Blood Instinct (34 page)

R
ob Doyle woke
to face a stone wall ten feet in front of him, an iron door nestled in the right-hand corner.

His head ached with the muggy feeling of a severe hangover, the floor feeling as though it was on a backwards decline. He glanced at the single barred window high to his right then back at the manacles that hung from the walls ahead and to his left. His heart pounded harder when he noticed the bloodstains smeared on the concrete floor.

He tried to twist his wrists in the restraints that strapped them to the arms of the metal chair; tried to wriggle his ankles to loosen the ropes that bound them to its legs. But straining to look over his shoulder threw him off balance, the back of his chair hitting the ground with a thunk, his skull narrowly avoiding the same fate only because he wrenched his neck upwards at the last second.

He caught his breath as he turned his head to see the drain that ran along the base of the wall behind him and immediately realised he hadn’t imagined the decline.

He’d been taken from outside the lycans’ underground nest – that was the last thing he remembered. He’d only just sent the last of the morphed lycans in, felt a sharp pain on the back of his leg…

He flinched and stilled as the door creaked open.

His pulse picked up a notch as he tried to lift his head to see who had walked in, the decline making it impossible from the angle he lay at.

But he could hear footsteps. Male footsteps accompanied by the annoying scrape of metal. Nonchalant male footsteps. One set.

Metal clinked against concrete.

And then there was ticking. The ticking of a clock: a sound surreal against the otherwise silent backdrop.

He flinched as the boot suddenly pressed against the seat of the chair between his thighs. A boot that levered him back into an upright position.

He stared directly up into green eyes shadowed by the dimness of the room. Green eyes that sent his pulse racing, instantly chilling him.

Because he knew about Caleb Dehain. More to the point, he knew about Caleb Dehain’s reputation as much as he knew about Malloy’s.

He tried to calm his breathing as Caleb sat in the matching chair directly opposite him, the clock resting on the floor to the vampire’s right, equidistant between them. It was an analogue clock with an annoyingly loud tick, exacerbated by the hollowness of what could only be described as a dungeon.

His legs casually parted, his eyes lowered to what he was doing, Caleb sliced the knife through the apple he held, cutting off a piece and placing it in his mouth before starting on a second.

Rob swallowed harder than he wanted to, the vampire’s silence on top of his lack of eye contact adding to the discomfort in his chest, the tick-tock of the clock irritatingly forcing him to focus on his rapid heartbeat.

‘I recognise your face from the media,’ Caleb said before he placed the second slice of apple in his mouth, his eyes remaining lowered. ‘You orchestrated the murder of Arana Malloy. And now you’ve let morphed lycans loose on the pack.’

As Caleb’s eyes fixed on his again, Rob stared back into them – not because he wanted to but because looking away was inexplicably difficult. As difficult as tuning out the ticking clock.

Eyes that were impossible to read.

‘What am I doing here, Dehain?’

Caleb leaned forward, his gaze lowered as he returned his focus to slicing another piece of fruit. ‘You’re Throme’s main sidekick, right?’

How the hell he knew that, Rob had no idea.

‘I’m just a grunt,’ Rob replied, the remark having confirmed that interrogation was on the cards. And because he knew only too well from his agency days that no one wanted to be on the bad side of Caleb Dehain.

‘Not from what I saw,’ Caleb remarked.

The tension in his chest intensified at the thought that Caleb had been watching him. More so when he realised, somehow, that none of them had been aware.

‘You’re supposed to be hunting down Malloy,’ Rob retorted. ‘So what the fuck am
I
doing here?’

As Caleb’s eyes snapped back to his, they turned even darker from beneath his black lashes, his lowered brow. ‘Who says I’m not?’

‘Are you? Because if you are, we’re supposed to be working together. Only it don’t look like that from where I’m sitting.’

Caleb focused on slicing another piece of apple. ‘I don’t work with anyone, Doyle. If you know anything about me, you should know that.’ He leaned back in his chair again, his elbow resting on the back, his fingers rotating the knife once and then twice, his apple-holding hand resting loosely on his thigh. ‘Tell me, are you a chess man?’

