Page 28 of Thirst
“Absss—absoluutely,” I mumbled. “Everything’s perrrfect. Wanna drink?” I waved the bottle at him.
His lip curled. “No,” he said shortly, and left, locking the door behind him.
I took another gulp of blood-champagne and put the bottle on the wet bar, then crawled into the massive bed.
My sex felt empty. We hadn’t finished. Not really.
I sighed.
My hand crept beneath the waist band of my yoga pants. But after a few rubs, I gave up because the emptiness was coming from elsewhere, somewhere deep inside me.
I’d just left Cain for the last time. If all went as planned, I’d never see him again. The moment the gallery money hit that secret Swiss account, I was gone. Out of my father’s lair. Out of the syndicate world.
I’d backpack across Europe, moving only by daylight, supporting myself by selling my paintings. At night I’d lock myself away, safe behind bolted doors where no vampire could reach me.
Safe—and alone.
I should’ve felt a spark of excitement, a flicker of the freedom I’d dreamed about for years. Instead, I felt…flat. Like someone had drained all the color out of me.
With a low, unhappy exhale, I pulled the soft sheets over my head.
9
Cain
Back on Lilith Island, I dropped my gear in my quarters and made straight for the war room. The place hummed with low voices and the glow of the security feeds—familiar, grounding. Brien was talking to the soldier on duty when I walked in, but he cut it off when he saw me.
“Cain.” He smiled and crossed the cavern, still in tactical pants and scuffed trainers like he’d come straight from the gym, and clapped me on the back. “Good to have you back.”
“Good to be back.” I shook his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Maybe firmer than necessary, like I had to prove to both of us that everything was fine. “Everything all right here?”
“Yeah—quiet, actually. What about you?”
I’d kept my promise to check in every few days, but otherwise I’d stayed silent. A good hacker—and vampire syndicates had the best in the world—could intercept even encrypted messages. No way I was risking that.
Too bad I wasn’t bringing good news. “I’ll tell you in your office.”
“Of course.” He waved me ahead of him and closed the door behind us.
I stopped a few steps in, waiting as he moved past and leaned a hip against the edge of his walnut desk. I’d had the whole flight back to Nova Scotia to decide what to tell him, and I’d settled on the bare truth.
“I got the proof we wanted. Nazaire was definitely the man behind Eden’s kidnapping. But I can’t use it without compromising my source.”
He lifted a brow. “Go on.”
“That’s it.” I dropped moodily into the leather armchair in front of his desk. “I promised myself I wouldn’t come back until I had Nazaire by the balls. And yet here I am.”
He zeroed in on the important part. “What d’you mean, you can’t use your proof?”
My fingers into the chair’s padded arms, frustration chewing at me. “I just can’t.”
Nyx had left Paris early the next evening. I’d gone back to the hotel, determined to talk to her one more time. Instead, I’d wasted a couple of hours confirming she was really gone, then contracted with a hotel-provided thrall for blood and sex. But I hadn’t been able to bring myself to fuck the woman. After drinking my fill, I paid her and sent her on her way.
By then it was too late to catch a flight home. I spent the rest of the night prowling around Paris—restless, wired, and wanting Nyx in a way that made my skin feel too tight.
I had this bad feeling that might’ve been the last time I’d see her, alone, anyway. I’d probably spot her at some syndicate party, flanked by guards or that asshole Rodrigo. The thought made my jaw clench so hard I was surprised my molars weren’t dust.
“Why not?” Brien asked.
