Page 12 of Battle for the Shadow Prince (A Bargain with the Shadow Prince #2)

12

Cracked Earth

ELOISE

T he next afternoon when the doorbell rings, I rush to let Maeve in so we can get started on the spell to journey into Damien’s dreams. The feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is seriously wrong is exceptionally bad today. I know Damien is strong and powerful, but everyone needs help sometimes. Everyone else might be willing to wait and see, but he’s my mate. If all I can do is offer him my energy, that’s what I’m going to do.

But when I throw open the door, it’s not Maeve there but a man who looks disturbingly familiar. His chocolate-colored waves curl against the collar of his dress shirt, just a little too long, and his aquiline nose is a replica of Tony’s. Fear spikes through my system. I try to slam the door but he charges through, drawing a gun from the back of his waistband once he’s inside and kicking the door closed.

“Relax. I just wanna talk,” he says.

He’s not pointing the gun at me but toward the corner of the room, his opposite hand clasping the wrist of the hand holding the gun. It’s the stance one might take in church or at a solemn event. Relaxed and polite. That’s what the body language conveys.

But his finger is still on the trigger.

It’s a posture Tony would take. At once decorous while harboring barely contained violence. His shoulders shrug beneath a tailored suit jacket the color of money.

I back up a step.

“Stay where you are, Eloise. I don’t need a tour. We can do this right here.”

I’ve never met this man, but his resemblance to Tony is too close to be a coincidence. “Who are you?”

“Jared Denardi.”

“Jared…” I don’t remember him.

“We’ve never met. I’ve only recently returned to the area with my cousin’s passing. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. Tony was a good man.”

Is he fucking kidding me? I look at my feet and force my face to remain impassive. “My condolences to you and your family. Tony and I were separated, but I wished him no ill will.”

“That’s good to hear, Eloise, because my family needs your help rectifying a simple misunderstanding.”

“What’s that?”

Jared’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Some friends of ours at the bank notified us that you refused the money you were owed from Gold Weaver. We need you to change your mind about that. Take the money.”

I flinch. Of all the things I expected him to say, that was not on the list. “Why? I don’t want Tony’s money. You keep it.”

He rocks back on his heels, the nose of his gun twitching slightly. He pulls a frown that somehow comes off as threatening as well as disappointed. “Yeah? Well, neither does the Denardi family. You refuse that money and it goes back to Tony’s estate and then to us. That’s unacceptable. This whole operation happening under your house has drawn the wrong kind of attention. The Denardis want nothing to do with it, understand? Your name was on those accounts because Tony loved you and wanted you to have it. You were his wife. You were aware of his affairs. You deserve it.” His sleazy, disingenuous tone is one I remember Tony using far too well.

“No, actually,” I say, heart hammering, “I had no idea what Tony was doing and was never involved with any of it. I don’t want the money. Donate it to charity.”

He raises his chin and stares down his nose at me. An exasperated sigh leaves his lungs. “That’s not what’s going to happen, Eloise. You will accept that money.”

“Or what?” I try to sound brave but my voice shakes. I can’t take my eyes off the gun.

“Or your estate will receive the money,” he says softly through his teeth.

My estate . Like after I’m dead. “And what happens if I take the money?”

“Then we’ll be in touch. Our family has an excellent accountant and financial advisor who can show you exactly what to do with it.”

“While I’m fending off the FBI.”

He shrugs. “If you weren’t involved as you say, I predict you’ll slide right out from between their greasy fingers.”

“Are you suggesting I grease those fingers?”

He shrugs again. “You’ll have plenty of money to do so if you accept what’s coming to you. A year from now, they’ll give up this investigation and you’ll be golden.”

Right. If golden means entangled with the mob. I have to get this guy out of my house. “Fine. I’ll talk to my lawyer,” I say, trying to appease him.

It seems to work because he nods appreciatively. “You do that.”

The doorbell rings. Maeve.

“Are you expecting company?” He glances over his shoulder at the door.

“It might be Agent Fuller.” It’s a lie but one that has the desired effect.

His eyes narrow and he side-eyes the door, slipping the gun into the back of his waistband and covering it with his jacket. “We’re done here. For now. Back door?”

