Page 12 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

Rage replaces nervousness. My teeth sink into the pad of his palm in a split second and blood fills my mouth. Dragging me back further against his chest, Kalix drags a tongue up the back of my ear. “Bite harder, little Thief,” he whisper-hisses into the shell. “I like it when you cause me pain. Makes my cock want to repay the favor.”

I release him immediately with a growl of frustration. The taste of his blood remains on my tongue, a reminder. As if I need that right now with Kalix practically wrapped around me.

My attention fixates on Caedmon, who’s watching all of us with a strange sort of contemplative look that I can’t quite figure out. He’s just as hard to read as Ruen is—or rather, was. I don’t know when Ruen became easier to understand, but it’s not something I currently have time to ponder.

As much as I want—crave—the removal of the brimstone and the end of my blood contract with Ophelia, I know it isn’t that simple. “Caedmon,” I say again, harder this time. When his eyes fall back to mine, I level him with a meaningful look. “I need a word—alone,” I add the last word before any of the Darkhavens can protest, and yes, I know they want to.

Kalix’s hands squeeze my upper arms in response. Gritting my teeth to keep from yanking myself from his grip and knowing that doing so would only serve to piss him off, I wait for Caedmon’s response with little patience. A moment passes and then, finally—blessedly—Caedmon nods his agreement.

I’m out of Kalix’s arms in a heartbeat, using my Divine speed—or Atlantean speed—unreservedly to make it across the room to Caedmon’s side in an instant. “This way,” I say, grabbing ahold of the God’s arm and pulling him from the room.

Caedmon comes quietly, easily. I keep going until the two of us are well away from the group of them. Even though I want to have the conversation sooner—I debate on stopping in the front of the shop, but then decide against it since we’re still too close to prying ears for my peace of mind—I lead Caedmon up the stairs to the second floor and into the bedroom that was once mine.

The door shuts behind us and I’m suddenly alone with a man I thought was my enemy. A man who knows more about my past and who I am than I ever thought possible. For several long-winded seconds, we just stare at each other. One gaze seeking and the other … enigmatic. Damn him.

Caedmon holds his arms out. “Well, you’ve got me alone, Kiera,” he says with a slight smile. Is he amused? At this situation? His arms drop back to his sides. “What is it that you wish to ask?”

So much. I have so much left to ask, questions percolating and collecting in the back of my mind. They collide against one another like falling stars, crashing in giant, hulking waves of stardust and rocky uncertainty.

“You’re not telling us everything,” I finally decide on.

Caedmon arches a brow, but he doesn’t deny it.

“Why do you think I can kill Tryphone?” I demand and as his lips part, I hold up a hand with a sigh. “And don’t feed me that bullshit about being of his bloodline.” A fact that I’m not entirely sure about, but that I’m certain he believes, and … I don’t know, maybe he’s right. If he truly knew my parents, then maybe I am. That’s something to be considered later though.

Caedmon closes his mouth and turns away from me. He strides across the small length of the room to the lone slit of a window on the far side away from the door next to the twin bed. He settles himself there, a shoulder pressed into the window pane as he gazes out into the night.

I take a step towards him. “How am I supposed to do anything if I don’t know what’s happening?” I ask him. “I need to know everything that you know.”

“No.” Caedmon shakes his head as the denial leaves his lips.

“Caedmon—” Frustration pours through me. What is the point of all of this? Why give me scraps of information that only serve to confuse me further?

“It’s not because I don’t want to,” he says, surprising me into silence. “Believe me, were the decision mine and mine alone, I would tell you everything.”

“Then why—” My words cut off again as his head turns, the gold of his jewelry glinting in the moonlight that comes in through the window at his side. I didn’t realize how dark the room was until now. I should’ve lit a candle or something.

“The future is not always set in stone.” Caedmon’s voice is low as he speaks, and the sound of it sends chills dancing along my arms. “There are some things as ever-changing as the wind—one small detail may throw the events off course—and there are other things that will happen no matter what anyone does.” When he turns towards me and meets my gaze, a glitter of gold slithers through his dark irises. My blood turns to ice in my veins as a fresh wave of something I’ve always tried to repress moves through me.

Fear. It’s a heady and unwelcome presence but there nonetheless.

“Telling you everything would put the future I wish to see at risk,” Caedmon explains. “So, yes, you’re right. I haven’t told you everything and I have no intentions to tell you. If you know, your actions may change, and therefore, the salvation I desire—that this world needs—may be in jeopardy.”

I think about that for a moment. “The book you gave me,” I start again, frowning as something niggles at the back of my mind. A question I can’t quite reach. “You said it’s spelled to tell me what I need to know.”

Caedmon continues to stare at me, the flecks of gold mixing with the dark brown of his gaze. Gold like Theos’ eyes. “That’s not a question,” he states.

I frown. “Do I have to ask a question for you to tell me something that’s not a riddle?” I snap.

His lips twitch, the corners curling up into an almost caustic smile. “Yes.”

“Yes?” I stare at him.

“Yes,” he repeats.

“I have to ask a question?” I clarify. When he merely stares back at me without a word, I guess again. “I have to ask the right question?”

He nods. “Now, she gets it.”

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