Covet the Night, page 12
"Take cover behind here while I get the others." Gwen didn't respond, too numb with shock. William's hand graced her cheek. "Gwen? Come on now, sweet; I know you're tougher than this. You survived me, didn't you? And I'm the biggest bad out there."
She laughed despite herself. And though the act begged to transform into racking sobs, she dropped down to hide as he'd asked.
The others came quickly. First Becca, then Liv and Antonia, and finally William. Gwen studied the women as William navigated around the fallen body of the bartender and pressed against the paneled walls.
Becca looked oddly remote, her oxblood hair slipping free of its charming updo. Liv was shaking; her mascara streaked down her cheeks. And Antonia… the skin at her neck was already bruised, but her eyes were hard and determined. Just when Gwen thought she'd say something, William shouted in triumph.
"In ya go, girls! There’s no time to waste. We don't want that nasty bit of smoke gettin' in here with us."
They hastened to do as William commanded, squeezing in through the secret passage one by one. A collective sigh of relief was given once the door shut behind them, leaving them in utter darkness.
Someone took her hand and squeezed it. William. His roughened palm and sure grip had quickly become recognizable to her.
"This way," he instructed, tugging her along after him. "Grab on to each other. I doubt any of you'd like to be left in here all by your lonesome."
They trudged along quietly after him, hands linked together as if they were in preschool. The quiet didn't bother Gwen, nor the damp air or the wetness soaking her dress and hair.
A coarse shiver racked her body.
Gwen couldn't say how long it took them to reach the end of the mystery tunnel, only that she was surrounded by darkness and then not. The light of the hallway was warm and inviting, but her arm rose to shield her eyes regardless.
"Everyone make it out?" William asked, looking them all over when he closed the hidden door behind them. "Good—"
"Where's Britannia?" Liv's question was met with strained silence. She asked again.
"She's not here, sweetheart," William answered on the back of a heaved sigh.
"But—" The silence felt even louder as Liv fought to compose herself. Her lips twitched as water welled uncertainly in her lash line. "We… we must get back home and tell them what happened."
"What are we supposed to say?" Becca's shoulders sagged as she stared back at the passage they'd come through. "What actually happened down there?"
Antonia rolled back her shoulders. "We give them the facts in plain order. Gwen persuaded us to go to the Cellar Bar, and chaos erupted not long after. It was out of our control."
Gwen stiffened, the paralysis of her shock fully fading with Antonia's words. She shifted onto the balls of her feet, ready to defend herself when Liv spoke up.
"What about Brit?"
More silence, and then "Brit who?" Becca asked without emotion.
Liv's mouth dropped open in silent outrage. It closed as Antonia rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Her name shall be stricken from your lips and hearts," she recited softly in the deserted hall. "Only then may we stand the test of time."
Liv dropped her chin to her chest, sniffing delicately as she dabbed discreetly at her eyes. The hallway was quiet save her small whimpering. "It doesn't seem fair," she whispered at last.
"Nothing is fair in life." Becca paused thoughtfully. "Or the afterlife."
"You need to get back to your household," William interjected. "People will start coming by this way soon. And a bunch of young, scared girls is just what they like to snack on."
The women shared similar looks of apprehension before nodding in agreement. Antonia led the charge, but William took hold of her hand again.
"What are you doing?" Gwen asked. The other three looked back inquisitively.
"Go!" William barked. They recoiled, their inquisitive brows turning to ones of confusion and distress. Antonia's verged on disgust.
"Go," Gwen insisted as William's grip tightened. "I'll catch up."
William waited until they were out of sight before tugging Gwen off into the shadows. She made a noise of protest that went unheeded.
"Is this really necessary? What do you—"
He cut her off with a kiss.
Gwen couldn't think. She couldn't move. Her breath was somehow trapped in her chest, and her hands, for some reason, clutched the fabric of his shirt.
And then there was the fact that she was kissing him back.
