There was something else, far more sinister, she wanted to point out—something that would plague his chivalrous heart with guilt for the rest of his immortal days, even if Kyla was no longer around. “Fucked Kiera yet?” she blurted crudely. “How was it?” She laughed out loud. “Did my twin enjoy my sloppy seconds? Is she as tight as me? I’ve always wondered, you know.”
Saxson drew closer to the bars. “Now that was crass, even for a skank like you.”
Her stomach knotted, but she held her ground. “Maybe, but I’m not the one who has to live with the knowledge that he screwed his destiny’s sister—over and over. I wonder if you’ll tell her the truth.”
This time, it was Saxson who smirked. He jangled the keys in his hand, strolled to the heavy iron door, and unlocked the cage—apparently, there were too many diamonds embedded in the bars, plus the six-feet-thick walls, for the vampire to just pass through them. When he dropped the keys on the ground and his fangs extended from his gums, Kyla took several steps back.
He was in front of her in an instant.
He hoisted her off the ground by her neck and brought their noses together. “I never once touched you, not like that,” he growled.
All of a sudden, a wave of violent memories crashed into Kyla’s skull like a hurricane slamming onto the shores of a once-peaceful beach: Saxson Olaru playing with Kyla’s mind; Saxson Olaru pretending to enter her body; Saxson Olaru rolling his hips to the side to avoid making intimate contact with the human female as Kyla bucked, and writhed, and climaxed—alone—beneath him. “Why?” she gritted through clenched teeth, straining her restricted airway.
He slowly shook his head. “I just couldn’t stomach the thought of being inside you—had no idea why. Now we know.”
She stiffened in defiance and anger. “Screw you! At least you showed me your secret garden first, after all those centuries of waiting—you couldn’t have faked that. You didn’t fake that.”
“No,” Saxson answered. “I didn’t fake that. But I did make love to your sister, for real, in our garden, so the memory with Kiera will always be…stronger.” He smiled sardonically. “There is one secret, however, that you and I will always share—maybe it can serve as consolation.” His voice dropped down to a silken, soulless purr. “Ciopori Demir is going to make you scream in agony, and I am going to stand back and watch. But no, I will never tell your sister what your agonized screams sounded like, how much pain you endured…that will be our little secret.” With that, he tossed her across the cell, onto the cot, picked up the keys, and turned to leave. On his way out the door, he spared her a glance. “Kiera…my destiny…will be here momentarily, standing right on the other side of these bars. And I swear to you, on the life of my king, if you even so much as think about approaching your sister, trying to harm a single hair on her head, you won’t have to worry about the sentinel only a few feet behind her. I will rip every strand of hair from your scalp, one lock at a time; I will chain you to the ceiling of this cell and lower your body into a vat of acid, one body part after the other, but not before I cut out that lying tongue, slowly, with a pair of fingernail clippers.” He shrugged his shoulders absently and added, “Kind of makes you wonder what the princess has in mind, doesn’t it?”
The moonlight vanished from the rock-strewn floor, as if retreating with the hardened sentinel, and Saxson’s mood suddenly shifted. He cast his eyes downward, and softened his voice. “For what it’s worth, Kyla, I want you to know something: If you had just left the child alone…if you could find it in your damaged heart to somehow behave civilly toward your twin…if you could apologize and sound earnest—even if the entire performance was a lie—I would scrub your mind and let you live. At the least, I would ask the princess to kill you quickly…painlessly. Not for you, and not out of any sense of nostalgia, but for your sister’s peace of mind. For Kiera’s well-being. To spare the woman I love any further grief.” He shook his head sadly. “But Blood Vengeance is one of the most sacred claims any vampire in the house of Jadon can make—not even the king can save you now. I hope the attempt on the child’s life was worth it.”
Having spoken his piece, he handed the keys back to Ramsey, strolled out the guard-room door, and ushered his destiny inside.
Kiera passed Saxson on his way out the door.
She didn’t dare stop to question him about his visit, lest she lose her nerve and flee.
