Burning Dawn
Page 12
“I’m not looking for a relationship,” she assured them, “so I won’t be leaving with anyone.”
Octavia arched a brow. “Backtrack, petal. No one said anything about a relationship.”
Good point.
Chanel put her hands on her hips and studied Elin more intently. “If I know men, and I do, like, seriously effing well—good?—you’ll appeal to the protector types. You’re not a great beauty, but there’s something about you...a vulnerability, maybe. They’re going to want to save you.”
She wasn’t offended by the “not a great beauty” comment. She’d come to grips with her plain-Jane status a long time ago and made up for it with one heck of a personality. Or so she liked to think. “I don’t need saving.”
All four girls burst into laughter.
“What?” she demanded, a little peeved. “I don’t.” Not anymore. Thane had already checked that off her Life Goals list.
Savy shrugged her delicate shoulders. “If you have any problems, go to Adrian, the head of security. If you can’t reach him, go to Bjorn. He’s in charge of the club’s employees. If you can’t reach him, either, go to Xerxes. Whatever you do, don’t go to Thane. Especially now.” She glanced out the window and smiled proudly. “I have a feeling this isn’t the last dispute he’s going to end with major bloodshed.”
Great! Now Elin was thinking about being staked again.
Did I make a terrible mistake coming here? Should I have taken my chances out in the wild, a target for Ardeo and his men?
Octavia’s flawless emerald eyes twinkled as she came to stand at Elin’s side. Smacking her on the butt, she said, “Come on, human. Let’s get you a uniform. And while you’re being fitted, we can tell you the best part about your new life. As of now, you’re a member of our dodge-boulder team, the Multiple Scorgasms!”
CHAPTER FOUR
A BELLOW WOKE HIM. It was ragged. It was raw. It came from him.
Thane jolted to awareness. He was in his room, in his bed, and it was dark. He was drenched in sweat, his lungs desperate for air. His muscles sore...from thrashing.
Bjorn and Xerxes were beside him, pinning him to the mattress.
He’d had another nightmare, harkening back to his time inside the demon dungeon. To captivity. Humiliation. Frustration. Pity. Sorrow. Rage. Helplessness. His eyes adjusted, and he glanced down, saw the bloody marks on his chest. As usual, he’d attempted to rip out his own heart.
Anything to end the torment he was so good at hiding, even from himself. Until his guard lowered...
Well, enough. He would take a lover today, he decided. He hadn’t done so since returning from the Phoenix camp, and he was feeling the effects of abstinence. He would exhaust himself so thoroughly, he wouldn’t have the strength to move when the next nightmare came.
And it would. They always did.
Bjorn and Xerxes sensed his change of mood and released him; he sagged, boneless, atop the bed.
“Thank you,” he managed.
“Defeating nightmares happens to be one of my many specialties.” Xerxes switched on the side lamp, a soft golden glow chasing away the shadows.
“What about the times you are the nightmare?” Bjorn quipped.
“I’m never the nightmare. I’m always the fantasy.”
Bjorn snorted.
A second later, the pair piled onto the bed, unwilling to leave. Thane knew why. They were willing to forgo much-needed rest in the hope of distracting him.
A man could not ask for better friends.
“Anyone else feel like girls at a slumber party?” Xerxes asked drily.
Thane’s heart calmed. Grinning, he sat up and leaned against the headboard. “If you start talking about cute boys and prom dresses, I might shoot you both in the face.”
“Wait. We’re having a prom?” Bjorn asked. He gave a fist pump. “Finally, a chance to be king.”
“If anyone’s going to be prom king,” Thane said, voice stern, “it’s me. Look at this face. It’s a moneymaker.”
Propping his hands behind his head, Bjorn said, “Hate to break it to you, angel boy, but even circus sideshows have moneymaking mugs.”
Thane kicked him off the side of the bed. Thud. Xerxes laughed as Bjorn came up sputtering.
Bjorn crossed his arms over his chest, and narrowed his eyes on Thane. “About that prom...shall we guess who you’ll crown as your queen?”
Thane stiffened. “Well played, my friend. Well played.”
Bjorn grinned. “That’s the only way I play.”
* * *
LIFE AS A BARMAID both rocked and sucked.
The plus: tips. Not that Elin had earned any of her own yet. Having shadowed the girls for the past four nights, she had seen the potential of her paydays, and was practically foaming at the mouth.
The minus: the uniform. A bra was trying to pass itself off as a shirt, and a piece of tulle was trying to pass itself off as a skirt. Elin was pretty sure she would cover more skin at a nude beach.
But, okay. Fine. Whatever. When in Rome...or, in her case, the clouds.
The clouds. Ugh. Even though Elin now resented the word splat, and fall was practically a curse word, she’d convinced herself to explore the backyard. There, she’d found a garden in need of major TLC and had spent hours pulling weeds, a chore she used to do with her mother in Harrogate, before her family had moved to Arizona.
It had been nice, but... How long should she stay here? A few months? A year?
No. A few weeks at most. The longer she stayed, the more likely Thane was to learn of her origins.
I would rather die than face his wrath.
But, there was a plus to waiting. If she were on her own, the Phoenix king would surely hunt her, then torture her for information, willing to do anything to learn what Thane had done with his people.
She sighed, hating the thought of living in limbo, her goals once again on hold. But at least she was safe for the moment. She wasn’t beaten for speaking the truth...or at all...and she wasn’t locked in a cage for some imagined crime, or buried in the sand, fire ants allowed to bite the only exposed part of her body, which always happened to be her face. She wasn’t treated like an animal because of her human blood.
She was fed regularly, had access to a television, a game station, and a computer—with surprisingly good internet connection, considering her distant locale—and she was getting to spend time with four of the most endearing women in the skies, each reminding her of her beloved mother in some way.
