?

What’s done was done. It was energy wasted to ruminate over what could have been prevented. But anger about Demetrius’s dismissive attitude burned hot.

How many more of Antonia’s friends were in danger?

He had a lot to think about, and he knew just the place to do it. After his shower.

 

***

 

Ophelia punched the maid in her pretty little face. “How did you hook up with Shankre?”

Lora cried out, then worked her mouth. Ophelia flexed her fingers and fisted her hand again. One of Lora’s fangs had scraped a hunk out of her skin. Demetrius stood outside the prison cell a few feet away and Ophelia had no doubt that Calli was listening in with Creed in the office next door.

Lora spat blood at Ophelia’s boots. Her lips twisted into an ugly smirk.

Ophelia hit her again. This was so much better than a swing in the hammock for relieving stress.

“Who does Shankre work for?” Demetrius asked.

Shankre couldn’t have been running the show. The only second-tiers with major power in the underworld sat on the Circle.

Lora glared at Demetrius, but her lips stayed closed.

“Get Quution,” Demetrius said.

Lora frowned and glanced around. There was only the three of them and Ophelia hadn’t moved.

But Demetrius had a way to make Lora talk. Ophelia suspected his plan and was morbidly fascinated by the premise. If Lora wanted to partner with the underworld, they’d certainly make it possible.

“You might feel a burning sensation,” Demetrius said. “That’ll be a demon known as Quution. You know, like electrocution. Have you heard of him?”

Lora’s stoic expression wavered. She knew the name and whoever she’d heard it from wasn’t a fan of Quution’s.

“The electrocution part is relevant,” Demetrius continued, almost sounding bored. “He can manipulate energy. It cuts corners when it comes to finding a host.”

“What are you talking abou—” Her eyes flew wide and she jerked. “No!” She bared her teeth and gasped. “No! Not against my will.”

She spasmed and her head shook, her brunette hair flying. Blood splattered the floor around her.

When Lora’s eyes infused with inky darkness, Ophelia smiled grimly. Now that was effective.

And damn, good thing he and his brother were on their side.

“This one’s a fighter,” Quution said in Lora’s voice. “If she were prime I might not be able to control her.”

“Can you make her talk?” Ophelia asked.

“Oh, it would be fun.” The light blue infused back into Lora’s irises. She frowned and stared back and forth between Ophelia and Demetrius. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing as serious as what you did with Quentin,” Ophelia said. “Who does Shankre work for?”

Lora pressed her lips shut, but her jaw worked back and forth. Finally, she flinched like she’d been shocked. Quution won the battle for control. “Spectre,” she gritted out.

Spectre was a purebred and on the Circle.

“Who was the other demon with you?”

“No, dammit. You’re not getting more from—” Teeth ground and Lora fought her restraints, but she wasn’t strong enough to hold Quution back. “He and Dieter work for Willistien.” She sagged, a long breath puffing out. “Fuck you all.”

“That’s no way for a proper maid to talk,” she muttered because it’d piss Lora off.

Lora pinned her with a deadly stare. “As if one from such a disgraced family would know.”

For a young maid, she made it sound like she knew much of Ophelia’s background.

Lora chuckled. “Word has it, there was no resistance when your parents wanted to sell you.”

Ophelia backhanded her.

Lora’s head flew back. The front two legs of the chair tipped off the floor. Demetrius didn’t twitch.

A dark laugh left the maid. “Where do you think we got the idea of approaching the parents?”

She recoiled. This tidy bitch was laying the blame for recruiting and tricking children at the corrupt feet of Ophelia’s family?

As if Master and Madame LeFevre had coined the shitty-parents gig.

Oh well. It didn’t bother her any.

Yet a tendril of guilt and a sense of responsibility snaked through her. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened until last night. If she had, would it have helped? Or would it have just made her a target?

She wanted to roundhouse kick Lora. Just because.

“Why don’t you retire for the night, Ophelia?” Demetrius moved closer, edging her to the side. “I think Quution and I need to have a longer talk with Lora.”

A hot flush of rage that mirrored shame way too closely flashed through her. She was being dismissed because Demetrius thought it was getting too personal for her.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Catch me up at nightfall.” Good. Her voice had been steady.

For fuck’s sake. She’d buried her past so damn well, why was it resurging now?

She was no longer a child, and she’d done nothing wrong. Demetrius had made a judgment call and it pissed her off. She held back from storming to her room and proving him right.

Part of what upset her was that she wanted to do nothing more than flee to Bastian’s room, make supper, and tell him everything. Then have sex. And more sex.

But she didn’t feel like a lecture on how they should warn their species about recent events and the danger the underworld posed. If she wanted to talk about that stuff, she’d take the Synod up on their offer to serve. Hard pass.

Bastian didn’t realize the downfall. He wasn’t a prime; he only worked for them. Ophelia and Demetrius were born and raised prime and knew how devious and underhanded and downright evil they could be in order to hold on to what was theirs and neutralize anything that threatened it. Their bloodlines paralleled the demons’ after all.

She went through the motions of the shower. Ignoring the lingering scent of Bastian in her room was harder, but she managed as she dressed in clean tactical pants and a fresh black shirt. She was going out. A sunrise would singe away her troubles.

