Page 14 of Thorns from the Fall

ROMAN

Gwyn pullsa strand of her wet hair over her shoulder and begins to pluck at it. The air is strong with the scent of her signature toiletries. It’s an unlocked memory, a glimpse into the timebefore. I’m sure it’s familiar and comforting for her, but for me, it’s hell. It makes me think of all the time spent in her apartment, breathing in each trace of her and never realizing what the fuck she was doing. The memories conjured in my mind are distorted now that I have the present to put them into focus. Each moment I felt sorry for the pathetic woman who didn’t know what she was, every time I was charmed by her sarcasm, every quiet whimper that turned me on, and every little insight into who I thought she was—nothing but lies.

She will live to regret every fucking minute of it, if it’s the last thing I do.

Beneath the soap and shampoo, I catch the scent of her blood. Different, now that she’s Ascended, but no less tempting. After being unable to drink any fresh blood over the past few days, forced to drink stale human’s blood that Margot happened to have a small stash of, Gwyn’s blood calls out to me like an oasis in a desert. I’m tempted to tell her to put some clothes on just to stifle it. But her body language tells me she feelsvulnerable, especially while her towel sops up the mess we left on the ground. She’s made herself small, feet tucked beneath her, but those lush thighs still peek out beneath the hem of her robe.

Fuck, I’ve never hated anyone more in my life. Loathing twists with lust and creates something I can almost taste. Bitter rage and the sweetest blood are a poison that only has one antidote.

“You saw what Agnarr did in that ballroom,” I blurt, finally breaking the silence. Bright, honey eyes. Pink cheeks. Pouty mouth. She’s a perfect fucking nightmare as she meets my gaze, and it enrages me. “You think so fucking highly of yourself, don’t you?” She simply stares. I throw my hand up, frustrated. “You don’t even know where the fuck he is. How do you plan to kill him?”

“Pulling out your father’s heart seemed pretty effective,” she says, arching a brow. It’s a taunt, and I won’t give her the satisfaction of rising to it. I won’t pretend to be angry over my father’s death—there’s no point. Gwyn knows the truth, and she’ll call me on it. Bjorn’s death means nothing to me except for the chaos she has unleashed with it.

“My father was not turned by Ansi herself.”

Gwyn shrugs and her robe falls open wider, exposing the round swell of her breasts. I look away when she speaks. “Take out his heart, chop him to bits, set it all on fire. How could he recover from that?”

“If you did manage to kill him, you’re killing every vampire in his line. You might be okay with massacring innocents, but I’m not.”

“Innocents?” She goes deathly quiet, but her teeth grind loudly. “Were they innocent when they killed a nine-year-old little girl at my dance studio?” I say nothing, and her handsclench in her lap before she continues. “Killing Agnarr won’t kill his line.”

“And you’re willing to bet your own life on that? Agnarr to Bjorn, Bjorn to Emile, Emile to Kathleen. Then me and now you. We’re of his line. You’ll die too.” She merely raises her brows, unaffected. “Great,” I say drily. “So, let me make sure I understand this correctly, sweetheart,” I say, stumbling over the endearment. It had turned into something playful in the past few weeks, so I make sure to load it with as much venom I can muster. “You think you’ll be able to dismember Agnarr and set him on fire?” I shake my head. “Just because I was a fucking fool doesn’t mean you’re invincible. You won’t be able to pussy blind Agnarr to the point of delusion.”

Gwyn’s jaw goes tight and her eye twitches. Is everything an act with her? Can I trust a single expression she makes or sigh that escapes her? Is this reaction a farce to make me think my words and hatred actually affect her? Maybe if I push her enough, she’ll break.

“You can try, I guess. Iceland was pretty isolated when Agnarr was born—a fair amount of inbreeding happened, I’m sure. Perhaps you’ll remind him of home.”

“Fuck you,” she says with a quiet calm. She doesn’t move to stand, but her fingertips dig into the arm of the couch. More acting. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, Roman. I’ll let you know when I find Agnarr. If you want to see Remy again, you’ll do it gladly. Oh, and the heart might taste better cooked. Your father’s was quite tough.”

“I could kill you right now, you know that?” I say, sinking into the couch. Relaxed, I toss one arm over the back. She may be able to order my coven around, but none of them are here to enforce her commands. “Leave your body here for Sasha and Hale to find. Wait for them to show up and torture one until the other tells me where Remy is.”

“You think my Type A sister doesn’t have a contingency plan for that?” she laughs, flipping a tendril of hair over her shoulder before inspecting her nails. Margot had brought her nail polish when she was staying at the greystone, and it’s started to chip. It feels like a lifetime ago.

When Gwyn stands, turning away from me, the robe bunches up over her lower back, and her ass peeks out at the bottom. I’d seen flashes of her body when we fought, but I’d been focused on causing her pain. Now, though, it’s distracting to the point of annoyance. The influence of her Ascension on my body should be long gone, and yet I’m a greedy motherfucker as I stare at her.

When Gwyn turns around, she’s fixed the tie and covered herself more fully, but the fabric doesn’t hide her ample cleavage. It doesn’t hide her long, curved legs. The fluffy, white robe she wears is covered in splotches of blood, but I wish it were soaked. I wish her body was covered with my bite marks, and blood ran down those cursed curves.

“Besides,baby,” she grinds out, and I notice her lengthened fangs. Her eyes rake down over my bare torso, and if she isn’t just as fucking tortured, I must be losing my mind. “If you really wanted me dead, I already would be.”

I stand, ready to argue with her, but the pang in my chest is sudden enough I wince. Gwyn says nothing, but it’s clear she saw the way my body tightened. I’m about to push through Emile’s beckoning pull to tell her how fucking wrong she is, but she cuts me off.

“This is getting boring—the back and forth.” She waves a hand before turning toward the primary suite, so confident I’ll fucking leave and do nothing. It makes me spring into motion. Within a beat, I’m behind her, gathering her wet hair into my fist. Gwyn freezes long enough that I’m able to step closer. My chest presses against her back, and I force her to move with mygrip on her hair. Tilting her head, I reveal her neck. Her pulse is torturous, like a neon vacancy sign at the last motel for miles.

It wouldn’t take long, bleeding her out.

“You only get what you want if you let me live,” she whispers, doing nothing to protect herself from me. “No matter what you do to me, Roman, I win. You know that, right?”

“For now,” I respond. I don’t let go of her as I pull my phone out of my pocket. Nico still hasn’t called, and she’s eager for me to leave. I have to stall. “You don’t care to see it out? To kill Agnarr and make me eat his heart?”

“Sasha won’t stop just because I’m gone. She’ll see it through, and she won’t care about your role in it. She’ll just kill him and hope for the best.” She adjusts, and I swear she arches, giving me better access to bite her. “Arguably, killing me will only incense her.”

I dip lower, lips tracing over her skin, and breathe her in. She’s intoxicating—more so than the copious amounts of alcohol I’ve already drunk tonight. When Nico had told me to do what I needed to do to keep her busy, I’m sure this isn’t what he meant.

“I’d rather deal with your rage than hers,” I say. “Because you’re all out, aren’t you, cockroach?”

Abruptly, she pulls out of my grasp, and her wild eyes tell me I’ve struck a nerve. She’s already had her revenge. To Gwyn, I’m just the poor jackass she fucked over. To Gwyn, I was the means to an end. And if any of her empathy was real, she feels like shit about it. That’s probably what has inspired her into forcing Agnarr’s heart upon me.

“You’ll have to leave the way you came,” she says, gesturing to the shattered glass door. “I’m not removing Hale’s ward. It’s not like I can let anyone see you waltz out of the elevator.”

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