Page 124 of Thirst
He’d stripped himself of his weapon, defying his hardwired, gut-level need—to dominate, to battle to the death—to keep me safe.
Something deep inside me broke open, a barrier forged of years of never being enough. Of always falling short.
Then fear detonated in my chest. My heart grew fists and pounded them against my ribcage, wild with terror.
This wasn’t what I’d planned. He wasn’t supposed to do that, wasn’t supposed to trade himself for me.
“Cain, no!” I twisted Nazaire’s grip. “Don’t trust him.”
My father—no, my sire; I refused to think of him as my father any longer—locked his arm tighter my neck. “Quiet,” he spat against my ear.
Cain ignored me and started to rise.
“All of them,” said Nazaire.
Cain gave him a hooded look but produced a switchblade and added it to the pile, before straightening up again.
I couldn’t breathe. Not just from the arm strangling me but from the weight of what Cain had done. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the great room.
The other five Maritime members had gone statue-still. Nazaire looked at Brien and said, “Your weapons, too.”
“No!” I slammed an elbow into my sire’s rib cage, desperately trying to get free. If I could get away—even for thirty seconds—I could fade into the shadows, taking myself out of the equation. If I could dredge up the energy, that is. “Don’t—that’s what he wants!”
“That’s enough.” Nazaire’s grip on my throat constricted until it felt like he was one millimeter away from crushing my windpipe. “Another word and I’ll send your pretty lieutenant to the Dark Gods right now”—a jab of his dagger for emphasis—“in front of your eyes.”
I stilled, chest jerking in and out. It was the only way to buy Cain and his friends time. I only prayed he knew what he was doing.
“The weapons,” Nazaire reminded Brien.
“No,” he returned.
Nazaire dug the blade a little deeper. This time, I managed not to react.
Cain took over, moving forward. A trio of my father’s men closed in on him like wolves coming in for a kill.
He lifted his hands, loose and easy. “I’m unarmed,” he told Nazaire, ignoring the other three vampires. “Now let her go. It’s not her you want. You want a hostage, take me. My friends won’t stop you.”
This was Cain’s plan? I swallowed a moan.
He flicked a glance at me. Somehow I knew he was asking me to trust him, and I managed to form my lips into a confident answering smile. Well, semi-confident anyway.
“Not you,” Nazaire told him. “Your primus.”
He took the dagger from my side long enough to point it at the tall, pony-tailed vampire.
“No,” said Cain. “You want him, you go through me first. But let’s make this interesting.” His smile was cold enough to frost stone. “Enforcer Nazaire, I challenge you for your daughter. If I win, she becomes mine. Any tie to the Quebec City Syndicate will be cut. Her loyalty will belong to the Maritime Syndicate—and me.”
“A challenge,” my sire echoed. I didn’t need to see his face to know his expression had turned calculating. “And if I win?”
“You take my place in the Maritime Syndicate hierarchy.”
The QCS vampires exchanged glances. An offer like that was almost unheard of. But if Brien agreed, the challenge could go forward.
It was a brilliant countermove on Cain’s part. Refusing the challenge would make Nazaire appear weak, afraid—and he’d rather bleed out on his own dagger than admit to either.
“A Maritime lieutenant,” Nazaire said. “Does he have your permission, Primus?” His tone put quotes around the word “Primus,” like Brien had somehow tricked his way into ruling one of North America’s most powerful syndicates.
“My lord?” Cain said without taking his gaze from me. “Do I have your permission?”