More than happy to spare Maeve a run-in with Jared, I point him toward the rear of the house and wait until I hear the back door close behind him before I let her in.

Maeve steps into the foyer, waving a hand in front of her face. “Goddess, is that Axe body spray? My eyes are burning.”

“Tony’s cousin.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. I suspected something was up when I saw the Maserati in your driveway.” She points a thumb over her shoulder. I move the curtains aside on the sidelight window, and we watch his car back down the drive. “Let me guess. We were right. Tony made you beneficiary to screw you and insulate his family if anything happened to him, and that was the family making sure you stay screwed.”

“Appears so. I’m sure he didn’t expect to die. He certainly didn’t think I was capable of hurting him. He didn’t think enough of me for that. I think it was just one more insurance policy.”

Maeve snorts. “I think being part of a mob family probably comes with inherent risks and you get really good at defensive measures.” She runs her fingers along the strap of her bag. “So what do you want to do? Do you want me to rescind your rejection of the inheritance?”

I raise my chin, steeling my spine. “No.”

Her brows shoot up. “No?”

I share a dark laugh with her. “I know they can come for me. They will come for me if I reject it. But things won’t be easier if I take the money. That won’t be the end. He said if I took it, they’d be in touch to advise me how to use it. They’d still want to control it. Control me. I’ll be damned if I make the mistake of tying myself to the Denardi family again.”

She frowns. “But if you don’t, they will try to kill you. You know too much.”

I scrub my face. “Yeah.”

“You seem distressingly unconcerned with your possible death.”

I hug my middle and look her in the eye. “I’m too worried about Damien to have any room for concern about anything else.”

“Have you given any additional thought to a security system?”

“Like the Denardis haven’t run up against one of those before.” I look toward the ceiling. “I don’t think any system I could buy for this place would be enough to keep me safe. But you know what would?”

“Hmm?”

“Damien.”

She snorts. “You have a one-track mind.”

“Only when it matters.”

“All righty then. Let’s get started.”

“Why does it have to smell so bad?” I tip the green sludge into my mouth and force myself to swallow the bitter concoction.

“It’s the belladonna. It’s poisonous and wants you to know it,” Maeve says. “But whoever wrote this spell did call for a refreshing squeeze of lemon for flavor.” She turns the book toward me, and I read in my father’s handwriting for flavor in the margin.

“It tastes even more like ass this time than last time.”

“I think the first time you were so worried about what would happen when you drank it, you would have downed the ingredients without a blender.”

“Thanks for not letting me do that.”

She chuckles. “No problem. What are witchy friends for? It’s just one of the many ways I’ve kept you alive recently.”

“I’m not actually trying to die. There just seems to be so many things that want to kill me. I mean, between hiding my identity from the vampire queen, dodging the mob, and trying not to die from overusing my magic.”

“It’s practically a full-time job.” She grins and places a hand on mine as I start to drift. “Be careful this time with letting him take your blood. Remember that you’re in his head, inside his thoughts—he can’t tell if he’s taking too much. I’ll be here if something goes wrong.”

“Thanks, Maeve,” I say sleepily. My eyes blink, then blink again. “You’re a good friend.”

The next second, I’m standing in a silo. Weird. Is this Damien’s dream? Bright light blinds me. I try to shade my eyes, but the light is coming from the walls, the sky, every direction but the floor. It’s like I’m in a room of mirrors.

Hands cupped around slitted eyes, I search for Damien, but there’s only a rock at the center of this room. He’s not here. Wait, is that even possible? I must be inside someone’s dream.

The ticking of the grandfather clock has me turning back toward the anchor, wondering what went wrong. Whose head am I in? I crack my neck, already sweating, and walk toward the boulder while I figure out what to do next.

The ground is packed earth, parched and cracked without even a weed to break its monotony. I reach the ashen boulder at the center of the silo and lean against it. Odd—the texture is almost rubbery, and the sides are peppered with shallow holes like the rock has taken a few bullets. I run my hand along the bumpy ridge along the top, then over the sides. I retract my fingers with a gasp when they touch something that feels like ribs.

