Vein of Love (Blackest Gold Book 1) (21 page)

HEAVY FOOTSTEPS IN
Tensley’s hallway woke him, and he slowly raised his head to see a smallish figure approaching.

A girl?

Illya grumbled beside him, and the memories of the last few hours came rushing forth, breaking through his exhausted haze. Molly had stayed over, sleeping in his bed, and he’d decided to lounge on his leather chair. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it was difficult not to when he was nearly as weak as Illya, especially after exchanging energy. Tensley
really
needed to get laid—hell, even a kiss would be momentous at that point.

It was still dark outside, the large windows behind the couch showcasing the shadowed buildings of the Manhattan skyline. The living room sat in similar darkness, apart from the lamp beside Illya’s feet that illuminated the oak floorboards.

He eyed Molly’s curvy figure, pausing at the end of the hallway.

As the footsteps grew closer, he decided to pretend to be asleep and avoid the awkwardness. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes.

How someone so petite walked as loudly as a bodybuilder was beyond him.

Soon the footsteps paused, then began again in his direction. Tensley breathed through his nose, his heart beating more rapidly.
What the hell is she doing?

A moment later, a soft material cloaked his frozen frame. Her hands were careful not to touch him, but she took the time to make sure his body was covered from his neck to his feet. He tried to breathe normally, as he knew she watched him. If she suspected he was pretending to be asleep, he wasn’t sure how she would react.

Her footsteps began again and stopped shortly after. He peeled one eye open to see her sitting on the floor beside the couch, dabbing Illya’s skin with the cloth. His other eye fluttered open, openly staring at her in interest.

She sniffled softly and used the heel of her hand to wipe away tears. “I’m so sorry, Illya.”

Tensley’s chest grew heavier at the sound of her voice breaking. “He’s not dying,” he muttered, hoping to ease whatever possible guilt she felt. Her head whipped around to him, mouth open.

The wetness on her cheeks glistened in the lamplight, contouring her heart-shaped face and creating more defined cheekbones. “He’s okay?”

Tensley nodded sluggishly.

He watched as her body quivered, relaxing at the news. “I barely slept, thinking he was hurt because of me.”

Tensley lowered his brows, surprised she would care so much about Illya. “Well, he’s fine. Go back to bed,” he ordered, angrily flustered at her fluttering wet lashes and wide eyes. He had grown somewhat immune to her eyes over the passing weeks, but they still had quite a hold on him. He wondered if he would be completely immune if he marked her.

She watched him. “Are you okay?”

He stiffened at the soft concern laced in her voice, the affectionate tone. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She didn’t move, turning back to face Illya.

He sighed. “Go. To. Bed. Molly.”

“
Tensley
, shush.”

He growled at her disobedience and stood, preparing to throw her over his shoulder and toss her in the bedroom. She twisted around as he marched toward her.

“You’re hurt,” she gasped, jumping to her feet. He halted when her body brushed against his, her hand pressing to his throbbing side where his shirt had ridden up. He hissed and gripped her wrist tightly.

“Fuck,” he said quietly, looking down as her fingertips grazed the angry claw marks in his flesh. “Must be from fending him off.” He pushed her hand away. “Yeah, let’s touch the marks. That’s a great idea.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

He blinked, startled by her vehemence. “Yeah. In the kitchen, above the coffee machine.” She sprang into action, racing into his kitchen. He walked in after her, examining her closely. Her need to care for him, to make sure he was fine made him chest warm, and at the same time, suspicious.

Is this a trick?

She used a nearby chair to step up onto the countertop then opened the cabinet to retrieve the tiny red box. He eyed her skirt as it lifted, the backs of her thighs exposed, giving him a brief view of the bottoms of her cheeks. His hands curled into fists as he refused to reach out and touch her. He thought back to that secretary, Daniella, how she’d simply touched his chest then he’d snapped and thrown her out of his office. He’d hated how his chest had ached at the thought of touching someone else.

Evelyn.

