Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers)

by Michelle Rowen

  This was different than him being close to me in public. This—all alone with no one watching us. It felt even more dangerous.

  At this point, I couldn’t have pushed him away even if I’d wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to. His spicy scent sank into me. The warmth of his touch, normally enough to chase the cold away, burned right into my skin.

  His expression tensed as he looked down to where his hands grasped my waist. “Touching you...even knowing you’re a nexus...I still don’t understand why it helps bring such clarity to my mind. Why it feels...”

  “Feels?” I could only manage a whisper.

  His gaze met mine. “So good.”

  I let out a hoarse laugh, throaty and nervous. “Maybe for you.”

  He let go of me abruptly and stepped back. The cold returned like a bucket of ice water had just been poured on me.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”

  “Of course you did. It is a bad thing.” He raked his hand through his messy hair. “I forget too easily. I’m making this worse for you. Cassandra’s right—so are the others. It’s better if I stay away. I don’t know why I can’t.”

  “Inconvenient addiction,” I reminded him shakily. My hunger raged like a caged beast inside me, even with him now more than an arm’s reach away from me. I fought hard to keep it locked up.

  “Yeah.” He watched me from the shadows of my room. “Very inconvenient.”

  I sat down heavily on the side of my bed and touched the leather sheath of the dagger. It was light in weight, barely noticeable. I focused on the carved hilt, running my fingers over the ruby, feeling its tingling power across my skin—its magic. It was a pure magic. It had no darkness in it. That much was reassuring.

  Bishop stayed silent. My only indication that he hadn’t left was my ever-present hunger pains, currently holding steady at a level eight. And a half.

  “How long have you been an angel of death?” I asked quietly.

  “Long enough.”

  Frustration rippled through me and I looked directly at him. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, all the questions that rose up in my throat. “How long since you died? Since Kraven died? Did you die at the same time? Why is he a demon and you’re an angel? You said you killed him and sent him to Hell. Did you know that would happen? Is that what made you an angel? Was it some sort of Heavenly test?”

  He turned to the window, placing his hands flat on the pane as he looked outside to the street. His shoulders were tense. “I can’t talk about these things.”

  “In general? Or just with me? I don’t understand why you refuse to tell me anything about yourself that might help me understand you better. No wonder I have nightmares about you.” Then I was the one who swore, before covering my face with my hands.

  Bishop was beside me in a moment, kneeling down on the floor next to my bed and taking my hands in his to pull them away from my face. His expression held deep torment.

  “I don’t keep truths from you to hurt you.”

  “Then why?”

  His brows drew together. “I just can’t talk about it. You need to trust me.”

  “I want to.”

  “I know you rely on your head a lot of the time. You’re smart. You look at things from that standpoint. That studying and getting good grades is the only way there is to understand things. But some things can’t be spoken aloud. Can’t be studied. The truth won’t tell you about me.” He swallowed hard. “Trust your heart.”

  “My heart is a bit of a liar.”

  “No, it isn’t.” His grip tightened on my hands enough that I finally looked at him. Our eyes met and held. “It knows the truth even if you don’t realize it yet.”

  He was so close, too close. Again, I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.

  “You could have given me that dagger anytime,” I whispered. “Why now?”

  His lips curved to the side. “Maybe I wanted an excuse to visit you alone in your bedroom.”

  That coaxed a very small laugh from me, and despite my better judgment, I entwined my fingers with him. I didn’t stop looking in his beautiful blue eyes—eyes I dreamed about every night, even apart from disturbing nightmares. Most of my dreams about Bishop were very good ones.

  I slid off the side of my bed so we kneeled face-to-face with each other. I released his hands so I could slide my hands up the front of his chest, his skin warm through the thin barrier of his T-shirt. My thoughts were falling away with each second that passed.

  Dangerous. Too dangerous. Cassandra was right.

  I needed to kiss him.

  This is why he’d come here. All joking aside, all gifts, and information and horrible days pushed away.

  He’d come here tonight so I would kiss him. So I could satisfy his inconvenient addiction to me—even if that meant I might take the rest of his soul.

  Bishop’s hands tightened at my waist and he pulled me closer to him, close enough that I could feel the rapid pulse of his heart against mine. His eyes glowed an intense blue. I was lost in those eyes as I slid my fingers over his jaw, cheeks, temples and up into his dark hair, so soft to the touch.

  My lips were only a whisper away from his...

  Snap!

  The night’s cold, so cold I can see my breath. My hand shakes as I clutch the torch.

  “I can help,” I insist, feeling useless just standing here.

  “No, you stay up there,” James says. “You can’t see a damn thing, anyway.”

  “Go to hell.” I glare at him, but have to admit the outline of my brother’s familiar form is blurry—only his golden hair is recognizable to me, lit up like a halo from the torchlight. Dark and light—that’s what Kara calls us. Total opposites.

  I’d never admit that what the doc told me yesterday has put a deep, shaking fear into me—so much that I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. If I go blind I’ll be useless to anyone, especially myself.

  It doesn’t take James long before he finds the body. It’s a fresh grave. At this time of the year, it’s best to get to them quickly or the ground freezes up, making it impossible to snatch anything until the spring thaw.

