Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) (41 page)

“What the hell are you doing?” Octavian growled.

Magnus grinned at him. “Being a brother and warning you Mom’s on the way.” He jerked a shoulder. “How was I to know you were christening your bed?” But the smirk he was failing horribly to conceal told a whole other story. “Next time, hang a sock on the door, or better yet, close the door.”

Octavian snatched up one of his boots and hurled it.

Magnus caught it in the gut like a football, and laughed. “You’re getting old, dear brother. Or was your heart not in it?”

Octavian bared his teeth, but was interrupted by the approach of oncoming feet in the corridor. Riley hastily ran fingers through her hair, hoping to appear like she hadn’t just finished fooling around with Octavian.

Kyaerin appeared in the threshold, still in her pretty suit and neatly styled curls. She paused to glance curiously at Magnus still clutching Octavian’s shoe, but it must not have surprised her, because she shook her head and turned to the two on the bed.

It took a great deal of effort not to flush crimson as the other woman’s gaze roamed over her.

“How are you, sweetie?”

Sated and sleepy.
Not that she would ever tell the other woman that. Hell. No.

“Much better, thank you,” she murmured, dragging the sheets to her chin.

Kyaerin motioned for Octavian to exchange places with her. She lowered herself down at Riley’s hip and reached for her wrist. “May I?”

Nodding, Riley offered Kyaerin her arm. She watched as her pulse was taken and her temperature gauged.

“Everything seems to be all right,” Kyaerin said at last, running her hands down Riley’s left arm and moving to the right. “I think…” she trailed off, turning Riley’s arm over.

“Mom?” Octavian took a step closer. “What is it?”

But it was clear straight away what the problem was. Her forearm blazed a scarlet red so vivid it could have doubled for a lit oven element. But it was the faint scar rising in a perfect circle from the center that drew the eye. It blazed a stark white, the perfect replica of the mark on Octavian’s shoulder, but more faded. Riley gasped, pulling her arm free to examine the thing closer.

“Does it hurt?” Kyaerin asked.

Riley shook her head. “I don’t feel anything.” To prove it, she glided her thumb over the design. The skin felt warm, almost like she’d been in the sun too long, but there was no pain or discomfort. “It wasn’t showing earlier.” She looked up at the woman watching her. “What does this mean? Have I ascended?”

Kyaerin shook her head. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. I’m still waiting for the Gravedigger to contact me. But you know how immortals are; they have all the time in the world and tend to drag their feet when it matters most.” She peered closely into Riley’s face. “She seems all right, but you need to be more careful, Octavian.”

“I didn’t want this to happen,” Octavian bit out furiously.

His mother rose to her feet and lightly rested her hand on his arm. “I know, sweetest. But next time, she might not wake up.”

A week after the incident, Riley stood alone in the dining area, an hour before the evening rush, staring at the band around her wrist with a deep longing in the pit of her stomach. Usually the ache was dulled by the feel of the soft hide beneath her fingers, but that evening… maybe it was the gloomy, snowy weather or the fact that Riley had been awakened from the dead of sleep three times the previous night, but it wasn’t working. The fact that she’d been at work for the last two hours and had yet to see neither hide nor hair of Octavian probably had a lot to do with it.

She missed him, which was ludicrous, because she’d seen him the night before during her shift and would be seeing him again in a short twenty minutes. Yet the pressure was excruciating. It built in her chest the way a balloon filled with water until it exploded. It felt like at any moment, she would simply cease to exist.

Aggravated, she stopped her fidgeting and focused instead on the ketchup bottles she was supposed to be filling. Not for the first time, her gaze flittered to her watch.

Damn it all!

She was in the process of blatantly ignoring her watch when the door opened, allowing a swirling gust of frigid air encrusted with slivers of ice sweep into the room to toy with the candles along the walls. The fire in the grate crackled, flickering as it sparred against the intrusion.

Grateful for the interruption to her own private Hell, Riley glanced up, a smile placed on her lips as a bent little man hobbled in with hair the perfect shade of snow and blue eyes hidden in a face filled with folds. He held a walking stick in one hand and used it to remain upright as he stomped crusted chunks of snow from his shoes. He tugged on the lapel of his heavy wool coat, shaking off the flakes clinging to his stooped shoulders.

Carefully, he paused, glancing up and taking in the emptiness of the diner. He surveyed the room once before settling on Riley. He blinked in what could only be construed as surprise, like hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there.

“Hello,” he said in a soft, melodious voice. “You must be Riley. I’ve heard about you.”

Riley offered him an uneasy smile. “Are you here for supper or just drinks?”

The man showed a remarkably toothy grin. “Neither, I’m afraid. I’m here for Liam, or Kyaerin, if they’re available?”

She nodded. “They’re in the back. I’ll let them know you’re here, Mr. …?”

The man made his way over to the table by the window and folded his worn frame into the chair. “Baron.”

She couldn’t recall where she’d heard it, but the name was vaguely familiar.

“Have you heard of me, little one?”

Riley shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, isn’t that a shame. I would think Octavian would warn his mate about me.”

