Page 75 of Thirst
I poured us each a shot of a premium, blood-free whiskey and handed one to him. “Okay,” I said, settling into the Barcelona chair, “what am I doing wrong?”
“You want something from Nyx, right?” He took a gulp of whiskey. “And no, I don’t know what,” he added when my brows dipped. “But people talk. I know her dad’s a QCS enforcer and that he’s the one you’re really after.”
I could guess who “people” was—Eden. Talon needed to impress upon his mate the importance of guarding syndicate business.
“Go on,” I told Rio.
“Well, if you wanted something from me and you locked me in a cell, I wouldn’t give you fuck-all.”
I sipped my whiskey. “So what would you do?”
He blinked. “You asking my advice?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Why I was talking this over with a teenage human, I had no clue—except Nyx was proving tougher than I’d expected and I didn’t have the stomach for what it’d take to break her.
Last night when I’d found her curled up on the stone floor, I’d been nearly paralyzed with fear. I would have done anything to make her better—anything.
Letting her drink my blood was the least of it. I would’ve drained myself dry for her.
Lilith help me if Nyx ever realized the power she had over me.
“Huh.” A faint, pleased smile curled Rio’s mouth. He propped a booted foot on the opposite thigh and took another swallow of whiskey. “First thing is to let her out of the cell. I mean, it’s not like she’s going to escape Lilith Island.”
I shook my head. “The cell’s leverage. Let her out, and I have nothing to pressure her with.”
“Fair.” Rio eyed his shot glass, thinking. “Okay, how about this? Find out what she wants most. Use that to bargain with her.”
“Tried that. She turned me down flat.”
I’d offered the woman sanctuary, her own studio. She’d said no to both. I had nothing else to bargain with unless it was her father’s continuing existence—and that was a nonstarter.
“Yeah? Damn.” His face fell, but he quickly rallied. “You sure that’s what she really wanted? I mean, did she tell you straight out?”
“Yes,” I said, then grimaced because I had no idea what Nyx wanted most. I’d assumed. “No,” I admitted.
Rio pursed his lips. “Tell you what. I’ll work on her for you. I think she likes me.”
Something panged in my chest.
I forced a slow breath through my nose. Was I actually bothered that Rio and Nyx had apparently hit it off? More likely, she was playing him. Still, it grated.
I kept seeing her face from yesterday evening. Blank, flat-voiced, saying she understood it wasn’t personal. Like she'd already buried whatever we’d had, marked the grave, and moved on.
I shook my head. “You won’t change her mind.”
“Maybe not. But either way, I’d let her out of that cell. Locking her up like that—you’re making an enemy, you know?”
I grunted, staring into my whiskey. Itching to hurl the shot glass at my clean white walls, to watch the expensive crystal shatter, the liquid exploding across the painted surface like a bloodstain. But that was teenage Cain, the feral, out-of-control kid I’d been before being turned and learning self-discipline.
The kid who’d been caged a few times himself—in the island jail—and nearly gone berserk trying to get free.
“I’ll think about it.” I knocked back the whiskey and rose to my feet. “Now, if we’re finished, I’ve got work to do.”
For the next couple of nights, I stayed out of the dungeon except for a quick visit each evening to see Nyx with my own eyes.
Each time she was upright, the silver burned out of her system, but she wasn’t herself. Low energy. Dimmed. The sparkle gone.
