Page 15 of Thirst
Nyx
Cain pinned me to the red-and-black tiles, his breath hot against my nape, one hand clamping my wrists behind my back.
“Let me go, damn you!” I bucked against him, struggling to break free. “You got your answers. What else do you want?”
He easily controlled me. “I told you,” he said, slapping his free hand to the wall beside my head. “I want a fucking reason.”
“You’re not my lieutenant,” I hissed. “I don’t answer to you.”
He didn’t like that. His powerful body pressed mine harder into the tiles. “Then I guess I’ll have to give Brien and Talon the name of the other person on that island. Better start watching your back because I can’t promise what Talon will do when he hears.”
I sucked in a breath. The last thing I needed was a vampire with a grudge hunting me. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Something in my throat pinched. Cain would never choose me over his friends, I knew that. But it hurt.
“You can’t prove anything.”
“This isn’t a court of law. That painting is all the proof I need.”
“Only to you. To anyone else, it’s just one of The Haunt’s weird, made-up creations. Bengal tigers don’t live in Nova Scotia, and a fire can burn anywhere.”
“It’s proof enough that Nazaire’s behind this. You don’t do anything without Daddy’s say-so.”
I went rigid. Was it that obvious to everyone else that my father pulled my strings like a puppet?
“He’ll laugh in your face. You’ll look like an ass.”
He ignored that to muse, “And I wonder what Dussault will think?”
A chill ran up my spine. My father had no idea I was The Haunt, and I was desperate to keep it that way.
If Cain and Brien took this to my father’s primus, my secret would be exposed. Dussault wouldn’t care that I was The Haunt—he’d probably consider it a feather in his cap—but my father would be livid. First, that I’d revealed my presence on the island, tying him to Lamaire’s op. And second, that I’d been hiding something this big, something that let me earn an income he didn’t control.
I swallowed sickly. I could feel Cain’s gaze on my profile. I had the eerie feeling he could see straight through skin and bone to the frantic thrum underneath.
I forced a scoff. “You think Dussault gives a damn about a Maritime thrall?” Or any thrall, for that matter.
“I trusted you,” he ground out. “Or was that the plan? Were you laughing at me the whole time?”
“I helped you,” I snapped back. I’d risked my life, meeting him in secret, feeding him intel. “Brien and Twilight would never have gotten in the door of that blood-slave ring if I hadn’t passed along that info to you. If Dussault ever finds out that was me, I’m toast. Literally. He’ll stake me out in the sun and let me fry.”
The QCS primus wasn’t known for mercy.
“As for why I was on the island, my father sent me—you’re right about that. He said he wanted someone he trusted to keep an eye on Lemaire.” I gave a self-mocking laugh. “Ironic, huh?”
Cain turned me to face him, his fingers locked around my wrists. We were so close, I could feel his heat even through my clothes. My nipples tightened, my hormones not getting the message that this man wanted to wring my neck, not fuck me.
Something in his expression shifted. “You were the other person on the island,” he said slowly, like he’d finally figured the last piece of a puzzle out. “The operative we never saw.”
My heart lurched into my throat. “So?”
“The explosion.” His face went cold, every line sharpening. “That was you. You’re the person who booby-trapped our boat.”
A punch of real fear stole my breath. This was a side of Cain I’d never seen. I had to fight not to shrink back.
“I—you’re vampires. I knew you’d survive.”
