“Ready, Miss Evernight,” he called out with evil glee.
Unfortunately, he might as well have been a piece of furniture for all the attention she gave him. No, she simply glided up to the table and looked down at him with her usual detachment. “Yesterday, after you’d fainted—”
“Collapsed,” he corrected. “Men do not swoon or faint. They might collapse, however. After protecting their woman against any and all threats. Although, in my case, it was really more of having a rest, if we want to be precise.”
Her lips pursed and twitched at the corners. “While you took your rest, I had to use a significant punch of power to help you.” She stared down at him, solemn, thoughtful. “It was tiring for me, which is ineffective in the long run.”
He hated the twinge of guilt that pinched his gut. “Is there a point?”
“Yes.” She drew up a stool and sat at his side. Suddenly, the vantage point made him uneasy. He wanted to stand and loom over her so that she could not look down her nose at him. But he would be damned if he showed his displeasure. So he lay as if at perfect ease.
“You see,” she went on, oblivious, “I believe that it would be better for both parties if I were to take my time about repairing your altered flesh.”
“Take your time?” He sounded like a bloody parrot, but he didn’t understand.
“Think of it as a treatment, as opposed to a quick dose of medicine.” She lifted her hand, but hesitated, as if she didn’t want to let it fall. But then she took a breath and rested her hand upon his arm. He felt the touch down to his bones.
“I’m going to…” She cleared her throat. “I shall rub you down, thoroughly concentrating on each area. Hopefully, it will slow the progress of the metal more effectively than simply putting my hand upon your chest.”
A slow, wide grin pulled at his lips. “Let me see if I have this correctly,” he said, struggling not to crow, “you are going to rub your hands all over my body…”—she narrowed her eyes in distaste, which only made his grin reach epic proportions—“slowly and thoroughly—”
“Really, Mr. Thorne.”
“While my part in it is to lie here and take it?” His cheeks ached from smiling. “Is that the plan?”
“If you are going to act like a juvenile, then I shall be forced to leave.” Scowling, she moved to stand, but he had his hand clamped around her forearm before her bum could lift from her seat.
He tried his best to be serious. “It’s a good plan, Evernight.” An excellent plan. One he could not wait to implement.
Her frown of annoyance remained for a moment, then she set her hands upon his arm and closed her eyes. Warmth swept over him. Her lips parted, and her brow furrowed as she breathed in and out, her breasts rising and falling with each exhalation. The whole effect was so similar to one of a woman being slowly and thoroughly tupped that Will nearly groaned.
Sweet mother of mercy, but he hadn’t thought this out; his cock reacted as if stroked, rising swiftly and going iron hard. And he’d have to lie here, pretending that her soft, cool hands slowly running along his flesh weren’t the very best thing he’d felt in his life. Pretend that he didn’t want her to reach under the cover and clasp his aching erection and give it a nice squeeze.
A strangled noise gurgled in his throat. She stilled, her eyes opening a bit. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” he managed.
“Do you feel it working?”
Something worked just fine. “A bit.”
Nodding, she closed her eyes again and slid her hands over his shoulder and along his chest. Her fingertip grazed his nipple. He felt it in his cods. Bloody hell. He would die before this torture was over.
“If this works as I believe it will,” she said, cutting through his haze, “we shall do this daily.”
“Very well.” It came out as a strangled breath.
Her keen eyes cut to his, and it took all he had to return her bland stare. Almost immediately, her lids lowered, and her attention returned to his body. Relief and torture all at once. Will took a breath and focused on the coffered ceiling above, counting the squares there.
One. Her hands skimmed along his collarbones. Two. The stool beneath her groaned as she stood and circled the table, dragging her hands down his opposite arm. Three. The warmth of her palms mapped the line of his hip, moving down to his thigh.
Satan’s. Balls. He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth. His cock twitched, his stones drawn so tight they ached. Her profile, serene, set with concentration, filled his view. The tip of her thumb skimmed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and he broke out into a hot sweat.
Ceiling. Just count the squares on the ceiling.
