Falling Blind

In one corner of the living room was a playpen. Sitting inside was Ella’s son, far too large for his age. He realized then that he hadn’t seen the boy around since his birth, even when the women were present.



They were hiding him, covering up his parentage.



Good. That gave Connal potential leverage to use against Beth, should the need arise.



Her eyes flared wide with recognition. “You,” she breathed as she began to tremble.



Connal could hear her heart racing, hear the blood speed through her veins. His mouth watered in response, his stomach twisting with ravenous hunger.



He should have slowed down and eased her fears or at least subdued her mind so that she would relax, but he found the idea of wasting even one more second too much for his willpower.



He grabbed her up and craned her neck back, sinking his fangs deep. Blood poured over his tongue, drowning it in power. She was stronger now. Well fed, well rested. She was no longer taxed by the burden of growing a life inside of her.



Connal had never experienced anything like it before. The dark taint flowing through her—the one that made her capable of bearing Synestryn young—wove around his cells, fueling them like nothing else ever had.



The thought gave him pause. There had been a time when tainted blood would have burned his mouth and twisted his stomach. But that time had passed. Whatever Zillah had done to him by slowly feeding him her blood over the years as they altered her, it had changed him as well.



“Please,” she gasped as her heart raced faster.



He was taking too much, but he couldn’t stop. He needed more. All of her.



Her heart fluttered. Her limbs went weak. The useless blows she’d landed on his back and arms had slowed. Then they stopped.



So did her heart. The last sputtering beats sent a faint trickle of blood into his mouth. He sucked on her, needing more, but there was no more left to take.



He’d killed her. Drained her dry.



Connal dropped her and stumbled back in shock. Her body sprawled, pale and lifeless on the floor. There wasn’t even enough blood in her for the ragged wounds on her neck to bleed.



It was then that he was hit with the implications of what he’d done.



Once her body was found, any Sanguinar would be able to detect his hand in this. He couldn’t replace her blood.



But there was one thing he could do.



Connal grabbed a knife from the kitchen, carried her to the bathroom, and laid her body in the tub. He closed the wounds at her throat and wrapped her limp, cold hand around the knife. He sliced a few hesitation marks into her skin, followed by a long gash running right along her vein. He turned on the shower and pointed it at the open cut in her arm. A few pitiful drops of blood joined the water, swirling down the drain.



By the time anyone found her, it would all be washed away, but at least it would appear as if she’d done the exsanguination herself. He hoped.



He turned to leave and saw the child down the hallway, still safely in his playpen. As Connal cleaned up all signs of his presence and left the suite, the child stared at him with black eyes filled with accusation.



Maybe it was a trick of the mind, but Connal was almost certain the child understood what had just happened. If he’d been old enough to speak, Connal would have had to kill him as well. As it was, he would keep Connal’s secret, if only because he was unable to do otherwise.



* * *



As soon as the heat of that scorching kiss with Cain had faded, dread began to set in.



Rory didn’t want to do this—she didn’t want a vampire drinking her blood. Even worse, she didn’t want him in her head. Letting Ronan see behind the curtain felt too much like some kind of betrayal. That was something she shared with Cain, not some bloodsucking Sanguinar.



Still, she was in trouble and Ronan was the one who could fix it. If that meant stripping down naked and sacrificing live chickens under a full moon, then that’s what she’d do to be rid of the demon’s control.



Cain hovered nearby, his thick arms crossed over his chest. Seeing him there, looking like nothing in the world could hurt him, gave her a precious moment of peace. His presence was reassuring—a looming reminder that he was on her side.



“So what happens now?” she asked Ronan.



“I take some of your blood to strengthen me and create a link between us. After that, I’ll find the demon’s presence and try to mask it.”



“And that will make it so the thing can’t control me anymore?”



“That is my hope.”



“What are my chances?”



Cain surged forward, only to grind to a halt a second later. She saw a flash of herself through his eyes, hating how small and vulnerable she looked huddled on the couch. Her hair was damp, lying limp around her face. She wore no makeup to hide how pale she was. Even her tucked-in posture screamed she was scared shitless.



Fuck that. She was tired of being afraid. The sooner she got this over with, the better.



“Never mind,” she hastily added. “I don’t want to know.”



Ronan patted her hand, his skin cool to the touch and not at all comforting. “Everything is going to be fine.”



Cain let out a rumbling growl. “Just do it. She doesn’t want you to linger.”



Before Rory could respond or even register what was happening, she saw a light flare in Ronan’s eyes—unnatural, internal light spilling from within. Her wrist was at his mouth, and a fleeting pain came and went so fast she questioned if it had ever happened.



Lethargy collapsed in over her, giving her no time to fear its approach. One minute she was awake, and the next, she had fallen into a gray, groggy state where nothing could touch her. She floated there, weightless and without feeling, as if her body had dissipated into smoke.