Their lips slanted across one another with frantic need. A deep pulsing inside her urged Gwen on. There was something desperate in the way he kissed her, a rawness that lit her soul on fire. His tongue sought entry inside her mouth, and her knees went weak when he finally got his way. Gwen rationalized it as a culmination of the night's events: the drunken antics at the ball to the horror of the bar. It wasn't the sinful caress of his tongue or a rough nip of his teeth. It wasn't the way he held her as if he never wanted to let her go.
She whimpered as she sought to pull back, but William would not allow it, even as she flattened her hands against his chest and pushed. Still, he kept her lips captive, devouring her weak pleas with the ruthless abandon of a man starved. Gwen had never been kissed like this before. It was thrilling and lifechanging. She was certain in that moment that no other man would deliver as much ardent passion as him.
She was ruined.
"Let me—" She inhaled sharply. "—go."
"Never again."
Gwen ducked and twisted her head to avoid his ravenous kisses, ignoring his reprimanding growl. "I have to go."
"You don't. Stay with me."
She jerked her head back to view him. Every inch of his face was set in stone as he gazed down at her, his expression wrought in reckless yearning.
"I can't," she croaked and shook her head. "I won't."
The moment dragged on. William slipped his hands up her body to cup her face. "Won't?" William asked, running his thumb over her lower lip. He couldn't take his eyes off the swollen bit of flesh, much less stop the small yet intimate caress. His stomach somersaulted. I almost lost her tonight.
Stony resolve encased him. She wasn't safe in the Dark Court. He should have made more of an effort to spend time with her the past two nights. What good had studying her from afar done—except lead him to the Cellar Bar where she'd gone with her friends.
So, his tracking had been useful, but it wasn't enough. The danger in the court was constant. There was no escaping it. He had to do more.
William briefly entertained the thought of telling the Vranas of his soulmark. They'd lighten the load of work they asked of him, and they'd not breathe a word of his connection with Gwen to anyone. I could trust them, he admitted begrudgingly.
"You shouldn't have done that," Gwen uttered, her gaze drifting to his plumped lips.
"You kissed me back," William countered. "And by your enthusiasm, I don't think you minded one bit. Did you?"
Heat suffused her cheeks. "That's beside the point. I shouldn't be fraternizing with—"
"The enemy?"
"No."
"A hybrid?"
"No," Gwen snapped in aggravation. "You. Just you." William shrank back at the harsh delivery, even as her hands tightened reflexively. "Not anybody." She stared into his eyes, hoping to make him understand. "I'm not supposed to be 'fraternizing' with anybody. I'm saving myself for the sisterhood."
"Saving yourself?" William laughed.
The pressure of his thumb increased the slightest amount, enough to make her stumble over her next breath as he gazed deeply into her eyes. He was searching for something. But what that something was, she hadn't the faintest clue.
"If you really wished to 'save yourself,' you wouldn't be in the Dark Court. You could have died down there, Gwen. Bouts and brawls like that happen often. What if I hadn't been there? Hell, I was set to kill you myself only a few nights ago."
Gwen gnashed her teeth together before responding. "That's what I came here to do."
She tore herself from William's hold and shoved at his chest. Why had she tried to offer him comfort? Why had she tried to explain herself to spare his feelings? He had no claim over her. His words and attention meant nothing.
More important to remember was that he wasn't the one offering her eternal life. He wasn't the one who found a way to suspend her cancer. And if anyone were to find out about her cancer, not only would Gwen meet her final end, but Laurel and the others of her soon-to-be sister line would too. She swallowed thickly. I owe him nothing.
So why did she feel so drawn to him? How was it possible to be lit aflame by merely standing in his presence? Even now, a peculiar sensation stroked her scar above her heart. It was a pulsation that ached unnaturally.
Gwen fisted her hands in her ruined skirts as she fought away her feelings. “I came here to die. Preferably by the Roux, but if not?” She tilted her chin up as she gave a lofty shrug, shedding all emotions in the silken movement. “So be it.”
