The Roots That Bleed (The Bloodroot Book 1), page 25
“You could go and bring Irvin’s lazy ass over here," Snake says, his nostrils flaring a little. He’s clearly on edge, but the way he swallows hard makes me suspect that there’s something else going on, too. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him eat anything before.
“Hmm," Aaron muses, taking a bit of whatever is on the pan and taking a spoonful. I lick my lips. “No, thanks. I don’t really feel like dealing with him today. Not when he took our girl out for a good couple hours without breakfast or anything."
My heart skips a beat at the mention of 'our girl'. What's that about? Wasn't Aaron the one who couldn't care less about me and started avoiding me just two days ago? Snake seems to catch the phrase too, his eyes narrowing at me while his eyebrows twitch.
“I thought I made it clear that the food here is yours to take," he tells me, his jaw tensing even more. I didn't think it was possible; he already looks as tense as a bowstring. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “Doesn't matter. Starting tonight, our arrangement changes. In fact, forget about your room. You won't need it anymore."
Panic knots in my stomach as I think about the phone hidden in the vibrator box. Having my room is crucial for using it, especially now that I've figured out the camera situation. This can't be happening.
“What do you mean?" I manage to say, my heart racing.
“I mean, you'll be staying in our rooms from now on, like you were supposed to from the start," he explains, sounding frustrated. “You'll also join us for meals. Now that Aaron's over his little avoidance game, it shouldn't be a problem, right?"
I glance at Aaron, who's frozen at the stove, and find him already looking at me. There's a thoughtful look in his eyes, and it seems Snake might be right.
“Yeah, no problem," Aaron finally says, and my heart sinks, but at the same time, I feel a thrill of excitement. How can a person feel so many contradictory things at once?
“Then it’s settled," Snake acknowledges with a nod of his head. I can basically see the gears spinning in his mind, like he’s plotting something in there. “You’re going to spend the night with me tonight, and tomorrow morning we’ll host the party. I’ll make sure everything is ready by then."
“That's..." I start, but then Aaron brings over a plate with perfectly scrambled eggs and toast. He puts one in front of Snake too, and his eyes widen. “Fast. Your guests will agree to come in on such short notice?"
Snake licks his lips and glances at me before staring at his own food. “They don’t have a choice. It’s not everyday that the heir to the Lionhart legacy announces their engagement. It’s a big deal."
Sure, everyone knows that Lionharts are a big deal. An engagement in their circle would be a big event. But Aaron has already made it clear that this isn't about friendship. There's something bigger at play. And from what I can tell, the Lionharts don't really have friends. They're all isolated, plotting in the shadows.
I stab a few small pieces of an egg on my plate when I hear whistling in the corridor leading to the room. It’s loud, frisky, and fucking jolly. That’s how I know that the man who spikes the adrenaline levels in my bloodstream enters the room.
“Something smells great," Irvin comments, a grin spreading across his face as he steps into the room. He's changed since I last saw him this morning. Now, he's sporting faded black jeans that fit snugly on his muscular legs and a dark green, military-style jacket. I can't help but raise an eyebrow when I notice a small silver chain hanging from his belt. He really wants to look the rebel part, huh? “And I think I know what it is," he adds, his voice deepening as our eyes meet.
In an instant, I get reminded of our kiss today. My chest tightens.
Irvin gives Snake a sly wink, then plops down beside me on the couch, grabbing my hand that's holding a forkful of food. He quickly brings it to his mouth, his gaze sweeping over me. A scoff escapes my lips, but the darkness that I see in him locks me in. I can’t look the fuck away. He licks the fork clean, his lips shining from the grease when he’s done, and a low rumble escapes his throat.
“Mmm, yeah, so fucking good."
I find myself swallowing hard, my own lips feeling suddenly dry from how hot this man always makes me. But as my eyes trail down to his chin and neck, I notice he's beaten up—bruises, a cut on his jawline, and his neck smeared with sweat and dirt. His knuckles are bloody, too. What the hell?
