Page 139 of A Debt of Darkness

“You realize this is a bad idea,” Henry says, turning to face Ryan.

He nods. “The alternative is worse.” Ryan’s eyes darken, and the deep blue is the force of the ocean threatening to drag me under. “You do what we say when we say it, Ivy. If you so much as put one fucking foot out of place, I’ll drag your ass back here and spank you so fucking hard you won’t sit down for a week—and don’t think Henry will get in my fucking way.”

38

DESTRUCTION IN ITS WAKE

HENRY

I’m certain this is going to be a fucking shitshow, but I’m here and we’re doing this anyway. It’s too damn easy to walk into the mansion Ivy used to live in and retrieve the goddamn Book of Revelations. There’s got to be a catch and we’re still walking toward the front door like we’re going in for Sunday lunch.

Ryan isn’t happy. Matt’s on high alert. Half my fucking coven is stalking around the goddamn gardens and the cursed priest is loitering with enough intent to make most men shudder.

And Ivy’s moving nervously.

I can smell the fucking fear dripping off her.

She’s terrified of this place and the memories it holds, and nothing we’ve said on the plane here has helped calm her down. We’ve gone over the plans again and again, outliningwhat we’ll do in every eventuality we can think of and yet she’s still afraid. Still tormented.

The mind is a curious thing, and her father makes hers reel.

He’s left an imprint I don’t like. One that makes me more determined to leave a fucking impression of my own before I finish the cunt off.

“It’s going to be fine, Ivy.”

She looks up at me and smiles. Weakly. Like she doubts my words as much as I do.

“Fine never means fine.”

Ryan’s eyebrow arches, and everyone draws a heavy breath. The mansion doors swing open and there isn’t a trace of anyone inside. As Ivy predicted, the mansion appears empty. Her stepmother likes to travel and her father enjoys time on his yacht. Not necessarily together. It doesn’t sound like the marriage will last much longer, with or without my intervention with her father.

Ivy tenses as she steps into the entrance hall, and her footsteps echo on the marble floor. The whole fucking house is gaudy and crass. Everything’s expensive, everything’s ornate. It’s the kind of ostentatious that screams how much money was spent making the place look like this and makes it look cheap.

I stay with Ivy as Matt and Ryan surge forward, moving like the lethal killing machines they are. My wife leans into me, pressing her face against my chest and her little, frantic breaths blow hot air on my cool skin.

Killing the asshole who did this to my wife won’t be enough to sate the anger rippling through me. I doubt Ivy will be pleased about the torture I’ll inflict and it’ll be difficult to hide it from her now she can feel me through our bond. She’s learning, and quickly. Far too fucking quickly. I doubt sherealizes it, but she’s beginning to calm me when my temper flares and arouses me when she thinks of me in the shower.

I don’t mind the ease with which she’s taken back some control. I mind the fucking inconvenience of sensing her arousal and being turned on but unable to do anything about it, caught in some meeting or forced to wait until she’s decided her alone time is over.

Admittedly, it works both ways, and Ivy’s come to me exceptionally bothered. Desperate. Needy. Soaking wet. But it’s growing increasingly difficult to conceal the depth of my more violent emotions from her and it’ll be impossible to hide everything when she drinks my blood.

I’ve tasted hers, and soon she’ll want to taste mine. More than enough to get her high. Ivy wants the connection and we’ll need to discuss turning soon. Not yet, but soon. Certainly not today.

Ryan snarls, and the vicious sound echoes through the mansion. He’s found something he doesn’t like, and I can hear Matt racing to reach him. Ivy’s oblivious to the carnage stirring inside this house, clinging to me as she waits for me to tell her we can head to her room.

Her old room.

The one that won’t be a patch on the one I’ve provided for her.

The one containing the memories and trappings of her childhood and a small hoard of crap she thinks is sentimental and will try to bring back with her. We’ve agreed to a small bag or two. We both know she’s going to push it.

Matt marches toward us and Emmanuel stiffens, reading Matt’s body language perfectly. He’s fucking furious and strangely at ease, aware Ryan’s found a problem, but it isn’t a threat. At least not a physical one. Not for us.

His amber eyes flick down to Ivy and I guess at what he’sabout to say, certain my wife’s about to shudder.

“Ryan found her father hiding in his office,” Matt says, as gently as he possibly can, but it’s still enough to make Ivy wince. “We thought you would want to talk to him.”

Ivy shakes her head frantically and her fingers dig into me.

---