Give up on the whole confrontation.
As it stood, it was going to require every ounce of courage and determination she possessed…just to face her sister…her tormentor.
The woman who had handed her over to monsters.
She wrung her hands together, drew back her shoulders, and strolled purposely toward the six-foot-five, muscle-bound sentinel guarding the daunting cage. “I’m Kiera,” she whispered, extending a quaking right hand
The stalwart vampire clasped her hand firmly, but to his credit, he shook it softly. “Ramsey Olaru. Saxson’s twin.” He observed her with a keen, analytical gaze, almost as if he wanted to read every secret hidden in her DNA, to understand his brother’s destiny in an instant. “You okay?” He spoke to her in an intimate tone, protective, just like a big brother. “You ready to do this?”
Kiera cast her eyes to the side. “Not really, but it needs to be done.”
Ramsey placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I’ll be right here, Kiera. Just say the word, and the conversation ends. If you want Saxson in here with you, it’s not too late—”
“No. No,” Kiera interrupted, “I don’t want Saxson with me, not for this. I need to face my sister…alone.” She chuckled half-heartedly and gestured toward Ramsey as if to say, Well, not completely alone—you’re here.
His smile was gracious and beguiling. “I knew what you meant.”
Unwilling to tarry any longer, Kiera turned on her heels, took five long strides, and approached the heavy iron bars. She blinked at the paradoxical visage: brutish iron rods infused with countless dazzling diamonds, a prison built to contain supernatural creatures. Or, in this case, humans without a soul.
“Kyla…” Her sister looked like crap.
Kyla tensed on the narrow cot, her spine stiffening and her chin raising, but she didn’t turn around. She kept her back turned to Kiera. “What the hell do you want, sister?”
Kiera took a slow, deep breath. Do not lose your cool, she told herself. Say what you came to say, then leave. “I wanted to see you one last time,” she murmured, wishing her words had more strength. “I wanted to say good-bye.”
Kyla grew unnaturally still, but she didn’t utter a word.
Kiera pressed on. “Your friends Owen, Travis, and that Head-Hunter, Xavier—oh, by the way, Xavier isn’t a monster-hunter; he’s a monster, himself, a lycan. A werewolf. Just thought you’d like to know.”
Kyla jolted in surprise, her head spinning around to stare incredulously at Kiera. She quickly regained her composure and turned away again, but not before Kiera saw her trembling bottom lip.
“Your friends,” she repeated, “they experimented on me in an old, rusty barn; they strapped me to a stainless-steel table and carved insignias all over my body; and they tried to…wanted to…rape me, three of them at the same time.” Her voice began to quaver, and she had to pause to steady her nerves. “I would like to know what I could have possibly done to you, in all our twenty-eight years of living, that would have justified what you just did…to me.”
Kiera thought she heard Kyla sniffle, but she couldn’t be sure. Her sister’s cocky posture diminished slightly as her chin slanted downward; and that, apparently, was all the remorse or regret Kyla was going to show.
Kiera nodded, absorbing the silence, forcing her tears to remain at bay. “I see.” She cleared her throat and wrapped a trembling hand against an iron bar to maintain her balance. “Um…I want you to know that I’m not going to tell Mom and Dad anything—not ever. They will never know what happened to me, and they will never kn
ow what happened to you. I imagine, at first, they will just presume that you disappeared, as you so often do, and as the months…and years…pass, they’ll assume you finally went away for good, or maybe you got into some kind of trouble that you couldn’t get out of. It’s going to break their hearts, but I will do my level best to shower them with joy and memories and grandchildren to love…to make up for your loss.”
