Burning Dawn

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ELIN STEPPED INTO the hall with her shoulders folded in and her head bowed. She wasn’t embarrassed of her relationship with Thane, and she didn’t want to act as if she was, but part of her expected Thane to holler out a command for his guards to kill her.

He’d remarked on the temperature of her skin. As smart as he was, it was only a matter of time before he realized one plus one equaled Phoenix.

The vampires at his door noticed her departure, but they didn’t comment, or try to grab her.

As she turned a corner, both relieved to have escaped detection and saddened by the abrupt end to such a sweet encounter, Adrian stepped from the shadows to follow her.

She wanted to drill him about Thane. What did he know about the male and his previous lovers? How long had they worked together? But she held her tongue. She didn’t deserve answers. The hurt in Thane’s eyes as she’d dressed... He’d looked as if she’d stabbed him.

I hurt him, my closest friend, and I’m not sure how.

Closest friend. The words echoed in her mind. Yeah. He was, she realized. He always came to her rescue. He always listened to her stories about her past and wanted to know more. He cared about her well-being. Just like she cared about his. She trusted him.

Just not with her origins.

Ugh. What a mess.

Her new clothes had been delivered, at least. Multiple boxes were piled on and around her bed. Sighing, she changed into a tank and shorts as quickly as possible and tucked Thane’s robe under her pillow. She wasn’t in the mood to answer questions about what had just happened.

First, she had to get things straight in her head.

What was clear: she’d discarded her make-it-hurt-so-the-cravings-will-stop-and-the-guilt-will-ease plan. Hadn’t even given it a thought. She’d offered herself to Thane without reservation. He’d accepted. They’d gotten down and dirty without actually having sex. It had been a-maz-ing.

But now, without the haze of pleasure driving her, the guilt was worse.

She hadn’t waited for love this time. Hadn’t made Thane wait for marriage the way she’d made Bay wait, and Bay had worshipped her. To Thane, she was just a passing fancy. If that. And then, to add insult to injury, Bay hadn’t even been her first thought when she’d come down from her mind-blowing orgasm. He’d been third.

First, she’d been wishing for a second go-round.

Second, fear had come. The more excited the Sent One had made her, the hotter she’d grown. Literally. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before, but she’d known the reason for it. Her Phoenix side.

What would happen when Thane realized the truth about her? Would he hate her? Yes. Stake her? Maybe. Kick her out? Definitely.

And, until then, what about his sexual needs?

Needs change, he’d said, and maybe his had—for the moment. But what about later on? Would he want to hurt her for pleasure?

She shuddered. After the miracle of tub time, she didn’t want to deal with whips and chains. She didn’t want to compare her time with Thane to her time with the Phoenix, whether the treatment would alleviate her guilt or not.

No matter what way I look at this, he’s not good for me. I should just stay away from him.

Well, that wouldn’t be a problem, she was sure. At this point, he wanted nothing to do with her, guaranteed. After she’d thanked him for the happy ending, the hurt had left his eyes, leaving them cold, blank. His lips had thinned, and the muscles in his jaw had tightened.

It was an expression he’d shown to Kendra—just before he’d killed her. Did I make him feel like a discarded he-slut?

Disheartened, she made her way to the gym for dodge-boulder practice. She couldn’t afford to miss another one.

Last time, the girls had tried to drill into her head the fact that she needed to aim low whenever she threw a stone. If she ever threw one. Not so low the intended victim could jump up and avoid being smacked, but just low enough that the missile couldn’t be caught.

“—he really did,” Savy was saying as she stretched to the left, then the right.

“What the eff! You lie,” Chanel replied, bending down to touch her toes.

“I’ll give you my favorite shifter pelt if I am, and you’ll give me yours if I’m not. Deal?” Savy spotted Elin and grinned slowly.

Chanel rubbed her hands together. “Deal,” she said. Then, noticing Elin, she added, “Settle a bet for us, Bonka. Thane flew into the city to get you while you were having a meltdown, then carried you away in his arms. Yes or no.”

Cue the embarrassment. Cheeks heating, she said, “Yes. But—”

A grinning, whooping Savy fist-pumped the air, cutting her off, and Chanel cursed.

The bet was about her. Great. “He was only there because the Phoenix king showed up,” Elin added with gritted teeth. “You know how much he hates the Phoenix.” Bitter finish, Vale. Check yourself before you wreck yourself.

The girls shared a look loaded with mirth.

