“Got it.” Luz climbed the ladder and disappeared up into the floor.
“Naya.” Ronan didn’t want her down here. Not when the magic clouding the air had such a damaging effect on her.
“Quiet, you.” Her breath continued to race as Naya brought up her palm. A wan gold light glowed there, so dim in comparison to her display of magic earlier in the night. The magic leapt from her palm, bathing her body in glittering gold. Her breathing became easier and she urged him forward. “I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about me.”
Oh, but he did. He worried about anything, everything, in this world that threatened to take her from him. Most of all, he worried about himself. About the darkness inside of him and the thirst that burned his throat. Of all of the things in this world that could harm Naya, he worried the most about the threat he posed to her.
“Chelle?” Naya’s voice projected better than Ronan’s had. Her magic, perhaps? “Chelle, can you hear me? My name’s Naya. I’m a friend. Ronan is here.”
A low moan answered Naya, and Ronan’s heart lodged in his throat. “Ro-nan?” Chelle’s voice was weak, and in the thick of magic he couldn’t discern a heartbeat. He rushed toward the sound of her voice and came to a skidding stop, the breath stalled in his chest at the sight of her.
“I’m here, Chelle. I’m here.”
CHAPTER
35
That bastard had kept her in a cage like an animal. Rage welled hot and fresh in Ronan’s throat. It was a good thing the pod’s elders had taken Paul into their custody, because that son of a bitch would’ve been dead had Ronan known how he’d treated Chelle. The silver bars of her cage gleamed despite the darkness, and in the center of the space a dark shadow huddled.
“You’re okay, Chelle.” Ronan didn’t know if his words of reassurance were for his sister’s benefit or his. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
In a violent streak of darkness Chelle threw her body against the cage. Her skin sizzled as she wrapped her palms around the bars and a feral hiss escaped between her … Jesus … dual sets of fangs. “Give her to me, Ronan!” Chelle rasped. As a mewling whine left her lips she reached through the bars toward Naya. “I’m starving. Starving! Let me drain her. Please.” Chelle’s eyes flashed brilliant silver in the darkness. “Please. Please. Please!”
Chelle had become a vampire. But how?
“I can smell her blood. It’s so sweet! I’m dying, Ronan. My throat.” She clutched at her neck and her nails bit into the skin, drawing blood. “It’s on fire.”
Ronan stared, dumbstruck.
“Get me out of this cage, gods damn it!” Chelle’s enraged shriek shook the house on its foundation, sending bits of dirt and debris raining down on their heads. She began to cry in earnest, sinking back to the floor of her cell, curled in a tight ball as she rocked back and forth.
“Naya, get out of here.” The words were cinders in his throat. His fangs throbbed in his gums, anxious to sink into soft, yielding flesh. Ice chilled the blood in his veins and snaked over his skin. The mystery of his unquenchable thirst was beginning to make sense, but if Naya didn’t get the hell away from him Ronan doubted he’d be able to stop himself from taking her life.
“No, Ronan. I’m not leaving you.”
“Go!” he railed. He gripped on to the bars of Chelle’s cage, letting the burn of silver clear his clouding mind. “Shut me in and don’t open that door until you hear that I’m okay. Do you understand me?”
She took a tentative step back and then another. He sent a warning through their tether, willing her to feel the desperation that consumed Chelle. That consumed him. Love wouldn’t stop him if he sank his fangs into Naya’s delicate throat. Nothing would.
“Okay, Ronan.” Naya continued to back away toward the ladder. “But please, be careful.”
Ronan continued to grip the bars to keep him from turning and snatching her back. Her steps were barely audible as she climbed back up into the main building, and Ronan let out a shaking breath of relief as she shut the trapdoor behind her, leaving him in absolute darkness.
“I’m going to take care of you, Chelle.” The need, the cold, harsh, undying thirst, was an echo of his twin’s. Whatever that son of a bitch had done to them only served to further connect them past the bond they already shared as siblings. “I’m going to feed you.”
He refused to care for her with the damned silver bars separating them, though. Silver blistered his palm as he grabbed the antique lock that secured the door. His fangs punctured his bottom lip as he locked his jaw down, and Chelle whimpered from her spot on the floor as his blood scented the air. Ronan let out a harsh shout as he gave the lock a final hard twist and it gave way. He ripped it free and pulled open the door. “I’m coming in, Chelle.”