Kyla’s shoulders began to tremble, so maybe she did have at least the remnants of a soul…
“I also want you to know that you could’ve broken me—you could’ve destroyed me. What happened in that warehouse with Owen and Xavier; what happened in the days following Saxson’s Blood Moon: I’m surprised it didn’t ruin me, but it didn’t. At the end of the day, I found my soul mate, my other half, the true twin…of my soul. He is honorable, he is generous, and I think he will love me more than any human being ever could. I am going to live a life of laughter, love, and abundance, and I am going to cherish it…forever. So that’s what you ultimately did, Kyla. You sent me to hell, and I found my heaven. You didn’t win, sister. Not even close.” She released the bar and backed away, about to turn around, when Kyla finally rose from the cot and approached her.
She stopped several feet in front of the bars, as if she were too terrified to come any closer. “Kiera…” Her voice was a broken refrain. “For whatever it’s worth, I never meant to hurt you. Torturing you was not the end goal. You were just…you have always been too fragile to survive a storm, and in this instance…this storm…you were just collateral damage. That’s all, Kiera.”
Kiera staggered backward.
Collateral damage.
She had been her twin sister’s collateral damage…
Ramsey Olaru was there in an instant, spinning her around by the shoulders, enfolding her in his massive, strong arms, and cradling her head against his warrior’s chest. “Broken people have nothing but broken promises—and ruin—to give,” he whispered. “Squeeze a lemon, and you’ll always get lemon juice, never lime juice or papaya.” He snickered quietly at the random comparison. “That female couldn’t honor you—or anyone else—because she never loved herself.” He rocked Kiera gently, like a fragile child, as she wept into his shoulder, and then he murmured softly in her ear, “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re a warrior, Kiera.”
Although Kiera had just met the intimidating sentinel, his voice and his arms felt like an extension of home. Finally, when she was all cried out, she turned to approach the cage…one last time.
Chuckling softly beneath her breath, she whispered, “You know, the funny thing about twins is that even when they’re as different as day is from night, they still have some uncanny similarities. I’ve always recited quotes when I needed strength—or to spur myself on. You have, too—I’ve heard you.” She swallowed her pain and trepidation, angled her jaw, and projected her voice. “Fate whispers to the warrior: You cannot withstand the storm. And the warrior whispers back: I am the storm.” She stepped away from the bars and headed toward the guard-room door. “Good-bye, Kyla.”
This time, it was Kiera who did not turn around.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Braden Bratianu stood on Nachari’s rooftop terrace beside his mother, Lily, and the silence lingered between them. At some point later that night, Saxson Olaru would deliver the female vampire-hunter to Princess Ciopori, and the valley was growing thick with inky fog—dark, swirling eddies—as if the earth itself was preparing for the requiem.
It seemed a perfect backdrop for his awkward conversation with his mother.
Lily had asked to speak to Braden privately, without Dario or Conrad present, and the last thirty minutes had barely inched along…
“How are your studies at the academy?”
“They’re fine. Real good.”
More silence.
“How are Nachari and Deanna treating you?”
“Oh, yeah, just great. They couldn’t treat me any better.”
“Good. Good. That’s really…good.”
Another awkward pause.
“So, what’s your favorite class? At the academy, that is?”
“Oh, yeah; I like sparring with the other guys, you know, the future warriors.”
She’d perked up then. “So you’ve chosen your future path of study—you’re going to be a warrior, then?”
He’d scrunched his nose. “Um, no, not really. I’m still undecided. Either warrior or wizard, I guess. Maybe both.”
“Oh.” She’d paced around the deck. “Well, whatever you choose, you seem to be quite healthy and happy now…definitely growing strong as an ox. Are you feeding on a regular basis?”
It was at that juncture that Braden had finally had enough.
Was he feeding on a regular basis?
Seriously, what kind of question was that?
Leaning back against the terrace wall, which fell just below his waist, he crossed his arms over his chest and met his mother’s stare. “Mom…” He sounded as exasperated as he felt. “Why did you ask me to come out here? What did you really want to talk about?”
Lily stared at the sky, seeming to study the stars, and then she sighed. “Oh, son, there’s so much I need to say—I just don’t know where to start.”