A cold, sinking feeling had begun to creep through her. Her hand instinctively flew to the bracelet around her wrist. She hugged it to her chest, protecting it even though she had no idea why. But it was a feeling, a gut feeling so livid, it frothed inside her like acid.

Beady little eyes dropped to the arm she cradled and narrowed. “What have you got there, Riley?” His voice was coaxing and so compelling. It was nearly enough to coerce her.

But she bit her lip, refusing to tell him. This man needed to be kept away from the bracelet, away from her. He could never know what it was and how she would willingly die to keep it safe. Instead, she conveyed it by gripping her wrist tighter and gathering every ounce of hatred inside her to reflect in her eyes.

Baron seemed unaffected by her silent venom. He continued to study her with a look that said very clearly that he was not to be trifled with.

Riley backed up a step, her mind racing as it tried to remember where everyone was and if she could get to any of them.

But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind when the kitchen doors flew open behind her, nearly striking her as Octavian charged out, looking fierce and gorgeous in his black attire, his dark hair mussed from sleep and his eyes blazing like twin flames. They went straight to Riley, taking her in quickly, assessing that she was not injured before jumping to Baron.

“Hello Octavian,” Baron said pleasantly. “How nice of you to join us. I was just getting to know your lovely mate. I have to say, talk of her beauty has not been exaggerated.”

Octavian moved, placing himself between Riley and the threat, a solid wall of impenetrable fury. The knuckles on each hand were white caps of snow, clashing with his gold complexion.

“You have nothing to say to her.” Octavian said, making every word sound like a death threat. “Get to the back, Riley,” he told her without ever taking his eyes off Baron.

“What about y—”

“Now!” he hissed.

Still holding tight to her wrist, Riley backed up to leave, not because she wanted to, but because everything inside her was screaming to get Octavian’s bracelet away from the monster across the room.

“Not so fast now,” Baron said in a taunting tone. “Have you forgotten who I am? Have you forgotten what I can do? How far do you think she can get before I kill her right before your eyes, Octavian?”

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her!” There was not a shred of humanity in the snarl or in the demonic deformation of Octavian’s face. He looked like a man possessed, a man prepared to face fire and brimstones to protect what was his.

Pleased by the reaction his words provoked, Baron gave a sadistic sneer. “I am death, my dear boy. No one is safe from me, not even your precious Riley. I could take her from you with just a snap of my fingers.”

“I’ll kill you,” Octavian vowed. “I will hunt you down to the ends of Hell and tear you to pieces with my bare hands if you so much as touch a hair on her head.”

Baron smirked. “Oh I’m sure you will try, but the beauty of this occupation — death cannot be killed.”

Every muscle along Octavian’s back quivered with barely suppressed rage. “What do you want?”

“I merely want to see her bracelet, not very much to ask, is it?”

“No!” It was Riley that spoke this time. The single word quivered with fear and anger. “I won’t let you.”

Baron arched an eyebrow. “Not even if it means your survival?”

She shook her head rapidly, gripping so tightly to her own wrist that all feeling began to vanish from her fingers. “No,” she said again, backing into the doors. “I don’t care what happens to me. I won’t let you near it.”

With an arrogant cock of his head, Baron glanced at Octavian. “And how do you feel about the situation? Care to barter her life on a bracelet?”

Octavian’s nostrils flared. “You can do no harm here, Baron. This is a place of sanctuary and not even you can go against the Black Laws.”

Baron seemed to accept this with a casual nod. “Yes, but will she always be within these wills? You can’t keep her sheltered forever and, really, all I’m asking for is a look. If she can’t be harmed here, then there is nothing I can do, is there?”

Don’t let him near it! Don’t let him near it!
The voice inside her screamed. She had no idea what would happen if she did but he could never be near it, never be able to touch it, even with his eyes.

“No!”

Riley turned and slammed through the kitchen doors at a run. Her hair fanned wildly out behind her in a glossy red cape as she tore to the door at the end. The knob gave easily in her shaky, clammy grasp. She jerked the door open and fled through the corridor. Her feet barely touched the stairs as she took them two at a time to the top. Her heart wedged so far up into her throat, her mouth tasted of leather and fear.

Wild and determined, she ran, uncaring of direction as she took each corridor with a neck breaking speed. She ran until it all became a blur and turning back became impossible. Doors and faded portraits shot past her. She didn’t stop until she came to Octavian’s door.

She slammed the door shut behind her and locked it.

She choked on every breath. Each one tore from her lungs in a raspy wheeze that bordered on an asthma attack. Her throat burned, dying for a drop of water.

But seconds closed into minutes and time seemed to stretch on forever. Yet, for all she knew, it could have only been a few minutes. In the dark, it was impossible to tell and she wasn’t ready to move until she was absolutely certain Octavian’s bracelet was safe.

A loud thud nearly sent her clean out of her skin. Riley jumped, a squeak escaping her before she could smother it.

“Riley?” came a frantic voice from the other side.

“Octavian?”

There was a series of curses followed by, “Baby, open the door!”

Nearly limp with relief, she ran to the door and unsnapped the lock. She stepped back just in the nick of time, missing the door as it swung open, narrowly missing her face.

“Jesus, Riley.” She was swept into familiar arms and crushed into the scent of wilderness and spices. “Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again. What were you thinking?”