Vein of Love (Blackest Gold Book 1) (12 page)

SWEATY BODIES FILLED
the dark club, and Molly fidgeted with her hair as she eyed the packed dance floor. People were grinding everywhere, and the more she walked, the stickier the floor became. They’d had no problems getting in once Tensley spoke to the bouncer, but Molly didn’t really see the appeal of the place now that she was inside.

The music’s vibration pounded in time with her heartbeat, and she watched as September wove her way through the crowd with Illya, leaving her alone next to Tensley.

The demon was quiet, and she could just make out his pinched mouth and the hard planes of his cheekbones through the darkness.

He suddenly hissed in pain, gripping his forearm under his shirt.

“Are you all right?” Molly asked, reaching out with a tentative hand.

He deflected her touch. “I need to make a call.”

With that he left, shouldering his way through the crowd of intoxicated clubbers. Molly sighed and beelined for the bar, asking the nearest server for a glass of water. She checked her phone for any messages from her parents, but saw none, shoulders slouching. When she turned with her drink to gaze at the chaos, she saw
Cree under a spotlight in the corner.

Molly’s entire body froze at the sight of him.
What is he doing here?

He motioned her over, and she weaved around the gauntlet of sweaty bodies.

“What’s going on?” she said once she’d made it.

He snatched her arm and pushed her toward the bathroom. “In.”

“Um, this is the girls’ washroom—hey! What are you doing?” He slid both of them into the nearest stall, ignoring the shouts of several angry women waiting in line. “How did you know I was here?”

“We followed you,” he said, like it was an utterly normal admission.

“What?”

“You and the other three. As a precaution.”

“You stalked me?”

“Here.” He handed her a small bottle and she reached for it, squinting at the gold liquid inside. “It’s a special poison that affects demons, called golden fleece; the Greeks used it to poison them. They named it after the tale of Jason’s quest to get the golden fleece, so that he might become rightful king. It’s scentless to them. It knocks them out for about eighteen hours; sometimes it even kills them.”

She fumbled with the bottle at the mention of killing. “And why do I need this?”

“You’re gonna use it on Tensley.”

She swallowed. She stared at the dagger he pulled from his back pocket and looked back up at him. “Stab him?”
I’m a fucking student studying history, not a trained killer!

“The blade’s laced with an herb that penetrates the demon’s skin and deteriorates over many hours, days even, to kill them. Not to mention it drives them insane with hallucinations, fever, vomiting, and no control over their bowel movements. Often they’ll commit suicide just to end the pain.”

Molly recalled the look shared between Illya and Tensley at dinner; it had been loving, genuine. “No, I don’t want to kill him,” she said, voice rushed. “Just end the contract.”

He frowned. “The only way you are gonna get rid of him is if you kill him. He’s a demon; even if we can get him to call off the arrangement for the time being, he’ll come after you again. Demons don’t tolerate weakness or mistakes, and he’d have committed both by not going through with things.”

She stared at the dagger. It curved, almost as if curling into itself.
“Yeah,” she said. “He probably would come after me.” She took the dagger with her empty hand, and he roughly patted her shoulder.

He gestured with his thumb to the door. “There are more demons here, about seven.” Her heart stopped.
Illya.
“The others are gonna deal with them. Just concentrate on Tensley, and I’ll finish him off if you’re not up to it.”

Molly’s brows lifted. “Others?”

“A few hunters came with me, for backup.”

She analyzed his firm features and when she couldn’t read him completely, she sighed. “Why are you helping me? What are you getting out of this?”

Cree lifted his chin and for the first time since she’d met him, he appeared soft. “I’d never turn down someone who needed help, especially against those bastards. You don’t deserve what he’s putting you through.”

Relief flooded her, but a tiny pebble of guilt also itched within her chest. “I’ll give you a signal when I’ve done it, okay? Don’t rush me.”

“Fine. Now, hide this.” He took the dagger and shoved it into her small purse, crushing a few tampons and her lipstick. She clenched the small bottle in her hand and the two of them regarded each other. “Don’t be afraid, okay? We’ve got your back.” He left the stall and Molly closed it, standing there in the tiny square as drunken, girlish conversations from the sink area drifted on the air.

She thought of everything Tensley had said and done to her.

He’s heartless. This’ll be easy.

Molly marched out onto the dance floor; she wanted to warn September to get Illya out of there. He didn’t deserve what Cree and his hunters had planned.

“You disappeared,” a silky voice said behind her. She spun, the sweat-laden air catching in her throat.

Tensley.

“I had to go to the bathroom.” She fidgeted with her purse and it fell to the ground, a few tampons tumbling out. Before she could even register what had happened, Tensley bent down and gathered them up in one swift motion.

“Here,” he said, handing it over.

If the dagger had fallen out, she would have been screwed. His eyes were soft and dark and—
no.
No.
He may be in the form of a man, but he’s not a man. He’s a monster, a demon, a beast.

“Do you wanna get something to drink? Let’s get something to drink,” she insisted, taking his arm.

He dragged his feet at first but eventually followed with a scowl settled between his dark brows. When they got to the bar, she gripped the counter and tried to control the adrenaline traveling through her limbs, making them unstable.