  I throw the torch to the side and help him pull the coffin from the ground, ignoring his protests. It’s hard work and both of us are sweating buckets by the time we’re finished. I grab the crowbar and get to work on the lid. The woman was rich and insisted on being buried wearing her jewelry. How stupid. Can’t take it with you—that’s what Kara says. But we’d be more than happy to take it from you.

  “Damn. Look at that rock,” I say, squinting at the egg-size jewel on her necklace.

  “I know. She knew how to live.”

  “And now she knows how to die. Paper says she choked to death on some fancy food at a party.” I peel the jewels from her wrists, fingers and neck, and toss them in my canvas bag. “What about the body?”

  James twists the small gold cross at his throat, his expression turning thoughtful. “We’re taking it, too.”

  I hate this part the most. Stealing jewelry is fine. Stealing bodies...I’d never get used to it. “Let’s leave her this time.”

  “Leave her?” James frowns. “You know Kara will be furious if we don’t do exactly what she says.”

  “Do we always have to do what Kara says?”

  Frown forgotten, a typical grin creeps across my brother’s face. “You always do, kid. Anything she asks and then you beg for more. Why should this be any different?”

  “Ass.” His comment earns him another glare, even if it’s true. I hated when he called me kid. I’m fifteen now, just turned. At sixteen, my brother thinks he knows everything.

  Stealing bodies to sell to the medical school is the least that Kara asks of us in her grand schemes. Her goals have grown much darker now that she’s joined that new club of hers. She claims it’s going to give her all the power she ever wanted—by tapping into the occult.

  I don’t believe any of that. I’m too busy to waste my time chasing fa
iry tales. I’d leave that kind of nonsense to her.

  She isn’t with us tonight. She’s with her new friend as they attempt to summon a spirit from the beyond.

  What a waste of time.

  Fingers of dread crawl over my flesh as I look down at the dead woman’s face. I hate graveyards. And tonight feels worse than normal.

  “Something wrong?” James asks.

  “I don’t trust her.”

  “Who, Kara? That makes two of us.” James’s grin holds. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re in this together, you and me. Till the end.”

  I nod, reassured. “Till the end.”

  “She gets the body, we get the jewels. We’ll scrape together enough to get your eyes fixed or get the best goddamned pair of specs in the whole—”

  Snap!

  Bishop got to his feet and staggered back from me across my bedroom until he hit the wall.

  “What—?” he began, his brows drawn tightly together. “What did you just do?”

  I didn’t get up from the floor. Instead, I stared at him, my eyes wide. “I don’t know.”

  And I didn’t. When I normally had my mind melds with Bishop, I saw through his eyes—but I was still me. This time, it was different. I wasn’t me. I wasn’t there. It was all Bishop—his thoughts, his emotions, his everything.

  “What did you see?” he asked quietly.

  I had no idea what it would have felt like for him. He didn’t usually realize when I had my “normal” peeks into his daily life. But this time he did.

  “You and Kraven...” My breath came quicker. “You were grave robbers. A woman, her body—you were going to sell it to a medical school. She had some jewelry, too, you were going to sell. You were fifteen, and your eyes...I think you were going blind.”

  His face paled. “You saw my memories.”

  I stared at him, then nodded. Silence stretched between us. All I could hear was the sound of my heart hammering in my chest as I slumped back on my heels. The throw rug was my only protection from the cold wood floor.

  “That is a very dangerous talent you have, Samantha.” He said it softly, but I’d never heard him say anything with more of a dangerous edge to it. It made goose bumps break out over my arms. “Don’t do that again.”

  “I wasn’t trying to do it. It just happened.” I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands until I summoned my courage again. “Who’s Kara?”

  When I looked up, my window was open again.

  Bishop was gone.

  The cold air blew in, chilling me to my bones, even as my hunger began to fade.

  Chapter 12

  I think I got about an hour of sleep that night. If that.

  My brain worked overtime, trying to process what I’d seen. What I’d learned. Focusing on Bishop’s memory was good for one thing, though—it took my mind off Stephen. Off Julie. Off my own problems.

  Since Bishop’s eyes were bad back then, I hadn’t gotten a very good glimpse at anything, but I could tell this much...based on the clothes the dead woman wore, the jewelry, how Kraven was dressed...

  It was a long time ago. But how long?

  Seeing this memory brought forth another thousand questions that now needed answering. But nobody was willing to answer them.

  All I knew was that he and Kraven had been grave robbers. Bishop had been fifteen, and Kraven, sixteen—so approximately three years before they died. They worked for somebody named Kara, who they didn’t trust—a woman who was getting into the occult. That didn’t bode well for what I knew about their futures.

  It had been disturbing, but it hadn’t made me loathe Bishop or fear him. I didn’t know why he wanted to keep his past from me so badly that he wouldn’t even tell me his real name.

  After I forced myself out of bed, had a shower and got dressed, I saw Cassandra downstairs. I half expected her to know about Bishop’s midnight visit, as if she might have some kind of angelic intuition about this sort of thing, or felt the spark of energy between us that still, hours later, made my skin tingle.

