by Elle Jasper
“What happened?” Jake asks, looking around me at the bubbling piles of Jodís goo.
“I sent the human out,” I say, and that sounds funny to my ears, as if I’m not still human. “And I stayed behind to fight off the Jodís. I got two out of four.”
Jake looks around. “Where’d the other ones go?”
I shake my head. “I heard the wings overhead again, and the light went out.” I point to the yard light in the corner that is still extinguished. “And next thing I know, the one holding my throat lets me go, and . . . something kills them all.”
“Shit,” Jake says. “Why would any of the Fallen send aid to you?” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I answer. “It was that voice, though. The one who gave me the invite. I recognize it.” I look at Jake. “He says he won’t let anything happen to me.”
“Well,” Victorian says, staring me down. It’s dark, but I can vaguely see his silhouette. I know those liquid brown eyes are shooting daggers at me for being careless. “There won’t be any more splitting up. From now on, I don’t budge from your side.”
Just then, a church bell tolls eleven.
“Let’s hit the other side of Old Town,” Jake says. “We’ll hunt until dawn.”
And we do.
We slip through every nook and cranny of Old Edinburgh, through the closes and wynds, in between ancient establishments and even inside a few. There’s a small slice of time when the city is still; no black cabs, no trucks, no merchants, and no tourists. That time is now, and it’s about an hour before the day breaks. Out in the Firth, seals bark, and the breaking of surf against rock invades my senses. A mist rolls in, sweeping through the aged stone and embracing the spires and architecture that make up Old Town Edinburgh. That white vapor slips through and wraps its long, spindly fingers around every surface, every rock, stone, mailbox, and parked car. It even weaves around my ankles.
We’re all in Niddry’s Pub, not on Niddry Street but a pub just the same, and the owner knows Gabriel and Sydney well enough to give them a key. We’re at a large table in the corner, lights turned low, and I’m sipping a dark lager.
“A total of seven Jodís were killed tonight,” Jake says. “I don’t think one innocent soul was lost this eve.”
“Two of those were killed, courtesy of the Fallen,” Darius says. “I dunno about you, but I think Riley has an admirer,” he says, and looks at me. “One of the Fallen.”
“Same one who gave her the invite to tonight’s charity,” Noah says. “I’d bet a bag of fresh blood on it.”
“We’ll see tonight,” Jake says. He looks at me. “And if you think for a second you girls will be there alone . . .” He gives me a slow grin. “Then you just don’t know us very well.”
I pull long on my lager, looking at Jake over the bottle bottom. I finish and grin back. “Yeah, I know that. Kinda used to it by now.”
“You should be,” Noah says beside me. His stare is a little more profound than usual. “And don’t think to get un-used to it.”
“Any of you,” Lucian says, pointedly to his mate, Ginger.
My gaze immediately goes to Gabriel.
His immediately goes to Sydney.
But he says nothing.
Chickenshit.
I’ve got half a mind to use my control and force him to tell her how he really feels.
Gabriel’s gaze turns directly to me. And stays. For several seconds.
Point taken.
I smile.
Just as darkness wanes, and the light takes over, we file out of Niddry’s and head to the Crescent. In a mansion full of vampires, werewolves, and immortal druids, I’m the only one who has to have real sleep.
There’s still a lot of work left to be done. Darius, Gabriel, and Sydney scour the history books, old tomes passed on from one clan of people to the next, in search of battles fought according to the inscription of the first relic. While they do that, I crash.
Hopefully not for twenty-four hours.
“Oh, I’m ever so glad to see you all safe and sound,” Peter says, greeting us at the gates. It’s early morning, mist is sweeping our ankles, and old Peter is wearing his tweed cap, dungarees, and a woolen coat. His nose is bright red, and his eyes twinkle with genuine happiness. What a cute old guy.
“Yeah, we’re pretty happy about it, too,” I say, and smile at him.
“Do you care for a full Scottish breakfast, lass?” he asks me, then looks over the other members. “Anyone?”
“Ooh, I’m for it,” Ginger says.
“Aye,” Lucian, Gabriel, and Sydney all chime in.