“Then just get your own damn plate," Aaron snaps from the kitchen, biting into his food. “I knew it was a terrible idea to let you take Lorelei anywhere. You can't even keep a cactus alive, let alone take care of a real woman. She's been starving all day."
I'm about to say something—this whole 'defending me' thing is starting to feel really weird—but Irvin beats me to it. No shit, given that there’s apparent adrenaline buzzing in his bloodstream. His eyes sparkle.
“Oh, you were hungry today, baby?" he teases. “You should have said so. I would have gladly given you something to stuff your pretty mouth with. But only if you’d do that thing I want you to do, of course."
Yeah, right. That thing being stripping myself of any autonomy left for myself and letting him win over me. No way in hell.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake," Snake sneers suddenly. I wish it didn’t make me jump, but it does. Irvin smirks at that, the corner of his mouth lifting and adding another edge to his face. Ugh. “Do any of you treat this thing seriously? Irvin, where the fuck were you?"
Irvin tilts his head slightly, giving Snake a look that's equal parts defiance and amusement.
“Had a few things to take care of," he responds vaguely, running a bloodied hand through his hair. The glint in his eyes suggests he's not about to share any more than that, and Snake really looks like he might lose it then, gritting his teeth and all. Well… A part of me actually quite enjoys that. Irvin apparently does too, because he releases a low chuckle that sends the shivers down my back.
“Okay," I say, putting the fork down and leaning against the couch with my back as I bring my legs into a cross-legged seat. Yeah, I don’t have pants on, only the black panties that were drenched a couple of hours ago, but in this particular moment, I don’t care. Maybe it’s Irvin’s attitude that found its way to infect me? Who knows. “He went awol, but he’s here now. Can you tell me what the hell is going on?"
Aaron comes back from the kitchen with two plates in his hands. He hands one to Irvin and takes the other for himself, sitting on an armchair opposite us. Huh. He looks like he cares little to nothing about pretty much anything. Yet he seems almost apathetic, quite a shift from his more relaxed demeanor when it was just the two of us. Now, he appears withdrawn, almost distant.
“Right," Snake says, his eyes still drilling into me. “I don’t know how much you knew about us before we brought you in, but I assume that you knew the Lionhart name. Ryder knew it, as do most of Silverbrook’s citizens. But I guess reputation and reality differ a whole fucking lot." I put the plate away and settle in, listening. “We’re powerful men; I’m not going to lie otherwise, but without Aaron, all the power we have is nearly insignificant."
I've thought about it before but didn't want to bring it up. Now that Snake is addressing it, I'm full of questions. Aaron is the only Lionhart heir, so what's the deal with Snake and Irvin?
“So, what's the story?" I ask, wetting my lips. Snake's eyes drop momentarily, something intense flickering behind them. He hesitates.
“Harold had us in checkmate before we could get out of diapers. Or in Snake’s case, before he got his puberty; that’s the story," Irvin replies instead of him, and I swear Snake’s eyes send daggers at him for interrupting.
“Harold Lionhart is the patriarch of the Lionhart empire," Snake says with more than just a touch of venom. There’s a whole punch there. “He ensured that all the power and wealth of the family stayed concentrated around Aaron. His blood."
Irvin continues, drawling out each syllable, “Yeah, and the rest of us? Just pawns on his chessboard. That old asshole had a way of making sure everyone was indebted to him, one way or another."
I try to connect the dots.
“So, he's got dirt on you? Aren't you... like part of the Lionhart thing?" My eyes shift to Irvin, who's lounging so far back on the couch that he's practically lying down, revealing a teasing glimpse of his toned abs when he stretches his muscled arms above his head. I look against my will. How can I not? This man is built like a tank.
“Being adopted doesn't quite cut it, sweetheart," he chuckles.
Oh, wow. I knew he and Snake weren’t biological brothers to Aaron. But Irvin being adopted and then treated as some kind of outsider? I’m starting to think that Harold Lionhart is exactly the cold-hearted bastard that Aaron made him look like. Granted, all this is true, that is.
