Vein of Love (Blackest Gold Book 1) (18 page)

Molly raised her chin. “The feeling’s mutual.”

He shoved his balled hands into his pockets and squared his shoulders. Disappointment flooded his chest.

Where was the relief? Instead, his shoulders tensed and he ached to retort, to get even.

She brushed past him into the bathroom and Tensley immediately left, angry that the feelings were still there—stronger than
ever
.

THE WIND PICKED
up as Molly once again entered the cemetery, squinting at the shapeless figures ahead. Cree walked beside her, and unlike the first time she’d come, she wore a dark jacket with a hood concealing her blonde head. Three weeks ago, he had given her a sharp, curved dagger. She held it in her shaking right hand.

When she told Cree Tensley had people watching her, he brushed it off and told her the cemetery and surrounding area were charmed by the diviners so the demons wouldn’t be able to track them. In there, she was safe.

After weeks of training with them, she felt tougher and stronger. She wasn’t out of breath instantly when she ran, and she discovered she had a higher pain tolerance than humans. On the downside, she’d been slipping behind at the museum, coming in late after extensive midnight training sessions, messing up the research for the displays.

The fear of failure made her stomach twist into painful knots, but a voice told her she was focusing on the right thing: trying to protect her family’s lives.

She struggled back and forth on whether to tell Cree of her change of heart for Tensley. He didn’t deserve death, but they both needed to end the contract. Tonight, she would tell Cree. She wasn’t killing Tensley.

A few demon hunters waved or said hello as they got closer, their cold exteriors shifting to ones of approval and acceptance. Some had even invited her to their home for supper since she’d been attending. It was better than sitting alone in that Plaza hotel room.

“Is it ready?” Cree asked Freya.

Her pink hair was tied up in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. “He’s restless.”

Who?

“You wanna see a weakened demon?” A guy named Ryan, shorter than the rest, hollered directly at Molly. “How disgusting they really are? Their true, basic desires?” 

A demon?
She shoved the clawing fear to the back of her mind.

“Bring the cup,” Cree said to no one in particular. Someone shifted and brought forth a large grey cup. Each took turns sipping from it before passing it along. When it made it to Cree’s hefty hands, he took a large gulp, wiping his mouth on his leather jacket sleeve when he was finished. He passed it to Molly and she examined the dark liquid swaying inside.

“What is it?”

“The only way to keep up with them, their strength, speed. Demon blood,” he said calmly. “It makes for a fair fight. Now drink up.”

Her eyes widened. “Demon blood?” She glared down at the liquid, gagging at the sight.

“You don’t have to drink it,” Cree said.

She glanced at him, then saw the rest of the hunters watching her. “I’m good.” She handed it back to Cree, who frowned, but didn’t say anything more. She couldn’t stomach the idea of drinking demon blood and her thoughts lingered on what she had been debating the last while.

Tensley.

“Release him,” Cree said to two of the hunters, and they marched toward a tomb made from chipped grey stone, weathered by the years of harsh winters and trespassers. They toyed with the lock and a growl erupted from within the tomb. Molly braced herself.

“We starve them: no food, water, or any physical touch,” another demon hunter said, standing behind her.

“Is that necessary?” Molly shut her mouth fast. The hunters who heard her stared coolly back.  Her stomach twisted and knotted, a horrible dread sinking in.

“It’s necessary when he slaughters three of our members in front of their families. It’s fucking necessary then.” Ryan’s spat words drilled deep into Molly’s chest and she looked away, only to catch Cree watching her.

The rusted door creaked open and she held her breath. In the dark tomb, half-bent, was a lanky male figure. He hesitated, the outside light too bright for him as he bowed his head, twisting his body into a tiny shape. His feet moved heavily onto the damp grass as he lifted his chin, eyes shining like polished onyx. A hiss seeped through his snarled mouth as he assessed the group.

“And then we
hunt them
,” Cree finished in a dangerous, bloodthirsty tone.

