Page 131 of Thirst
Relief that I was finally free of Nazaire.
Sorrow for the man he’d been—cold, calculating, incapable of love.
But threaded through it all was a wild, primal joy, so fierce I was shaking with it.
Cain had survived. He loved me. He’d claimed me as his mate.
It was as if my most secret painting, the story drawn only on my heart, had come to life.
Cain buried his face in my hair. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Do what?”
“Let anyone put his blade to your throat. Or your fucking liver.”
Laughter bubbled up in me. “I’ll do my best.”
“You’d better.” His hands slid to my ass and squeezed.
I nuzzled his cheek. “Yes, sir.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “Fuck, I need you.”
Our mouths met in the kind of kiss where everything is fused, perfect—lips, bodies, hearts. When we broke for air, he frowned and swiped a tear on my cheek with his thumb. “You’re crying. But I feel you—inside—and you’re happy.”
Only then did I feel the tears streaking my face. “I am happy—so happy. Just emotional.”
His expression was both baffled and adoring, like figuring me out was going to be his life’s work. “Okay.”
“Cain,” snapped Talon.
Silver flashed around us. Dussault and his people had us surrounded and were advancing. The Maritime people had their weapons out in answer.
“Fuck,” Cain bit out. He shoved me in Perla’s direction. “Run.”
My hand went to the dagger on my thigh. A glance at Perla told me she was all right, although she’d come to her feet, one hand on the back of the bench.
She caught my eye, and then my quiet, self-contained friend spat out, “Trou d’culs.” Assholes.
Talon had already tossed Cain another blade. The four friends fought alongside James and Adrian.
Six against thirteen, and only a couple of the thirteen called this lair home. Dussault had clearly come not just to witness the challenge, but to take advantage of it. Nazaire must’ve contacted him as soon as he knew Brien was in the lair.
But for now, they’d left me alone. I eased the dagger from its holster and shot another glance at Perla. She brandished a silver switchblade she’d produced from somewhere, wordlessly letting me know she’d be okay. I nodded and circled the fighters.
Brien and Talon had each taken out a man already. Rodrigo and his friend Théo had teamed up against Cain. I slipped in behind them.
Cain’s gaze flickered, although he was too smart to give me away. But he wasn’t happy. I didn’t need the bond to tell me he wanted me to run, not fight. To save myself.
To Hades with that. We were mates now. We lived or died together.
I focused on Rodrigo, and, drawing my blade up, slashed it down toward the base of his neck, aiming to severe his spine.
A dirty, vicious kind of fighting. I sensed Cain’s surprise even as he stuck his blade through Théo.
Rodrigo ducked just in time and my blade sliced the side of his throat instead. A hot spray followed; I’d hit an artery.
Not good enough. It would weaken him, but if I didn’t finish him off, he’d heal.
