ANGER AND PANIC clogged Tensley’s throat, making it impossible to swallow.
Mr. Rose’s voice echoed into his fractured mind, and Tensley gripped the phone tighter.
“I’m coming,” he spat out and hung up.
A vicious storm warred inside his chest, in his muscles and bones, and he wanted to destroy every single object in his path.
“Tensley,” Molly exclaimed nervously as she gripped his bicep. Her eyes flared wide. “What’s wrong?”
Tensley pocketed his phone and moved fast, grabbing a fresh dress shirt. “I need to leave. Now.”
As he gathered the few items he had unpacked, he felt Molly’s presence behind him. He shoved his clothes into his small suitcase, his thoughts racing.
What if it was Ares?
Would he be able to keep Molly safe?
His family needed him. Scorpios needed him. He felt violated, targeted.
He growled, bracing himself on the bed, and took deep breaths, trying to ease the stress, ease the anxiety building in his chest.
“Tensley,” she whispered, her hand stroking his back in soothing circles. “Please tell me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, to regain his composure in front of her. He stood up, yanked on his dress shirt, and turned to face her.
She stared at him, those innocent eyes begging him to tell her. To understand him. It both terrified and thrilled him.
“My father’s been poisoned.”
His words were blunt, harsh, cold.
Molly’s brows lifted to her hairline. “Is he okay?”
He shook his head, settling his focus on his buttons. When his damn hands trembled, he cursed under his breath, blood boiling.
“Hey, hey,” Molly muttered, touching his hands, and then found his cheeks, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “It’s okay.”
As much as he wanted to believe her words, they weren’t true.
“I’ll drop you off on my way to the airport,” he told her, returning to his buttons.
He shrugged into his dress jacket and hauled his suitcase over his shoulder, turning to gesture for Molly to come.
She paused, brows drawn in concentration. Then she lifted her head high and gathered her blouse and dress. “I’m coming with you.”
Tensley let his hand drop. “You can’t.”
Molly shimmied into her dress, and Tensley couldn’t help but watch her, in shock, as her hips swung, disappearing under the black.
“I’ve worked so much they told me I’ve put in overtime for my internship. I’ll talk to my supervisor and tell her it’s a family emergency,” she explained and bent down on the bed, sliding into her black heels. She stood, a sad smile on her lips, and strode up to him, no fear or hesitation could be found on her features as she cupped his scruffy jaw. “You need me more.”
He stared back into her trusting, exposed expression and his shoulders sagged. Every single moment of his life, he had depended on one person only. Himself. Just like his emotions, he didn’t allow others to see his pain, to allow them to help him. He’d always survived by himself.
But now she was here. Infecting him with a brutal ache in his chest, invading his senses, and he couldn’t ignore her.
She wanted to carry his burden, his stress, that brutal ache.
She wanted to help him with no ulterior motivate.
This woman knew him. Knew what he refused to believe, knew what he needed to hear even when he hated it, and he wanted to hold her, so tightly she felt his own heart thump just for her.
“Are you sure?” his voice tight. Her internship had meant everything to her, and he wouldn’t be the reason she missed it.
“I’m positive.”
He nodded curtly, throat too full to speak, afraid she’d hear the wobble. Be strong, be deadly, be silent.
He grabbed her hand and without a second glance back, marched out of the hotel.
THE PLANE ride was unbearable. Flying business, cramped in a tight space, a fucking baby crying at the top of its tiny lungs and the idiot snoring beside Tensley didn’t ease the tension in his shoulders, his spine, his chest.
Now, seated in the back of his Bentley, stuck in rush hour traffic in the middle of Manhattan, he wanted to growl. His family was at the townhouse and he had no idea what to expect. Critical condition, Mr. Rose had said…
Tensley fisted his hand on his bouncing thigh, glaring at the smoggy air of New York City, trapped within the tall glass and concrete buildings. Suffocating him.
God, he couldn’t breathe.
He wiped the sweat on his top lip and grunted under his breath.
Then he loosened his tie, swallowing thickly.