Molly flinched as the group hollered thunderously, thrusting their weapons—knives, chains, axes—into the air.

The demon darted away and the crowd followed after, feet pounding on the hollow ground of the graveyard, over the hills and through the thick forest. Molly raced after them, her senses heightened by the chase. Stumbling through branches and stones embedded in the slopes, she collided with a tree and scraped her palms along it.

“Ow,” she gasped, examining her stinging palms for scrapes. She glanced up at the distant voices far ahead. Her heart pounded too fast, too hard against her ribcage. Her senses were heightened to the extreme—every noise, every movement startled her. A high-pitched noise erupted in her eardrums and she recoiled, covering them against the harsh sounds. 

Something moved beside her, and she turned to see a figure, tall and gaunt, a few feet away. His breath blew out heavy and fast.

Oh shit.

She darted in the opposite direction and his feet thundered behind her. Her lungs burned as she stretched her legs farther, willing them to put more space between her and the hungry demon.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—I’m a daemon, and according to Tensley they can sense me for miles!
Why didn’t I think of that?

Her grip tightened on the knife as his fingers clutched her hair, yanking down. She shrieked as they fell and rolled, sending her sunglasses flying. His hands clawed at her jacket, and he wheezed like a dying animal. As soon as he touched her flesh, however, his grip grew stronger. His nails dug into her flesh, blood oozing from the cuts.

“Ow!” Molly screamed, “Cree!
Cree
!”

Use your eyes!

She turned, her eyes meeting his glazed stare. She willed herself to calm down, for each limb to relax, and delivered the sensation to him, summoning complete control over him. His eyes had been wild, but as soon as they met hers, they calmed. His hands loosened their grip.

His strawberry blond hair disturbed her. It was so light, so childlike she couldn’t believe he was a demon—something so ugly, yet with the hair color of a child. Someone innocent. His raspy, hoarse breathing filled her eardrums. A dark tattoo stretched across his forearm—a scorpion, arched for battle, stinger posed.  

She stared at the tattoo for a moment,
a single second
, and it was a moment too long. His sharp, dirty nails sliced into her hips, and his mouth latched onto her throat. She screamed when his teeth bit into her collarbone.

In pure desperation, she stabbed the Golden Fleece laced hairpin into his chest, deep—one, two, three times. His fingers clawed at her flesh and she pushed her arms out, keeping him a foot away. Soon he coughed, blood seeping from his mouth and dripping all over her face, until the darkness in his eyes vanished to leave only a beautiful moss-green color.

He’s dead.

Guilt stabbed her in the chest. She’d murdered someone. Tensley’s features blurred her vision and she gripped her shirt.

“Molly.” She awkwardly tilted her head to see Cree and Freya, the others appearing behind them. Freya’s face was hard, but Cree’s mouth hung open. He stepped forward and pulled the dead demon off Molly, tossing him in some nearby bushes. Cree returned and helped her up, keeping Molly’s hand secured in his even after she’d stood.

She staggered, only to vomit.

“Here,” Cree said. He wrapped an arm underneath her armpits and guided her through the forest. She had to fight not to look back at the dead body some of them were removing. Her hands shook and she tried to steady them, but they wouldn’t stop.

He was a demon. He wasn’t good.

The stabbing pain wouldn’t leave her chest.

Cree walked her all the way to the subway station, wiping the remaining blood from her cheeks with a handkerchief. “You did well tonight, Molly,” he said, stopping at the platform.

She turned to face him, perplexed at his relaxed demeanor. “I killed him.” She wiped her dirty hands on her cargo pants and bit back a sob. “I murdered—”

Cree gripped her wrist, shoved up her sleeve, and shook her arm. “
This—
this is why you killed him, in self-defense.” She eyed the red marks and superficial cuts spanning her arm from the demon’s attack. “If you hadn’t stopped him, he would have done worse. He would have
murdered you
and enjoyed it.”

