Hotbloods by Bella Forrest
I refocused on the room beneath me. The two younger men exchanged glances, and then sighed, before settling themselves down on one sofa each. The older man, Jethro, on the other hand, looked a little twitchy, like he wasn’t quite done with the conversation. But after a few moments, he too sighed, before dimming the lights.
I waited for the sounds of him settling into his own sofa, and then dared to crawl out of my room and back into the hallway. When I reached the staircase, I waited, listening. My heart twisted as I thought of my friends, still waiting helplessly in that stuffy room, but I didn’t want to risk going back there now to check in with them—it would only waste time and, after the conversation I had just witnessed, time was something we didn’t have a lot of.
Once I’d gathered enough courage, I dared to broach the stairs, moving down them painfully slowly. My mind fixated on what Jethro had said about their “senses” being impaired by this level of heat, and I just hoped that would work to my advantage every time I hit a creaky floorboard.
When I reached the bottom, my blood was pounding in my ears. I looked right toward the closed front door, and then left. My heart leaped into my throat as I saw moonlight trickling in from that end. The back door… it was open.
Balling my fists to keep my hands from trembling with anticipation, I moved at a snail’s pace toward the door, my eyes fixed on the moonlight. As I neared, I felt the cool breeze slinking through the gap. I followed it, stepping out into the fresh night air. It felt incredible on my skin, after the intense heat of the house.
Feeling my racing heartrate slow a little, I looked around. A dense line of leafy trees surrounded a backyard, leading into the same woods that connected with the creek and the edge of the Churnleys’ property. Tucked away in the shadows, the moonlight caught the edge of something… peculiar. I squinted, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me.
There, half in the trees, half out, was a beautiful, perfectly circular globe, bathed in the silvery glow of glinting moonbeams. It was large, the back end buried in the edge of the wood, though still managing to take up a quarter of the yard itself. Letting my eyes drift over it, I felt my jaw drop.
The design was sleek and elegant, and unquestionably foreign. Had it been a solid block of metal, it probably could have passed itself off as a human-made sculpture, but this was something else entirely. The outside looked as though it should mirror its surroundings, but it didn’t. Light seemed to dance off it, and the reflection of the trees could not be seen within the polished metal of the globe. The normal rules of physics didn’t appear to apply; I didn’t know whether to be impressed or afraid.
My eyes traveled over the top curve of the globe, and I had to clamp my hands over my mouth to keep from gasping. Sitting atop the silvery surface was a figure, almost entirely camouflaged by the darkness. Where my skin reflected light, his seemed to absorb it. He was turned toward the woods, his upper body bare. His shoulders were sloped, his dark wings out, framing the scarred gray skin of his muscular back as they hung by his sides, his head bowed. Navan.
I watched him breathlessly, trying to keep my nerves at bay. He hadn’t seen me yet, at least. I just thanked God I had spotted him in time. Now I needed to back away, and try the front door—I hoped I’d be able to get out that way.
I retreated into the shadows of the doorway, yet something about the sight of him gave me pause. If anything, it was morbid fascination. I wanted to get a look at this creature while his guard was down, while he didn’t know he was being watched.
What are you?
I’d heard the term coldblood, but that didn’t bring me any closer to understanding. If anything, it confused me more, as I remembered the heat that had flooded through me when Navan touched me. These men were hot as hell.
I watched the slight heave and sigh of his broad chest, the only movement he made as he sat up there so still, like some kind of dark predator, waiting for his prey… And yet, his posture exuded a sort of melancholy. Whatever the case, he appeared to be in a different mood than earlier.
What is your story?
Where have you come from?
I wished I knew, but I had run out of time to stand here and stare. I disappeared back into the stifling house, hoping that none of the other ‘coldbloods’ would come out of their rooms as I made my way back along the corridor, toward the front door. As I passed the room where we had first stumbled upon them, I heard the sound of deep breathing—and I guessed the injured guy was asleep after all.
He had been missing a wing, which by pure accident we’d discovered in the creek. Why had it been in the creek to begin with? By now, there was no doubt in my mind that it was one of these guys who had come into the house to re-collect the wing. Possibly Navan, judging by his height. Dammit, as much as I wanted to escape this place, my mind felt like it had been blown open, and I seriously needed answers. Hopefully, the police would help us get to the bottom of this—assuming they didn’t think we were completely insane. At least there had been other witnesses to the wing—Mr. and Mrs. Churnley… not that they were the sanest people in the world.
Reaching the front door, I pulled the bolt to one side and was relieved to find that was enough to open it. I’d been half fearing I would need a key—and that would’ve been a real problem, since I didn’t even have any hairpins on me to attempt to pick a lock.
Easy does it, I thought as I pulled open the door, inch by inch, until there was just enough space to slip through. As I emerged outside, I sucked in a lungful of air while pulling the door shut behind me. I winced, thinking again of my friends. I’m coming back for you, Angie and Lauren, I promise.