He bounced his leg, frustration seeping from every pore, every breath.
“Tensley.” Molly’s hand cupped the thickest part of his thigh and he froze, his gaze searching hers next to him in the backseat.
All the anger, the fear, evaporated at her tender touch and soon, her fingers stroked his fisted hand until he relaxed, lacing their hands together. A kiss of palm to palm. The action so telling, so crucial to him, he had to look away.
He squeezed her hand, a thank you, a declaration he could never say.
When the white townhouse peeked into view, his chest constricted, and he squared his jaw. Before the driver could get out, Tensley opened the car door and ushered Molly onto the sidewalk.
The townhouse, fresh white slabs, tall and regal, was a reminder of his family, of Scorpios, and his father. The responsibility of the Dux.
Molly came to his side, his hand clenching hers like a lifeline.
One more breath, one more moment of weakness, and he steeled himself—first with his eyes, then to his vocal cords, down to his thumping chest. Cold. Detached. Numb.
He was a soldier first, not the grieving son.
His thumb extended to her wrist, a powerful touch, a dominant sign to others. She was his, and any bastard stupid enough to challenge that, he’d throttle.
Then he walked into the townhouse as the beast, as the Tensley Knight everyone knew. His men stood as statues, their heads bowed low, in black, and the air grew tense, heavy.
As if they were in mourning.
Tensley ignored the burning sensation in his lungs and marched with grace and ease, his bride in tow, down the long hallway.
Molly’s thumb brushed the back of his palm, a reminder he wasn’t alone.
Once they hit the grand staircase, he could hear his sister’s low voice scolding his nephew, Donovan, and the little guy came into view, dashing along the banister with a toy airplane.
Donovan’s wide eyes grew, and in one shriek, he threw himself into Tensley’s arms.
“Uncle Tensley!” His small voice somehow erupted into Tensley’s eardrums and with one arm, Tensley scooped up the elated boy.
“Doesn’t your mother teach you to be careful,” he muttered, taking the final steps up the stairs.
Donovan sat back, perfectly content to be secured by one thick arm and beamed at him. “She says I’ll break my neck.”
Tensley squared his jaw, and before he could speak, Donovan’s focus was on the woman holding Tensley’s hand.
“You brought her back,” Donovan whispered, gawking at her.
Tensley hummed.
“Hi, Donovan,” Molly said, grinning at the tiny boy.
Donovan’s cheeks had reddened, and he bowed his head against Tensley’s shoulder. “Hi.”
“Tensley,” Gabriella said, waddling down the hallway, her belly round and extended further than the last time he saw her. She was due any day now. “Donovan, on your feet. You’re not a baby.”
Tensley didn’t hide his scowl and ruffled the boy’s dark hair after setting him down. Donovan raced off, disappearing into a room.
“Where have you been?” Gabriella’s hard stare pierced his, and she side-eyed Molly for a brief moment, then returned her anger to Tensley. “You left town on a whim. Scorpios needed you and you were nowhere in sight.”
Tensley kept his features impassive. A stab to his chest. He’d already failed in his duty. “Business matters.”
Gabriella’s chin jutted out and her eyes grew black, but she held her tongue. “Father’s in his bedroom.”
Tensley swept his gaze over his sister and continued down the hallway, tugging Molly along.
“I’m right here,” Molly whispered and stroked his bicep.
His parent’s bedroom was his sole focus as he lessened the steps between them. He opened the door with a deep breath and his eyes immediately went to his father, unconscious in their bed.
Pale. Unmoving.
His powerful father had fallen. A sight he never thought he’d see.
He squinted in the darkened room, the curtains drawn shut, no natural light seeping in. His father would have hated it.
“Tensley, dear.” His mother’s shaky voice interrupted his own thoughts, and he turned to see her approaching them. Her face was drawn tight with heavy dark bags under her eyes. When she spoke, her lips trembled.
He bowed so she could kiss his cheek, and then she did the same to Molly.