She couldn’t look away from the wounds, and seeing them only made them ache more.

She looked at the station, blindingly bright compared to the dark sky, and squeezed her eyes shut. “What will they do with his body?”

“That’s where we get the blood,” he explained. “We take them to the chapel and drain their blood before the body disintegrates.”

“And you never think it’s wrong? To just do that?” She gestured to pavement, but she couldn’t stop seeing the man’s crumpled body.

Cree shook his head, not looking at her. “I get that you have this fairytale like fantasy that even demons are worth saving, but not in my world. I told you when you first came to the bar you weren’t going to like some of the things we do, but we do it as a means to an end. You don’t have to agree with my methods, but trust me, we’ll get rid of Tensley.”

She nodded absently and bit her lip. The lingering thought she’d been carrying around in her head ached to get out. She needed to tell him. Now. “Cree, I want to make it clear though…” She paused, wanting to word it right. “I don’t want to
kill
Tensley. He doesn’t deserve to die. I just want him to end the contract.”

Cree’s warm appearance faded to a deep frown. “Molly, hunters are a family, a
unit
. We protect each other, we fight for each other, and we die for each other.” He shifted from foot to foot, a soft summer breeze ruffling his longish hair. “After my sister’s death, my own family handled the situation differently, and we grew apart. The hunters became my second chance for a family, a united front wanting the same end goal: to stop them from hurting innocent people.”

Molly saw a wetness build in his brown eyes and reached out, threading his fingers through hers in a tight squeeze.

She licked her lips before speaking softly. “But Tensley’s innocent, too, you know? He’s tangled up in this contract like me and he wants out just as much as I do. I think if we talked to him, he might be willing to help us.”

Cree’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t snap, not like she expected. He let out a long, shaky breath, still concentrating on her features. “We’ll talk about it, okay? I can’t decide without talking to the others. Don’t think they’d be too happy working with a demon, let alone a Knight.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” 

He laughed. “Don't mention it.” He nodded his head behind her.  “Ride’s here.”

She turned to see the subway train arriving and a few people boarding.

She grinned at him, still shaken about the demon’s death but feeling a bit more at peace.
It was for the good of them all; that demon will never hurt another person.
Molly boarded the subway and waved at Cree as she whooshed by.

She’d break the contract and keep Tensley alive.

Perfect.

As long as he agrees, that is.

TENSLEY LIT HIS
cigarette and eyed the nineteenth battalion. His father had put him in charge of leading the patrols for any threats, and at the moment they were hunting some rogue demons who’d stolen belladonna from Scorpios. They’d found them in a disgusting warehouse on the outskirts of Queens, and now he stood apart from the criminal demons as they either talked shit about him or admired him.

Since his brother’s scandal, the Knight family name definitely didn’t hold the same clout, but he was no harmless kitten.
Oh, he’d show them fucking harmless.

He inhaled deeply and blew out the belladonna smoke, watching it tangle with the summer breeze. The air was thick and stale, and he wrinkled his nose, scowling at the battalion escorting the demons out of the rundown warehouse and past the barbed wire fence that circled the property.

That’s how he felt: encaged, a beast thrashing inside a metal cage.

“Sir?” The timid young soldier—a middle-class demon—edged cautiously closer to Tensley. “All of them have been detained.
”
 

Tensley looked at the seven demons, hands tied behind their backs as they were shoved into a van. One’s bruised, swollen eyes flickered to his, mouth forming in a ghastly snarl. The thief’s body shivered, either from his demon side craving an attack or just the need for more belladonna.

Tensley flicked his cigarette, sending its burning stub to the concrete. “Keep them in lockdown at the house. Quincy can deal with them tonight. Break some bones. I’ll interrogate them tomorrow.
”
    

“Yes, sir,” the boy stammered, and Tensley took off. He climbed into his Jaguar and sped back to Manhattan, wanting to forget his responsibilities for one night. His hands shook and he gripped the wheel tighter. He knew he was getting weaker without complete intimacy from another.