“Excellent! It shall be ready posthaste!” he says, then bustles off to the main entrance.
“Walk with me while I have a V8?” Noah asks, knocking me in the shoulder.
“Riley, a word before you go to sleep?” Victorian interrupts.
I smile. “Sure. I’ll call ya.”
He nods and heads inside.
I give Noah a sidelong look. “Are you clinging to me just to piss Vic off?”
Noah almost chokes. “Clinging? And no. Make that hell, no.”
I grin. “Okay, then. Just for a sec. I’m beat.”
His mercury eyes study me far longer than necessary. “Something’s up with you,” he says. “You never used to sleep so much. And what about the ear ringing? Is it better or do you need to see the doctor?”
“It’s better, I guess. Still there but not so intense. Probably just a head cold brewing.”
“Nice try,” he says.
“Well, then, I have no idea. I was just thinking it myself.” I look at him. “Maybe because I’ve gone from slightly eccentric yet full-blown human, despite what others might say, to human with tendencies. Maybe it’s all . . . catching up to me.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. But, damn, when I fall out, I’m out.”
“Yeah, I know.” He opens the door for me, and I walk through. He follows, we cross the foyer, and he pulls me aside, into the sitting room just off the main entrance. Only a slight light shines through a crack in the drapes not yet pulled for the day. His stare finds mine and holds it. His body is close, and he brushes loose hair back from my face. “It’s dangerous, Ri. Too dangerous for you to be alone. Ever.”
I let my head fall back and I close my eyes. “Noah. For God’s sake.” I lift my head back into position and look up at him. “What is so freaking big-deal special about my safety? Not that I don’t value my own life, but . . . damn. Everyone is so worried about keeping me safe.” I grab his hand and squeeze it. “None of us are impervious to death here. Even the immortals can die. All of our safety is at risk, not just mine.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the only one here I vowed to keep safe,” he threads his fingers through mine and squeezes hard. “And I keep my goddamn vows.”
Lifting his hand, Noah scrapes the pad of his thumb over my lip. “I keep them, Riley Poe. You’re important to me.”
The sincerity in his unusual eyes gleams true, even in the haze of an early-morning, nearly darkened room. Emotions come from nowhere within me, and I suddenly feel so vulnerable, so . . . weak. I miss being embraced, being cherished. I know it sounds ridiculous, but . . . I can’t help it. I lost someone I loved with all of my heart. And it was a helluva long struggle to give that hard heart of mine away.
Noah’s eyes soften. “Your heart is far from hard, woman.” He brushes my cheek. “Never has been.”
Out of nowhere, I get the hugest sensation to just . . . fall into Noah’s embrace. But I don’t. Instead I squeeze his hand and smile. “Sure it has. I promise to be careful. You have my permission to watch over me mercilessly.” I start out of the sitting room and look over my shoulder. “See ya in a few.”
Mercury eyes stare silently at me as I leave.
I’m halfway up the stairs when Victorian is suddenly at my side. “You didn’t call me.”
I jump on the step. “Jesus!” I look at him and elbow him. “I’m sorry
—I forgot. Don’t do that again.”
“I don’t trust Miles,” Vic blurts out. We hit the platform on the second floor and start up the corridor. “I don’t like him, either.”
I laugh. “Well, trust me, the feeling’s mutual.” I look at him. “Why don’t you trust him? You mean with me?”
Victorian nods, and walks with his hands behind his back. “Now that your man is gone.”
“He may think the same of you,” I say. Truthfully, I’ve always felt a reaction from Noah. I just brushed it off as powerful vampire sexuality. Maybe I was wrong.
“He has good reason to,” Victorian answers bluntly, and stops at my door. “I know you mourn your man,” he says, looking down at me with those dark brown eyes. “And I know you ache to be held, to be comforted,” he says, and lifts my hand and kisses it. “I am here for you, love. If ever you want me.”
I blink. “Not much for beating around the bush. Are you, Vic?”
He gives me a slight grin. “I suppose not.”
“Well,” I step around him and open my door. Over my shoulder, I look at him. “I appreciate the offer,” I say. “And you’ll be the first to know if ever I want to take you up on it. Good night.”