Then she clasped his knee. He nearly shot off the table.
Evernight’s dark brow raised a fraction. “Ticklish?”
It was a knee. A sodding joint. It shouldn’t be so sensitive. Her holding it, her lithe fingers stroking the back of it, ought not to make his abdomen clench and his thighs tense. But it did. Will gripped the cover, wadding it over his erection, with fingers that had grown claws.
“Yes,” he lied. It was either that or toss the cover aside and pull her down to him. But she wasn’t even flushed. No, Miss Ever-bloody-night simply stared down at the limb she’d uncovered as if it held all the interest of a piece of machinery. Less than, he thought bitterly. Her damned inventions were her pride and joy. He was more like a side of beef.
She moved on, which was no better for him. He’d never known how sensitive his calves, his feet, his damned toes were until she’d touched them. Even though he was in sensual agony, his pain left him. His tormented flesh grew lethargic, warm, and liquid as she worked him over.
Until only his cock remained hard as steel. By the time she’d finished with him, with a little encouraging pat and a request that he rest quiet like a good lad, there was no point in denying it: Holly Evernight would be the death of him.
Chapter Nine
Holly knew the moment Thorne left the house. She felt it in her bones, in the leaden weight that seemed to settle within her breast whenever he strayed. It disturbed her that she missed him, that some part of her reveled in his presence. Why? He was a pain in her arse, a rude clod, smarmy, obnoxious. And he’d wanted to kill her.
Despondent and having had little sleep, she retired early. Which she hadn’t done since she was six years old. Where had he gone? Would he return? He had to. If only because he needed her to heal him.
Holly wanted to punch her pillow. “Bollocks.”
“If mam and da heard you say that, they’d have your hide.”
The unexpected voice in her room sent a bolt of terror through her, and she flew upright, the knife at her bedside hurtling through the air at her silent command.
Sin, sitting in a chair by the flickering fire, ducked, avoiding it, only just. “Jaysus, Hol,” he said, as the knife imbedded in the wall behind his head and he righted. “What sort of welcome is that to give a fellow?”
Heart still racing, Holly pressed a hand to her chest and struggled for a breath. “The sort that bleedin’ eedjits receive when sneaking into my room without invitation.” Sin could get her Irish up like no other. “Have you no notion for your own safety, boy?”
He snorted, then rose, his tall frame uncoiling with uncommon grace. “As if you could bring me down.” He grinned then, his green eyes twinkling. “It’s good to see you, even if it means ducking one of your wee blades.”
It was her turn to snort as he promptly plopped onto her bed and leaned in to ruffle her hair. She swatted his hand away then kissed his cheek.
Holly and Sin had been raised as brother and sister. In truth, neither of them had known who his real family was until his sister, Lady Miranda Archer, had arrived at Evernight Hall three years ago. Oh, they’d known he’d been adopted into her family, but they hadn’t imagined that he was the lost brother of the Ellis sisters—one of whom was Holly’s director, Mrs. Poppy Lane. Their parents knew, of course, but they’d
kept that particular secret quite well.
The revelation hadn’t changed things between him and Holly, however. They were close. He would always be her baby brother. A pest and her closest friend. With Sin, she felt young and carefree.
“It’s good to see you too,” she told him. “And mind your boots. I don’t want London muck on my bedding.”
Grumbling, Sin took off his boots then laid back next to her on the bed, just as he’d done countless times throughout their childhood. Holly sighed and settled against his shoulder. His familiar scent and shape was a sorely needed comfort. “Did you just get in?”
“Close to it.” Sin never answered a question directly, which annoyed her to no end. But she let it go.
“How long are you staying?” Holly asked.
He was silent for too long. “I’m staying with Miranda and Archer.”
The lump grew. “Oh.” So he preferred his blood sister now.
Sin knew her too damned well. “It isn’t like that, Hol.” He turned to face her, and a lock of his dark, red-tipped hair fell over his brow. “I…” He huffed out a breath. “I still can’t control myself properly. Miranda, Poppy, and Daisy are helping.”
