Page 27 of Thirst
“What?”
“If it gets too much—if Nazaire goes too far—you get word to me, and I’ll come for you. Or just get the hell out. We’ll take you in, give you sanctuary. He won’t lay a hand on you again. Just get yourself to Halifax and I’ll send a chopper for you. There’s a bar on the waterfront.” He gave me the name. “Tell any of the bartenders to contact me.”
My heart squeezed painfully. “You’d do that?”
Yeah, Cain had his own agenda, but that didn’t make his offer any less generous. If I accepted, his syndicate would be painted as the villains. You didn’t steal another man’s spawn without consequences.
“Fuck, yes,” he said.
I swallowed over what felt like a handful of grit. I wanted that sanctuary, wanted it so badly it scared me.
But wanting and taking are two different things.
“Think about it,” Cain urged. “You could have your own studio. A big one. There’s more than enough space in the castle. You could keep painting, keep showing your work. Your father doesn’t have to know. And if he finds out—tough shit. I won’t let him touch you.”
“He’ll find out. He’ll come for me. You know he will.”
“Let him.”
I studied the hard line of his jaw. “But maybe that’s what you want,” I added slowly. “Maybe you’re hoping he’ll follow me to the island so you can take him out.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “It’s a genuine offer, damn it. Yeah, I want your father in his final grave, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you. And yes, you have my promise. I’ll keep The Haunt out of it.”
I nodded, more grateful than he knew. “Thank you. And Cain? That you offered me sanctuary? It means a lot. But I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself.”
I’d survived a childhood in Nazaire’s lair, hadn’t I?
I started the fade.
“Hold on.” Cain crossed the balcony, pulling me into his arms. “When will I see you again?”
Never.
I halted the fade—if I didn’t, I’d take him into the shadows with me—and touched his cheek, memorizing the feel of him. Cool, a little rough. “Wait a couple of months. Let things settle down.”
“Nyx…”
Hope welled up in me. “Yes?”
My defenses were down and it all poured out of me. An aching yearning, a wish that we could actually be together.
He shouldn’t have been able to sense my emotions—I was a dhampir, not a human. But he went taut, then released me like a hot coal.
It was all the answer I needed. A sad smile tipped up my lips. “Goodbye, Cain.”
“We’re not done,” he insisted. “I will see you again.”
I just shook my head. I stepped sideways, putting more space between us, and vanished into the shadows as he watched, tight-jawed.
It took me less than a minute to crawl down to the second floor and along the wall to my suite. I flowed back into the bedroom, eased the window shut and dragged the blackout shade down. I shed my clothes and headed into the washroom.
I barely had time to scrub Cain’s scent off my skin before Jerome’s knock rattled my door. I opened it, dressed in a tee and yoga pants, an open bottle of blood-champagne in my hand.
“What?” I flashed him a loopy smile.
Disgust flickered over his lean face. It wasn’t easy for a dhampir to get fucked up, but I’d faked it enough over the years that my bodyguards figured I had a low tolerance.
“Everything all right?” He scanned the suite behind me.
