“You won’t have the lead in this.”
She glanced up. Alejandro must have read either her face or her psychic scent. Reading his in turn was difficult, but a note of apology had filtered through his voice.
Had he thought she’d be disappointed? In almost every battle they’d fought together, she’d taken the lead. But this wasn’t her usual battle, and her skills were better suited for backup and support. She saw no shame in taking the rear and keeping a quiet tongue. Her blade was still sharp.
She vanished the wallet. “If you had put me in as lead, I would’ve named you an idiot.”
“And I would have lied and said that Lilith made the decision.”
His dry response pulled a short laugh from her. His forefinger stroked down the center of his clean-shaven chin in a gesture as sensuous as it was familiar.
“What do you wonder, Olek?”
The wry smile in his eyes told her he had many questions, but he limited himself to one. “The novices heard you were the first to make a vampire. Several have come to me, asking about the story. I had nothing to tell them.”
The novices had gone to him? Because she and Alejandro were well known as friends. Perhaps they all thought as Jake did.
“She fought a nosferatu and was dying. After I killed it, I gave her the heart,” she said. “The next morning the sun rose, and she died.”
Olek did know her so well that she didn’t need to add more. She saw that he understood it all: her admiration for the girl; the frustration of not anticipating her death; the weight of failure.
Perhaps the novices had been right to go to him.
But he still surprised her when he said, “You saw yourself in her?”
“Yes.” The girl had reminded Irena of when she’d been a human. And if the girl had died saving another, rather than fighting for her own life, she would have been made a Guardian, too.
“Do you still grieve for her?”
For the girl Irena had admired but hardly knew, or for the opportunity lost in that life? Was there a difference?
“When I think of her.” Which was not so often, now that fifteen centuries had passed. Time could not always heal, but it could offer distance. “When I have to speak of her.”
“Then I will not make you speak of her, and will answer the novices’ questions for you.”
That sounded like protection. Irena didn’t know how to respond.
And suddenly, she could not. Everything inside her tensed as Alejandro lowered his head, his gaze holding hers. Her heart threatened to hammer through her chest. Slowly, she watched him descend.
His lips brushed hers, featherlight.
And she was unbalanced when he almost immediately lifted his head. Why had he—
It became clear. Her snarl formed on lips he’d barely touched. Was this comfort? He offered her comfort?
The first kiss he’d given her—the first kiss he’d taken—and it was nothing more than what she’d bestow on a friend. That was not what she wanted from Olek.
His dark gaze searched her face. She felt the touch of his mind, seeking out her feelings.
Did he want to know? She would show him.
Catching his shoulders, she dragged him down to her lips, and took his mouth as it needed to be taken.
As she needed to take it.
He didn’t fight. But he didn’t easily give in—not her Olek. No, he issued a challenge the moment he entered her mouth with a silken thrust of his tongue. The moment he tried to take control.
Irena wouldn’t let him. Bracing herself on the edge of the table, she wrapped her legs around his hips. She lifted to him and he slid against her, already fiercely aroused, his erection heated steel beneath his trousers. His kiss was wet, hot. She pulled at his hair, wanting more, deeper, now.
He pushed her back flat against the tabletop and followed her down, his weight heavy between her thighs. Her need burst open. She whipped him around, reversing their positions. When he lay back on the table, she lifted her head and froze.
Olek’s skin was flushed, his mouth reddened by her kiss. His face was as sharply defined as a newly whetted blade.
She’d done that to him. A multitude of emotions squeezed at her chest, locking away the words she wanted to find. Words that meant something.
His hands closed over her shoulders and hauled her back down.
Yes. His mouth against hers was enough. This was all that needed to be said.
She came all the way up on the table and straddled his hips, her knees spread wide. She licked the shallow dent in his chin. He rocked up against her core. Her inner muscles clenched with need, yearning to be satisfied, to be filled. She was so hungry. She couldn’t be hungrier, and yet it became sharper with each taste.
With impatient hands, she ripped his shirt open. A wedge of dark hair shadowed his chest, thinning to a silken line down the center of his stomach. She followed the trail with her fingers. His flesh burned, feverishly hot.
But nothing like the demon’s. She’d never touched that one. Her hands had remained fisted. Now, her open palms slid over his skin, claiming every inch.
Mine.
She took his mouth again. Olek’s hands slid to her ass, pressed her sex tight against his thick erection, grinding up against her. She panted and moved with him. By the gods, she was so wet, so empty. His mouth burned a path down her throat. She sat up and vanished her jacket, her shirt. His lips closed around her nipple. His mouth was hot. Oh, so hot. He licked, sucked. Her back arched and the ripples started, deep, deep.