“Oh, that’s why?” Chanel said, her tone sly. “So, when he got there, he didn’t go straight to you? He hunted the Phoenix king and put a stake through his effing heart?”

“Well, no, but I was screaming and drawing all kinds of unwanted attention and he—”

“Knocked you out to make you quit it,” Savy said, just as sly. “Like he would have done to anyone else. Like I’ve seen him do to others.”

“No.” He tenderly cared for me, and gave me an earth-shattering orgasm. “What are you guys trying to say?” And was that hope dripping from her words? Was she trying to drive them into saying Thane thought she was special?

What could she do if they did? He’d just kicked her out of his bathroom.

Yeah, and you’d just pulled a bang and bail, rushing to get away from him the moment you got your some-some.

Yeah. He’d felt like a discarded he-slut.

Shame and regret curdled in her stomach. Emotions that had nothing to do with Bay. She owed Thane an apology. Big-time.

“You are too effing adorable for words, Bonka Donk.” Chanel said, patting her on the cheek. “No wonder Thane wants a slice of you.”

Well, he’d already gotten a slice. Body and, it seemed, soul.

THANE, BJORN AND XERXES stalked to the roof of the club and in unison shot into the brilliant afternoon sky.

Thane’s wings glided up and down with an ease he didn’t feel. The farther he flew from the club—from Elin—the tenser he became. Soon he would have to let her go, and he knew it. The more time he spent with her, the more he would want her, need her, have to have her. But he couldn’t have her. Even if she stripped and climbed into his lap, he would never forget her shame. And over what? A few kisses? A wanton touch? A climax that had—what? Delighted every cell in her body? Betrayed her husband?

That one, he thought, the muscles in his back jerking. If not fully, at least in part. She had loved the man so much, she had vowed to stay true to him. And she had—until Thane. What if her shame had been self-directed?

Hope proved stronger than hurt, shattering the icy wall he’d tried to build against her allure. He wanted to return to the club and talk to her. Wanted to comfort her, and take comfort from her. They both had reservations about a relationship, but if they tried, they could work through them.

Thane, Xerxes snapped inside his head.

He blinked, realized he hadn’t made a turn, and backtracked.

Distracted? Bjorn asked, clearly trying not to laugh.

Yes, he gritted.

May I suggest knitting? Xerxes’s tone was sly, teasing. It’s very relaxing.

No reason to suggest it. I’m already knitting a nightshirt—for your mother. Even teasing, he tasted the foulness of a lie, but he didn’t care.

Mother jokes? Bjorn tsked. How low the sophisticated Thane has fallen.

I think he needs to fall a bit more. Xerxes rolled above Thane, clipping his wing and sending him plummeting several hundred feet before he caught himself.

Thane came up grinning. If he hadn’t seen his destination looming straight ahead, he would have played air chicken with his friend, something they hadn’t done in years.

He arrowed toward the cloud of smoke wafting from the center of the woodlands just outside Aμαρτία City, where Elin had shopped and Bellorie had killed one of the Phoenix. Roughly two hours had passed since then, and the warrior was clearly in the process of regenerating.

Thane reached the crest of the smoke and descended. Seeing the Phoenix, he hovered in the sky alongside his friends, remaining in the spirit realm, unseen to all but Sent Ones, angels, demons and the rare immortal, watching as the slain warrior burned atop a stone altar. Two other males stood beside him, chanting. One of the chanters was Kendra’s husband, Ricker.

He’ll expect to have a chat with me.

Very well.

Ardeo, the king, knelt in front of a campfire, his head bowed as he tugged at his hair. He cried “Malta” at the top of his lungs, over and over again. His sorrow was as fresh today as it had been the day of her death several weeks ago.

Eight of his best fighters were armed and spread out around him, peering into the trees, watching for any threat.

Thane floated to the ground.

“Dead or alive?” Bjorn asked, doing the same.

“Alive if possible.” For two reasons. He wouldn’t risk another punishment from Zacharel, and he didn’t want any of these men regenerating and strengthening.

Together, he, Xerxes and Bjorn stepped into the natural realm, going from invisible to seen in less than a second. The Phoenix guarding Ardeo noticed and reacted instantly, unsheathing swords and spinning to face them—then marching forward.

Thane tucked his wings into his back and reached into his air pocket to withdraw a pair of short swords. When the warriors reached him, he sprang into the air, twisted and struck two from behind as they raced past the spot he’d just vacated. Both males tumbled to the grass face-first—each missing an arm. Twin howls of pain erupted.