‘A
what
?’

‘Chess. Do you play chess, Doyle?’

Rob frowned at the detour. Frowned at Caleb rotating the knife once more, at the persistent fucking ticking of the clock in his ear.

He frowned at being caught in that
fucking
situation in the first place – with a fucking
vampire
lording it over him.

Rob shook his head slightly at the nonsensical question. ‘Do I
look
like I play chess?’

But Caleb’s gaze didn’t flinch. Instead it silently held his for a painful couple of seconds.

‘Throme’s a chess man, though, isn’t he?’ Caleb said. ‘I’d be willing to bet on it. I think we’re alike in that respect: we both like a challenge that involves planning
and
strategy. And that’s what chess is all about: not only planning your sequence of moves in advance but also working out the moves your opposition intends to make too. If you’ve got both worked out, that’s when you can
really
make it work to your advantage.
That
’s when you can make your opposition move
exactly
where you want them to. And with chess, it’s all about creating a clean line direct to the king.’

Rob glanced back at the glint of the blade as Caleb spun it once more. ‘So what – you want information?’ he asked, looking back at him. ‘You want to talk?’

‘If talking means I ask questions and you answer them.’

Rob exhaled sharply. ‘Is that what the ticking clock’s about? Some kind of threat?’

‘Rumour has it Throme is using angel tears on you.’

Rob knew it was pointless asking him how he knew. ‘So?’ he asked instead.

Caleb stood up. ‘
So
, that’s why the ticking clock is appropriate.’

The vampire stepped away from the chair, casually tossing the apple in the air before catching it underhand.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Rob called after him.

But Caleb continued on his path towards the door.

‘Hey!’ Rob called after him. ‘I said what the
fuck
is that supposed to mean?’

The vampire glanced back at him as he stepped back across the threshold, but only as he placed his hand on the door to close it – a glance that was as smug as it was dismissive, the slight upward curl of his lips escalating the tightness in Rob’s chest.

A tightness intensifying as Caleb closed the door.

And locked it behind him.

I
really hope
you enjoyed revisiting Jask and Sophia as the Blackthorn story continues to unfold. Please feel free to get in touch and let me know if you did – I love contact from readers.

If you did enjoy
Blood Instinct
, I’d also be grateful if you’d consider writing a review. It’s a great way to encourage new readers to try this series.

If you’d like to be one of the first to hear about my latest books, you can sign up for e-mail updates at:

And if you’re intrigued to know more about Blackthorn, please visit my website for all the inside information, including detailed insight into both the worldbuilding that underpins the series as well as the characters who inhabit it. 

As for what happens next, Eden and Jessie will be back in the penultimate Blackthorn book,
Blood Bound
. The finale is nearly upon us!

Lindsay

• @lindsayjpryor
  
• lindsayjpryor.author
  

T
hose who have stuck
with me since the very beginning: Anita, Christine, Fiona, Incy, Kelly, Linds and Tima. Thank you for still being by my side. Tracey, where do I begin? Whenever I think you can’t possibly do more for me, you become Mary Poppins with your endless supply of support. You’re the heart of Blackthorn.

My awesome Darklings. I can’t thank you enough for giving up so much of your time to get Blackthorn ‘out there’. Your passion and enthusiasm means the world to me. Now kick back, relax and enjoy your #JaskFest!

My incredible Facebook and blog followers. For all of your likes, comments, interactions and your sense of fun, thanks for continuing to make Team Blackthorn what it is.

The ‘Into the World of Blackthorn’ discussion group. Thank you to everyone who contributes to the mayhem and laughter. You make that group what it is.

All my readers who contact me personally and those who leave reviews. Every positive comment makes a difference, so thank you for sharing yours.

B
ookouture
, my brilliant publisher, for bringing Blackthorn to my readers. Thank you for making this possible and for giving me the opportunity to share these stories.