William remained silent. Subtle emotions flitted across his face, giving way to a clenched jaw and hard-lined brow. Her demeanor was perfectly Roux—cold and calculated to deliver the deepest cut. But what worried him more was how easily she slipped into the role.
He knew her to be fierce and fiery, had seen her play the part of Roux all night at the ball, but this was different. Her words rang with cruel honesty.
His throat constricted. He refused to believe it. So be it? Not on his watch.
“You don’t mean it.” His words curled around her in their stout insistency.
She took a step back.
“I really do.”
William shook his head and matched her step back with one forward. “You don’t know what it is to live. If you did, you wouldn’t be so ready to give it all up.” It was Gwen’s turn to twist her head to and fro, a scowl pinching her brows together. “You’ve never experienced adventure or love so grand it breaks your heart just at the thought of losing someone. You’ve never been caught up in passion so strong you’d stay in bed a week or more.”
In spite of Gwen's renewed resolve to rebuff him, her body began to betray her. First with a flutter in her stomach, then climbing to a thrill of want at the look in his eyes. This time she blamed her overwrought nerves.
"I—"
"You haven't been cherished. You haven't been kissed every day as if it's the last you'll see. You've never been loved."
"I've been loved," Gwen choked back.
By God, why am I panting? She looked around in distress. Did she hear footsteps and voices? If someone caught them together in the hallway, what would the sisterhood say? She had to put this—whatever this was—to rest, once and for all.
Squaring her shoulders, Gwen prepared to do just that, but then he took her hand and brought it to his heart. She shivered at the heated promise in his eyes.
"Not by me."
This had to be a test. It was the only conceivable explanation for his declarations. Yes, Gwen hastily accepted, that's what this is. A test of loyalty.
"Don't go back to them," he continued, the smooth burr of his accent making the hair at the back of her neck stand. "Stay with me. Live, Gwen."
She stood in a stupor, too stunned for words or thoughts. A test, she reminded herself numbly. She clutched at the reasoning and tugged at her hand, but William had other plans. He held fast as he lifted his other hand to her chest to mirror his stance. His fingers skimmed over her scar before a flood of want and warmth cocooned her. So startled by the vibrancy of her visceral reaction, Gwen jerked back. Hard.
A crack echoed throughout the hall. Her palm stung as she stared at the red mark on William's cheek. Her mouth hung open, then snapped shut as she registered his expression.
William wore a wry grin as he rubbed the spot she’d slapped, and then a sudden tenderness took over his eyes.
Realizing he was about to speak again, undoubtedly in another foolish attempt to persuade her to abandon the Roux, Gwen fled.
He didn't try to stop her.
Gwen left a trail of blood all the way to the Roux doors.
Her skirts dragged behind her. Clumps of hair clung to her neck, sticky with the same matter that coated her gown. She felt sick and foolish and scared. Her head throbbed terribly, but at least she was alive.
The door swung open before she reached it, Lily and Hazel dashing out to meet her. Their litany of words barely registered as they herded her inside, nor Laurel's as she raced up to them. Surrounded by her soon-to-be sisters, their gentle caresses and tender attention finally broke through Gwen's stupor. Laurel wiped away the tears collecting at her chin.
"We know what happened. Your little fivesome wanted to continue on your night of revelry, and Britannia led you all to the Cellar, isn't that right, pet?"
Gwen's mouth ran dry. Her pulse thumped madly in her ears as she frantically searched the room for the familiar face of another initiate. She spotted Becca. The other American watched her arrival with a stoic expression and pale skin. She gave Gwen the subtlest of nods. It calmed her pulse enough for Gwen to find her voice.
"Yes."
"Where is she, pet? Why were you so far behind the others? And for the love of God, why are you covered in blood?" Laurel's voice grew frantic as she fretted over Gwen, her cool touch coaxing goose bumps up on Gwen's arms as her dark brown eyes ran over her again and again.
"I don't know where she is. I tried to wait for her…." Gwen chanced another look at Becca, but Cassia was now at her side, watching the scene play out with a strange intensity on her face.
"They said the Beast helped you out."