Then I bolted. It was dark, with so many trees hanging over this fenced enclosure, but I was too afraid to use my flashlight, in case it drew attention. I just ran, tolerating the scratches I sustained as I brushed past brambles and fallen branches. I kept my eyes focused in the direction of the nearest edge of the fence, which I could just about make out, thanks to the moonlight. My panting was loud in my ears, accompanied by the cooing of an owl somewhere in the treetops above me, and the occasional scurrying of some nocturnal animal in the undergrowth.
Almost there.
What felt like two minutes later, I was barely six feet from the fence. I sprinted ahead with renewed speed, when my ears picked up a different kind of noise. It sounded like…wind being displaced.
Wings beating.
“No!” I gasped, whirling toward the direction of the noise. I didn’t even manage to see the approaching coldblood before it was upon me, an arm binding once again around my waist, crushing my rib cage as my back slammed against a hard chest, and my feet left the ground.
“NO!” I screamed, as the familiar heat surged through my skin from where his body touched mine, making me feel lightheaded. But then the air swiftly left my lungs as we hurtled through the trees at alarming speed, back toward the house.
I wriggled and struggled as much as I could, but the arm held fast. I was expecting him to fly me right through the front door and lock me back up, but instead, he was shooting for the roof. We landed with a thud, and I stumbled, terrified as I scrambled to find my balance on the mossy wooden slats. Once I’d obtained some semblance of stability, I raised my head to find myself face-to-face with Navan.
I cursed silently. Had he heard me running? Maybe his senses had become sharper again, having cooled down outside the house?
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his brow furrowed and toned arms crossed over his chest. “You do realize you’re basically a mouse trying to escape from a hawk.”
I glared at him, trying my best to ignore the painful lump forming in my throat. I was not going to cry right now—there was no way I was going to let him see my tears. Yet I’d been so close to escaping, only to be caught at the last minute. The frustration of that, more than fear, forced the tears to pool in my eyes and I turned my back to him, blinking furiously.
He spoke up again. “Well, I’m fine with the sile
I wiped at my eyes quickly before whirling around to face him. “You basically just threatened my life!” I shouted. “You’re telling me and my friends we have to drink some substance that’s going to erase our memories!” My voice sounded strong, but to my horror, I could feel tears starting to fill my eyes again, and no amount of blinking this time was going to hold them back. But I kept yelling, because at least if I did that, I might not break down into sobs.
“I’m not drinking your stupid potion! We don’t even know who you are! Or what you are! Or what that potion is! Who are you to even make such a rule?! You have no right to hold us here!”
He looked at me curiously. “You’re crying,” he said finally.
I wiped at my eyes again. “Yeah, no kidding,” I snapped.
He paused, eyeing me closely, as if deliberating his next words, before informing me, “I don’t like making girls cry.”
I blinked, once again confused by his manner. “Oh, really? You could’ve fooled me. Just let us go, okay? That’s all we want. We just want to leave without having to drink that weird potion of yours.”
“I understand,” he replied after a moment, his voice low.
“W-What?” I spluttered.
He sighed, rolling his eyes. “I said I understand. I understand that we have no right to detain you or your friends like this, but you’re just going to have to trust me when I say there is a reason behind our actions.”
“What reason?” I demanded, tears dangerously close to escaping from my eyes again. I choked them back, absolutely refusing to let this stranger see me cry again.
He started to say something but then stopped, pressing his ashen lips together.
“Please,” I urged, my voice thick. “You can’t keep us in the dark like this!” I couldn’t bear the thought of being thrust back into one of those dust-choked rooms, probably with two of these coldbloods guarding us this time to make sure we didn’t escape again.
I felt Navan’s wintry eyes scrutinizing my face, as if debating whether to finally give in to my request.
I drew in another uneven breath, and repeated, in what I hoped was a calmer tone, “Please.”
He ran his tongue over his full lower lip, then finally nodded ever so slightly. His voice was much softer when he spoke again—and once more it confused me what an utter contradiction his attitude was compared to the fearsome display he’d given us barely an hour ago. For that matter, his general demeanor was far more light and conversational that I would’ve expected—not just from a fanged monster, but from the stiff man he’d introduced himself as yesterday, when we’d first come across him and his two companions by the fence. I was still trying to place his personality.
“I see my attempt to scare you earlier didn’t exactly work,” he muttered, almost ruefully.
I frowned, surprised that he’d admit that out loud. He broke eye contact with me and his gaze passed casually over the empty roof surrounding us.
“In any case,” he continued, “all I really want is to get all three of you out of my hair. I may be willing to make… certain compromises, in order to achieve that.” His eyes finished their wandering and returned to me, imbued with concentration. “Are you saying that if I agree to tell you about ourselves, who we are, and why we are here, you will agree to drink the formula?”
I bit down hard on my lip, considering his words. It didn’t exactly seem like a fair question to ask—our agreement to drink his potion would depend on his answers, of course, but… I was desperate now, and the idea of finally getting answers was too tempting for me to turn down.
“Yes,” I replied bluntly. Though in my mind, I added, I’ll consider it.
“Is that a promise?” He took a step closer toward me, close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his imposing form, and it made me feel lightheaded again.
