by Wood, Vivian
“No… but what if something happens to you before…” she stopped and bit her lip.
“Before what, exactly?” he asked, pulling his sleeve from her grasp and crossing his arms.
“I don’t want to go to the Gray Market. I want to stay with you,” Sophie said, aware that she sounded like a whiny female. “I don’t… I don’t want to get separated.”
That much was true, at least.
Ephraim softened, which made her feel guilty for the thousandth time in the past few hours. He reached out and squeezed her shoulders, drawing her close for a brief hug.
God, he smells so good, the dumb part of her brain said.
“I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow night. Just go be with the other girls, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about your safety,” he said. After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned down and brushed a burning kiss over her lips. “Be safe.”
He turned and stalked off without a backward glance, leaving Sophie with a heartsick sensation in her chest and a thousand questions in her mind.
First and foremost: the way she felt right now, the way Ephraim was making her feel…
Was it fear for her plan, or for the man she was growing to like and respect? Was this just the mating attraction, that impossible-to-ignore hunger, or was it something more?
Greater than lust, stronger than simple need…
What was that called, exactly?
She shook her head, refusing to take that thought any further. She was a woman on a mission, not a lovesick schoolgirl. Just because he was handsome and had a storied past that spoke to her… Just because her body tightened every time she thought of the way he’d given her pleasure in the pool the night before… Just because she sensed his innermost goodness, trapped beneath all that sadness and anger, and a part of her desperately wanted to salve his wounds…
That didn’t mean anything, right?
Chapter Seven
Ephraim was weary as death. Though reinforcements had slowly begun to filter in from around the world in the last week, it seemed that there was no turning back the tides. New Orleans was a ghost town, eerily vacant of meaningful life. And around every corner, hanging from every French Quarter balcony, was some hellish creature from beyond the Veil, lying in wait for the Guardians.
Aeric had relieved him on patrol over an hour ago, but the sheer effort of getting from one side of town to the other with all his body parts intact had nearly driven Ephraim to despair. Papa Aguiel was stirring up trouble all over town, threatening the precious few stubborn Kith and foolish humans that’d stayed behind.
It was all over the human news now, explained as “the outbreak of an unknown virus”, something straight out of a bad zombie horror flick. Except this was real, and the virus was demonic possession. Oh, and there were also real bodies, dragged up from who knew where, to stagger about the city attacking anything in their wake.
He’d done the first two days straight through, and after that he’d been forced to start taking two or three short rests in each twenty four hour period. By day eight, today, he knew he needed a full measure of sleep in a real bed.
He also needed to check in on Sophie. The last time he was able to drop in on the Guardians’ mates bolt-hole in the Gray Market, she was sound asleep. So now it had been a few days since he last talked to her.
It was torture, knowing he was cosmically assigned to her, that he was supposed to be her protector… in the midst of all this. Logically, he shouldn’t care. She was gorgeous and compelling, yes. But her eyes spoke of secrets, and not the kind best left in the distant past.
She was hiding something from him, he just couldn’t put together what it could possibly be. Something to do with her past and family? She evaded questions about both topics masterfully.
Or was it to do with her vendetta against Papa Aguiel? It was all she seemed to talk about, in between bouts of staring broodingly at Ephraim.
On one hand, he should be glad to be free of whatever schemes she was undoubtedly involved in. On the other hand… he liked being around her.
Liked the way she smelled, the way a smile could curve her lips. The first night he’d returned to the bolt-hole in the Gray Market to sleep, he’d awoken to find her curled around his body as he rested on a simple army cot. The feel of her body pressed against his, her warmth, the peaceful look on her face as she slept…
He couldn’t get it out of his damn head. It had distracted him in battle several times, once in particular almost costing him what would’ve been a fatal blow to the neck.
Yep. He had it pretty bad for her. Maybe if he’d just taken what she’d offered so freely back at his maladh…
It wouldn’t have been enough, though, and he knew it. Just the taste of her he’d gotten had nearly burned him alive, and his damn body wasn’t about to let him forget it. He relived it in his dreams, as he showered, as he ran his sword through foes.
Yeah, he had a problem.
He turned a corner in the Gray Market, coming up on the highly-protected lair where the Guardians were stashing their ladies. He slowed, a familiar voice catching his attention. He stopped and backtracked, then peered around another corner. His shifter’s vision allowed him to see the scene taking place in the shadowed alleyway, though a little part of him wished he couldn’t.
Sophie stood across from a robed figure, nodding at something the other person said. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out a sheaf of bills — an exorbitant amount of money, it looked like — and handed it over.
The other person thrust a dark, cloth-wrapped bundle at her. She grabbed it and tucked it under her arm, cradling it like something precious. She nodded once more at her mysterious companion, who turned and departed in the other direction. Sophie walked straight toward Ephraim, hardly looking up and certainly unaware of his presence.
Ephraim was about to step out and take her to task for leaving the safety of the bolt-hole, but a different kind of danger interceded.