I shift back onto my feet. “Oh my God.”

I want to be wrong, but when I walk around the stone and see horns and a tuft of hair on one end, I almost gag. This is Damien! He’s in his monster form, curled in on himself, shading as much of his flesh with his wings as he can. All of his exposed skin, usually the deep black of a shadow, is now chalky and the color of concrete.

Frantically, I pull the oversized tunic I’m wearing off and hold it over his head. With some repositioning, I’m able to shade about a quarter of him. Not enough. Fuck, is he even alive? He must be. The ache in my chest I’ve come to associate with the bond is still there. Besides, I couldn’t be in this nightmare if he wasn’t.

“Damien? Damien.”

He moves ever so slowly, unwinding his wings from around his body as if every inch of movement hurts like hell. How could it not when flakes of his flesh fall away like ash with every fraction gained? When he’s finally able to turn his face to look at me, I can’t suppress a gasp. He’s wrecked. More dead than alive. His once-beautiful mane of hair is thin and greasy. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, and his face— God, his features look like he was carved from pale marble.

“Eloise,” he rasps.

“Is this where she’s keeping you? Are you dreaming about where you really are?” His eyes roll toward my throat. I need to feed him, but first I have to get him out of here, at least temporarily. “Can you picture the garden again? Picture somewhere safe?”

He raises a hand to my cheek and slowly, as if each grain of thought costs him something, the silo fades and I’m huddled over his sitting form in a dark forest. I help him lean back against a tree, tossing my sweater aside. I’m in a sports bra and leggings. It will be easier for him to get to my throat like this. He stares up at the moon and stars, breathing deeply.

“You need my blood.” I kneel in front of him. “Maeve says it’s my magic you’re taking, but it should be able to keep you alive.”

But he doesn’t move toward me, just shakes his head.

“Let me die,” he whispers. I can hardly hear him. He’s not even looking at me. He stares up at the stars as if he’d rather be somewhere else. Maybe something else.

“What’s that?” I must have misheard him.

Now his eyes drift to mine, and my stomach clenches at how empty they are. He’s looking directly at me as he says loud and clear, “You need to let me die.”

For a second I wait for what he said to make sense. It doesn’t.

“No!” My eyes pool with gathering tears.

His head rolls forward, and he stares at the ground.

“What has she done to you?” When he doesn’t answer, I say, “I’m not letting you give up. You’ll take my blood and tell me where to find Cassius and where Valeska is holding you. We’ll come for you. My blood will see you through.” When he doesn’t look at me, I grab his chin and turn his head until he does.

Finally he focuses on my face, but when I hold my wrist to his lips, he pushes it away.

“I haven’t eaten anything since the last time we were together. I’ll drain you dry. Can’t you see that I’m close to death? A few more days and I’ll be gone. You’ll be free of our bond. Find another mate. Live your life.” His large, dark eyes droop. His mane is stringy, and even his horns seem duller than the last time I saw him in this form. God, the sun has burned holes in his wings. He must be in so much pain.

Something clamps around my heart and squeezes. If Damien is talking about me moving on, he is truly suicidal. No shade gives up his mate so easily. “No,” I say firmly. Loudly. “You’re not giving up. You’re my mate. Fight for me.”

He groans and closes his eyes. It takes effort, but I lean him forward enough for me to step behind his back. He’s big in his monster form, and I find myself standing with my back against the tree and his back against my hips and torso. He’s sitting, slumping, but his horns reach past my shoulders. I wrap my arm around his head and bring my wrist to his mouth. He places a kiss on my pulse with cracked, dry lips but doesn’t strike.

I whimper at the sight of him, beaten down and suffering. I will kill Valeska for this. The sound of the ticking clock grows stronger in my ears. “I will never give up on you, Damien. I will find a way to get you out of there. You are my mate. I will not move on. There is no one else for me. If you go, I will go too.”

He growls. “Don’t say such things, little bird. Your eventual happiness is my only light. I can no longer endure. I will die tonight.”

“No. You won’t. You won’t because you’re going to drink my blood.”

“No.” He turns his head away.

“I’m coming to Night Haven,” I say through my teeth. “I’m finding a way and I’m getting you out of there.”