“How is he?” Molly asked when Tensley couldn’t manage to speak, his eyes returning to the frozen figure of his father in the bed. He couldn’t process what he was seeing or the feelings warring inside of him. Fuck, he would have been lost without Molly.
“He’s…” his mother began, but her bloodshot eyes grew wet and she licked nervously at her lips.
“It’s okay,” Molly cooed, letting go of his hand and holding his mother’s trembling frame.
Tensley’s chest ached. The pain was visible on his mother’s beautiful features, and he wondered if Molly could see the pain in his own.
Gabriella closed the door behind her, arms folded, her eyes immediately going to their father. He could see the way her arms corded together, squeezing herself to become smaller, that she was hurting inside. Their father, their Dux had been attacked—and now he laid in his deathbed.
Scorpios were delicate, the stinger twisted and bent.
Gabriella walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured a finger of whisky, but surprised Tensely when she came back with a second one, handing it to him.
He didn’t waste a second. He downed it, enjoying the burn.
“The twins are coming back from Europe tomorrow,” Gabriella said, catching Tensley’s gaze. The twins. The youngest of his siblings, and the ones living on their wealth with no responsibilities.
Gabriella raised her chin, those dark eyes challenging his.
Underneath Gabriella’s cold exterior was a damaged soul, chained to their brother’s past mistakes. Both obsessed with fear of recreating his destruction.
Falling to another.
Their prime objective was to protect their family, and now it had been damaged. They were exposed, and their existence was threatened. Their father protected their name, and now…
Gabriella looked over at their mother who had sat down in a chair. Molly sat next to her, a hand clenched in hers.
“He was so weak,” Gabriella whispered, and Tensley looked to see her head bowed, unable to look him in the eye. “He was shaking. He couldn’t speak. And then he just collapsed, and we couldn’t do anything.”
Tensley squared his jaw, fists clenching beside him. “I’ll make sure the bastards pay for what they did, Gabriella.”
Gabriella’s eyes shot up, wet and bloodshot, but a fierce fire thrashed there. “Make them beg for their pathetic lives, Tensley.”
That similar anger, similar thirst for power and revenge existed in his sister. Their hatred for each other wasn’t as important as supporting each other now.
A knock interrupted them, and they turned to see Mr. Rose walk inside, dressed in a tailored black suit, his graying hair slicked back.
“I’m glad to see you’re back, Tensley,” Mr. Rose greeted.
Tensley nodded.
Before Mr. Rose shut the door, Evelyn Rose waltzed in, head high, a lacy veil cascading over her features. Bold red lips, dull brown eyes—as if she were in mourning.
But it was the way her eyes scanned him over, slowly, hungrily.
He didn’t miss the way her lips quirked and then fell back to a frown.
She looked over at Mr. Knight and her forehead wrinkled, an impassive expression. Tensley frowned.
“Tensley,” Evelyn whispered and reached out for his arm.
He caught her wrist low and sent her a deadly glare.
She scowled, her gaze flitting over his shoulder, and then her expression became vicious. She yanked her hand back.
“Tell me what you know,” Tensley said, turning his attention back to Mr. Rose.
Mr. Rose hadn’t missed the tense exchange between his daughter and Tensley, but he simply sighed and stepped closer. “He’s stable, but in a coma,” Mr. Rose said, resting his hands on his hips. “Our warlocks have been working all night to save him. His coffee was poisoned.”
Tensley gritted his teeth. “And did we catch the bastard who did it?” He felt Molly’s heat warm his side. She didn’t need to touch him to comfort him; she simply needed to stand beside him. Together.
“Yes. A servant working here, spying for Ares. He confessed every single word.”
“Alive?” he bit out, unable to hide his trembling muscles of anger.
“Alive,” Mr. Rose said lowly. “I left him that way. I expected you’d love to finish the job.”
At least the bastard understood that. He still didn’t trust him or his daughter.
He didn’t supply him an answer and he didn’t miss the way Mr. Rose glanced at Molly after he spoke of him torturing the traitor. She knew the beast, she understood him, better than most of his men.
