Page 37 of Blood Claims (Garnet Dagger Mafia #2)

VOLCANOS ON ICE

H ome.

At his curt reply, I shuddered in his arms before he allowed his shadows to flow forward.

The tentacles reaching for the large door, making it swing open as if by magic.

An opening he now walked us toward as my head fell back to take it all in.

Doing so as the tall building dominated the surrounding countryside, like the house was literally trying to reach the heavens.

The vast darkness of fields beyond the walled gardens looked overgrown and unmanaged.

The gothic stature of the wrought iron gates cast shadows against the pathway, with its twists of coiled metal.

It looked like a dark fairy tale.

Its towers loomed upward, with one in the middle being set back further from the rest. The carved stone above looked to hold an elaborate stone bell tower, with a domed roof and menacing gargoyles standing guard over all below them.

“Are we still in the US?” I asked, doubting it because there was nothing this old in a country that had only been founded two hundred and fifty years ago. This place looked like it belonged to royalty, making me wonder, just who was this guy?

“We are in England,” he stated, making me gasp.

“But how?” To which he had hit his limit, snapping,

“Enough.”

I swallowed hard and held back the urge to speak. Something even harder to do when he walked me inside as the lights illuminated the space around us. It was like stepping back in time. I honestly didn’t know where to look first.

What with its elaborate wooden paneled walls that had too many incredible details to pinpoint just one.

The marble, checkered floor shone like water on a lake, and as I looked to my right, I could see a grand dining room.

The floor was cast in a blue hue as the moonlight filtered in from the tall, paneled windows.

That room, and all rooms like it off the main entrance hall, were still cast in darkness.

As for this imposing room, it was only lit by candlelight, illuminating the space in a warm glow from the wrought iron candelabras.

These tall, gothic candle holders each stood in between the different doors against the walls.

As for above, huge golden chandeliers hung, making me wonder how these had been lit.

Unless they had just been made to look like candles, I didn’t know.

The tall ceilings were as impressive as the rest… they were a mixture of carved arched beams, and recessed square moldings, each with a rosette at the center.

As for the main staircase, this easily dominated the room where it stood directly in front of us, so it was the first thing you saw when you walked through the door.

It was a grand Y-shape, with the wider part of the staircase sweeping out in an arch at the bottom and separated at the top, giving two directions to choose from.

But what made it stand out the most was the thick, plush red, carpet runner held there by gold bars at the run of each step. It made it look eerily like a river of blood against the stark white marble.

However, we didn’t go up this incredible staircase, one I envisioned princesses gracing the steps of with their big, flowing dresses and ballgowns.

Nor did we enter any of the many rooms we passed, instead making our way to the lower levels.

The staircase was made of pale stone and was not as highly decorated as the main one I had seen in the entrance hall.

The hallways were narrower down here, along with being void of any paintings or lavish furnishings, telling me it was likely the servant wing.

I wondered why he had brought me down here, fearing for a minute that this place had a dungeon and that was where he was taking me.

In fact, it was just on the tip of my tongue to ask when he stepped into a kitchen.

One that didn’t match the building itself because it had clearly been modernized, yet tastefully done.

There was a huge island at the center of the room that could have fit twenty people around.

The large wooden top, like a giant butcher’s block, was comprised of small wooden squares all compressed together.

It was an island he promptly sat me on, before dipping his head and lifting my arms up and over so I was no longer attached to him.

He then looked down at my bound hands with a frown before making short work of freeing me of them.

Although this came with its risks, because I flinched back the second I saw long, thick talons emerge from over his fingernails.

Now making me question if all Vampires or demons had this ability?

Because I wasn’t even exactly sure what he was yet.

But I recognized the same traits as the brothers had.

Brothers that I couldn’t help but think of, hating what I was currently putting them through by leaving.

By not trusting them when I should have.

By letting mad panic take hold and then the foolish decisions that followed.