Should she check on him before she left?

Or would she get an earful about how none of this should’ve happened in the first place? Or would she get waylaid in his bed? Because that sounded even better than a sunrise all by herself. Which had never been the case.

Nope. She was going straight to the cabin.

She strode out of her room, through the compound, and outside. She flashed immediately.

Appearing next to the hammock, the chill of the wind nipping her cheeks, she turning to face the cabin.

Hellfire. Bastian was here. Her body hummed when he was close. How? It wasn’t like they were mated. Yet she couldn’t deny she was attuned to him.

A male so different from any she’d known. It was hard to buy his good-guy routine as being completely genuine. Would he not use anyone to his own advantage? He had with the Gastons. They would’ve never hired him if they’d known he was nothing but a country kid with no training in service. He’d duped them to make a life for himself.

But he’d taken young Antonia under his wing. How would that have benefitted him?

Mold the next generation into relinquishing the way of life they clung to in order to pave a path to power for nonprimes? That didn’t seem like Bastian. And talk about long-term scheming. Something she had exceled at, once, when she’d given a shit. No, Bastian had taken care of Antonia because it’d been the right thing to do.

Once the vampire council had been toppled, Ophelia had coasted. She’d hooked up with Nadair in the name of the mission and had only acted when called upon by her team.

Was it possible she was getting burned out?

How long had she been pondering her circumstances while Bastian stared at her out of the cabin window?

She lifted a brow.

“I’m sorry,” his voice filtered through the glass. “I didn’t know you planned on coming here for solitude.”

“I hadn’t.” She started for the cabin, choosing to crunch through the snow instead of flashing. “But Demetrius kicked me out of the interrogation.”

“Too personal?” He swung open the door for her. It barely made a sound when usually the wood wrenching groaned through the woods.

“She was baiting me.” She didn’t close the door behind her but swung it back and forth. “Did you fix this?”

He nodded like it was no big deal. “A couple of the hinge bolts were coming out and made the door hang off-kilter.”

“I bet it’s hard seeing it like this.” She hadn’t done a damn thing to the cabin. She’d assembled the hammock frame and that was it.

“It’s surreal.” He left her to wander through the rooms, narrating as he went. “It was revolutionary of us to live aboveground. I see the heavy shutters my father had installed were removed. I suppose humans didn’t see the purpose of them. My room was the first one down the hall. My parents didn’t want me to have a corner room.” He smiled over his shoulder. “Windows.”

She followed his clean-shower scent. Like her, he’d washed and changed.

“Was this your furniture?” she asked.

“Yes.” He laughed, the sound deep and rueful. She couldn’t help her smile. “I didn’t recognize it at first, but yes.” He charged to the back bedroom. When he disappeared inside, his chuckle drifted out. “My mother rescued this quilt from a camper’s trash. She washed it and mended it.”

Ophelia crossed to the bed. Fading moonlight glowed through each window in the room. A faded blanket with several patterned blocks was draped over the queen-sized bed. Several areas that had required patches were visible, but like Bastian claimed, they’d been neatly mended.

“It’s nice.” And she meant it.

Bastian’s mom had seen the worth in the blanket when the previous owners had given up on it. She’d infused it with life that was still apparent so many years later.

“What was your mother’s name?”

Bastian’s smile was faint. “Angel.” He eased his weight down on the bed. “How’d the talk with Lora really go?” The springs creaked and dust puffed up. It was cold in the cabin, but without the wind, it was tolerable.

She sat next to him. Their breath billowed between them. She hesitated to tell him, but he’d seen possession firsthand and knew they had colleagues in the underworld. He could connect the dots.

“Quution, our colleague in the underworld, possessed her. He forced her to name the Circle member sending his minions.” Ophelia clasped her hands on her thighs. “She also said that everyone knew what happened to me. Not all staff respect the secrecy of their household’s indiscretions, and apparently ours liked to gossip.”

His big hand closed over hers. “I’m sorry.”

Ophelia let the rest spill out. “She said that’s where they got the idea for targeting children. They learned from me how susceptible they are, and how easily the parents could be bought, bribed, or coerced.”

“It’s not your fault what they’ve done.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Her brain ran lines of logic, but her emotions overrode it all.

“Ever since there’s been vampires, there’s been deception, Ophelia. Your family didn’t create it, they only expanded upon it. And you were a child. Never accept any blame. Never.”

She twisted where she sat and gazed up at him. He’d said all the right words. She’d needed to hear him, and now that her mind was settling, her body wanted comfort. “How much time do we have before dawn?”

His gaze dipped to her lips and his pupils dilated. “Enough.”

Heat bloomed, raw and needy. Fast and hard sex could right the discourse running through her.

He cupped her chin and tilted her head up. She grabbed his head and dragged it down to her mouth.

“We have time,” he murmured against her mouth.

“No, we don’t.” She shouldn’t risk him. That was as good an excuse as any. But she wanted to stay here with him. She’d been flayed open since her confession to Bastian and tonight had been salt in the wound.

She deepened the kiss and he answered, his weight gently pushing her back.

