Page 100 of White Raven
“Where are you?” Sarah whispered, tears following the steaming water as it pelted her face. In all the times he’d claimed to fail her, she’d done worse this time. Being a fuckinggirland letting something as stupid and petty as jealousy fuel her anger to the point that she lost the one thing she needed most—hermate. The sole individual created to fit her every purpose.
It killed her to think about what must have been done to take somebody like Athan Kane like a thief in the night. And Rhaena…she hadn’t listened when Rhaena tried to tell her not to force that blood into her body. She reacted poorly under pressure on both accounts, and both had cost her. Tremendously. Her heart had betrayed her with its fragility, and faulty intentions. Now she’d have to rely on her sharp mind and play both Athan and Rhaena’s parts to get them back. The shudder of the apartment door closing on the other side of the bathroom wall reminded her that she wasn’t doing it alone.
Time to pull up the big girl panties, and fuck shit up.
She’d tear this world apart to find him, and to right whatever wrong she’d inflicted on Rhaena. And no matter what noble intentions John Allan had, he’d pay for whatever he’d done to Athan. Sarah toweled off and dressed, finding Brent—washing dishes?
“I knew Wren would probably ruin you…but I’ll admit. I didn’t expect it to bethisway,” Sarah smirked, pulling a brush through her wet hair. Brent rinsed another plate, stacking it in the drainer.
“I’m just trying to make myself useful. Get my mind off what I’ve seen. It didn’t feel right to go home after all that.”
She’d effectively scared the shit out of him. It was obvious.
“I’m—Brent, I—”
“You don’t have to do that. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He started scrubbing another plate with the sponge. “Seeing Rhaena was…fucking terrifying, but…”
“But?”
He sighed and began to rinse. “We were together for two years. I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to be a vampire. I’d prefernotto know, if you want the truth. But I guess it was a little more than jarring to see a woman whose body you memorized…whose eyes held you captive…” He placed the plate into the rack and looked over at her, and somehow…she felt so small. “I was still trying to convince myself that you were the same person, Sarah. But you’re not. You’re completely different. You’re someone else entirely. I saw Kane like that once. Not…hungry, just…his eyes. The way you looked.”
“Are you scared of me?” It was an honest question. One she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to. At one time, she would have been happy to think he was afraid. That he’d deserve it after what he had done to her. But Brent wasn’t the same person he once was, either. And it showed a little more every day. They stared at one another for a long, tense moment, and then he softly smiled.
“Not a chance. I acknowledged that Athan Kane was a lucky man the minute I saw the two of you stare at each other in that hospital, Sarah. But I think I accepted it the day you turned yourself in. He’s your person. I’m scared for whoever stands in your way.”
It was safe to say she saw him in a completely different light. And it had nothing to do with the sparkle of those fucking dishes in that rack. She reached around him and tugged him forward, resting her chin over his shoulder.
“Wren’s lucky too, you know?”
As if it were her cue, the door opened, and Wren paused in the kitchen doorway as she and Brent pulled away.
“Don’t tell me you’re deciding you wanna be an Indian giver. Or you’re pulling a Leigh Erickson on me, right now. Her weed ain’t that strong,” Wren snorted, tossing her keys onto the kitchen table.
“I’m sorry, Wren,” Sarah uttered, hanging her head. “I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that. You were brilliant. Thank you both for acting so fast. I’m just—” she couldn’t stop the soul-crushing sob that fought its way out of her throat. “I’ve gotta find him.”
Wren got to her before she could collapse into a puddle of tears and wound around her tightly. “We’ll find him, Sarah.” Her hands were uncharacteristically gentle as they forced her face up. “Man up, punk. We’ve got a web to start. I need you to get your shit together, and tear a page out of Athan’s book, while I desperately search for my inner Northwood, and figure out what the hell to do.”
“Is she still in a coma?” Sarah asked, terrified of the answer.
“Yeah. Foley got a board, and we’ve got boxes full of shit to go through. Brandon wants us to switch up. We’re gonna go through the stuff you and Athan have, and you’re gonna go through Rhaena and Foley’s case.”
Sarah glanced at Brent, who dried his hands, and then looked back at Wren with pinched brows. “Why?”
“Becausebloodis, and always has been your forte.”
“I must have truly failed you, my son.”
Her back was turned, but he could see her shoulders bouncing as she added wood to the stove, and stoked the fire, a soft chuckle leaving her as he shoveled stew and potatoes into his mouth.
“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you mean,” he smiled, wincing at the heat of the food he made no attempt to cool down. She turned; her pale face flawless without the ungodly amount of counterpaints she caked on every night.
“You eat like a swine, Nathaniel Kane.” Her dainty nose crinkled as she giggled, placing her hands on her hips as she studied him. “Did I not raise you well enough that you wouldn’t deign to look and smell like one as well?” He opened his mouth, letting her see his poorly chewed wad, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes, all but running from him as he leapt from the table to rub some stink on her. “Get back, boy! Before I give you well-deserved lashes! You’re going to spoil my wages!” She cackled, swatting at him as he nuzzled her neck and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.
His smile faded as he pulled back, taking her small hands in his and staring at her with an expression she always seemed to shrivel under. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Mother. James has been giving me longer shifts since he lost Benjamin to the plague.”
Her eyes softened, and a bleak smile tightened her mouth as she ran a knuckle down his soiled cheek. “Aye, but the plague has claimed more than just Benjamin. Madame Olivia expects an influx of eager patrons tonight. One is a wealthy bachelor. Asked for me by name.”
“A name that only exists in that pleasure house,” he argued, dropping her hands. She reached for him, grabbing his wrist as he turned away.