“Stop moving, or I could end up making this worse,” he chastised when he saw me flinch back.

Then as if making his point, he grabbed the middle where my wrists were connected and yanked me closer, before he hooked a talon through the rope and cut them as easily as if they had been made from paper, not nylon.

After this he pulled the ropes free, making me hiss where they had cut into my skin, leaving more than just a red mark or imprint. Once again, this made him frown as he ran a gentle fingertip along the outside of the marks made there.

“These are a mess,” he stated tightly, as if it pissed him off. But then he didn’t need to tell me this, because I could feel it for myself. However, if I thought he was going to say anything more, I was wrong, because he turned his back to me and started to walk to the other side of the room.

“You’re desperate to ask questions, aren’t you?” he said with his back to me after long moments of silence. And he wasn’t wrong, especially as I saw him now standing in front of the wall of dark wooden cabinets. His tall frame easily reached the highest one as he pulled down a black box.

“Do you blame me? I only thought you were real in my nightmares,” I dared to admit.

He scoffed, his large shoulders lifting slightly.

He then turned back to me, with the box now in hand.

The sound of it dropping on the island made me jump when he reached me.

But it was a reaction he ignored as he then walked over to the wide metal sink, reaching in another cabinet to grab a bowl.

I wanted to ask him what he was doing but refrained because I didn’t want to make him angry.

So, instead, I just watched in silence as he filled the bowl with water and then reached for a cloth that was hanging on a hook.

The window over the sink allowed moonlight to pool in enough that I could make out small details.

That was until he flipped a switch on the wall near the door as he passed when making his way back to me.

My eyes squinted slightly as lights under the cabinets came on, showing dark countertops, a huge range stove, a twin door, fridge freezer, and not a single item that would have added personality.

I mean, he was either a clean freak or hardly ever used this space.

The stoneware bowl was placed down next to me but as my eyes rose from it, I couldn’t help but suck back a startled breath because I could see him in much more detail now. And he was surprisingly…

Breathtakingly handsome.

Well, at least the side of his face that I could see anyway.

His eyes were no longer glowing silver, they were now an unusual dark blue color.

So dark, I had originally thought they were black.

But this close up, I could see the blue more clearly.

A midnight blue, in fact, and they were strangely mesmerizing.

The dark slash of his brows only added to their intensity, as did the darkened skin around them.

His hair was also long. A thick, black mane that was shaved at the sides.

Hair that was pulled back into a man bun with straps easily seen across the shaved parts, that I gathered kept his half mask in place.

His strong jawline was so cut, it looked carved from granite.

The light dusting of black stubble wasn’t enough to hide the defined lines, or enough to take way from his full lips.

His mask didn’t exactly cover half of his face, just most of one side as the folds of leather seemed to mold around his manly features.

It covered the whole right side of his cheek, half his forehead, and around his eye, but left his nose and lips bare.

And although I couldn’t see what was beneath, I could guess.

The right side of his lips were slightly darker, with the same branches of darkness creeping up the side of his nose and around the edges of the mask, as if whatever he was trying to hide was slowly creeping further across his face, unwilling to be contained.

“You can stop staring now,” he stated in a hard tone, with an even harder glare. One that instantly made me look down at my lap as my cheeks heated from embarrassment.

Which was also when I could see just how much of a mess I was.

My dress was torn in random places, with most of the top part now stained with blood.

I didn’t know at what point I had lost my shoes, but my feet were filthy.

Basically, I was a state, and even my hair was everywhere, having received the rough treatment from that asshole mobster and his goon.

But as if mirroring my own thoughts, he stated harshly,

“You’re a mess.”

I flinched, but it didn’t deter him from dipping the cloth in the bowl of water and bringing it to my face.

“What are you doing?” I asked, pulling back.

“What does it look like I am doing? I am cleaning you up.”

I frowned in question before speaking my mind.

“But why?” The part I left out was, why do you care?