I took a step back, needing to place more distance between us, but I took a misstep on a patch of moss and slipped. His arm shot out to grab me before I could fall, and I gripped it hard, using it to steady myself again. I met his intense gaze as his nauseating heat flowed through me, his face a few inches from mine. Close enough to kiss, a voice whispered in my mind, and I shook my head in alarm, trying to banish it. Clearly, this was how my brain dealt with stressful situations—by suggesting the most ridiculous, outlandish thing it could think of. Kissing Navan—whatever he was—was the last thing I was ever going to do.
Swallowing, I nodded. “It’s a promise,” I croaked.
“Good girl,” he said, the muscles in his face relaxing.
I frowned at his response, unsure of whether it was meant to be condescending or just… good natured, but before I could remark, he put his arm around my waist and lifted me up again, engulfing me in another wave of heat that made my head spin. He soared with me over the roof and down to the back of the house, where he planted me on the ground, near the back door.
As I found my footing and re-orientated myself, I was alarmed to see Lauren and Angie through the open back doorway, struggling in the grips of Ianthan and Navan’s brother. The girls’ hair was disheveled, and Lauren’s glasses were askew and loose on the bridge of her nose.
“Hey!” I exclaimed. They all looked over—Lauren, Angie, and the two coldbloods.
“What’s going on?” All four of them asked a variation of the same question in unison, which I probably would’ve found amusing, in different circumstances.
Navan stepped around me, and I gaped as his wings retracted beneath his shoulder blades… This was the first time I was witnessing it with his back facing me, and it was like one of those vacuum cleaners that sucked up the cord after you were done cleaning—the wings folded into compact lengths, before whipping back within his body. Where did he even have space to store them? I mean, their backs were broad, but… I shook my head, pondering their bizarre anatomy while Navan picked up his torn shirt, which was resting on a log near the door. He shrugged it on as he approached his brothers. “You can let them go,” he said, gesturing to my friends. “I struck a deal with their friend, in exchange for them drinking the Elysium.”
Angie and Lauren’s eyes bulged as they stared at me. I nodded back at them, trying to give them a reassuring look—which was hard, considering I did not feel in the least bit reassured—before I hurried to them, grabbing their hands and pulling them out of the house, into the backyard beside me. Their skin felt hot, just like mine did, and I assumed it was the effect of the coldbloods’ touch on them.
“We heard you scream,” Lauren explained unevenly. The poor girl was shaking. “We climbed out of the room to come look for you—and we probably would’ve made it out if I hadn’t dropped my damn glasses!”
“You really need to try wearing contacts again,” Angie muttered, brushing down her shirt and shorts to straighten them.
“Guys,” I said in a hushed tone, glancing hesitantly at Navan, who was muttering something to his brothers, his back turned toward us. “You’re just gonna have to trust me on this one… At the very least, we’re going to get some answers.”
Chapter Eight
After Navan had finished talking with the other two coldbloods, he retreated into the house with Ianthan, while Navan’s brother approached us. Angie and Lauren moved a little closer to me, and we all eyed him warily. He stopped a few feet in front of us and crossed his arms over his chest, looking us over.
“Since it appears we’re all getting into the spirit of sharing information, I’m Bashrik,” he announced, a genial expression on his face. Apparently, he had another side too.
“Um, okay,” I murmured.
“Hi… Bashrik,” Angie added uncertainly. He was the one who had been manhandling her just now, so I more than understood the hesitancy.
“And your names are?” he asked, smiling as if we had just met up for a first date.
“Uh . . .” I glanced at my friends, and they looked as befuddled as I felt. “I’m R
“Riley, Lauren, Angie,” he rolled our names around on his tongue. “Interesting.”
“Not as interesting as your names,” Lauren said.
Bashrik sighed, his eyes traveling back to the house as Ianthan and Navan re-emerged, carrying four chairs. “That’s all a matter of perspective.” Then he went over to where his brother and Ianthan were placing the chairs on the grass, about ten feet in front of the back door.
“A matter of perspective,” Lauren repeated. I realized that she had also noticed the strange steel globe tucked beneath the shadows in one corner of the yard, and was gaping at it.
Bashrik followed her gaze, and smiled. “Ah, yes… That, I imagine, will be a part of our conversation.”
“What the hell!” Angie exclaimed. “What is that thing?”
Navan took a seat directly opposite me. “We really weren’t planning on having a bunch of teenagers crash our place tonight,” he informed us. “So… I’m sure you’ll forgive us if our hospitality isn’t exactly on point.” He gestured to the little gathering of chairs.
“Uh… it’s okay,” Lauren said absentmindedly, still completely distracted by the globe.
Bashrik seated himself next to his brother once Ianthan returned with two more chairs, while Ianthan sat on the other side of Navan. The older coldblood, Jethro, appeared in the doorway, glancing uncertainly toward us, but he made no move to come out.
Now that we were all seated, Bashrik introduced us by name to Navan and Ianthan, who nodded curtly. Navan sat up straighter and looked right at me, a resigned expression on his handsome face. “Well, Riley? Would you like to start this impromptu—and very unexpected, might I add—question and answer session?”
Of course I had a million questions, but now that I was being given the chance, my mind couldn’t narrow it down to just one. I couldn’t seem to get my mind to focus on anything… and the way he was looking right at me wasn’t helping.