Molly’s usually glossy, smooth hair was a chaotic, untamed mess, frizzed and knotted. He liked this exposure; she wasn’t a perfect Upper East Side doll.

He didn’t need a first aid kit. It would heal in the next few hours—a perk of being a demon. In this case, it would be a bit slower than usual from his lack of intimacy, but it would heal nonetheless. “You know, I’m fine. We—”

“Take off your shirt.” She hopped down from the chair.

Damn.

He gawked at her features, attempting to see the façade, but all he saw was her exhaustion from lack of sleep and stress. She searched through the first aid kit as he lifted his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor. Her eyes aligned with his toned torso as he moved closer, and he could tell she was reading the Italian words inked along his side.

Molly unrolled some bandages and placed them on the ugly lines of his skin, her cool fingertips sending a shiver down his spine.

“Lift your arm,” she ordered, and he did so, muscles rippling and straining. Molly’s little touches already sparked energy in his bones and blood, and it was intoxicating.

He glanced down at his abdomen and hiked his brows up. It didn’t look pretty—the bandaging, that was. It was patchy and awkward. “You’re doing a horrible job,” he muttered, then stiffened as he waited for their tender moment to explode into insults and hateful banter.

Instead, she giggled.

He watched her nose scrunch up as a sweet smile formed on her pouty lips, dimples appearing on either side of her mouth. She couldn’t seem to stop the sweet, high-pitched laughter as she continued her awful job of bandaging him. “I wanted to be a nurse when I was younger,” she told him, attempting to straighten her work. “I wanted to help people.” He still wasn’t sure how to respond to her. Then she began giggling uncontrollably again. “I was awful then, too.”

He couldn’t fight the smile on his own lips. She was sleepy, he realized; they both were, and it made them vulnerable.

“Remind me to never let you do this again,
nurse
.” He smiled at her bowed head. She simply responded with another adorable titter, the sound warming his chest. He didn’t want this side of her to vanish. “And what do you want to do now?”

Her giggling stopped, but he could still see her body shaking with laughter. “I want to be a history teacher, or maybe work at a museum—the Met if I’m lucky,” she told him, tilting her head up.

He collected tons of history books about wars, about ancient worlds. Evelyn couldn’t have cared less about the subject.

“I’m going back to Columbia in the fall,” she continued. He hadn’t expected that.
She’s definitely smart then.
She certainly knew how to surprise him.

Her hand slipped between his fingers. The gesture jolted him—along with the power. Her affectionate touch brought him a rush of energy, and he squeezed her hand back. He couldn’t believe he was holding it.

He cleared his throat. “What’s your favorite discipline?”

“Ancient civilizations—particularly India. The history, the culture, the customs,” she said and continued straightening her work with one hand. “It’s so unique, so complex, but simple at the same time. I’m not making sense.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her giggle and he enjoyed her carefree self. “Have you ever been to India?”

She nodded. “Yeah, we went when I was younger, around my birthday.” She moved a bit of hair from her eyes and gnawed on her bottom lip before she spoke again. “Why didn’t your parents ever tell us when you were coming? We waited every year.”

He shrugged. “My parents wanted to scare your parents into a corner so they wouldn’t try anything. Your parents tried everything to hide you, to remove the ring, but my father stopped it. It was actually comical to watch them hide you, vanish to another country thinking they’d outsmart us, a demon family.” He snickered.

Her fingers vanished from his hand suddenly, and he glanced at her. Molly’s skin grew pale and she stared at him, unblinking. “You thought it was
comical?
” Her voice was strained and she stepped farther away, looking down. “It was just a funny joke to you that I spent every birthday waiting for something horrible to come?”

Fuck.

“
Me
being the horrible thing, I’m assuming?” He arched a brow and she scoffed.

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say; didn’t she realize how difficult this was for him? To be sensitive?

“I want to break the contract,” she blurted out, eyes bulging.