Not how she wanted it. Resisting his efforts, she pivoted until her feet hit the ground. Their kiss wasn’t broken, but it gave her access to his fly.

His hands landed at her waist. He’d do what she wanted. That was the type of guy he was.

When she’d freed his shaft, she broke their lip-lock and sank to her knees.

“Ophelia.” Her name in his husky timbre was an erotic caress.

She wrapped her hand around him. Hot, velvet-covered steel, so wide her fingertips didn’t meet. He was magnificent. She could imagine being blanketed by him and for once the thought of a male on top of her didn’t repulse her. She could almost imagine adding the missionary position back into her repertoire. But not tonight.

Closing her lips around the tip of his cock, she swiped her tongue across him. His salty flavor, and the way his hips jacked off the bed, pleased her.

So much power over a male using nothing but her mouth. Normally, she relished it, gloated over the way she reduced arrogant males to simpering just by fucking them. But with Bastian her outlook morphed into something else. She liked his reaction. Was flattered by it.

Licking up and down his length, she suctioned against the top and he bucked. Her name rode his lips.

“You’ve gotta stop.” He gently lifted her head. “I won’t last.”

She pushed a loose tendril of hair out of her face and released him. “I…like doing this for you.”

When had she started sounding so wanton, so close to desperation? It was ridiculous to think she could climax from pleasuring him, but his ecstasy was hers.

“Then come here.” He pulled her as he laid back. Only he grabbed her waist and settled her over his face.

Yes. She was on top and they’d both get off. And…she’d still get to finish him the way she’d started. She relished the idea as much as her sex quaked for his tongue.

She anchored her hands on his hips as he worked one of her legs free. Her right boot hit the floor and cool air wafted over her bare ass.

She held her breath as he positioned his face between her thighs. Hot breath caressed her sweltering skin.

Settling over him, she descended on him with her mouth and worked the base of his shaft with her hands.

He groaned and clamped down on her ass cheeks, bringing her sex to his lips. She bucked at the first flick of his tongue but didn’t move away. The ecstasy was instant. He didn’t slack because he was on the receiving end and concerned about his own finish. He stroked her, changing his technique when she responded with an enthusiastic thrust of her hips or moaned over his length.

She almost forgot herself and abandoned sucking him. He didn’t seem to mind her lapse in catering to his needs. There was no pushing her head or pumping his hips until he choked her. He was too engaged in her pleasure, and that was new for her. She liked it.

Pressure built, and she rode it as long as she could. When they were together like this, she was in the moment. Her past didn’t pursue her. Her future wasn’t a vast expanse of unknown to dread. It was her and Bastian, soaking in each other.

He pulsed against her tongue. As her climax hit, her grip around him tightened. He undulated but held her tight against him. She writhed and moaned, riding the wave, but not letting up. He tensed and roared, the vibration traveling through her sex, ramping up the end of her orgasm until she saw stars.

He released, and she accepted him. They were curled around each other as they came. The position was shockingly intimate, but it was one of the first times she’d felt close to a lover.

They eased off each other. He maneuvered himself behind her, hugging her back to his chest. His erection wasn’t fading, and his pants were still unlatched. She wore only one of her boots, and her pants hung off one leg.

The typical restless energy that prompted her to either hop out of bed or continue the fucking was absent.

Relaxing in her afterglow in Bastian’s arms was new. And not unpleasant. She enjoyed this, too, cuddling. The feelings she expected to plague her as soon she sank into his welcome embrace weren’t unmanageable.

She liked Bastian. More than as just a friend. He wasn’t a trained fighter, and the grim determination he’d shown while fighting the demon made it clear he was a reluctant fighter at best, but she felt safe with him. Safe in a way she’d never experienced before, despite being surrounded by males that could keep her physically protected.

The room brightened with each minute that passed. Her sunrise would be starting soon.

Bastian laid a kiss on top of her hair. “I don’t want this to end. But I will meet my end if I don’t seek shelter soon.”

Right. He couldn’t handle as much light as she could. She rose and righted her clothing. He did the same and waited for her to secure her boot before they walked back to the porch.

“Want to come over when we get back?” he asked. He stood over her, but not in an intimidating way. She liked it, just like when they’d cuddled. He wasn’t insistent, he wasn’t overly grabby. He respected her space and let her make the first move.

But was she ready for more warm and fuzzies?

“We’ll see after the sunrise. I came here to catch one.” Not a total lie. She’d come here to watch and sort out her thoughts.

Being with Bastian had settled some of those thoughts. But he spurred his own…considerations. And she needed time to consider.

He dropped a warm kiss to her forehead that sent tingles shivering down her spine. “My door is unlocked. If you decide to retire for the day, have a good rest.”

He flashed away before she could respond. Maybe he didn’t want her to feel pressured.

With a sigh, she rested her arms on the wooden porch railing. Her gaze fixed on the pale pinks, faint lavenders, and soft oranges lighting the horizon.

Why was she here when she had a sexy male to get it on with?

Because no male would cost her everything again. That was why.

Her resolve sank in and she watched the sunrise until her skin prickled to the point of discomfort.