I shut the door, but not before I see a huge, ridiculous grin spread across his handsome face.
Good Lord.
“I will win you over one day,” Victorian mutters in Romanian on the other side of the door.
“I know what you just said,” I say back in Romanian.
Vic swears and leaves the hall.
Finally, my bed.
I peel out of my clothes, kick them onto the floor in a pile, and crawl into bed with only my bra and panties. Within seconds, I’m asleep.
At least before the dreams plague me again.
Part Nine
HEAVEN AND HELL
It was night, and the rain fell; and falling, it was rain, but, having fallen, it was blood.
—Edgar Allan Poe, “Silence—A Fable”
I see the pain in Riley’s eyes, and I feel so sorry for her. To have lost her mate, Eli, and in the manner in which she lost him . . . it’s unbearable to think of it. But, damn, she’s a fighter. She hides her anguish well, and puts the team and innocent lives over her own pain. I’ve never seen anything like it. To be frank, I’m glad to be on her side. She hasn’t exactly warmed up to me yet, but she will. I hope.
—Ginger Slater
I’m in a place so deep, so dark, and so heavy, it takes all of my effort to breathe. I’m not sure what it is—whether it’s the place itself or my company. I thought I was alone. I thought I was in my bed.
I’m definitely not.
In an instant, a slight haze filters through the clouds, and it barely illuminates my surroundings. I’m at a lake? Some body of water. I glance down. I’m wearing nothing more than my bra and panties. It’s October, yet I’m warm. Not cold at all. Actually, it feels like a summer’s day back home in Savannah.
“I thought you’d never wake up.”
I jump, startled, and turn to see who has crept up on me. Familiar, yet I don’t recognize the silhouette. Male. Tall. Broad shoulders. Long hair pulled back. Muscular. The slight haze of the moon doesn’t give me access to his features. His accent, though, is . . . unique. Appealing.
I almost can’t help but be attracted.
“I’m . . . sorry. I just couldn’t wait,” he says, and steps closer to me. I allow it, and I don’t know why. Again, I can’t seem to help myself. Butterflies stir inside of me, and I take a deep breath to try and dissipate the feeling. It doesn’t work.
He—I have no idea who he is or what his name is, and, for some reason, I don’t even ask—stops a breath away from me. With that hazy moonlight behind him, I can’t see his face. I just know the allure he has hits me in a place I’m not used to being hit. Only Eli gets me there. I think this is Eli. But is it? I feel him. Sense him. Yet . . . he’s different. I’m confused as hell. Again a deep breath. Again it doesn’t work. Useless.
Next his large hands grasp my jaw on either side and his lips brush against mine in a whisper. “I’m going to kiss you, Riley,” he says, and uses the slightest pressure to urge my mouth open. He angles his head and presses into me, taking in a long breath as he kisses me.
My own breath hitches and I drown in the slow, erotic brush of his lips, shoving my fingers through hair that feels like heavy silk, and taste him back.
His hands graze my sides, then move upward and cup my breasts through my bra. Quickly, he unsnaps the front clasp and pushes the silky material from my shoulders. It drops to the ground below. With callused hands, he caresses me, and my eyes close from the feel of it. His mouth claims mine, and the warmth from his hands against my breasts makes me sink into him, but he makes no further moves—only deep, possessive kissing.
Then he stops.
Resting his forehead against mine, he slides his hands around my back and pulls me close. Why do I want him so badly? Who is he? Why is he so familiar? And why am I so out of control right now?
I push his hair aside and move my mouth to his ear, brushing the lobe with my tongue. When he shivers, I whisper, “Please don’t leave me, Eli. Not yet. I can’t bear it.”
He stills, pulls back, and looks at me. I can’t see his eyes, only a dark glare, but I know he’s studying me. Contemplating. Wondering what the hell I’m doing.
“I . . . Jesus, I need you, Eli. So much it hurts,” I say, my voice a broken whisper.
Without another word, he does as I ask.
“Are you sure? I . . . don’t think I can stop if I start.”
“Yes,” I whisper, my breath ragged. “I won’t want you to stop.”