Sin had a great many powers. None of which he had been able to handle when he was younger. It had been a source of constant worry for their parents.
“And,” he added with a cheeky grin, “Archer is teaching me how to fence.”
“Oh, well, I can see how sword fighting tops learning your maths,” Holly groused. Sin was wretched at his maths, and the task to teach him fell to Holly. When he didn’t slip away from the lessons, that was.
His handsome face wrinkled with a great scowl. “I’d rather be skewered, if truth be told.” He laughed when Holly shoved at him with her elbow. But his humor soon fled, leaving behind a look that was almost a reprimand. “And you’ve a guest, haven’t you?”
Holly refused to squirm. “Was it Nan or Felix who tattled?” She caught his guilty expression. “Or have you been playing spy?”
Sin flushed then scowled. “He’s a sanguis, Holly. Which is bad enough, but there’s something off about the demon.”
So then, he’d been spying. Sin always did. He’d cling to quiet corners and watch the world move by.
“He’s none of your concern.”
The bed squeaked as Sin sat up. “Bollocks to that. You’re my concern, and so is he if he’s staying here. I’ll not have some blood-drinking, unnatural, hell-bred—”
“That is quite enough, St. John.” She’d thought of sanguis in much the same manner. Before. It upset her now to hear Thorne being described as such.
“It isn’t the half of it, Hol. What possible reason could you have to invite such a creature here?”
Holly sat as well. “He’s my lover. Are you satisfied now?”
Oh, but it was worth the fib to see Sin burn bright red and start to sputter. “You,” he said through his teeth, “are not playing it fair.” Cursing under his breath, he reached for his boots. “Putting those sorts of images in my head and lying too!” He glared at her over his shoulder. “Oh, I know ye are, ye little harridan.”
“So certain, are you?”
“Aye.” He stood, his arms crossed over his chest, looking for all the world like a harridan himself. “For if it were true, you’d never willingly admit to it.”
No, she wasn’t Thorne’s lover, but the thought was intriguing. A blush heated her cheeks, and Sin cursed roundly before calming himself with a deep breath.
“Will you not tell me the truth of your situation?” he asked quietly. So quietly that Holly half-feared he already knew. But that couldn’t be, because he’d be shouting and making all sorts of demands for her return to Ireland.
“I already have.” It sounded exactly like the evasion that it was.
They stared each other down until Holly’s eyes burned with the need to blink. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Finally, Sin broke with a long, put-out sigh. “I didn’t come here to fight, aye?” Because he was so tall, Holly sometimes forgot that he was so young.
“All right, all right.” Holly held up her hands in surrender. “Let’s call pax then.”
Some of the starch left his shoulders. “Pax then.”
They smiled at each other, but then his faded. He hesitated for a breath. “Just let me say one thing, or I’ll never forgive myself. Don’t trust the sanguis. Don’t… Don’t get close to him.”
“Why on earth not? And you had better come up with something bloody better than he’s a bloody sanguis!”
“He is Nex, Hol.” Sin appeared outraged that he should even have to say as much.
“Was,” she corrected, feeling the fool for defending Thorne when she knew practically nothing about him. “They tossed him on his ear. And, anyway, how did you know that?”
“I know who he is. Did you think I wouldn’t check on what happened to you in that cellar? Try to learn all that I could so that I might help you heal? But you won’t let me in. You won’t let any of your family in.” Hurt tinged his voice. “Why trust him, Hol? Is it guilt that has you keeping him here? Or fear?”
“You go too far, Sin.” But Holly wanted to curl in on herself. Was she merely doing this out of guilt? Would she have helped Thorne if he hadn’t offered to help her in return?
“Once Nex, always Nex,” Sin said. “You ought to know that as well.” The quiet reminder was worse than shouting.
He left her, with the quick, inhuman speed he usually sought to hide. Holly ran to her window to catch sight of him, but he wasn’t there. Sighing, she moved to the window at the opposite wall, where it overlooked the Thames. There on the water, bathed in moonlight, an odd sight caught her eye, and her heart stilled within her breast.
