Evernight

by Kristen Callihan

  Head bent and neck exposed, Will cradled his ruined arms to his chest and waited for the deathblow. Cool air caressed his skin.

  “Get up,” Darby said. “And get out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Agony flared from Will’s arms to the point where he actively pleaded with his body to turn them from weak flesh to hard metal. Even so, it was a shock when his body obeyed, and the intense burn altered to the heavy weight of platinum. It took shockingly little effort to change back to flesh, healed now, his skin as smooth as a lad’s.

  If only all things could be solved so quickly. He cupped Holly’s elbow and hurried her along the darkened street, wanting, needing, to have her safely indoors. Home. They needed to be home.

  “That seemed too easy,” Holly murmured, breaking the silence. “Well, aside from what they did to you. That was… I’m not pleased with you, I’ll have you know. You scared the devil out of me.”

  Will ought not be amused. Even so, his brisk stride broke measure, and he fought a small smile. “Noted.”

  He frowned. “We were let go for a reason, but damned if I know what.” Despite the urge to get to relative safety, he stopped and pressed a hand to his aching eyes.

  Holly stopped as well. Standing by his side with quiet patience. It lanced his heart anew.

  “You haven’t said a word about it,” he said in a low voice, unable to look at her.

  She remained quiet, but her touch upon his arm was gentle, warm. He wanted to shrug her off or pull her closer. Will took a breath, self-disgust making the task difficult.

  “Will you not rail at me?” he asked into the silence. “Put me out of my misery, at the very least?”

  “William.” Her voice, so clean and smooth, soothed his frazzled nerves. No one called him William. Not since his mother. He hated the sound of his full name, snarled at anyone who dared use it. Save her. She made it something special. Something just between them.

  He knew she wanted him to acknowledge her. How could he? When he’d done this thing to her?

  “Look at me,” she commanded softly.

  It hurt, lifting his head to face her. He wanted to sink to his knees, wrap his arms about her narrow waist, and beg her to never let him go. Instead, he merely held himself steady, waiting for the lash of her tongue.

  By the light of the moon, she was a study of pale cream and blue-grey. Her features were not tight with censure but drawn with concern. “Do you expect me to be cross with you?”

  Though he did not deserve to touch her, he couldn’t stop himself from clasping her upper arms and drawing her closer. “I am responsible for you being in danger. I asked for them to kill you.”

  “Yes, and then you came to do the job yourself.” She stared up at him, her expression bland as porridge. “Or do you not recall how we reconnected?”

  “ ‘Reconnected?’ ” he repeated with a weak, humorless laugh. “Bloody hell, woman, how simple you make it all sound.”

  “Because it is simple—”

  “It is nothing of the sort,” he ground out. “It makes me ill, down to my marrow, to think that my selfish ravings could have been responsible for your death.”

  Her slim hands wrapped about his forearms, warming him even though he naturally burned hotter. “You had a valid reason for desiring it at the time.”

  “There is no valid reason for ordering the death of another.” Only now, after all these years, did he believe it. He was utterly exhausted by death, wanted no part in dealing in it. He simply wanted to be. With her.

  Her hand came up to cup his jaw, and the tip of her gloved thumb stroked his bottom lip. “Yesterday and tomorrow do not matter. Isn’t that what you said?”

  Still frozen, he searched her face, wanting to answer but not finding the words. Her smile was wry. “You see? I’ve been listening to you all along. The rest of the world can go to the devil. I will not regret a thing, because I have you with me here and now—”

  He hauled her against him and kissed her. Hard, desperately. With both hands, he gripped her hair and held her in place, his chest heaving as he kissed her again and again. When she simply opened her mouth to his, letting him in, his frantic need tempered. And he slowed, exploring her with greater care.

  “Have you any idea—” his mouth brushed over hers, his tongue slipping in between her lips to lick her depths, once, twice—“how much I crave you?”

  She stretched up to meet him, wrapping her arms about his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair. “Tell me,” she murmured before suckling his upper lip.