Tensley shouldn’t have been surprised by Illya’s presence as he passed through foyer of the Scorpios estate, his friend curled up in a fancy armchair near the fireplace, waiting for him.

Daniella, the secretary for Scorpios, sat behind the desk, eyeing Tensley’s unbalanced demeanor.

Without a word, Illya followed him down the hallway and into his office. Tensley eyed himself in the wall mirror. Dark circles framed his grey eyes, and his skin looked sickeningly pale. He needed whiskey and he needed sleep.

Every night for the past three weeks had been spent with obsessive thoughts ping-ponging between Molly and Evelyn.
Molly. Evelyn. Molly’s innocent smile. Evelyn’s sensual brazenness.
He was close to losing his shit.

The two of them walked farther into his office and Tensley shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossing it on the back of the couch.

“We had your father’s meeting tonight. Why did you skip?” Illya asked.

Tensley didn’t bother to look up, instead withdrawing another cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He opened the second set of French doors onto his balcony, staring out at the giant garden behind the estate.

Tensley huffed. “To avoid the bastards.”

Illya leaned against a chair beside him
. 
“Still avoiding her?
”
  

Tensley stubbed his cigarette out on the balcony’s railing before walking back into his office—black, sleek, and neat. It was decorated with dark hardwood floors and antiques from his family’s past, paintings of his ancestors, of his family
. 
Money would never be a problem for their family, not with their clients and the belladonna and the Princes.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Illya muttered, strolling into the room.

Tensley shook his head angrily. “Don’t mention her.”

“It’s been almost three weeks, man. You’re weak.” Illya sighed.

“I’m not
weak
, Illya,” he argued, bending over to retie his shoelaces. His fingers shook and he struggled to grip the laces tight enough. “I do, however, miss the time before puberty hit when getting intimate didn’t matter. Damn puberty.
”
 

“You look sick, and you can’t even tie up your own shoes,” Illya said. “Just get off your high horse and—
”
 

Tensley glared at his friend. “I’m not going near her. I’m protecting us both.”

Illya looked blankly back. “You know that’s not true.
”
  

Tensley bared his teeth, nostrils flaring. “I want her for one thing—an heir. After that, she’s gone.” He stood up, head high, shoulders back, eyes sharp. “She’s not your friend, Illya. Don’t get attached.
”
  

“I’m not worried about my attachment; I’m worriedabout yours,” Illya said, folding his arms
.
  

“If she left, or disappeared, I’d be thrilled.” Tensley grabbed a clear glass, filled it up with whiskey, and gulped it down. “
You
don’t have to marry her; you don’t have to deal with her for the next few decades.” He slammed the glass onto his desk.

Illya kept his stance. “I thought you were going to get rid of her after she gave you an heir?
”
  

“Leave if you’re just going to bug the shit out of me.”

Illya shifted, but didn’t edge closer
. 
“Tensley, I know you,” he began. “The
real
you. Why can’t you show her that person?
”
  

He sighed heavily. “You know there are real reasons I can’t.
”
  

“You mean because of your brother’s past?” Illya said, voice low.

“It ruined my family; his selfishness and uncontrolled desires destroyed the person he was.” Tensley’s jaw tightened. “He became that heartless demon once Fallen ripped it out and
everyone
knew, every demon, every royal prick knew that my flesh and blood, a high-born, committed the ultimate sin.” Tensley glared at his trembling hands and flattened them out on the table. “He developed a full heart for a Spanish
chica
.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I could control myself with Evelyn because she understood my limits, but Molly—Molly’s practically human. She doesn’t understand anything about us.
”
  

“Then what are you afraid of?
”
  

“Nothing—she doesn’t fucking scare me,” he insisted, furrowing his brows.