She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “It’s hot in here; don’t you think it’s hot in here?”

He narrowed his eyes.

Sweat gathered between her breasts, and she swiped her fingertips across the wetness.
Ew.

“Here.” Her eyes darted to Tensley holding a napkin, his lips a tight line. His hand pressed the napkin above the curve of her breasts and he stroked it, soaking up the sweat.

“What will it be?” the man behind the counter asked.

Molly jerked back, Tensley’s hand falling from her skin. Her lips parted but nothing came out.

“One rum and diet coke, and give me your top-shelf whiskey, neat,” Tensley said as he crumpled the napkin in his hand. His gaze held a fierce fire, the air refusing to cool between them.

She cupped her cheek, wishing the blush would vanish. She shouldn’t have let him touch her like that.
Damn it.
She was supposed to be poisoning him.

His forehead wrinkled more. “You feeling okay
?”

“Yeah, just really hot.”

The drinks arrived, and she stared at his, dark and oak-scented in the clear glass. She clenched hers and took a big gulp. It burned, but it numbed her panicked nerves.

“Easy,” he cautioned, his two fingers skimming her wrist. A spark flooded through her and she gawked at his long fingers.
It’s just two fingers. Imagine his entire hand on your—shut up!
The small bottle of poison was still clenched in her other fist.

“Can I try some of yours?” she asked, unable to make eye contact. If she did, it would play with her mind. Without a word, he handed it to her.

Tensley watched her intently, so Molly jumped at the next song that came on.

“Ooh, I love DJ Hale!” she cooed, turning full circle away from him, popping the cap open, and tipping the minuscule bottle of poison into his tumbler as she spun.

A drop sloshed over the side and onto her skin as she pretended to sway to the music, and for a moment she wondered if it might sizzle there. Her gasp was audible, and Tensley reached for her shoulder.

“Are you
sure
you’re okay?”

“Um, yeah, sorry, just spilled a bit. Here.” Molly handed the glass back with a fumbling hand.

“So you work at a museum?”

She glanced at him and then the untouched drink. She fidgeted with her purse. “As an intern.”

He nodded. “And do you like it?”

“I love it.” She smiled. “Actually, they’re letting me help design an entire exhibit with one of the curators. It’s not a very big exhibit, but it’s still
amazing.
” After a moment of silence, her giddiness faded and she chanced a look up at him. His eyes hadn’t left hers.

Focus Molly!

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Molly asked, her eyes flitting from Tensley’s broad forehead and grey eyes like a butterfly debating where it should land.

“Your eyes. They’re just…they’re incredible.”

The rawness of Tensley’s voice made something stir within Molly—something she’d been doing her best to keep buried for the better part of thirteen years, since he’d walked into her life as a shadow, a boy with a haunted face and those giant grey eyes.

But the Tensley who’d shown up a week ago was
not
the Tensley she remembered. No. Far from it. But this tone, this expression of his, so authentic and
vulnerable
…

No one had ever said her eyes were incredible.

He lifted the glass off the bar, condensation leaving a darkened ring on the wood. Her breathing was loud in her ears, and a voice screamed inside her brain.

She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t evil.

She wasn’t heartless.

He brought the drink to his lips, but she smacked his wrist, spilling its entirety onto his shirt and slacks.

“
Fuck
.” He slammed the glass down and roughly wiped his drenched clothes.

She reached for a napkin and rubbed it over his chest and down to his pelvis. “Sorry—sorry, I’m so sorry.”

For everything.

“Don’t,” he commanded, pushing her hand away with irritation.

Molly gazed up at the balcony in the distance, where Cree was watching them.
Do I wave now?
She thought back to what Cree had said: that her eyes would immobilize demons. If she could do that to Tensley…

She grabbed Tensley’s hand again, and the anger spread like wildfire over his features.

“Do you not speak English,
daemon?
Are you fuc—”

Her eyes aligned with his just as she willed the cool sensation to spread, and he went rigid, gawking at her eyes. She steadied her breathing, noting that his hands went limp at his sides.

It works…

Holy shit, it works!

She yanked at him again and placed his palm on her hipbone.

His face softened.

“Dance with me,” she said softly.

His fingers moved across the satin fabric of her dress, but the electricity from his touch made it feel like no clothing separated them. She waited for him to make a witty quip, a sexual innuendo, but his mouth was still slack and his eyes remained only eager.
Thank you, powers.
Turning, she led the way, sensing several sets of demon-hunter eyes watching her.

Once they were trapped in the dense, sweltering crowd, she pressed her entire frame against his strong length and wrapped her arms securely around his neck. Her eyes flickered past him, searching for Cree or any of the other hunters approaching. Fear swarmed her chest. How would she be able to tell who was a hunter or not? She needed to warn Illya and September while keeping Tensley safe at the same time. If she told Tensley about the hunters, he would react badly, powers or not.
Very
badly.

Tensley stiffened, sensing the danger, but she pressed closer and did something she knew she would regret. She could only think of one way to convince him to stay attached to her, however, and a deeper, carnal desire cemented her movements.