When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel (15 page)

Caris remembered his words now, and they butted uncomfortably against Tiberius’s choice. He’d done his duty for his people, too, sacrificing her in much the way Gunnolf had sacrificed Moira. Moira, however, had made the decision with him.

It hadn’t been easy slipping into life at the weren palace. Except for Gunnolf, the weren had never fully accepted her. She’d almost refused his offer, but when he’d pointed out that the scent of the weren was upon her, she’d known she really didn’t have a choice. She was a vampire with a weren scent, and she needed a reason for that anomaly other than the truth. And so the fiction of her relationship with Gunnolf was born.

No, the relationship wasn’t a fiction. He’d become one of her closest friends. But there was nothing else between them.

That, however, was a truth they both guarded carefully, because as long as it was believed that she was Gunnolf’s woman, she carried an extra layer of protection. Moreover, by taking on that role, she was protecting Moira as well. Any enemy who sought to get to Gunnolf by going after the woman he loved would go after Caris. His true love stayed safe and secluded in the Highlands.

It was a perfect arrangement except when she thought of Tiberius. He didn’t know the truth, and they knew that it wasn’t safe to tell him. She was a creature that could destroy the vampires with nothing more than a burst of rage, and Tiberius knew it. She had tried to make herself believe that he wouldn’t kill her—that if
he’d meant to kill her he would have done so, not merely kicked her out.

But she couldn’t be sure. He’d chosen his people over her, and he knew the harm she could bring. He could change his mind. Decide that her death was the only way to ensure their safety. As Gunnolf’s woman, her death would surely instigate a war. Gunnolf was her protection and her friend. A line of defense against a man she’d once loved.

A man, if she was honest with herself, whom she loved still.

“You’re a fool,” she whispered.

She clutched her phone tight in her hand. She wanted to call Gunnolf now.

She wanted his low voice to remind her that Tiberius had banished her. That any softness she saw in him now wasn’t meant for her.

She wanted him to say all those things, yet she didn’t dial the phone. Because deep down, she was afraid he’d only be silent. That he’d make her come to her own decisions. And that she wouldn’t like what she saw when she peered deep into what was really going on in her heart and her head.

Besides, if she talked to him she’d tell him about her ploy to gain him the Scottish territory. And that was something she wanted to hold close to her chest. If she wasn’t able to obtain it, he’d never know. But if she was, it would be a happy surprise for a man who’d once saved her.

“Screw it,” she whispered, then tossed her phone onto the desk. She neither had nor wanted a degree in psychology. She wasn’t the type to analyze or ponder or pick apart motives. She was the type who
acted
, and
that—
that
was what had her all screwed up in her head. Because right now, she wasn’t
acting
. Right now, she was
waiting
. And it pissed her off that there was nothing she could do to change that status quo.

And to make it worse, she was waiting in the blue room. Was it intentional, she wondered? Had Tiberius asked Mrs. Todd to put her here, in the guest chambers to which they’d retreated so many times when the burden of work had taken a backseat to the flames of desire? They’d escape from his office, taking solace in this room. She’d pull him down on the bed and cover his mouth with hers, and abandon the world for the desperate necessity of finding each other.

She remembered it all. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke. And it had been right here.

But that was almost twenty years ago, and the room had changed, the furnishings she’d acquired switched out for more practical pieces. Even the walls were a deeper blue, and the bright Mondrian canvases to which she’d been so partial had been replaced by more somber Wyeths, giving the room an almost sleepy atmosphere where once it had been so vibrant it practically hummed.

She wondered how quickly he’d changed things after he’d banished her, because that had certainly happened with head-spinning speed. Reinholt had kept her for more than a month, and he would have undoubtedly kept her longer or killed her had she not escaped.

She pressed her fingers to her temples and silently cursed. She seriously needed to get out of this room. She didn’t want to think, she wanted to hit. To pound out her frustrations. She punched the air once, twice, and decided it was time to burn off some of the shit that was
stirring inside her. She headed toward the door. Hopefully Tiberius’s stint at redecorating hadn’t run to eliminating or moving the gym.

More important, she thought as she eased up next to the door, she hoped he hadn’t put a guard outside her room.

She paused, her fingertips grazing the wood as she listened for movement outside. She heard it, and bit back a curse. He really
had
assigned a guard. Wasn’t that just the most fucked up—

The scent
.

Slowly, quietly, she stepped closer, her chin tilted up, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in.

She knew it—knew him.

Tiberius was there, beyond the door.

Carefully, she moved closer, her blood pounding in her veins, some emotion she didn’t want to name sweeping over her. Desire? Surely not. Anger? Maybe.

Curiosity?

Slowly, she pressed her hand to the wood.
She could feel it—raw emotion
. Pain and anger, but also longing. And, yes, that hint of regret. For a moment, her throat tightened, and she realized she was watching the door handle, waiting for it to turn, cursing herself because she wanted it to.

And then cursing him when it didn’t.

Quickly, she yanked her hand away, hating that she’d revealed even the smallest weakness to him, and not caring at all that her weakness had been his as well.

He’d find a way to turn it around on her. He always did, after all.

