The thought gave him a heady rush, and quickened his pace. After another few minutes of scouring the suite, he found a box tucked beneath a pile of frilly underwear and lingerie he would have preferred never to have seen.
Inside that box was the book he’d been looking for along with a thick envelope. The outside of the envelope was labeled with Gilda’s handwriting, its intent unmistakable.
My Death Wish
Honor required that Joseph do whatever he could to uphold Gilda’s dying wish, so with grief lodged in his throat, he opened the envelope. Inside was a list of valuable items located in her suite. All of them were to be put in the hands of whoever led the Theronai—namely Joseph.
There were also several letters inside the envelope, each one labeled with a different name. The instructions indicated that those sealed letters were to be delivered, and if the intended recipients were dead, Joseph was to burn them.
There was one for each of Gilda’s daughters, plus Angus, Helen and Tynan.
The urge to open and read them burned in his gut, but Joseph shoved his curiosity away. Gilda hadn’t always been the easiest person to live with, but she had always put the needs of the Sentinels above her own desires.
Joseph could learn a lot from her.
He tucked everything back into the box. Later, he would return and clean out their suite himself. Until then, he would lock it up tight and make sure one of the cameras was pointed at the door and monitored twenty-four/seven. There were far too many potential surprises in here, and he didn’t want anyone stumbling upon something they shouldn’t.
On his way back to his office, he took a detour to the Sanguinar wing, to Tynan’s suite. The sooner these letters were delivered, the better.
Though how he was going to deliver Maura’s letter to her, he had no idea. She’d long ago turned on her own people and gone to live with the Synestryn. They’d had only rare glimpses of her over the years, including the night Angus and Gilda had died.
Maura had been there. She’d helped kill her parents. The memories living within Angus’s sword had shown Joseph that much. They’d also shown him the breadth of a parent’s love, which had humbled him and angered him all at the same time.
Maura’s parents had forgiven her for turning against them, but Joseph couldn’t bring himself to do the same. She was their enemy. She deserved to die.
Tynan opened the door of his suite, looking more tired and harried than usual. His hair was a bit long, and a growth of beard shadowed his gaunt jaw. Fatigue rimmed his icy blue eyes, which lit with hunger as soon as he saw Joseph at the door.
He handed the Sanguinar the letter. “I found this in Gilda’s room. Her death wish was for you to have it.”
Tynan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as he took the letter and opened it. Joseph stayed where he was, not even trying to hide his curiosity as to what it contained.
As Tynan’s gaze scanned the page, a look of shock began to take over his pretty face. He gripped the door frame as if to steady himself, and the letter began to flutter in his hand.
Joseph waited while the man read it again from the top, as if unable to believe what he saw. When Tynan was done, he looked at Joseph, shell-shocked.
“What?” asked Joseph.
“I need you to do something for me.”
If it had something to do with Gilda’s death wish, Joseph’s honor compelled him to agree. “Sure. Name it.”
“Gilda’s wish was for me to distribute a cure for Theronai sterility across the planet. Without asking for payment in blood. If I manufacture it, can you distribute it and get the men to take it?”
Joseph’s mind was reeling. “You’re going to give it away? No blood price?”
“That was her wish. I feel obligated to fulfill it.”
“Yeah, okay. If that’s what she wanted, I’m sure the men will comply.”
“She wanted them all to accept the cure, Joseph. That means everyone. No exceptions.”
Something was off here, but Joseph couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Perhaps it was simply that Tynan was upset about all the blood he was going to miss out on because of what Gilda had done. The Sanguinar had poured months of time and energy into a cure, and he’d nearly killed himself finding it. And while Joseph would uphold Gilda’s wish, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t offer Tynan payment.
“You can have my blood.”
“Even though Gilda asked me to give the cure away?”
Joseph shrugged. “She was looking out for us, but it’s my job to look out for you, too. I’m sure some of the men will see things my way.”
Tynan nodded, sagging in gratitude. “I thank you. I have a lot of work to do if I’m to manufacture enough serum for all of the Theronai across the earth.”
“Can I offer any help?”
“I could use a small team of Gerai, as well as supplies: syringes, vials, packing material.”
“Whatever you need. Just send me a list.” And as much as Joseph disliked the idea of giving Tynan access to his blood—of risking weakness and allowing Tynan the chance to screw with his head—he lifted his arm in offering.
Tynan’s eyes flared with internal light for a second. “I will give you the serum first. So no one can say I forced you to offer your blood.”
“Fair enough.”
The Sanguinar stepped aside to let Joseph in. “Have a seat. This won’t take long.”
Tynan escaped to his lab with the excuse of fetching a dose of the fertility serum.
Not that he needed it.