She needed him pushing inside her. Needed to have him, to surround him. It would be fast. And hard.
And long, long overdue.
“Now, Olek.” Irena vanished her trousers and tore at his. “I need you in me now.”
In his body, she felt a hesitation. In his eyes, she saw calculation.
They both lasted only an instant, but she could think over that hesitation in the same amount of time. By the next instant, she understood.
The night before, she’d spoken of her disappointment that he had not fought for her—for any woman. And Olek wanted her. But this was not about fighting for her. He hadn’t intended that soft kiss to come to this, but just to sweeten her. And during that hesitation, he’d weighed the consequences of going further than he’d anticipated.
Yes, he’d had some subtle plan, because that was Olek. But not because he’d decided to fight for her. This was about his pride. Whether he wanted to prove something to himself or to her, she did not know.
She did not care.
Irena ripped away, leaving him on the table. He came up halfway, onto his elbow, and looked at her between his bent knees. The beauty of him, reddened by her mouth and disheveled by her hands, struck painfully deep. She’d always wanted to see him this way. The urge to return to him battled with the hurt that awaited her if they finished this for his reasons.
Even if his reasons had been lost beneath his own need. His eyes had darkened. They didn’t calculate now, but questioned.
Her body was taut, her voice even. “I do not wish to fuck your pride, Olek.”
He didn’t answer. And that, she thought, was answer enough.
She recreated her clothes. Her fingers shook when she dragged them through her hair.
“Irena—”
Her fury erupted. She struck at his silk-tongued mouth—and controlled herself at the last instant. She drove her fist through the table surface between his legs, instead.
The wood cracked, buckled. The table collapsed, taking Olek and his pride to the floor.
She left them lying there.
Alejandro sat, his head a heavy weight in his hands and anger burning through him—all of it directed at himself.
He was an idiot. And he should have anticipated her reaction when she realized what he was up to. But he hadn’t thought she would realize it. Stubborn, blinkered woman—yet she had seen. He’d prepared for the hammer and hadn’t expected the sword.
And h
e hadn’t known that soft kiss would spark an uncontrollable blaze. He should have known. Passion had never been a problem between them, even if they had only kissed the once.
Twice now. He could still feel her against him. Could still see her face as she’d pulled away.
God, what an unbelievable idiot he was. And if only he could see what to do now.
He couldn’t.
The door opened. Lilith stepped into the room with her hellhound at her side, and stopped short. Her lips pursed as she looked at him sitting in the middle of the broken table, his shirt ripped open.
“You trashed my conference room.”
Alejandro rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Yes.”
Her heels clipped across the floor. She crouched and picked out the catalog from the remnants of the table near his hip. “Was it because of this?”
“No.”
“Damn.” She stood, the catalog rolled in her hand. “All right. My office, one hour. And, for fuck’s sake, with your prick in your pants.”
He didn’t need to look. “It is.”
“No.” Lilith’s smile wasn’t kind. “Obviously it’s not, because four walls are still standing, and she’s not laid out on the floor next to you.”
His fingers clenched. And he’d let her go again. He should have gone after her and explained . . . what? That he’d been manipulating her? That his pride had been stung?
Irena already knew.
The door closed quietly behind Lilith. Alejandro rose to his feet, vanishing the table into his cache.
Even if they moved beyond the past, what of the present? Irena could not compromise; he could not draw as severe a line as she did. How to win her, without yielding his honor and everything he believed was right? It was impossible.
But to accept that it was impossible? To give up?
He could not do that again, either.
Earlier that morning, when Jorgenson had called Taylor into his office, she’d thought the tension in that room had been thick. But the captain could have taken lessons from the two Guardians standing on opposite sides of Lilith and Castleford’s office. Irena, in particular, had her death glare down to an art.
And Jorgenson had said her attitude needed adjusting. She’d have liked to introduce him to Irena.
So, for the first time in two years, she wasn’t the one in the room most likely to go flying off the edge, which meant this whole thing had started off much better than Taylor had thought it would.
Lilith’s hellhound lay in front of her desk, practically on Taylor’s feet. Sir Pup looked normal today—if normal was a Labrador who sported three heads and was the size of a small pony. The huge teeth and steel-spiked fur weren’t in evidence, but Taylor wouldn’t be making any sudden moves.
Last night, she’d been thinking of questioning Sir Pup as part of an investigation that wasn’t hers. Now it was. That was freaking crazy, but she’d take it.
She glanced over at Preston. Her partner’s usually droopy face wasn’t so droopy right now, and he watched with undisguised interest as Lilith and the other Guardian—Cordoba—ran through a list of assignments that Cordoba had to delegate while he focused on Julia Stafford.