Frustrated, she headed back toward the desk. No way
she was leaving the room now, not with him right outside the door.

She was just about to give in to temptation and call Gunnolf when her phone rang. She snatched it up, saw that it was Orion, and answered.

“I just heard,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Heard?”

“About …” He hesitated, and that was all she needed to know. He’d heard about Reinholt’s murder.

“Don’t say it.”

“Am I an idiot?” he retorted.

She had to smile. Richard Erasmus Orion III was her nephew, cousin, something like that. Whatever he was, it was a billion times removed. Point was, he was family. The only family she had left, for that matter.

After he’d been plucked from the human world by Nikko Leviathin and recruited to work as the medical examiner for the Los Angeles PEC, she’d seen an opportunity. She’d done some snooping and learned that his medical background was laced with a significant amount of research and development. There was nothing noble about her reintroduction to her family; she’d sought him out for purely selfish means, interested only in what he could do for her.

After four days with him—four days of cautious getting-to-know-you, four days of looking into her long-dead brother’s eyes, four days of fearing that she was making a horrible mistake—she told him the truth. She told him about the man who’d captured her. Who’d tortured her. Who’d changed her.

And she told him about what she’d become.

Instead of shunning her, betraying her to the PEC, or reporting her as a hybrid—he actually
helped
her.

She would never have imagined it, but next to Gunnolf, her closest friend and confidant in these long dark years since she left Tiberius had become Orion. A human. And one working in the PEC, at that.

“I can’t talk right now,” she said.

“Where are you? And are you all right?”

“I’m with Tiberius.”

The silence hung long and heavy. Finally, Orion cleared his throat. “And so I ask again: Are you all right?”

She wanted to come up with a profound response. Something that illustrated just how
not
all right she was. But the words wouldn’t come. “Sure,” she said simply, and knew that she hadn’t fooled him when he swore softly under his breath.

“Like hell. What can I do?”

“Same as always—nothing you can do.”

“Caris—”

“I swear. I’m okay.” She forced a cheeriness into her voice. “I’ve actually got a job.”

“Huh?”

She laughed. “Turns out Tiberius needs my help. Seems he’s out one informant and he wants my insight into the weren community. Lihter’s up to something. And there’s a kidnapped girl.”

“You’re actually going to work with him?” Orion sounded positively shocked.

“I am indeed.”

“Why?”

She told him about her bid to get Gunnolf the Highlands, and he laughed appreciatively.

“Not a bad maneuver. But why are you really doing it?”

“What do you mean?” She cursed silently, knowing exactly what he meant.

“You’ve told me a lot about Gunnolf. And if you think I believe he cares about lording over the Highlands now that he’s got Moira back, you’re crazy. A nice perk if you get it, sure. But it’s not a big enough deal that you’d go out of your way to barter for it.”

Okay, he really did know her too well.

“So what’s going on?”

She shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her. “Lihter screwed Gunnolf. I want the chance to screw him back. I want it bad. And if I have to work with Tiberius, then so be it.” That was true, but she had to admit to herself that there was more to it.

For almost twenty years, the château in Paris had been home, but she was no longer welcome there, not with Gunnolf gone. And the only other home she’d ever known had been at Tiberius’s side, and for centuries that home had been within these very walls.

She’d been terrified to come back. Afraid the anger would sneak up on her. But it wasn’t anger, it was melancholy. This place had been her home, and despite the pain, despite the memories, it felt good to be back.

Right now, she had nowhere else to go. And if staying here meant that she could help Tiberius screw Lihter, then so much the better.

She didn’t share any of that with Orion, though she would bet that the perceptive human already knew.

“Listen,” he said, as if to prove the point. “Anything you need, you know that, right? You can call me anytime. Don’t worry about the time difference or anything.”

“You’re a prince among humans.”

“Nah. That’s just what family’s for.”

“I know,” she said. “And I appreciate it.”

“Listen to you, all sentimental.”

“Sentimental my ass,” she said, this time with a hint of warning in her voice, but it only made him laugh.

“At least it’s a hot ass,” he said with a growl.

“I’m your cousin, you perv.”

“Aunt, I think, and I’m pretty sure we’ve passed the level of consanguinity that makes that sort of thing illegal.”

“In that case, the answer’s just plain no. And don’t taunt me or the pissy mood will come back.”

“Go work it off,” he said. “Beat up some unsuspecting flunky or something.”

“You really do know me too well,” she said before they hung up.

She realized as she tossed the phone onto the bed that she meant it, and that the smile on her lips was genuine. Orion and Gunnolf—a human and a werewolf. The last time she stood in this room she never would have believed that the two people she depended on most in the world were so very unlike herself.

At least things were never dull.

And, yeah, she needed a workout.

She headed back to the door, hesitating as she approached.

Was Tiberius still out there?

She pressed her hand against the door, but felt nothing but the warm wood against her palm. She closed her eyes, feeling suddenly hollow.

He’d left, and damned if he hadn’t taken part of her soul with him.

Caris thrust her fists out hard, punching the bag in a quick one-two sequence. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and it felt good to get down and dirty. To pound out the memories.