  The angel gave me a weary look. “I’m still tired.”

  “Join the insomnia club,” I said, nodding at the cupboard. “Coffee’s up there.”

  “Will that help me?”

  “Probably not. But it’ll feel like it does for a little while. My mother swears by the stuff to get her through a long day. I think she’s one of Starbucks’s best customers.”

  Cassandra got the canister of coffee down and looked at it, confused. Finally, I took it from her and helped make a pot of coffee, then fixed it for her like my mother would—heavy on the cream and sugar.

  She sipped from the mug gingerly, then gave me a smile. “I like it.”

  “Hooray.” I sat down at the kitchen table after grabbing some toast and peanut butter—the pieces piled high on my plate to help stave off my constant hunger. I had a cup of coffee, too, even though it wasn’t my drink of choice. Then I gave the angel a guarded look. “So off to do your mission today?”

  “Of course.”

  “The mission with the others or your supersecret one?”

  She blanched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t prepared to tell her I read her mind the other night. At least, a small piece of it. It would raise too many questions I didn’t want to answer right now. “If you say so.”

  Cassandra’s real agenda for being sent here wasn’t my concern—at least, I didn’t think it was. Today, I had to get my bearings again. I had to find Stephen. I’d been so close at the mall yesterday—I had to find him before...

  I took a gulp of the hot coffee and swallowed it down.

  If he went through stasis, if he turned into a total sociopath instead of only a part-time jerk...

  Then I was in serious trouble. Without my soul I was next on the list to either turn evil or die.

  My attention was again drawn to the blond angel standing nervously by my kitchen sink. She gripped the counter behind her. Her skin was pale. This wasn’t the warrior I’d seen kick Roth’s ass on Saturday night. Something was wrong with her.

  Concern welled inside me. “You okay?”

  She blinked, as if my voice summoned her out of her deep thoughts. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Of course I am.”

  “You seem a little distracted this morning.”

  “Sleep is important. I failed to get enough.”

  “That’s all it is?”

  She brought her coffee mug to the table and sat down across from me. “It’s different here. I—I feel different from when I’m home. The sleeping is one thing. The need to eat is another.”

  “Okay.” She was starting to worry me. “What’s wrong, Cassandra?”

  Her blue eyes raised to mine. “Emotions. They’re...troubling.”

  “In general, or your emotions?”

  “Mine.” She swallowed hard. “It’s like a sensory rush—a wave crashing over me. Too much all at once. I can barely process it.”

  “Is that because you’re one of the hosts?”

  She nodded. “It would be different for one who was once human. They’d already have experienced all of this. But for me...” Her cheeks reddened. “I need to be focused while I’m here. It’s so important that I don’t get distracted. But...it’s proving to be a challenge. Especially when I’m around him.”

  Him.

  My grip tightened on my coffee mug. The hot liquid burned my fingertips through the ceramic, but I didn’t let go. “I’m not following.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow if she was talking about Bishop. Jealousy poked its pointed head up and glanced around with a sour look on its face.

  She forced a smile. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

  Was she trying to say she was falling for Bishop? That being around him made her feel things—confusing things?

  My chair made an unhappy squeaking sound as I pushed back from the table. “I need to go to school.”

  Cassandra looked alarmed at the suggestion. “
Do you think that’s wise? A school would be filled with human souls. It could be dangerous for you.”

  “Yeah, well, if I don’t go I’ll start failing my classes. You have goals, I have goals. Sometimes those goals are different.”

  I didn’t know what was up with Cassandra’s melancholy angel act, but I knew it had something to do with Bishop.

  The thought tied my stomach up into unpleasant origami shapes that looked a lot like two angels in love.

  * * *

  McCarthy High was only a few blocks from my house, its expansive grounds covered in big trees and grassy lawns, although the leaves had fallen from the trees by this time of the year and the lawns weren’t quite as green as they were when school started early last month. Winding paths led to the football field and the parking lot. This was my fourth year here. I was a senior. A veteran. I knew this place like the back of my hand. And I could tell when something was different, even if it took me a second to realize what it was. When I saw it, my stomach sank.

  The flag out front was at half-mast.

  The news about Julie’s suicide was public knowledge.

  Holding tightly on to my control, I weaved through the crowded halls toward my locker. I couldn’t help but overhear the talk about Julie. Mostly people were shocked, overwhelmed, upset. Some were openly crying and consoling each other, those who knew her well enough to call her a friend. However, I overheard two girls being snarky, making snide comments like “some bitches deserve to die.”

  I sent a withering look in their direction, which they barely noticed.

  Then I banged into a guy from my afternoon history class, Noah—the one planning the big Halloween party. He gave me a slow smile. I forced a shaky one, too, even though his soul made it difficult to think. Orbit of hunger. Bad.

  “Hey, Sam,” he said. “Looking good this morning.”

  I eyed him warily. “If you say so. I guess lack of sleep becomes me.”

  He laughed drily before sobering. “Sucks about Julie, but I know she would have wanted me to go ahead with my plans. You coming to my party on Wednesday night?”