  Will cursed and held her tighter. Through the layers of fabric and bustle, he found the plump curve of her arse and grasped, lifting her high and pressing her back against the rough brick wall of a nearby building with his hips.

  “I go to sleep to thoughts of your cunny. I want to lick those sweet lips, learn the taste of you with my tongue.”

  She shuddered, delicately, and it inflamed him. He canted his head, opened her mouth wider, thrusting his tongue deeper. In and out, as he ground his cock between her spread legs. He shuddered too, heat and need licking up his back.

  “I ache to suckle the tender tips of your breasts,” he whispered into her mouth, the heat of her panting breath and the slick warmth of her tongue inflaming him further. “Just the tips. Gently, oh so gently. Tease and lick them until you’re out of your head with wanting. Until you’re begging for me to fill you up.”

  “Will…” Holly moaned, her fingers digging into the bunched muscles along his shoulders.

  A surge of lust hit him so hard that his knees went weak, and he ground himself against her, his cock throbbing with impatience. “Bloody hell, how I want to come into you.”

  With trembling fingers, he traced the edges of her mouth even as he kissed her.

  “I remember,” he said. “With every waking breath, I remember how hot and tight you were around my cock. The way your quim milked me with sweet, firm tugs when you came.”

  She whimpered, moving her hips as if begging for the same.

  “Do you remember, Holly?” He canted his hips, thrusting his cock up along her sex, the layers of clothing between them a maddening barrier. “Does it haunt you the way it haunts me?”

  “Yes.” She shivered, and her fingers plunged into his hair, as if to keep him from leaving. Never. “Yes.”

  Close. So close. She would come in his arms, and then he’d take her home and start all over again.

  He didn’t hear the threat, wasn’t even aware of it until a hard hand grabbed the back of his neck and flung him into the opposite wall. Will’s body slammed into it, sending bits of mortar and old brick flying. His brain sloshed in his skull, his fangs slicing into his bottom lip. Blood filled his mouth as red took over his vision. He struggled to rise but the ground shook as though the very earth were breaking up beneath him.

  A shadowed figure loomed.

  “You dare touch her,” the man said. As if he had the right that Will had not.

  In an instant, Will launched himself at the man, his now-metal fist smashing into a flesh-and-bone face. The man grunted, staggering. Not enough.

  Will fell upon the man, even as Holly screamed, shouting something. A blow caught him on the head, hard and far too strong. Will lashed out with his claws, only to be engulfed in flames.

  Brilliant orange and red, they surrounded him, eating at his clothes with fiery teeth. A violent wind blew over him, giving strength to the flames. He grabbed hold of the man beneath him, hauling him up by his lapels. Pale eyes glared in fury as the flames burned hotter.

  “I’m a demon,” Will pointed out. “I bloody love the fire.” He smashed his forehead into the bastard’s nose.

  The man didn’t flinch, nor lose his grip, but grinned, an evil gesture full of blood and menace. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

  Before Will could throw another punch, or tear the man’s throat out with his fangs, a wall of ice engulfed him. Frozen, he fell to the side, a thousand shards of agony s
piking through him as he clattered upon the pavers and lay there, helpless and silent.

  “Thorne! Sin!”

  Now that flames weren’t shooting up in the air, threatening to burn down the entire area, Holly picked her way over the broken pavement to the men upon the ground and promptly smacked the victor in the back of his thick head. “You bloody idiot!”

  “Ow!” Sin groused, rubbing the abused spot before he turned and stood. “And you’re welcome.”

  Holly put her hands upon her hips. “For what? Attacking an innocent man? Bloody hell and damnation, unfreeze him.” She crouched beside Thorne, who lay encased in a thick layer of ice. His eyes were frozen open, wide and pained and enraged. “Now!”

  Sin’s eyes narrowed, as he shifted from one foot to the other. Around him an irate wind swirled, picking up the flame red ends of his hair. “He was going to tear my throat out.”

  “Because you were trying to turn him into kindling. Now hurry up.” Her hand settled on Thorne’s ice-encrusted shoulder, not letting go even though the contact burned. “You’re hurting him.”

