SEVENTEEN
Thorn
I run my hand down Alana’s arm as she cuddles against me, her back to my front. With a soft patter of rain dropping against the windowpane, the sense of tranquility and peace wafts through me. Although I know it won’t last, I take a moment to enjoy the sensation.
The dark possessiveness taking root deep inside me cuts a harsh path. She gave herself willingly to me, and I’m holding her to that promise.
Forever.
Stretching languidly, she yawns, the sound cute. Her hair is a wild mass that I spread over the pillow and up the headboard. I still can’t believe how silky it is. I buried my face in its fragrant curls more than once during the long night. Even now, I run my fingers through it, captured by the feeling of the soft strands over my roughened skin. Yet another difference between us that seems right.
“How are you?” I ask, my voice deep in the calm morning.
“Good,” she replies, her voice drowsy. I didn’t let her get much sleep, but I can’t find it in me to regret the night. She trails her fingers along my forearm in a soft touch, every word she speaks a small taste of honey on my tongue. “You have so many scars—who whipped you?”
I’m surprised by the question, figuring she would’ve already figured out the answer. Growing up within the violent world of the four families, there isn’t time or space for naiveté. “My father.”
She jolts and I realize that she doesn’t belong in our dangerous world. She should be protected and secured far away from the violence and pain around us every day. Frustration bites at me that I won’t be able to keep her safe if there’s a war coming.
Everything inside me knows war is on the wind.
“I shouldn’t have told you that.” I roll her honey taste around on my tongue. Maybe I should record her voice to keep with me forever. It’s much better than the bitter mints I use to protect myself.
“Why not? It’s the truth. That’s a thing with you, right?” There’s amusement in her voice now and I wonder if I’d really heard the sorrow. Maybe not. “Why would your father beat you?” She sounds young and innocent again, tempting the beast down inside me that I’ve subdued.
I rub my thumb over a bite mark I left on her arm. “It was after Justice, his mom, and I were taken. Father was angry I let it happen.” The memory bursts through me, and I hate him even more for interrupting our blissful morning.
She’s quiet for a moment and I can almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Wait a minute. You were kidnapped, tortured, and scarred, and when he rescued you, he beat you?” Now outrage fills her voice.
I calm her by sliding my fingers through hers, being careful not to break her fragile bones. “Yes, I was ten years old and Justice only eight, Charity was murdered, and I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“You were just kids,” she bursts out, pushing against me.
“It was a long time ago, Alana,” I say, trying to ease her. Is she outraged on my behalf? It was as it was and there is no changing it. The scar on my face makes that fact all too clear.
She scoots her sweet butt closer to my groin, and I fight the urge to take her again. Three times in one night, her first night, was probably too much. Perhaps there is time for her to take a bath before breakfast. “I’m glad you had time with Justice’s mother, since it feels like she was kind to you.”
I want to give Alana something of me, even though admitting my childhood foolishness seems silly. “The week she died? I had big plans to ask her to be my mother.”
Alana curls her fingers tighter around mine and I realize she’s trying to offer comfort. My heart thumps once. Hard. “Tell me your plan. Please say you weren’t going to order her around.” Now she’s teasing me, and something inside me unfurls. A solid block around my heart cracks, letting in light for the first time I can remember.
“No, I was going to ask.” I hold Alana closer. “I was going to pick flowers from the garden, yellow roses because those were her favorite, and I was going to ask her if I could call her Mom.” I shrug, reliving the memory. “I had accidentally called her Mom several times and she’d responded just as she would to Justice. My own mother died when I was still a baby,” I say. “I figured it would be nice to have one, and she treated me like she cared.” She looked like Justice with her dark hair and pretty brown eyes.
“I’m sorry she died,” Alana says softly.
My phone buzzes and I glance at the screen. “I have to take this.” I press a quick kiss to Alana’s head. “You need sleep. I’ll awaken you in a few hours.” Without waiting for a response, I slide from the bed and pull on my slacks before padding barefoot out of the room and down to my study.
After shutting the door and sitting at my cold desk, I settle into work. “What is it, Kaz?” He mumbles something as if he’s talking to himself. “Kaz,” I say, with more force.
“Oh, sorry. I’m on the mainframe and the charge isn’t lasting as long as usual. Do you have the main garnet anywhere around?”
“Yeah.” I stare at the chunk of rock I’d brought home and then left on my desk as Kaz’s taste of red licorice fills my mouth. It’s fleeting, as usual. More of the garnet has frozen. Ice encrusts the entire left quarter as if trying to bore inside. I shiver as I realize my feet and legs are doing the same. During my night with Alana, I hadn’t noticed. Here in the light of day, it’s all too obvious. “The rock doesn’t look good.”
Kaz types loudly, punching keys. “I’m doing deep dives on all quantum magical possibilities while trying to hack into the servers of the three other families, but their security is almost as good as ours. Having these alexandrite crystals will help.”
The alexandrite, if there is magic on earth, is as close as we’re going to get. “I’ll be in later today to help with the search. I have to run an errand first.” My skills are as good as Kaz’s. Between the two of us, perhaps we can find some clue about where this illness came from.
“Are you feeling any better?” he asks.
“No.”
He sighs. “I did trace the video featuring Alana to Jackie, who was paid fifty thousand dollars before posting. She knew what she was doing.”
“Now she’s dead.”
“Yeah. I’m trying to track the source of the payment.”
I’ve always had enemies, so this isn’t a surprise. But when I find them, they’ll pay for involving Alana. I keep my temper at bay because Kaz hasn’t slept in a week and is doing his best. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. The dead body of the woman found outside a downtown bar has been determined not to be Alana Beaumont. But it took DNA testing to find out because her face is smashed. She’s the third one in the last couple of years.”
I consider the matter. “Third one? As in related kills?”
“Not sure. Young women, downtown San Francisco, killed. The city is a cesspool of crime, so who knows. I’ll look into it.”
Either way, Alana’s days of frequenting bars have now ended. “I’ll be down to the office shortly.” I click off.
Without preamble, my phone buzzes again. I catch sight of the caller and then flick on a video screen. Mathias Beaumont’s face comes into view and I shove all emotion into the void where it belongs. It took him longer than I expected to find my more public phone number. Well, as public as I get. “Mathias,” I say calmly.