Rushing to her worktable, Holly grabbed the small metallic cylinder that she’d been testing last month and ran back to the window. With shaking hands, she lifted the device and put it to her ear.
Safely away from Miss Evernight and her tempting hands, Will sat on the back terrace of Evernight House smoking a cigarette and gazing up at the silver-bright disk of the moon, visible for once, on this rare, clear night. Stars lay like glittering sand across the ink-blue sky. A perfect night. When was the last time he’d taken note of the sky?
Years. Long before he’d become Nex.
Absently, Will rubbed the scar on his chest. A breeze kicked up, bringing the briny scent of the Thames over the lawn. He watched the moonlight glinting on the river’s dark waters and drew in another deep breath. Candle wax and sulfur, just a tinge of them in the air. Tensing, he leaned in, bracing his forearms upon his knees as he peered at the river. A halo of golden light bobbed along, hovering a few feet above the dark water line.
A growl rumbled low in Will’s chest, and he rose, his body at the ready to defend the house. A second later, a small pontoon drifted into sight, guided by two sturdy-looking rowers. Will cocked his head in mild shock. Upon the flat, wooden raft sat a man, proper as you please, before a small dinner table covered with white linen and laid with fine crystal. Light from the brace of candles pooled over the table and danced over the man’s face, giving it the macabre image of a skull.
Not bothering to acknowledge Will in the least, the man simply carved into what appeared to be a slab of beefsteak as the pontoon eased to a slow halt before Evernight House. The man reached for his goblet of wine, and Will saw his face in full. Memories, swift and strong, slapped into him. Of his life, his duties. Of this man. Nex.
Will leapt high. His body arched through the air, the wind whistling in his ears. He landed lightly upon the pontoon, the craft barely registering his presence.
Aldous Nex finished his sip of wine before gently placing the glass down. “You always loved a showy entrance, Thorne.”
“Says the man having his dinner on a pontoon.”
Cold, soulless eyes bore into Will. “Take a seat.” Not a request.
Will complied. He wanted to know what Aldous, the supreme Nex elder, wanted. Foldin
g his length into the rather dainty dining chair, Will withdrew a case of cigarettes from his pocket. “Smoke?” he offered Aldous.
“Please.”
When they’d lit their cigarettes and wisps of fragrant smoke drifted up into the night, Will slouched back in his seat, adopting an indolent pose he knew would irk Aldous, and waited.
The man’s thin lips twitched, but he simply enjoyed his smoke before speaking. “Why have you not yet killed the Evernight girl?”
“Was I supposed to?” Will asked idly. Had the Nex sent him to kill Evernight? Why, when they’d cast him out? Vanity aside, there were far more levelheaded agents at their disposal for such a task.
Either his questions were clear on his face, or Aldous had expected him to wonder as much. “Rumor has it,” Aldous said, “that some fortunate soul shall be highly rewarded should he be the one to destroy Miss Evernight. As you always were an opportunist, and have a personal stake in her demise, why wouldn’t you try to kill her? Yet here you sit on her terrace, playing guard dog.” He stared at Will through a plume of smoke. “Not quite your style, sanguis.”
“And here I thought I would never be so prosaic as to acquire a set style.” Will shrugged lightly, but the look he gave Aldous was not. “I have a personal stake in your demise too, Aldous Nex.”
The man laughed. “You gave away the identity of key agents to an SOS regulator so that he might slaughter them, and yet you have the temerity to resent us being rid of you? Oh, that is rich.”
“Agents who abused a fellow onus,” Will ground out through his teeth. Though “abuse” was far too weak a word for what they’d done to Jack. Will was only sorry that he hadn’t helped Jack tear those demons apart. “We are supposed to protect our kind, not torture them.”
Twin flames flickered in Aldous’s eyes, reminding Will that this was no mere man. “Loyalty to the Nex, Mr. Thorne, takes precedence above all things.”
Which is why, Will supposed, he did not belong anywhere. His loyalties were never blind. “Good thing what I do and why is no longer your business,” he said.
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