Xerxes stood in place, letting his opponents come to him. He bent. He ducked. He swung. He kicked. He remained in a constant state of motion, delivering more hits than he received.

Bjorn zigzagged through the air, attacking and retreating.

Two of the bigger males struck Thane from behind, hacking at his wings. Hissing, Thane turned and swung his weapons in a wide arc. The tips sliced through skin and muscle, but not bone. The males had jumped back, avoiding more serious injuries. And when Thane swung a second time, both were ready and parried. Metal clanged against metal.

Ricker the War Ender shoved the pair out of the way. “I want my wife!” he roared, spittle spraying from his mouth. He raised his sword.

“Even though she preferred me?” Thane asked, genuinely curious.

Teeth bared, Ricker lunged at him. Thane shot into the air, then dropped behind the male and swung his sword. But the War Ender knew what he was about and spun, meeting Thane’s blade. Clang.

He swung high. Clang.

He swung low. Clang.

He went low again. Clang.

Grinding his teeth, Thane slashed one of his swords toward Ricker’s left, and as the warrior parried, sending the weapon flying, Thane stabbed at his right side with the other. Metal finally encountered flesh.

Ricker didn’t react as expected. He pressed deeper into the blade. The tip slid from belly to back, allowing him to draw closer and closer to Thane. When they were chest to chest, Ricker raised a sword. With his free hand, Thane grabbed his wrist, stopping a strike. But Ricker raised his other sword, and this time Thane couldn’t stop him. The blade sliced through his shoulder.

Pain. Pain he did not welcome.

For Elin, he had to stay strong.

“You think you have me?” Thane released Ricker’s wrist, reached inside the air pocket and withdrew a dagger. He pushed the tip against the male’s voice box, drawing a bead of blood. “You think wrong. I can do this all day.”

“As can I.” Ricker unsheathed a dagger from his waist and rested the cold steel against Thane’s throat.

“Enough,” Ardeo shouted. “Enough.”

Ricker grunted with disapproval. “But, my king—”

“I said enough! He could have ended my people, but he didn’t. I won’t have him killed.”

Hate blazed in Ricker’s dark eyes as he jerked the sword out of Thane’s shoulder. He backed away, Thane’s blood-soaked weapon sliding out of his belly. Finally free, he bowed low to Ardeo, saying, “My apologies, Great King.”

Bjorn and Xerxes stepped over the bodies of the men they’d fought, men now writhing in pain, to flank Thane’s sides. They were, and always would be, united.

“You were looking for me,” Thane said to Ardeo. “Here I am.”

The king stood and stumbled over. He’d been drinking. The smell of liquor seeped from his pores. His eyes were fogged over and bloodshot, and his leathers were torn and stained with blood.

“My men want their precious women,” the king said, his voice a slur and a sneer all at once.

Thane thought for a moment. As much as he desired eternal revenge against the entire Firebird clan—did he? Still?—he had a new enemy to contend with, and the prince would require all of his skill and attention.

Perhaps it was time to clear some more weeds.

“I will relinquish your women, and even your males,” he said. “All but Kendra. Her, I keep.” He no longer wanted to torture her eternally, he realized with no small measure of surprise, but he wasn’t ready to give her up, either. “In return, you will leave the heavens and never return.”

“My king,” Ricker said, affronted. “Kendra is more than my wife. She is your consort’s niece. Surely that means something to—”

“My concubine is dead, killed by her own family. The rest of them can rot,” Ardeo spat. “Besides, your wife was poisoning you. You would have become her slave if I hadn’t forced you to leave the camp with me. You would do well to send Thane a fruit basket in thanks for his part in your liberation.”

Ricker nodded stiffly, but his eyes threw a new dagger of hatred at Thane.

Message received. This wasn’t the end.

Ardeo looked to Thane. “Your terms are acceptable.”

He tasted no lie.

“You must give us the halfling, as well.” Orson, the one Bellorie had killed, tugged on a pair of pants as he closed the distance, his regeneration complete. A dark, twisted look had marred his face as he’d made the demand—one Thane knew well. He’d seen it in the mirrored walls of the Downfall, every time he’d gone in search of a lover.

“Halfling?” Thane asked.

“A female named Elin.”

Elin. Thane’s Elin. Rage clawed at him. The warrior wants her. He wants what’s mine.

He dies.