With a definitive, hungry hiss, a trio of Vampyres descended from above, dropping to the ground and forming a tight circle around Sophie. He heard her mutter a curse, but she didn’t drop the cloth bundle. Instead, she raised her hands and began to summon a bright orange blaze of power.
She was too slow. Sophie seemed to know it, and watching her realize it made Ephraim’s heart skip more than a beat. Letting his sword fall to the cobblestone street with a clatter, Ephraim dropped to all fours and let his bear form take over.
All the bear knew, all it understood was the fervent, wild need to protect his mate. Ephraim gave him free reign, trying not to enjoy the shock on Sophie’s face when a massive Grizzly bore down on her in the alley and proceeded to rip her foes apart.
Even better was her expression when he shook off the gore from the fight and shifted back to his djinn form. Her mouth was open in a perfect o of surprise that he found far too charming.
“You weren’t supposed to leave the bolt-hole,” he said, crossing his arms.
For once, Sophie seemed too flustered to respond.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her by the elbow and towing her out of the alley. After reclaiming his sword from the ground, he marched her straight to the bolt-hole, past the common areas where the mates were gathered and into the private bedroom set aside for Sophie’s use.
“Let’s see it,” he said, dragging off his heavy boots and collapsing on a chair beside the oversized bed.
“Ephraim—”
“Sophie, don’t. You have no idea how tired I am right now. Don’t make this another fight, please.”
He sat back and folded his arms, eyeing the bundle of black cloth. When she huffed out a sigh and sank onto the bed opposite him, he knew he’d won this round.
“You’re not going to like it,” she told him point-blank.
“I like secrets even less,” he said with a shrug.
She flushed, shaking her head so that her blonde hair rippled around her like a waterfall. Then she unwrapped the bundle and hel
d out the gleaming, precious gem that laid inside. It was dazzling, bigger and brighter than any other Ephraim had ever seen in his long life.
And it was also black. Sickly, gleaming black that drew at him like a magnet. Before he realized it, he was reaching out with shaking fingers to touch it.
“No no no!” Sophie said, quickly covering it. “It’s a soul stealer. One use only, and you are definitely not my intended target.”
“I get the feeling that I don’t want to know where or how you came to possess that thing,” Ephraim said, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Correct. You wouldn’t like the story, I guarantee it.”
He sighed.
“You really are so much trouble,” he told her, chuckling when she had the nerve to look offended. “Can you deny that?”
She bit her lip and shrugged.
“I don’t mean to be,” was all she would say.
“You know you can’t use that, right?” Ephraim said. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that thing is far, far too dark. Using something like that would… I don’t even know what it would do to your soul, your aura.”
“I don’t see how you get a say in the matter,” she said, her lips thinning.
She stood and carried the jewel over to the closet, setting it on a high shelf and closing the door on it. Then she paced back to where Ephraim sat, looking down at him imperiously.
“You’re my mate,” he said, narrowing his gaze on her face.
She laughed, a bitter sound.
“You’re just some… person… I find attractive,” she said, blushing at the last. “Neither of us is willing to go through with anything more than that, not with this kind of chaos in the city. And the chaos isn’t going to end until…”
She waved her hand at the closet.
Ephraim reached out and closed his fingers around her wrist, tugging her nearer. She lost her balance and toppled into his lap, a pleasant surprise. Her big blue eyes went wide at the close contact, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip, just inches from his own.
“Why is this so important to you, hmm?” He asked. “I thought you would surely use me to do it, but now I think you want to do it yourself. It’s personal, I can tell. What happened that would make you willing to risk your own soul for revenge?”
She bit her lip and glanced away.
“He hurt someone… someone I loved,” she said. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
Jealousy rose in Ephraim’s throat, hot and heavy.
“A man? A mate?” He asked. He reached out and turned her face back to his, staring straight in her eyes.
“No,” she sputtered, her expression going dark. “Not a mate. And I’m not saying any more than that, so you can just drop it.”
Relief filled him, making him realize just how strong his desire for Sophie really was.
“I need something from you,” he said, struggling not to crush her against his chest and cover her lips in a demanding kiss.
“What?” She asked, her voice the barest whisper.
“If you’re going to send me into an impossible battle… I’m not afraid to die, Sophie. I just don’t want my last act to be an order, master commanding slave. Whatever you need of me, I will give it. Please just… ask.”
A single tear welled up and rolled down her cheek. He could already see the denial on her lips, and he couldn’t let her speak it aloud.
“You’re the only mate I’ll ever know, Sophie. Please don’t take that from me. I will do anything for you, I swear. Anything.”
Sophie closed her eyes for a moment, struggling with something.
“I would never send you up against Papa Aguiel,” she said, opening her eyes after a long beat. “I told you already, I am the one who will defeat him.”
“What, then? Why go to all the trouble to procure my keys? You must need me for something,” he said, searching her face and finding no answers.
Another tear rolled down her face, and Sophie brushed it away.
“Ephraim?” she asked. “I won’t command it, but… will you take me to bed? Your bed, in your haven. It might…” her voice broke, and with it a little of Ephraim’s heart broke as well. “It might be our last chance, our last night together.”