An alien presence wedged its way into her mind, forcing her acceptance. A headache spiked behind her eyes, shoving her up toward the surface of wakefulness.



This presence wasn’t like Cain, who had slipped in, winding through her thoughts as if he belonged there. This one was harsher, colder—not the same frigid, screaming demand as the demon had been, but just as unwelcome.



“Don’t fight me,” she heard Ronan say. He was too close. His words echoed in her ears and inside her skull, bouncing off the jagged tension between her eyes.



Get out.



She didn’t want him here. He didn’t belong.



“I must be here.”



Get out.



He didn’t leave and she couldn’t shove him away. Panic slithered up her spine, lodging itself in her throat. She couldn’t breathe.



A second presence in her mind woke up, as if sensing her weakness. It sank in through a crack, expanding like smoke to twine around her thoughts. It was icy and furious, seething with caustic hatred, dripping with malice.



“That’s the demon,” said Ronan. “You must let me in to fight him.”



Get out!



The demon didn’t listen. It grew, uncoiling until it was huge and looming.



Cain! She tried to shout the word, but no sound came out, only an empty, gaping silence.



“I’m here.” His voice settled over her like a warm blanket. A second later, he was with her. Inside her. She recognized the humming power that flowed through him.



Rory clung to him, not caring if it made her look weak. She didn’t understand this mental landscape or how so many creatures could fit here with her. All she knew was that everyone wanted something from her—everyone but Cain.



“Let Ronan help you,” he said.



I don’t know how.



“I’ll show you.”



He’d done this before. He knew exactly what he was doing, arrowing in on her intent to shield herself. As he wrapped himself around it, she felt the barrier crumble.



Full-blown panic pounded at her to stop him. He was going to destroy her.



“Trust me.” His presence swelled, its power so huge and bright it was like staring at the sun, blinding her.



Whatever he was doing was going to kill her. She didn’t know how he couldn’t see that.



“I will never hurt you.”



If she hadn’t been intertwined with him, she might have scoffed, but she felt his resolve reverberate down to his very soul. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was so, but the feeling was as unmistakable as it was potent.



Rory let go, trusting Cain to have her back. She was floundering and ignorant of all this magical crap. Cain wasn’t. And if what he was doing killed her, at least she wouldn’t be alone when she went. It was more than she’d expected from her life.



She was overcome, completely defeated, but Cain was here with her, cradling her close and making her believe he really did care. That it would all be okay.



With a rumble that shook her to her bones, the barrier she’d created crumbled to ash. The demon was behind it, teeth bared, claws extended, looming huge over Ronan, who was also there.



“Perfect.” She heard Ronan’s voice praise her, lilting low and soft. “Just relax and let go.”



She’d already let go of everything she had. There was nothing left to give him.



Ronan swelled and grew, his form expanding to dwarf the demon. Rory cringed back from the pair only to feel Cain’s soothing presence there to cushion her.



A hissing, ultraviolet light spewed out of Ronan’s mouth, hitting the demon. It jerked back in pain only to lunge forward in defiance. Ronan grabbed the beast between two huge hands and crushed it. Behind the demon a metal box appeared.



He shoved the creature back toward the gaping doorway, his intent to cage it clear. The demon lashed out, slicing through Ronan’s skin. More ultraviolet light bled from the wounds, giving the demon nowhere to hide from the burning light.



It cowered and screamed as Ronan crammed it into the box that was far too small to contain it. Bones cracked and scales scraped over the metal like fingernails on a chalkboard, but Ronan kept pushing until the demon was fully inside. He slammed the door shut and it fused closed, as if the metal had been instantly welded in place.



A second later, Rory jolted awake as if she’d been doused in iced coffee. She shot upright, nearly bashing Cain’s chin with her forehead.



“Easy,” he said as he took control of her shoulders to keep her from flailing and taking out his eye.



Ronan was slumped on the floor by the couch where she lay. His head was bent, his shoulders heaving with rapid, heavy breaths.



“Are you okay?” she asked.



“Give him a minute,” said Cain. “What he did was incredibly difficult.”



It hadn’t been a picnic for her, either, but at least she didn’t feel as bad as Ronan looked.



Cain’s hand slid over her shoulder until it cupped her neck. The tingling heat calmed her down, feeling oddly familiar and grounding. She hadn’t had his touch in her life for long, but she knew it now to the point that she was certain that if blindfolded, she would know his hand on her skin out of a thousand different men.



“How do you feel?” he asked.



“Fine. Freaked, but okay. Did it work?”



Ronan gave a weak nod. “For now.”



Cain’s fingers curled at the nape of her neck. The luceria jumped toward him in excitement, as if it, too, recognized his touch.



“Andra’s shield went down just as Ronan started. Had he not acted fast, you would have been back where you were before, fighting to get outside.”