“Stop denying it!” Illya’s face grew red and he threw his arms out. “You’re scared that she’s going to make you feel more than you want to, that you won’t be able to control yourself and will end up like your brother. If you just rein yourself in and stop being a dick all the time, I bet you could manage it.” When Tensley didn’t respond, simply glaring at his fisted hands, Illya slammed his hand on the table. “Tell me, why is it that you refuse to kiss anyone, including Evelyn on the lips? Hm?”

Tensley squared his jaw.

“Because it’s more intimate than sex, right? You’re so fucking terrified of getting too close to anyone.”

“What’s it to you?”

“I want you to be happy. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother and I don’t want to see you struggling—and I can tell you’ve been struggling…a
lot
.”

Tensley’s body shook as he tried to control his temper, the waves of rage rolling like the tide of the sea. “I don’t want to become like
him
. I still have scars from when he nearly broke my face in half—his own fucking brother.” The scar on his upper lip burned at the mention, the ghost of a shattered relationship.

Silence filled the room, the air crackling with tension at each heavy breath Tensley took. 

“Fallen hasn’t made a move to approach either Molly or your family. If Abaddon told him, he would have already,” Illya said carefully, changing the topic.

 
“
Or
Fallen’s planning something bigger.” Tensley slammed his hands onto the desk and snarled. “Shit.
”
  

“If Fallen knew about her, he would have made it clear. He would have come up here himself to see if it was true.” Illya’s features pinched as he spoke, defying his certainty.

Fallen would want her; he’d want to mark her, and then he’d be even more powerful than before.

Tensley rubbed his forehead and sat down in his leather armchair
. 
“Keep an eye out for anything. Don’t let any demons near her or the Plaza. I’ve had a few of my men follow her, but I trust you more.”

“Just because we’re supposed to hate things that aren’t demons doesn’t mean we have to,” Illya murmured, sitting as well.

Tensley narrowed his eyes as he looked at Illya across his desk. “I don’t have time for this shit. Have you heard from Lex?
”
  

“Nothing. No one’s seen her, but she’s done this before. You know how she is,” Illya said.

Tensley nodded; it’d been almost a month since he’d spoken to the funny little soul eater. “I still worry about that scrawny girl.”

“I do, too.” Illya sighed, got up, and walked toward the door. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll watch for anything out of the ordinary.” He paused mid-step. “She has been in Brooklyn, a lot.”

Tensley furrowed his brow. “With who?”

“Goes by herself,” Illya said. “Then they lose track of her.”

Alarms went off in Tensley’s head. “She’s up to something. Keep the men on her.” An ache festered in his chest and he attempted to shake it off without Illya noticing.
She went behind my goddamn back!

“And just wait for her to do something?”

Tensley’s shaking fists formed into tight balls. “Make her think she has the upper hand. Just tell my men to watch her
—closely.
”

After Illya left, Tensley sunk farther into his chair, plucking the buttons of his shirt open. He sweated profusely, and the shaking grew worse than when he’d survived withdrawal from belladonna two years ago.
He wished food, water, and sleep could give him the energy he needed, but it was intimacy that truly nourished him.

“Mr. Knight?”

His eyes shot up to find Daniella, tall, curvy, and smiling at him, standing in the open doorway. His throat went dry at her generous chest in its corseted top and the pencil skirt she wore.

“You don’t look so good, sir.” Her lips tipped up in a sly smile, and she moved gracefully across his office to rest her pert butt on the edge of his desk. His eyes wandered over her torso and paused as she hiked up her skirt and widened her legs, revealing that she wore nothing underneath. “Do you need some help?”

His arousal stiffened and he clenched his knees.

“Some of the men have chatted about how weak you look. We don’t want that, do we?” She giggled, stroking his clenched hands and moving toward his groin.

He raised his chin. He was done being weak.

I can do this. Just one time and I’ll be back to normal.

“
No, we wouldn’t, would we?” Tensley said and licked his shaking top lip. He needed something to consume him—something
other
than Molly Darling.