Ephraim couldn’t resist her entreaty, not when strong, stubborn Sophie looked at him with those big, tear-filled blue eyes.
Wrapping his arms around her, he vanished them both to his maladh.
Chapter Eight
Sophie sighed as Ephraim carried her into his maladh, walking her over to a low plush couch. He sat her down and then stepped back, cocking his head.
“I think we should talk first,” he said. “And I think that will require some bourbon.”
He held up a finger, vanishing into some back room. Sophie fidgeted, uncomfortable. He wanted answers, that much was clear… and she wanted to give them to him.
The ones that wouldn’t put him in danger, at least.
The attraction between them was too strong to deny. Again, she had the bitter thought that if they’d only met before Lily’s disappearance, their entire relationship would be so different.
And it was a relationship, no matter what she wanted to tell herself. One glance at Ephraim made her blush; when their eyes met, she felt the desperate need to kiss him, to tell him every single thing on her mind.
He returned with two glasses of amber liquid, handing one over. Sitting beside her on the couch, he was enticingly close, their thighs brushing whenever one or the other moved.
“How do you even know that I like whisky?” she asked with a smile.
He shrugged.
“You don’t seem like the wine cooler type.”
They sipped in silence for several long moments, Ephraim raising a hand to magically dim the lights a little. He winked and said he was setting the mood. He reclined and watched her quietly, patient as ever.
“So? Aren’t you supposed to start?” She asked, the whisky warming her insides in a pleasant way.
“I think you know what I’m going to say. I said it before,” he sighed. “I want you, I know you can tell. I want nothing more than to drag you over to my bed right now. But I don’t want you to use me. I don’t want you to let me… feel things for you… and then turn around and treat me like your slave tomorrow. I only want to give myself to my mate.”
Sophie bit her lip.
“I would never treat you like a slave,” she said.
“Giving me commands, flashing the keys at me to assure my compliance,” he said, ticking off items on his fingers. “Guess what that feels like? Knowing that you need me for something, but not knowing what you’re going use me for… that’s not mate behavior, no matter how much I want you.”
She nodded slowly.
“What if… what if I can promise you that I’m not going to send you into anything dangerous? What if I promise that you’ve already provided me what I really need?”
Ephraim’s brows shot up.
“Is that right?” He said. She could see the gears working in his head, see him trying to figure that out.
She wrinkled her nose, running the words through her head again to make sure they were true, then nodded. She set her glass aside, giving in to the urge to move a little closer, resting a hand on his arm.
“If I ask you for anything else, it wouldn’t be more than what you’ve already done for me.” She paused for a second, leaning a little closer to Ephraim. “Would that be enough assurance for you, if I gave you my word I’d never use the keys against you?”
An unfathomable expression flickered across Ephraim’s face. He didn’t respond with words, but an irresistible smile appeared where his frown had been. He leaned closer, enveloping Sophie in his delicious, masculine smell.
“You promise?” He whispered, his gorgeous spring green eyes searing her.
Sophie let her eyes drift closed, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. One of her hands landed on Ephraim’s chest, the other cupped his neck tenderly, her
fingers tugging at the silky strands of his chin-length hair and drawing him closer.
The soft growl that rumbled from his throat excited her. She surged forward, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel the press of his hard chest against her breasts, the heat of his thighs against hers. She moved to climb on his lap, thinking to straddle him, but Ephraim surprised her by scooping her up and carrying her across the room to his bed.
He sprawled on the bed, gently trapping Sophie under his big body. Already she could feel the thick length of his cock through both their jeans, ready and waiting for her. Her hands plucked at his shirt, eager to strip him, feel his bare skin against hers.
She’d wanted this since the moment she laid eyes on Ephraim, wanted it more than anything else… thought of him, fantasized about this more than she’d thought of her current plans for revenge. It was an escape, no doubt, but with Ephraim she’d found something deeper than expected.
He captured both her hands and brought them up above her head, nipping at her lips as he carefully stripped off her thin white silk blouse. Then he freed her hands and tugged off her dark jeans, leaving her in nothing but a black lace bra and panties.
“Ephraim…” she said as he dropped teasing kisses on her ribs, her inner thighs.
“Let me take care of you, Sophie,” he murmured against her skin. Cool air caressed her breasts as he slid her bra off, cupping and kissing each breast with infinite patience, tenderness, and hunger.
Each flick of his tongue, each warm press of his lips, each time his stubbled chin brushed her sensitive skin, she burned a little higher. Heat rippled outward from her chest, pooling low in her body and raising gooseflesh all over her skin.
“Ephraim,” she said again, this time more urgently.
His lips curled into a smile as he kissed her navel, moving lower and yanking her panties down her legs. He caressed her legs as he spread her thighs, exploring her dampness with long, lazy licks of his hot tongue. When he closed his lips over her clit, Sophie writhed, too carried away with her hunger to be embarrassed by the brazen rocking of her hips.