“
What?
”

She waved her hands around. “You don’t want this! You said you had a life before and I did, too! Why don’t we just work together? Break it and—”

“Fuck,
no!
” There was no way to break a unique, complex blood contract from three hundred years ago. For one, it wasn’t from either of their blood directly, and two, they didn’t have a warlock of direct bloodline to sever it.

She frowned, her hands paused in midair. “But—?”

“End of fucking discussion.” In a heated second, he ripped the messy bandages off his abdomen and left them pile on the floor. “It’ll heal itself. Remember—I’m a demon.”

Molly eyed him coolly, her warmth gone. “Like I could forget,” she said, backing out of the cavernous kitchen. “I’m going home. You can stop your damn payments at the hotel; it’s not needed. I don’t need you ‘protecting’ me.”

He didn’t watch her go. He leaned, unmoving against the countertop.

He was pissed at himself.

Pissed that he found himself liking something.

Her kindheartedness. Her freedom with affection.

Fuck.

SHOOT THE FREAK
was loud when Molly entered through the rundown bar’s front door. Her eardrums immediately ached from the music. She hadn’t seen it so filled before, bodies everywhere, laughter and hollering permeating the space. As she pushed through the crowd, Molly recognized a few of hunters she’d practiced with. Cree had told her on the phone that morning that it was a special night: a full moon.

Molly’s gaze raked over the hunters gathered in a corner of the bar, and she noted some guys and girls who were standing on a platform nearby, swaying. Their expressions were weak and drawn.

A hand landed on her shoulder, sending Molly about three feet into the air. “Holy shit!”

Cree stood behind her, grinning slyly. He laughed heartily at her expression, his face going somber as he took in her skintight outfit. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he muttered, eyes still clinging to her body—most importantly, the tops of her swelling breasts.

“It’s fine,” Molly said, adjusting her lacy black crop top. Her faux leather leggings clung to her skin uncomfortably; it was too stuffy in there.
You wanted me to be a badass; well here you go badass. Just try not to suffocate.

His eyes flashed up to hers and an enigmatic smile took over. “C’mon, sit with me,” he said, taking her slender hand in his calloused one and guiding them through the sweaty, scantily clad bodies. A few other hunters, including Freya, sat around an oval wooden table.

“I don’t think it’s a half bad idea,” Albert said. “Break the damn contract, get her out of it and keep from pissing off some powerful demons. One word and we’d be hunted—we’d be destroyed and what do you think would happen to her, huh? They’d torture her, skin her, they’d—” Albert’s eyes had flickered over Ryan’s head and landed on Molly’s frozen frame.

The contract.

The breaking of it.

That’s what they’d been discussing. And Albert was on her side…

Albert casted his eyes down at his whisky and fidgeted with his beard.

Molly glanced at the hunters around the table.
I can’t trust them.
It sunk in deep and fast and she swallowed thickly.

Freya eyed Molly’s outfit. “Trying something new?”

Molly faked a smile.

“I think it looks hot,” Ryan announced, hair tied back in a greasy bun. He slid cards onto the table smoothly and sneered. “You should be up there.” He nodded his head at the platform, the closest one a few feet away. A girl with muddy brown hair swayed tiredly on it, her head to the side, eyes hooded.

“Shut up, Ryan,” Cree said sharply. “She’s not one of them.”

Molly furrowed her brow. “Who are they?”

“They’re demons,” he answered, sitting down roughly. “Captured, weakened, and used for our entertainment. Tonight is a celebration of our beginnings in the city. Our people came here almost two hundred years ago, launching the battle against those damn savages. Hunters from all over New York are here.”

Molly gaped at the girl. She looked human—they all did, and she felt sick thinking back to Tensley and the change she’d seen in him, the ability for
humanity
there. But then he’d gone and said something she’d expect from a demon: that her family’s torment had been comedy to him.

“Don’t seem so disgusted by us, Molly,” Cree said, voice fraught with irritation. Molly was startled by his tone, and worked to wipe the look from her face. “Demons would jump at the chance to do the same to anyone—
you
especially.”

