Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

“I’m going in,” Tara said. She sounded determined and her small hand slipped into Christian’s and gripped it tight.

Piers shrugged. “Okay, but if you throw up, you clean it up.”

He pushed open the door. Christian followed him through and the scent of fresh blood hit him straight away. Fresh blood and charred flesh. He squeezed Tara’s hand.

They were in a small room, bare but for two beds and some medical equipment that had been pushed out of the way.

On one of the beds lay the naked and mutilated body of a young woman. He heard a sound beside him and reached out just in time to prevent Tara from collapsing to the floor in a dead faint. He picked her up in his arms, held her tight. Thankfully, she was unconscious. Crossing the room, he laid her on the empty bed, and she curled in on herself, moaning softly. He stroked her face, but she was still out, and he turned back to the body.

He stood over the bed and stared down at the corpse. Chloe was clearly recognizable; her face had hardly been touched, just her lips bitten through.

She’d been tortured, probably raped, though it was hard to tell because the damage was so bad. “Christian Roth” was branded into her flesh, not once but on every available piece of skin. She’d also been partially devoured, chunks of flesh bitten out, leaving open wounds. Her wrists and ankles were scarred by red raw bracelets.

“She was alive when you found her?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Did she say anything?”

“Couldn’t really.” Piers gripped Chloe’s jaw and opened her mouth. Her tongue was missing. “Bitten off, by the looks of it.” He let her go and stepped back. “So, who hates you enough to send you this little present?”

“Probably any number of people, but why her? She’s nothing to me. Why go to all this bother for someone I hardly know? All the others were close to me; this one makes no sense.”

“Unless she wasn’t the one they were after.”

Christian hadn’t wanted to think about that. Now he forced himself. They had taken Chloe from Tara’s apartment. He was becoming more and more certain it had been Tara they’d come for.

He’d thought this was somehow linked to what they had discovered in Yorkshire. But what if it had nothing to do with who Tara was, except that she was close to Christian.

He had a vision of Tara lying across that bed, her body mutilated and burned, and a wave of fury surged through him so strong that Piers took a step back.

If someone had wanted to hurt him, they would have succeeded beyond measure. He cast another glance at Chloe and gave silent thanks that she had died in Tara’s place.

“What are you thinking?” Piers asked.

“That they got the wrong woman.” He nodded at the body on the bed. “She was at Tara’s place while we were away. They came for Tara and took Chloe by mistake. I doubt they even realized it. But it still doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’ve only known Tara for a short while. Why would anyone connect her to me or even think I cared enough for it to matter?”

“And does she matter?” Piers gestured to the unconscious girl on the other bed.

“Oh, yes,” Christian said softly. “But the question is who would know that? I will find out, and they will be very, very sorry.”

A small moan came from Tara. Christian dragged a folded sheet at the end of the bed to cover Chloe’s body. He crossed the room, sank down to the bed beside Tara, and stroked a finger down her face.

“I’ll leave you to deal with her,” Piers said. “I hate hysterical women. Oh, and Ella has the information you need, if you want to see her before you leave.”

He opened the door, but paused in the doorway. “By the way, did you mark her?”

Christian shook his head.

“Are you going to tell me why?”

“No.”

Piers opened his mouth to argue.

“Just leave it, Piers. I’ll vouch for her.”

Piers nodded once and closed the door behind him.

…

Tara didn’t want to wake up. Something terrible waited for her on the other side of consciousness, and she clung to the darkness.

But whether she liked it or not she became aware of someone seated beside her. It was Christian, and his fingers stroked her hair. It felt good and she pushed against his hand. Anything to delay the moment.

The air in the room hung heavy with the scent of blood and something else, like cooked meat. Icy cold washed over her and she huddled into the bed. Suddenly, she knew what that foul stench was—Chloe, or what was left of her. Beautiful Chloe, reduced to charred meat.

A roaring filled her head, and threatened to erupt in a scream of denial. Chloe was dead and before she died, she had suffered days of unthinkable torment. And it should have been her. It should have been Tara lying there.