Page 24 of Thirst
I knew that look. That dark, hopeless acceptance. I’d worn it myself growing up under my bastard of an uncle.
Something shifted in me. That big, bright smile she showed the world? I’d figured it was a mask. I just hadn’t bothered to think too hard about what it hid.
A black heat blanked my vision. “He hurt you?” My voice came out low and dangerous.
She shrugged—small, defeated. An answer all on its own.
I pushed up onto my knees and caught her by the shoulders.
“Tell me,” I demanded. “What did he do?”
8
Nyx
I stared dazedly at Cain, my body still buzzing, my mind scrambling to catch up. One moment I’d been curled in his lap, warm and loose and letting myself forget—and the next, I was undergoing an interrogation.
I shook my head. “It was nothing.”
Don’t tell. Never tell. Nobody will help you anyway.
Hot tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them away. You didn’t show weakness to a vampire.
His expression hardened. “What. Did. He. Do?”
The weight of his dominance pressed against me, demanding an answer.
My pulse kicked up. My gaze slid sideways, my instincts screaming at me to comply, yield, survive.
Fuck that. This was one vampire I didn’t have to obey. I’d already told him too much. I met his eyes and pressed my lips together until they hurt.
“You were helping me,” he said to himself. “Giving me intel. If he suspects—” He halted, jaw tight. “Damn. That’s why nobody saw you in public for weeks after.”
“He doesn’t suspect.” My hands landed on Cain’s naked chest.
I meant to push him away, but I didn’t. He felt too good. My reward for making sure he and his friends survived the explosion, even knowing I’d pay for screwing up.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“I’m a female—and a dhampir. He doesn’t think I have the guts to betray him. Actually, he blames Pascal. I told him Pascal broke when you tortured him.”
“So then where have you been? He kept you locked away for what—a month? Two months?”
“Thirty days,” I found myself saying.
Thirty endless days. And since then, he’d been keeping a close eye on me. I was lucky he’d allowed this trip to Paris.
“If he doesn’t blame you, then why did you get locked up?”
I lifted my shoulders, let them drop. “There was no one else to take his anger out on.”
The neon blue faded from Cain’s eyes, but his expression remained dark. “And?—?”
“He confined me to my apartment.” My gaze slid from Cain’s. “And ordered me not to paint—or anything.”
“What’s that mean—anything?”
“He had them throw out my pencils and drawing pads, too. A few months worth of sketches—all gone. Burned.”