“And the poison?”
“Rose thorn.”
Tensley’s blood boiled. The exact same thing the hunters had poisoned him with weeks ago.
Freezes the bloodstream, cuts off circulation until you suffocate to death.
“By the time the warlocks realized what the drug was and how to deal with it, it was too late.” Mr. Rose’s throat trembled. “Too much damage.”
Tensley narrowed his eyes at the man, his father, his features now soft, not so severe and threatening. The machines and the tubes hooked under his skin were an image he would never get out of his head.
His mother returned to his father’s bedside and combed his graying hair back from his eyes.
“We need to speak. Family only,” Mr. Rose said for only Tensley to hear and side-eyed Molly beside him. “Alone.”
Tensley shook his head, his temper flaring. “If you have something to say,” he hissed, “she stays.”
Mr. Rose shot an ugly glare Molly’s way. “The daemon?”
Tensley’s hands curled into fists beside him, and he took a deadly step closer, invading Mr. Rose’s space. “My bride. My confidant. Someone you should show some goddamn respect to.”
The tension in the air grew denser, suffocating them in anger and frustration. Tensley wasn’t budging. Not on this.
Mr. Rose’s lips twisted, and after a long pause, he sighed. “In your father’s condition, the warlocks estimate he won’t wake up.” Tensley didn’t move, he didn’t breathe, and he simply stared impassively back at Mr. Rose.
“How certain are they?”
“If he does wake up, the brain damage would be too severe for him to function,” Mr. Rose explained.
Tensley glanced at his father, working his jaw. Chest heavy, mind heavy. “And that would mean…”
Mr. Rose straightened his posture. “Evelyn will take over as Dux. And I’ll help her.”
Tensley bristled and gave him a deadly stare. “No, you won’t.” The last man he wanted running Scorpios was Mr. Rose and his daughter. Especially that power-hungry demon.
“Fuck no,” Gabriella hissed.
“What do you mean, Mr. Rose?” Tensley’s mother stood from the bed, her hand shakily covering her mouth. “He’s the heir. Scorpios has been in our family for over three hundred years. You can’t mean…”
“But Tensley, darling,” Evelyn said so sickeningly sweet, edging closer, even having the balls to caress his forearm. Tensley shot his arm back, his nostrils flaring. “Your father announced to the council you’d be working for Lord Fallen in the High Court.” She tilted her head to the side and her eyes swept over Molly before she spoke again. “You can’t be the Dux of Scorpios and work for Lord Fallen.”
“Evelyn is right,” Mr. Rose chimed in. “You’d have to be at the High Court so many days of the month, and as the Dux, you’d have to be present and available to your people. Managing two powerful duties would hinder your abilities to take care of Scorpios.”
Tensley saw red and darkness.
His sole duty was Scorpios and becoming their Dux. Now that role was threatened. He couldn’t give up his deal with Fallen, though. It would risk Molly.
“Working in the High Court? Tensley?” Molly’s soft voice filtered in, but all he could focus on was not ripping Evelyn Rose apart.
He sent those fucking aggressive pheromones off and he loved the way Evelyn’s eyes flared, wide and shocked, her shoulders sagging from his mere strength. Strength from his dolcezza. He’d burn Evelyn to the ground before he let her take what was rightfully his.
Over his fucking dead body.
“I am the heir of Scorpios. I have the final say and I say no. Evelyn Rose will not be taking over as Dux.”
“The rules are the rules, Mr. Knight. Unless you are able to convince Lord Fallen of your capacities, I believe my daughter is the better fit as Dux of Scorpios,” Mr. Rose said hesitantly, the pheromones still swarming the air.
“Then I suppose I will be paying a visit to our king,” he said, bitterly. His eyes settled on Evelyn, the smugness in her stance, in her swanlike neck he’d love to snap. “But make no mistake. Only one Dux stands in this room, and it is not the power hungry vixen you call a daughter, Mr. Rose.” And with that, he stormed out of the room, Molly following closely behind.