“Okay," I say slowly, aware that every other man in this room looks at me when I do. Familiarity washes over me. It’s almost the same feeling I had when riders were holding a meeting and I was there. It’s similar now and somehow completely different at the same time. There’s the same nervous energy that makes me want to crack my knuckles, the tension and danger hanging about in the air, but add to it three smoldering men that I should hate, and yet... it’s becoming more complicated than that. “So what’s he got on you? And what does that Coldwell person have to do with anything?"
Aaron and Snake share a look before the latter responds.
“Margaret Coldwell is from old money and has had a grudge against Aaron since he was a kid. Basically, Harold did something that really made her hate his family, and she's been after revenge ever since," he replies, addressing my second question but skipping the first. Not that I'm shocked. It's not his place to share a secret that could destroy him. He's aware that I'd use it to my advantage if I got the chance.“ Like many families in Silverbrook, she's got a vendetta against us, but she's the most persistent of them all. I've been keeping an eye on her for years, foolishly thinking she didn’t know. Today, she showed me just how wrong I was. Turns out she was the one spying on me the whole time."
As I process the information, I can almost feel the gears turning in my head. For those of us in the Hollow, the Lionhart name has always stood for wealth, prestige, and a certain danger. The idea that they could have enemies never crossed my mind, which seems naive now. But then again, you don't get to know these things unless you're as deep into it as I am.
“So?" I push, catching Aaron's gaze briefly and feeling those damn butterflies again. I wish they would just go away.
“She's got all the files I collected on every influential person in this cursed town. My files. She can use and manipulate them as she pleases. Add to that the rumor that we're the ones who acquired them, and then sprinkle some of that endless hatred for everything Lionhart of hers into the equation…" Snake says, his jaw tight. “And this could turn out really bad for us."
Oh. Oh.
I take a quick note of the fact that he must have been collecting files on people for years. It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. It’s Snake we’re talking about, after all. But still… good to know.
“But it hasn't yet, right?" Irvin jumps in, a smirk playing on his lips, obviously relishing the room's tension. If anyone likes this situation, it’s him. “As long as that old hag doesn’t make a move, nothing happens. She's had all this time to expose us, but she hasn’t. Why now?"
“Yeah, that's what I want to know too," Snake says, standing and moving towards a table with whiskey. He pours a glass, downs it quickly, and then takes a deep breath before continuing. “But I'd be a fool to underestimate her again. We need to speed up the engagement, the wedding, and our plan to get Aaron in power."
“Sounds like a plan," Irvin says with a casual shrug. “But my vote? We take her out. She dies; problem solved."
Snake's eyes darken as he glares at Irvin. “It's not that simple. She's likely taken precautions against an attack."
“Let's follow the original plan," Aaron says after stacking his mouth full of food. For what it's worth, he keeps his sloth's demeanor even now, and it feels sort of reassuring. “We'll do what Harold wants to transfer the wealth and power, and then Coldwell can fuck off. Tomorrow, Lorelei and I will make a splash at the party, get everyone talking, and once Harold believes I can deliver what he wants, his protection should keep us safe."
“For now," Snake says. “But not forever."
“Better this than nothing," Aaron quips.
My lips press together tightly as I take in their words, my heart pounding in my chest. What does all this mean for me? Am I getting dragged into a bigger mess than I initially thought?
“What about Dig in all this?" I blurt out, feeling a flush of nervousness—and shame—color my cheeks. I should have thought about him more. It’s like I’m losing sight of what’s important here. “If you're under threat of an attack at any moment and he's locked up in your basement or whatever, you're setting him up for disaster. I can't imagine anyone coming after you being merciful enough to spare a stranger."
“They definitely wouldn’t," Irvin murmurs, extending his hand to playfully twirl a strand of my blonde hair around his finger. “But you know just as well as we do that letting him go now is the same as you trying to run away. And as fun as it would be to chase you, I bet Snake here would freak out if he lost the linchpin of his grand scheme. Besides, if we play this right, both of you will be safe."