He then lifts me in his arms and begins to walk toward the water. “I can smell you—almost taste you, so potent are your needs.” He keeps moving, his long fall of silk hair brushing my bare shoulder, making me shiver. He lowers his head and sniffs my neck, an animal on the prowl. “I have dreamed of tasting you fully, of feeling you explode against my tongue. Never did I think you would have me . . . like this.” He sets me on my feet, and the warm water rides up to my waist. He circles behind me and stops, his head bent close to my ear, his whisper a deep purr, yet still not touching, sending vibrations of pleasure across my wet skin. “I’m going to bury myself deep inside of your tight wetness, feel your woman muscles grip my hard length as you take all of me in,” he says as he licks my lobe, his warm breath caressing my cheek. “But first,” he says, his raspy words vibrating against my throat, making me shiver with excitement, “I’m going to make you lose control right where you stand.”
Every nerve ending in my body hums with power, ready to unleash the energy simmering in my veins. So erotic are his words, his voice, his promise, that damned sexy accent, I have to clench my muscles to keep from coming right then. I reach for him.
“Don’t touch me. Just feel.”
He moves behind me again and brushes my hair to the side. His mouth hovers over my skin, his warm breath coming in light puffs, and then the wet velvet of his tongue strokes me where his breath has just been. He trails my spine with his fingertips, making small circles against each vertebra, and I clench my fists, aching to touch him, but I manage control and keep them by my side. Heated liquid pools between my legs, making me pulsate with desire. “Please, Eli . . .”
Finally, he touches me. His wet hands skim my sides, down my ribs, over my hips. Hooking my panties with his thumbs, he slides them down and I step out of them. He reaches down, grabs them, and throws them to the shore.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he whispers close to my ear, sending another wave of shivers through my taut body. Slowly he kisses me again, and it’s so painfully slow and erotic that I nearly explode right there. Again I don’t. But I can’t control the moan of pleasure that escapes me.
I don’t miss his sharp intake of air.
I don’t know how much more I can take.
I want it to go on forever.
His l
arge hands close over my breasts as his mouth claims that portion where my neck meets my shoulder. His thumbs brush the hardened, sensitive tips, and my head drops back to rest against his chest.
He moves his leg between mine. “Settle back against me.”
I do, and the full erection pressing into the small of my back makes me moan again.
He kisses my jaw, then moves his mouth to my ear. “I want to see how ready you are for me, love. Can you stand it?”
Between breaths, I shiver and whisper, “Can you?”
A low growl rumbles deep in his throat. “Be very still.”
Keeping one hand possessively cupped over my breast, he slides his other hand over one hip, over the flat of my stomach, then farther, closer.
The moment he touches me, an uncontrolled growl tears from my own throat.
“Christ, woman,” he says, holding his hand still against my wetness. His whisper turns hoarse. “Now.” He dips inside of me with one finger, holding me tightly against him. I suck in a raw breath and hold it, squeezing my eyes shut, fighting not to explode against his hand.
It doesn’t work.
A gradual climax, one pulse at a time, increases with each beat, with each movement of his hand against me, until I turn my face against his shoulder, taking his flesh between my teeth as the orgasm claims me. Slowly it subsides.
With his arms encircling me, he walks me forward, the flesh between my thighs still quivering from pleasure.
I tread water and welcome its tepid temperature to somewhat cool the fire he has caused within me. Yet . . . I’m somehow not satisfied. I hadn’t wanted to explode, but, damn it, I couldn’t help it. I wanted it to go on forever.
Bathed in the milky glow of the moon, this enigmatic male, Eli, stands tall, thick, muscular, and powerful. Volts of energy shimmer off his body in sizzling waves. His hair, silver from the moonlight, hangs loose to his waist, making him look wild, untamed, and I easily drum up a vision of him standing on a craggy Scottish sea cliff, a bolt of plaid draped over one shoulder, sword strapped to his side, a fierce wind whipping his hair. The beauty of it sucks the air from my lungs. And I have no idea where that vision comes from. Eli isn’t Scottish. And he’s not a Celt.