Octavia arched a brow. “Backtrack, petal. No one said anything about a relationship.”
Good point.
Chanel put her hands on her hips and studied Elin more intently. “If I know men, and I do, like, seriously effing well—good?—you’ll appeal to the protector types. You’re not a great beauty, but there’s something about you...a vulnerability, maybe. They’re going to want to save you.”
She wasn’t offended by the “not a great beauty” comment. She’d come to grips with her plain-Jane status a long time ago and made up for it with one heck of a personality. Or so she liked to think. “I don’t need saving.”
All four girls burst into laughter.
“What?” she demanded, a little peeved. “I don’t.” Not anymore. Thane had already checked that off her Life Goals list.
Savy shrugged her delicate shoulders. “If you have any problems, go to Adrian, the head of security. If you can’t reach him, go to Bjorn. He’s in charge of the club’s employees. If you can’t reach him, either, go to Xerxes. Whatever you do, don’t go to Thane. Especially now.” She glanced out the window and smiled proudly. “I have a feeling this isn’t the last dispute he’s going to end with major bloodshed.”
Great! Now Elin was thinking about being staked again.
Did I make a terrible mistake coming here? Should I have taken my chances out in the wild, a target for Ardeo and his men?
Octavia’s flawless emerald eyes twinkled as she came to stand at Elin’s side. Smacking her on the butt, she said, “Come on, human. Let’s get you a uniform. And while you’re being fitted, we can tell you the best part about your new life. As of now, you’re a member of our dodge-boulder team, the Multiple Scorgasms!”
CHAPTER FOUR
A BELLOW WOKE HIM. It was ragged. It was raw. It came from him.
Thane jolted to awareness. He was in his room, in his bed, and it was dark. He was drenched in sweat, his lungs desperate for air. His muscles sore...from thrashing.
Bjorn and Xerxes were beside him, pinning him to the mattress.
He’d had another nightmare, harkening back to his time inside the demon dungeon. To captivity. Humiliation. Frustration. Pity. Sorrow. Rage. Helplessness. His eyes adjusted, and he glanced down, saw the bloody marks on his chest. As usual, he’d attempted to rip out his own heart.
Anything to end the torment he was so good at hiding, even from himself. Until his guard lowered...
Well, enough. He would take a lover today, he decided. He hadn’t done so since returning from the Phoenix camp, and he was feeling the effects of abstinence. He would exhaust himself so thoroughly, he wouldn’t have the strength to move when the next nightmare came.
And it would. They always did.
Bjorn and Xerxes sensed his change of mood and released him; he sagged, boneless, atop the bed.
“Thank you,” he managed.
“Defeating nightmares happens to be one of my many specialties.” Xerxes switched on the side lamp, a soft golden glow chasing away the shadows.
“What about the times you are the nightmare?” Bjorn quipped.
“I’m never the nightmare. I’m always the fantasy.”
Bjorn snorted.
A second later, the pair piled onto the bed, unwilling to leave. Thane knew why. They were willing to forgo much-needed rest in the hope of distracting him.
A man could not ask for better friends.
“Anyone else feel like girls at a slumber party?” Xerxes asked drily.
Thane’s heart calmed. Grinning, he sat up and leaned against the headboard. “If you start talking about cute boys and prom dresses, I might shoot you both in the face.”
“Wait. We’re having a prom?” Bjorn asked. He gave a fist pump. “Finally, a chance to be king.”
“If anyone’s going to be prom king,” Thane said, voice stern, “it’s me. Look at this face. It’s a moneymaker.”
Propping his hands behind his head, Bjorn said, “Hate to break it to you, angel boy, but even circus sideshows have moneymaking mugs.”
Thane kicked him off the side of the bed. Thud. Xerxes laughed as Bjorn came up sputtering.
Bjorn crossed his arms over his chest, and narrowed his eyes on Thane. “About that prom...shall we guess who you’ll crown as your queen?”
Thane stiffened. “Well played, my friend. Well played.”
Bjorn grinned. “That’s the only way I play.”
* * *
LIFE AS A BARMAID both rocked and sucked.
The plus: tips. Not that Elin had earned any of her own yet. Having shadowed the girls for the past four nights, she had seen the potential of her paydays, and was practically foaming at the mouth.
The minus: the uniform. A bra was trying to pass itself off as a shirt, and a piece of tulle was trying to pass itself off as a skirt. Elin was pretty sure she would cover more skin at a nude beach.
But, okay. Fine. Whatever. When in Rome...or, in her case, the clouds.
The clouds. Ugh. Even though Elin now resented the word splat, and fall was practically a curse word, she’d convinced herself to explore the backyard. There, she’d found a garden in need of major TLC and had spent hours pulling weeds, a chore she used to do with her mother in Harrogate, before her family had moved to Arizona.
It had been nice, but... How long should she stay here? A few months? A year?
No. A few weeks at most. The longer she stayed, the more likely Thane was to learn of her origins.
I would rather die than face his wrath.
But, there was a plus to waiting. If she were on her own, the Phoenix king would surely hunt her, then torture her for information, willing to do anything to learn what Thane had done with his people.
She sighed, hating the thought of living in limbo, her goals once again on hold. But at least she was safe for the moment. She wasn’t beaten for speaking the truth...or at all...and she wasn’t locked in a cage for some imagined crime, or buried in the sand, fire ants allowed to bite the only exposed part of her body, which always happened to be her face. She wasn’t treated like an animal because of her human blood.
She was fed regularly, had access to a television, a game station, and a computer—with surprisingly good internet connection, considering her distant locale—and she was getting to spend time with four of the most endearing women in the skies, each reminding her of her beloved mother in some way.