“Irvin's right. Dig stays," Snake confirms, and I feel my heart sink. “Playing your part well at the engagement party and dodging this crisis should be your priority now. Once it’s done, there'll be a reward for you. That's assuming, of course, you don't bolt at the first opportunity. Not that I'm particularly inclined to trust you with that freedom."
“You mean you'll let him go?" I ask, a flicker of hope rising in me.
“No," he replies abruptly, extinguishing that hope instantly. “He stays here. But maybe we can work out some sort of compromise."
I nod slowly, resigning myself to accept any small concession I can secure for him. The situation is far from perfect; there's no use pretending otherwise. Yet, with this and the possibility of Cassidy's support, there seems to be a glimmer of hope. I just need to bide my time.
The silence hangs in the room, and Snake comes over, his gloved hand taking the plate with food as his eyes rake over me.
“Well, then," he begins, the tone of his voice lighting up just a little bit, telling me that the conversation is over and something new is coming. “Come with me, Lorelei. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. It's time to start getting ready for bed."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When Snake mentioned he was taking me to his room, I certainly didn't picture it like this. The room I'm stepping into is cast in a soft, dim light that barely makes a dent against the charcoal gray walls, which seem to swallow up any brightness.
There’s no sight of mahogany or fancy decorations, just two wardrobes, a desk, and a bed standing in the center—a black metal frame with a simple white duvet and a few dark pillows scattered atop. No headboard, no footboard—nothing unnecessary.
Just pure, cold functionality.
I walk further into the room, Snake trailing behind me, before he shuts the door. A shiver of apprehension tingles down my spine at the prospect of being alone with him in this way, an instinctual voice whispering that this is a bad idea. If I had the choice, I'd heed that warning in an instant, but circumstances have left me with little option.
So, all I'm left to do is try not to succumb to the scent that is uniquely his—a blend of pine trees on a sunny day, mixed with lemon and a hint of ground pepper. Unlike the place I slept in for the past two weeks, this room is steeped in his essence. And I have to admit, it's… intoxicating.
“So this is where you hole up all day?" I ask, turning around to face the man who has been the source of so much distress. He removes a black jacket, as dark as the rest of the room's decor, and tosses it casually onto the desk. Under it, he's wearing a snug, maroon-colored shirt that highlights his lean torso and well-defined arms.
“I don't hole up," he responds, a sharp edge still present in his voice. “Don't confuse me with Aaron."
As he strides over to the bed and pulls back the duvet, I can't help but watch his every move. It's a strange contradiction—him insisting I stay in his room while acting like he'd rather I weren't here. But that's Snake for you—fucking weird. I'm not even surprised anymore.
I guess this is better than addressing the masturbation thing…
With his back turned to me, occupied with his own affairs, I seize the moment to take in my surroundings once more. My eyes cautiously sweep over the shadowy corners, half-expecting to find hidden cameras watching me, but there are none. Then my attention shifts to two doors on the other side of the bed. One is slightly open, revealing what looks like bathroom tiles. The other door, however, remains closed.
“Don't just stand there," Snake says after a moment, pulling my focus back to him. As I look his way, I can't help but notice what he's done with the bed, and the corner of my lips twitches slightly. He's arranged a row of pillows right down the middle of the mattress, a very deliberate barrier stretching from one metal rod to the other.
“Oh, man," I say, casually walking forward and letting my fingers graze the pillows as I approach. “If you don't want me around, then why keep me here? I mean, it's kinda fun seeing you all tense, but tell me, do I have to fear that you’ll strangle me at night if I accidentally knock the pillow down? Because if yes, then I prefer the floor."
“Do you honestly think I'd throw away years of planning just to strangle the key to my entire scheme over a pillow?" he retorts with a heavy dose of sarcasm. His eyes narrow, a clear coldness in them, but there's also a trace of amusement as he leans against the bedpost, arms folded.
Yes. Probably.