Now he moves. With one twist and sweep of his arm, he has me on my back at the base of the tree, his taloned hand wrapped around my throat. “What did I tell you, little bird? You are not to come near Night Haven.”

I gaze up at him, shifting under him to wrap my legs around his hips. He settles between my thighs with a moan. “You can’t stop me. What you can do is tell me how to get there so that I won’t have to put myself in danger finding out.”

He squeezes my throat ever so slightly. “You will not, little bird. Stay with Maeve. Stay safe.”

I lift my hips to grind against him. “I will not give up on you, Damien. Never. I know the queen is dangerous and my coming for you is foolhardy, but I can’t let you go. Not any more than you could let me go if I were in here.”

He shakes his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting mine. “I would stop at nothing.”

“I will stop at nothing.”

He growls and climbs off me, seeming to realize that he’s in his monster form in this dream. He spreads his wings. They’re riddled with holes where the sun has burned through them, and I can’t stop my gasp. With a wince of concentration, they’re gone. He shifts into his human form, dapper and attractive again. I wonder how much energy it costs him. “You don’t understand. As your mate, I am your protector. Keeping you away from Night Haven is the only way I can do that.”

I sigh. “Right now I think it’s you who needs my protection. It’s you who needs rescuing.”

He hisses and draws back like I’ve offended him deeply.

I hold up my hands. “Don’t you see that you are protecting me by saving yourself? If I lose you, my life will be nothing.”

He stands straighter.

“I can find a way to get you out. We will survive this.”

“Give me time. I will escape and come to you,” he promises, but I can hear the skepticism in his voice. Even he knows that he won’t get out without help.

The clock chimes. It’s now or never. I need to convince him to tell me how to find Cassius. “Fine,” I say, and he sighs in relief. “Tell me where to find Cassius, and I will go to him and ask for his help rather than come myself.”

Damien frowns but seems to contemplate this for a minute. “Cassius is my nearest and dearest friend.”

“Then he’s sure to help,” I say. “Please…”

“He may.” Damien grinds his teeth, seeming to come to terms with the idea. “If he can’t, he will protect you. I trust him.”

I nod. “Where can I find him? I’ll go to him. I’ll tell him what’s happened.”

“If he doesn’t know by now, he suspects.” Damien moves closer, his expression growing resolute. He wants me to let it go, to leave it alone. Visiting Cassius digs me in deeper, but I can tell that this friend is our last hope.

“Where?” I demand again.

“Chicago. 111 E Bellevue.”

I make a note of it. I’ll fly out as soon as possible.

“Thank you.” I close the space between us and wrap my arms around him. He nuzzles my ear, my hair, my neck. His lips brush over my vein. “Drink,” I urge. “You need to survive until he can get to you.”

I hear him swallow. It’s a rough, hungry sound. “Eloise…”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.” He strikes hard and fast. I melt against him as he drinks. His rhythmic gulps of my blood soothe me. He needs it more than I do. And as always, the act makes pleasure bloom in my core. The tips of my breasts harden to taut peaks and, an ache blooms low in my belly. But before I can act on my desire, fatigue overcomes me and it’s his arms holding me up instead of my legs. I slump, but he keeps drinking.

“Damien.” I slap his shoulder. “Stop. That’s enough.”

He growls like an animal and sinks his teeth in deeper.

“Stop!” I say again, and this time I’m begging. My chest hurts and dark spots are circling. If I’m feeling that in a dream, what must my physical body be going through?

Damien clamps his arms around my shoulders and gulps and gulps and gulps. So weak… My head rolls back on my shoulders, and I spot my anchor through heavy lids. Feeling the strong web between me and it, I reach my hand out toward it.

Darkness closes in as the clock rushes toward me. Rushes straight toward my hand.

I come awake with a gasp the moment I touch it. Maeve’s hands are pressing into my bare chest. She stops when I drag in a lungful of air. She’s straddling me, tears raining down her cheeks and falling on my chest. Her lipstick is smeared. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and it comes away red.

She climbs off me, wiping under her glasses. “That’s the last time, Eloise. Do you hear me? Never again. Never. Again .”