Thane held out his hand to summon a sword of fire. Then the warrior’s words penetrated the haze of jealousy, and his arm fell to his side.

Elin was a halfling? Half human, half...what? Phoenix? Captured because she was considered an abomination, never permitted to procreate—a practice the Phoenix were known for.

No. No! She was not a tricky, conniving Phoenix, able to enslave every male she bedded—able to enslave him.

But what if she was...

Emotion welled inside him. More rage. Disgust, sorrow and, worst of all, bone-crushing fear. If she was Phoenix, he would never again be able to touch her. Never again see her. She would no longer be welcomed in his club.

He would lose the sweetest part of his life.

Abruptly, the sorrow overshadowed all else, even the fear. He could feel a roar brewing at the back of his throat. Not knowing what else to do, he stepped into the spirit realm, where the Phoenix couldn’t see or hear him, threw his head back and let the sound loose. His entire body shook with the force.

When he quieted, several rays of light managed to penetrate the darkness of his reaction. Elin screamed at the sight of blood. She baked terrible cakes, and enjoyed digging in the dirt. She laughed. She teased. She was nothing like Kendra and her fire-witch friends.

Thane began to calm.

Elin might be a halfling, but she certainly wasn’t Phoenix. Her people were probably at war with the Phoenix. Yes. That fit. For all he knew, she was part banshee. That scream...

Completely reassured, he returned to the natural realm.

The Phoenix were in the process of demanding Xerxes and Bjorn go get him, wherever he’d gone, and his friends were in the process of standing still and quiet, arms crossed over their chests.

He wanted to rapid-fire different questions about Elin but didn’t. Revealing vulnerability was foolish.

“The girl,” Orson barked, jumping back into the conversation.

“Trust me. You don’t want to travel that road,” Bjorn told him.

“The only fork you’ll come to,” Xerxes added, “is the one leading to Pain and Destruction.”

Orson ignored the males, saying, “Do you have her or not?”

Thane once again held out his hand, and this time, a sword of fire formed. The flames crackled menacingly. “With your words, you negate our deal. Therefore, I will offer you a new one. After I discover what each of your people did to my human—” my halfling “—I will mete out proper punishments. Then you may have your people back. If they regenerate.”

“Dirty winger!” Orson spat.

“Let it be known,” Thane said with absolutely zero inflection. Only cold, hard truth. “Hurt what’s mine, touch what’s mine, even desire what’s mine, and suffer.”

For a moment, Ardeo’s eyes cleared of the fog. He peered at Thane with newfound respect. And envy.

“Very well,” the king of the Phoenix said, giving up the battle to remain on his feet and plopping to the ground. “Your human was kind to me. Kind to my precious Malta. She is yours to do with as you please.” His shoulders slumped. “As Malta was once mine.”

The liquor wasn’t ruining him, Thane realized—it was merely a symptom. The true culprit was grief. The man had finally gotten Malta in his bed—but she was killed a few days later. He’d tasted heaven, and then he’d lost it.

“Until we meet again.” With a last warning look at the seething Orson, Thane flared his wings and returned to the sky.

Remove the prisoners from the stakes, and lock them in the cells, he projected. He would have liked to do it himself, but the time to face Zacharel for his part in the destruction of the Rathbone building had come. I have an errand. I shouldn’t be gone long.

Bjorn and Xerxes didn’t know about the meeting or what would be done to him, and that was the way he would keep it.

Consider it done, Xerxes said.

You don’t have to worry— Bjorn stopped, hovering in the middle of a sun-drenched cloud. Thane and Xerxes had to backtrack. The warrior’s face was pained. I must go. He glanced over his shoulder. She’s— He pressed his lips together.

She? Thane looked but saw no evidence of...what? The shadow demons? Or had his friend been summoned by their queen?

I’m sorry, but I can say no more without breaking my vow. Bjorn, his features tormented, vanished.

Thane bit his tongue until he tasted blood. The Lord of the Underworld, Lucien, has the ability to follow a person’s spiritual trail, he said to Xerxes. After my errand, I’ll hire him to follow Bjorn.

Good plan.

Lucien was the keeper of the demon of Death, responsible for escorting certain souls to the hereafter. He was a good man. Honest. Honorable. Rules mattered to him.

“I’ll see you soon.” Thane branched to the right.

Xerxes called out, stopping him. “What about the girl?”

“She is to be protected at all costs.” When he returned, he would talk to her. She would assure him of her ancestry.

All would be well.