Braden grew inexorably quiet, his voice falling to a low, hushed murmur. “What about?” He appraised his mother’s eyes. They looked tired: tired and sad. “Mom—”
“The last couple years.” She rushed the words as if it was the only way to get them out, and then she slowed down. “You’ll be turning seventeen in less than three full months. You were fifteen when we sent you to this valley with Nachari. Braden, I missed the last two years of your life.”
Braden’s muscles tensed, and his spine stiffened—but he didn’t utter a word. What the heck did she expect him to say?
Yeah, Mom, you did?
She ran a dainty hand through her chestnut-brown hair, the hue a perfect match to his own, and leaned against the wall beside him, unable to meet his eyes. “I want you to know that it wasn’t… I didn’t… Braden, I thought about you every day. You have always been my pride and joy.”
His eyes misted over with moisture, and frankly, it pissed him off.
He was a man now—or at least he was quickly approaching a mature-male status—what did it matter if his mommy hadn’t been there to see it happen? “It’s cool,” he muttered. “Really. It’s all good. I’ve been really busy, and—”
“Oh, Braden,” Lily cut in, reaching to the side to give his hand a quick, remorseful squeeze. “What have I done?”
He sighed, long and loud, but again, he didn’t reply.
Lily cleared her throat. “When you were just a boy, when you were growing up…before Dario…when Brad was still in our lives, I clung to you. I relied on you. You were my everything—my pride and joy. I used your curious mind and your sensitive heart to make it through the day.” She chuckled, insincerely. “When Brad would come home drunk, I would tell myself: Braden will never drink like that. When Brad was cruel and crass, I would remind myself: Braden will never speak like that. When Brad was ugly, you were beautiful. When Brad was intolerant, you were patient. When I didn’t want to get out of bed, I would do it anyway—because Braden needed me. My son. My smart, intuitive, amazing son…needed me.”
“You let him abuse me,” Braden said softly, unsure where the candidness came from. “You let him abuse you.”
Lily closed her eyes. “I was broken, Braden. My identity, my self-esteem, my courage—all of it was just…broken. It didn’t happen all at once; it just happened over time, being told I was nothing, being treated like a dog, experiencing what Brad did to me and watching what he did to you. Knowing that I was too weak…too cowardly…too afraid to stop it.” She reached to the side to take his hand again, but this time she held it firmly, perhaps more for her own comfort than his. “When I finally divorced him, it was for you—not me. I didn’t care enough about myself, but I loved you with a passion,
Braden.” Her hand trembled in his, and he tightened his grip around it.
She took a slow, deep breath. “Then I met Dario and everything changed. But by then I was…I was so determined…to start over, to do better by Conrad than I did by you, to put the past behind me. But more than that, Braden; I was plagued by guilt. I should’ve left Brad sooner. I should’ve been a better mother. I could never make up for the childhood you should’ve had—the childhood you deserved.”
Braden shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but he didn’t interrupt his mother. He simply listened intently, trying to ignore the sensation of his heart constricting in his chest.
“When Dario and I decided to vacation around the world, when we ended up in Romania, our decision to leave you with Nachari was anything but selfish; we made the choice based on what was best for you.”
Braden nodded, remembering their earlier discussions—it was true, but it was only supposed to be for one month, initially.
“And when we later decided to let you stay with Nachari—to let you remain in Dark Moon Vale—again, we considered your greater good: what would be best for your education, your training, your stability. Hawaii was not the place for you. Home-schooling was not the right choice. Being kept from the warriors in the house of Jadon…I just couldn’t see that, not when you had gone so long without a father. Yes, Dario loved you like his own—he loves you still, son—but he’s only one male. Nachari is a wizard, Marquis and Nathaniel are ancient warriors, and Kagen is a healer. You…you always had something so unique in your soul, a piece of every one of those disciplines. You were special—you are special—and I wanted to give you the entire world, to expose you to the best of what you already were.” She nodded several times, and her eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to give you something better…than me.”
Braden sniffed, released his mother’s hand, and paced along the deck before returning to her side. “I think I needed both,” he said, angling his head to catch her gaze.