  Muttering, Sin took a breath and let his power surge. The air about Thorne misted as Sin melted the ice. The moment his face was free, Thorne let out a gurgling growl. Chunks of ice fell and splattered to the ground as slush as he tried to rise, staggering and falling back when he could not. Holly wrapped an arm about his shoulder.

  “Who is he?”

  Thorne and Sin spoke as one, then each glared at the other.

  “Will,” Holly said, holding onto him harder than necessary, for she could feel his renewed attempts to attack, “this is my cousin, St. John Evernight. Sin, this is Mr. William Thorne, my friend.”

  “Friend,” Sin scoffed. “He had his hands all over you.”

  “Some women,” Thorne cut in snidely, “welcome that sort of thing.”

  Tiny flames flickered in Sin’s green eyes. He took a small step forward, his hands clenching. “Fancy another cool down, Thorne?”

  Beneath Holly’s hand, Thorne’s body tensed. His fangs dropped down. “You only get one cheap shot. And yours has passed. Next time, I’ll take your head.”

  “Oh, hush,” Holly snapped. “Both of you.” She caught Sin’s gaze and held it. “Apologize to Mr. Thorne.”

  Sin’s nostrils flared. He appeared both younger than he really was and capable of setting the entire alleyway to blazes. Or destroying it in an earthquake. The ground gave an ominous rumble.

  “I realize you were trying to protect me, dearest,” she said in a gentle tone. “But the fact remains that you attacked Mr. Thorne in error.”

  At her side, Thorne began to shiver. He tried quite admirably to hide it, but she was close enough to notice. His clothes were soaking wet and falling off in burnt, black tatters. She moved to pull off her cloak, intent on covering him, when his hand found her hip and gave it a warning squeeze. He would not show a weakness. Even if it made him ill. Bloody stubborn man.

  Sin took another sharp breath, reluctance outlining his body and making his jaw clench. “I apologize… No!” He shook his head. “I cannot. You expect me to act politely when I hear my cousin crying out, when I see her being shoved against a wall?” He pointed at her in accusation. “You think I should wait? What if he’d had a knife?”

  “A bloody good point,” Thorne said mildly. “I would not have hesitated either.”

  Sin’s black brows rose in surprise, but a small smile curled over his lips. “There, you see?” he said to her.

  “I see that you’re both barbarians.”

  “Bosh,” Sin said. “You’d do the same.”

  “I’d have the sense,” Holly retorted, “to discern between a true attack and a…” She trailed off with a flush.

  “A bloody good kiss?” Thorne supplied with cheek.

  Shoving away from him, Holly rose and wiped her hands upon her grimy skirts. “I ought to have left you on ice.”

  Thorne grunted and jumped to his feet. A graceful move, likely designed to convey that he was unaffected. But Holly did not miss the pinched corners of his mouth.

  “You her man, then?” Sin asked, his gaze raking over Thorne in assessment.

  “Yes,” Thorne said.

  “No,” Holly said.

  They eyed each other warily.

  “He bloody better well be.” Sin’s brows rose in outrage. “After the display I just witnessed.”

  Holly took a step in his direction. “You, sir,” she poked his chest, “are not my father. So kindly keep your own council on matters that are not your business.”

  “Ah,” said Thorne with a soft smile, “there’s the Evernight I know and love.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  St. John Evernight was an odd duck. Will settled back into the warmth of the massive davenport in Evernight House’s library and let his arm brush against Holly’s. After his having been turned into a demon ice-block, she was far warmer than he, and his body eased in a dozen different ways. But he kept his focus on St. John. Or Sin. With coal black hair—that ended, strangely enough, in red tips—and frost green eyes, he was certainly striking. Almost pretty in his handsomeness. Will recalled that his sisters were all beautiful in their own right, most especially the youngest, Miranda. A celebrated beauty, Lady Archer’s portraits hung from shop windows. If one was so inclined, one could buy a postcard of her for a bob.

