Forbidden Bloodline

Seraphina The clock on the dashboard of my hired car read 2:14 AM. I was exactly two hours and fourteen minutes past curfew. The heavy iron gates opened and the driver pulled to a stop, the engine humming quietly in the dead. He didn't ask questions. Nobody who drove up this private, heavily monitored road ever asked questions. "Keep the change," I muttered, tossing a fifty-pound note into the center console before pulling up the collar of my leather jacket. I stepped out of the car. The moment my boots hit the ground, the red security camera mounted on the stone pillar locked on my face. I stared right back at it, lifting my chin, refusing to let my hidden anxiety show. I was breaking the rule. I knew it. I did it on purpose. I swiped my keycard against the keypad hidden in the ivy. A heavy click echoed through the trees, and the iron gate slowly swung open just enough for me to slip through. The walk up the mile-long driveway was always the worst part. Every step I took on the gravel sounded loud in the quiet night. I almost made it to the front steps. Almost. "You are making this very difficult for me, Miss Montclair” I froze. A shadow stepped out from behind the heavy stone columns of the porch. Hamish. The head of tactical security. He stood over six feet tall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his amber eyes completely devoid of amusement. "It’s just past two, Hamish," I said, trying to keep my voice light, casual. "I lost track of time in the city." "You didn't lose track of time," Hamish replied with his thick Australian accent. He didn't move an inch to let me pass. "Your tracker went dark at exactly midnight. You dumped your phone in a pub in Soho and snuck out the back." My jaw tightened. They were always watching. Always tracking. "I wanted a few hours where I wasn't being tracked. Is that a crime?" "It is on this estate," Hamish said quietly. He dropped his arms and took a step back, but he didn't open the heavy double doors for me. Instead, he looked at me with a mixture of pity and warning. "He's been waiting since one." My stomach dropped. The cold night air suddenly felt suffocating. "Where is he?" I whispered. "Foyer." Hamish pulled open the heavy oak door. "Good luck, Sera. You're going to need it." I swallowed hard and stepped inside. The heavy door clicked shut behind me with a loud thud, locking me in. The grand entrance hall was pitch black, except for the pale moonlight shining through the high windows. It cast long, creepy shadows across the marble floor. I stood perfectly still and listened. Not a sound. "I know you're there," I called out, hating how my voice trembled the slightest bit. "Do you?" The voice came from the dark corner near the big staircase. It wasn't loud. It wasn't a yell. It was a low, rough whisper that sent a cold shiver down my spine. A match flared in the dark. The brief burst of orange light illuminated his face for a split second. Sharp jawline, dark slate-gray hair perfectly styled, and eyes the color of cold steel. Gideon. He slowly walked out of the shadows. He was still fully dressed in a tailored black suit, his tie slightly loosened. He moved quickly like a predator that had finally caught its prey. At six-foot-three, his large size made the room feel empty of oxygen. My father's younger half-brother. My uncle. My guardian. My absolute worst nightmare. "Where were you?" he asked, stopping exactly two feet in front of me. "Out," I said stubbornly, lifting my chin to meet his terrifying gaze. "I'm twenty-three, Gideon. Normal people my age go to clubs. They dance. They drink. They don't live in a locked vault." "I am not interested in normal people," he said, his voice dropping lower. He took a slow step forward. I stepped back automatically. My shoulders hit the solid wood of the front door. I was trapped. Gideon didn't stop. He stepped so close that the expensive scent surrounded me. He placed one large, scarred hand flat against the wood right beside my head. "I asked you a question, Seraphina," he murmured, his face just inches from mine. "Where. Were. You." My breath caught. I hated him for this. I hated his rules, his control, and his coldness. But a darker part of me hated that my body reacted every time he got this close. It was wrong. We shared a name. We are family. But standing here in the dark, feeling the heat from his massive chest and his cool breath on my cheek, I wasn't thinking about family. My blood ran hot and my heart hammered so hard in my throat I was sure he could hear it. "I went to a club in Soho," I breathed, unable to look away from his mouth. "With some friends." "Male friends?" His voice was a dangerous growl. "Does it matter?" I challenged, leaning slightly closer. Gideon’s jaw clenched tightly. He lowered his face until his lips were right next to the sensitive skin below my ear. "If a man put his hands on what is mine tonight," Gideon whispered against my neck, sending a wave of heat straight through me, "I will find him, and I will break every bone in his body. Do you understand me?" I couldn't speak. I was drowning in the tension. The way he said what is mine completely took over my mind. He was stripping away my sanity without even touching my skin. I wanted to push him away, but I also wanted to grab his jacket and pull his mouth down to mine. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. "Gideon..." Suddenly, a loud, sharp buzzing sound broke the silence. Gideon went completely stiff. The intense spell broke instantly. He pulled back, his face turning back to cold stone. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek, encrypted satellite phone. Very few people had that number, and a call at this hour meant only one thing: disaster. He pressed the phone to his ear. "Speak." I watched him. The dangerous man who had me cornered vanished, replaced by a ruthless ex-military commander. He didn't speak. He just listened. For ten long seconds, the room was dead silent. Then, Gideon lowered the phone. His steel-blue eyes found mine in the dark. The coldness in his stare was gone, replaced by a dark, brewing storm. "Pack a bag," Gideon commanded, his voice completely flat. "Now." "What?" I frowned, my heart suddenly racing with a new kind of panic. "Gideon, it's two in the morning, what are you talking about?" He walked past me, pulled a gun from his shoulder holster, and clicked it ready with a loud metallic sound. "Your mother is gone, Seraphina. And they are coming for you next."