As he’d suspected, it hadn’t been his cure that had given the Theronai back their ability to reproduce. Gilda had done that. Somehow.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that her death had immediately preceded the recent pregnancies. Not if what she’d stated in her letter was true—and Tynan had no reason to believe otherwise.
Gilda had sterilized the men. Centuries ago, on the night her last son had died. Grief had driven her mad with rage, and in a moment of fury—in her desire to never go through the trauma of watching another one of her children die in battle—her magic had spread over the planet, leaving every Theronai male infertile. Only then could she be sure that no more children would be born to her.
She hadn’t meant to do it. She’d meant only to sterilize Angus, but the power of her emotions had been too great, tossing her magic out of control.
It wasn’t the Synestryn that had robbed them of their ability to have children. It had been Gilda.
All those months of effort and magic that Tynan had expended were wasted. He wasn’t powerful enough to reverse what Gilda had done.
Her letter had explained how she’d tried and failed to unravel what she’d wrought. Apparently she’d either found a solution, or her death had been it.
Either way, the damage was done. All male Theronai were likely fertile now, and it was only a matter of time before they figured out that it wasn’t Tynan’s doing. Not only would he be accused of trying to deceive them, it wouldn’t take long before others began looking into what had happened. Maybe some of them would believe that the Synestryn magic they’d thought it was would wear off, but not everyone would. Someone would start hunting for the truth, and eventually they’d find it.
If the Theronai learned what Gilda had done, her entire life’s work would become suspect. Her honor would be shattered.
The Theronai needed their honor. It kept them strong and held them together despite the pain they faced. Without their honor, many of them would lose faith, lose hope. Their souls would decay faster, and good men would die—men on whom Tynan’s people depended for survival.
He would not let that happen. Whatever it took, no matter how many lies he had to tell or people he had to deceive, he would protect Gilda’s secret.
He fired up a Bunsen burner and torched her letter until only ash remained.
Chapter 15
Rory woke on a bubble of rage. It surged inside her, thrashing against her ribs as if seeking to bust out. A ferocious scream erupted from her lips, only to be silenced by thick, hot fingers.
“Shh. You’re okay now.” A low, rumbling voice that stroked over her like sun-warmed silk.
Cain.
She wasn’t okay. She’d wanted to kill, to feel blood run between her fingers and dig her teeth into flesh and bone.
So fucking disgusting.
Rory forced her heavy eyelids open and saw that she was in her own bed. The familiar sight eased some of the lingering ick and fear, but not nearly as much as seeing Cain sitting on her bed, close enough to touch.
The image of her pale face smeared with super-whore eye makeup and tangled pink hair popped into her head. Superimposed on that was the sight of long, beautiful male fingers texting from a phone. The vision was so strong, she knew someone had to be nearby.
She didn’t even try to stop herself from touching Cain. She simply reached out and grabbed his hand, letting the warm frisson of pleasure he gave her wriggle through her arm and into her chest. Her quickened breathing slowed, and her rapid heartbeat began to seek out the pace of his, mirroring the slow, steady rhythm.
The visions disappeared, leaving her in relative peace.
“How do you feel?”
She swallowed to ease her dry throat. “Better. Less homicidal maniac-y.”
He offered her a steaming cup of coffee. “Good. I brought you food.”
She took the coffee, but refused to let go of his hand. He didn’t seem to mind too much. Or maybe he was just being nice.
Her neediness grated on her raw nerves, but she still felt weak and brittle from whatever it was that had happened to her earlier.
She took a sip, letting the hot liquid ease her dry throat. “Care to tell me how I got here?”
“What do you remember?” he asked.
“Wanting to kill you.”
He cringed openly.
Nothing like a dose of blunt truth to drive a man away. “If it’s any consolation, I pretty much wanted to kill everyone. I’m an equal opportunity lunatic.”
“You’re not a lunatic. The demon that took your blood was using it against you, controlling you. Those feelings were his. Not yours.”
“So I’m not a homicidal lunatic, but I let one in my brain? That’s really not a whole lot better.”
“Ronan thinks he can help.”
Thinks? Great.
She ignored her spurt of fear and glanced out the window. A faint bluish light hung over the glass, like a layer of moonlit water. “What’s that?”
“Andra put up a shield to keep the Synestryn away.”
It must have worked, because there was no trace of that fetid rage in her head anymore. “Andra? Isn’t that the woman who can find lost kids?”
“It is.”
Rory sat the coffee down, tossing back the covers. “I need to talk to her.”
Cain’s fingers tightened on hers, stopping her. “She’s already gone.”
Disappointment bore down on her, shoving a sigh of frustration from her lungs. “But I was going to ask her how she does it.”
“I talked to her before she left. I asked for you. She told me everything she could think of and she said to give you her cell number if you have any questions.”