  But St. John hardly appeared capable of any real sin. The boy—and Will hated to acknowledge that he’d been felled by a boy—was no more than nineteen or twenty, tall and lanky, with the tenderness of youth softening his cheeks. Power radiated from him, almost unstable in its vibrations. Will had never encountered an elemental capable of controlling all the elements. More troubling, however, was the darkness that oozed out of the boy. He was no mere elemental. One blow from Will would have killed him otherwise. No, Sin was something heretofore unclassified.

  He would, Will concluded, make a most excellent jewel in the Nex’s crown. The notion sat heavily within him. Before he’d have found an excuse to leave, go directly to headquarters, and make plans to arrange a meeting between Mr. Evernight and the council.

  But Will was free now. Utterly and completely free from any and all obligation. Part of him felt buoyant, ready to laugh and dance about just for the fun of it. But the greater part of him worried. Alamut had let him go for a reason. And he knew very well that it had nothing to do with him. He didn’t know for certain but it almost felt as though they’d been paid to retreat. He simply could not come up with another scenario that explained their odd actions. But if that were so, then who’d paid them and why?

  Beside him, Holly stirred. Again he fought the urge to gather her close and hide her away from everything.

  “Are you here to stay?” she asked.

  Will nearly shouted, “Yes, forever, always.” But then he realized she was speaking to her cousin.

  The lad cleared his throat. “Ah, no. I mean, I’ll stay the night. It’s late enough.” He scratched at a spot just behind his ear. “I came to find you because I have something to discuss with you, Hol.” Green eyes turned to Will. “Alone.”

  Holly suppressed a sigh as the tension in the room expanded. Really, Sin’s tact needed smoothing.

  “I’m rather weary tonight,” Holly said to Sin. “So please dispense of the theatrics and say what you need to say.”

  Sin shot to his feet and began to pace. “Am I no longer granted a private audience with my own family?” The hurt and irritation in Sin’s voice was clear.

  “I’ll go,” Thorne offered. It was kind of him. Right of him.

  “No,” she said. “I need you here.” She was unhinged in ways she couldn’t yet analyze, but that much was true. She needed him close to her tonight or she’d go mad.

  Thorne’s gaze went soft, then hot. “Then you shall have me.”

  Sin scoffed. “Bloody perfect.”

  Holly turned her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, darling. If you’d rather speak to me alone
tomorrow, we can do that.”

  Sin paused, his mouth turning down at the corners. “Were you hurt tonight? Are you well?”

  “I’m fine. Only tired.” And she was. Every day, exhaustion built within her, and that strange, pained weight grew within her flesh.

  Thorne squeezed her hand but kept silent.

  With an awkward nod, Sin opened his mouth, but then closed it before sitting back upon the chair. “It’s about Eliza May.”

  Holly went very still. She hadn’t forgotten her lost cousin, but she had not told Sin about what had happened to her either. “What do you know of Eliza?”

  His green eyes narrowed, catlike and glowing celadon green in the firelight. “More than you, to be sure.”

  “Who,” Thorne cut in, “is Eliza May?”

  “A distant cousin,” Holly answered. “Come over from America last year. She met a bad end of sorts with a bunch of roughs.”

  “Aye,” added Sin. “And now she’s with that sod, Adam.”

  Holly’s brows lifted in surprise. “And just how do you know this?”

  Sin grew very interested in the damask pattern covering the chair. “There are things I cannot say. Not,” he hurried on, “because I don’t want to, but because I literally cannot.”

  “Sin.” Holly grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “Are you in trouble? Danger? I cannot think anything less when you say such things. Tell me that, at the very least.”

  He gave her a squeeze in return. “No, Holly berry. I’m not in danger. But Eliza is. And I need to help her.”

  Thorne held up a hand as he leaned forward, his gaze cutting between Holly and Sin. “Let me see if I have this straight. Adam, the creator of all the GIM, an immortal of unknown origin and unknown weaknesses, has absconded with your cousin, and you want to hunt him down and take her back?”

  “That is the short of it,” Sin said tightly.

  Thorne snorted, running a hand through his flowing hair. “Oh, well that’s bloody good. Good luck to you, lad.”