Gwen wet her parched lips and ducked her chin. "He did."
"Antonia said he carried you."
"He did."
Cold fingers splayed across Gwen's jaw, tilting her head back to face Laurel and Laurel alone. "Never leave your sisters again, pet." Gwen nodded; a thick lump stuck at the back of her throat. "What of the blood? Whose is it? Where did it come from?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out only more tears. Suddenly, breathing and speaking became impossible. The world was concaving, pushing, and pressing in from all sides. Several arms wrapped around Gwen's quaking body, quick to comfort. Words of love, gentle admonishments, and praise of inner strength were whispered to her on repeat.
"You're stronger than you know, pet," Laurel reassured as she passed her knuckles up and down Gwen’s cheek.
"You're safe with us. We won't let anyone hurt you," Lily promised at her ear.
"She's right, Gwen. We won't let any harm come to you. You’re ours," Hazel agreed, rubbing a hand between her shoulder blades.
Gwen gathered her wits and sucked in several deep breaths as a broken cry sounded from behind. She peered over her shoulder, seeking out the source with red-rimmed eyes.
"Oh, dear," Lily murmured, catching sight of two women at the mouth of the entry hall clinging to one another with desperate sobs. "That's Orchid's line, but I don't see Britannia."
"And if they're behaving like that…." Gwen saw the sympathy passed between Hazel and Lily. Laurel hugged her closer. "I fear the worst has happened," Hazel whispered. "I'm so sorry, Gwendolyn."
A small noise emitted from Gwen's throat, one of defeat and guilt. Laurel shushed her gently.
"Aster, Danica, and Delphine will mourn her for the night, as is their right, and on the morrow, Britannia will be cast from our history."
Gwen stiffened. She knew this to be the way—not twenty minutes ago, Antonia had said much the same—but it still stung, like picking at a raw wound. The idea of tossing aside Brit's memory was unbearable. How could Gwen forget her bright laugh and fierce confidence?
"That is the way of things, pet."
"That is the way," Lily and Hazel parroted.
Gwen remained silent and was guided to the nearest couch, which sat opposite Becca and Cassia. She folded down upon it.
"Oh, bad form, Danica," Lily admonished in a low growl as she sat down.
Gwen followed the line of her glare to a man and woman standing toward the back of the room. She almost rubbed her eyes to make sure they weren’t a figment of her imagination. A man… in the Roux's private rooms? She knew the Roux were allowed to bring back companions for the night, but to have one here now? Her nose wrinkled.
"I can't believe he was let out of her rooms," Lily continued in a hiss. "It's improper, not to mention an insult to the sisterhood. He has no right to be here during such an intimate period of loss for us. She knows better."
Gwen had not yet met Danica formally, but she'd seen her curly strawberry hair several times before, hovering near Brit. Said hair was currently being stroked by the man, who held Danica close to his chest.
Hazel flopped down on the other side of Gwen. "Hans has been her lover for almost a decade, Lily."
"So? It’s not as if their affair is like the Vranas’. He's been her lover too long, Hazel." Lily's glare did not lessen as Danica's crying increased in volume. "She forgets herself often. Roux above all. Are we not enough for her? Look at how she's abandoned her sister line for her mortal lover." Lily crossed her arms with a huff. "She'd do well with a proper reminder of who her real family is."
"Now is not the time or place for such astute observations, Lily." Gwen craned her head back to see Violet and Poppy standing behind the couch alongside Laurel. It was Violet who spoke. She observed the goings-on with a critical eye. "Though I agree. She's taking fateful steps to repeat her sire and matriarch's history." Violet tutted. "It's a pity they never seem to learn from their mistakes."
Gwen looked back out to the common room, where sisters clustered according to sister line, save the Orchid line that was split across the room. Several others cast angry glowers at the pair. Some rivaled Lily's earlier hostilities, but Danica didn't notice. Hans, on the other hand, did. Though his features bowed in sympathy to his lover's plight, he also managed to spare one or two heated glances at the sisters who glared more heartily than others. Lily was one of them.