Molly cleared her throat. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

They waved her off and she shoved through the masses, trying to ignore the brown-haired demon girl to her right, but a hunter hauled the girl down from the platform and tossed her onto a nearby couch. Bruises lined the girl’s bone-thin arms and deep, white scars ran over her cheeks. The girl’s eyes were glazed, vacant—
wait
.

Molly recognized those green eyes, tiny but no longer glaring.

Lex.
The kind girl who’d helped rescue her from the gorgon.

Molly’s stomach turned.

Two hunters’ hands spread over her exposed stomach as they sat on either side of her, and Lex’s eyes met Molly’s. One of them, a guy with a pierced brow and dark blue-colored hair, bit Lex’s earlobe. She didn’t even wince. His hands moved up her bare legs toward her crotch.

Those sick bastards.

Molly stopped in front of them, unable to move, unable to break eye contact with Lex. She fisted her hands to hide their shaking and breathed through her nose, afraid she’d vomit from how unsettled her stomach was.

“Hey,” Molly snapped, and a flicker of understanding grew in Lex’s face, her eyes weary and untrusting. The guys continued groping her dry skin. “
Hey
.”

One lifted his head, his mouth an angry line. “What?”

“She needs a break. Now.” Molly gestured to Lex.

“Demons don’t need breaks,” he said, turning back to Lex. The other guy didn’t look up.

Molly glanced back at the table where Cree sat. None of them were watching, so she tried another tactic. “Cree wants her,” she said sternly. “Do you want to make him angry?”

The guy let his hand drop and sighed, defeated. “Shit, no.”

“Good,” she said, taking Lex’s limp hand and lifting her off the faded orange couch. A few eyes aligned with hers as they moved in the thick crowd, mouths either dropping open or pressing hard into a frown of disgust, but they didn’t stop her. Molly’s chest filled with fear and nerves.

“Oooh, looks like Blondie’s gonna have some fun tonight!” a guy cheered. “Care for a joiner?”

“Shut up!” another hissed as Molly and Lex passed them. “They’re under Cree’s watch. Don’t piss him off.”

A hand landed on Molly’s shoulder and she jerked, twisting around to see Albert. His eyes flickered to the groggy Lex, balancing her weight against Molly. Her stomach dropped.

“This isn’t right, Albert and you know it,” Molly said, gaining his full attention. His mouth partly hidden behind his wild beard twisted downward and his eyes again moved to Lex. “Please. She needs help.”

Did he see it? See how messed up this whole scene was? Her blood boiled and her fisted hands shook. This was wrong, so fucking wrong…

He didn’t look at either of them and when he squeezed her shoulder, he gave her a long stare. “I’ll distract him; get her out of here.”

Molly let the breath she’d been holding in and nodded once. She pushed through the rest of the crowd, opened the back door and let Lex’s hand go. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing?” Lex stood back, legs wobbling as she found the brick wall and leaned against it. This wasn’t the same girl Molly had met weeks before; she was damaged, weak.

She took a deep breath and ran a hand over her face. “I just—I just couldn’t stand to watch them do that.”

Lex stared, mouth wide open. “Is this some kind of twisted game?” She could barely form words, and Molly realized she hadn’t been getting any energy.

Is this what would happen to Tensley without intimacy?

“Are you going to hurt me?”

Molly’s brows lifted. “You don’t remember me?”

Lex’s eyes took their time noting her appearance. Maybe Molly
had
changed in those weeks, though. A lot had happened, and she did feel like a completely different person at times.

Realization dawned on Lex’s hollowed features. “Tensley’s fiancée.”

Molly sighed, studying the engagement ring on her finger. “I couldn’t watch them take advantage of you.”

“Then why are you with them?”

When Molly looked up, Lex’s eyes were misty. Tears rolled down her dirt-stained cheeks.

Demons cry?
Lex sniffled and wiped a few fingers under her nose. Molly took off her jacket and wrapped it around the malnourished demon.

“C’mon,” she said, “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Lex hesitated to follow, but she did.