Joe was eating it up. Her partner had loved the idea of SI and the Guardians since he’d heard of them. Maybe he’d have looked to transfer here, if not for her.
If she’d known about this task force, she’d have asked for a place, fought for it. She’d have swallowed her dislike for Lilith and begged her to include them. Hell, she’d have crawled for Joe if that was what it took. He’d been there every time her family had gone to hell, beginning when she was a rookie and her dad had been killed in the line of duty, and again when her brother’s life had been shattered. Later, Joe had faced Hell with her, when Lucifer had come after them to get to Lilith’s dog. And her partner had remained at her side through every reprimand, supporting her, covering her ass.
And he’d worried all the while. Quite a few of those lines on his face were hers.
But knowing that Lilith had requested them specifically wasn’t exactly comforting. Taylor’s history with SI’s director hadn’t been smooth—and the antagonism was mutual. They’d butted heads more than once . . . and every time, Taylor had been the only one to come away with lumps.
Lilith didn’t seem interested in butting heads now. She’d probably had her fill all morning. Since early morning. Jorgenson had made a point to let Taylor know that he’d been woken up.
She hadn’t shown him enough sympathy, Taylor guessed; she’d barely gotten to sleep by then herself.
Guardians operated on no sleep. Which probably explained why one Guardian had so many freaking assignments—the case load she and Joe juggled was a joke in comparison to Cordoba’s. Did the list ever end? And was it normal for Lilith to just trot out the entire list in front of everyone?
Even Irena had stopped giving Cordoba the evil eye and was frowning at Lilith.
Lilith didn’t look Irena’s way. “And the Argentinean situation?”
“Will be contained tonight. There’s no need to reassign. I’ll handle it.”
Lilith gave a satisfied nod, but Joe leaned forward. “How, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Cordoba apparently didn’t mind. “Two demons have taken over leadership of a vampire community in Buenos Aires. They’ve scheduled a community gathering tonight. I’ll slay them in front of the vampires, so they will know what will happen if they choose to follow demons again.”
“They chose the demons?”
“They’ve been promised protection and training. In exchange, the vampires give their blood, because it weakens the nephilim.”
Joe frowned. “If they’ve chosen the demons of their free will, why not let them lie in the bed they’ve made?”
“Because they don’t know what that bed is. I’ll tell them.”
“And if they do it again?”
“Next time, it will not only be demons that I slay, but the vampires who fought to put them there.” Cordoba turned when Irena snorted. “You disagree?”
She spoke slowly—and to Taylor’s surprise, without a hint of the accent she’d had the day before. “Not with killing the demons. But slaying the vampires’ chosen leaders and offering nothing in return will only breed resentment. And if you kill the strongest vampires, you leave them with no protection at all.”
“And so I should wait, and let the vampires find out for themselves what they’ve invited in?”
Irena’s eyes flashed a poisonous green, but her words were still measured. “You have said the Ascension put a knife to our throat. The nephilim have put a knife to the vampires’ throats. If we cannot protect them directly, what would you have them do?”
“Do you think this is how I wish it to be?” His eyes darkened. A hint of Spain bled into his voice. “The vampires must choose a side. They don’t have to actively join the Guardians’ fight, but if the demons come to them, they should take up arms . . . or inform us, so that we can. The nosferatu were cursed because they wouldn’t choose between Heaven or Lucifer’s rebels, and if that is not a lesson of history for the vampires to learn, I do not know what else could be. And Khavi’s prophecy—” He paused as Irena snorted again. “That is your response, and yet you are in this room because of Khavi.”
“What prophecy?” Joe said.
Lilith spoke to Irena over him. “Our standard procedure is to send a team of vampires to follow up after Alejandro has slain the demons. Then we’ll send someone to train them properly—or have a few from their community come here. We won’t leave the community to wonder what comes next.”
Irena nodded, her gaze still on Cordoba, but no longer glowing with toxic light. “I see.”
“What prophecy?” Joe repeated.
Lilith glanced at him, then at her watch. “The prophecy might have bearing on this investigation, so Cordoba can fill you in after you get to Ohio. In about five minutes, Selah will be here to teleport you; a car will be waiting for you there.”
Taylor saw Joe was speechless and stepped in. “Are you going to tell us why we’re going to Ohio?”
“You aren’t. Cordoba and Preston are. You and Irena—”
“Steele,” Irena said with an unfathomable smile.
“Steele will be talking to Margaret Wren at Rael’s house. As for Ohio, they’ll be interviewing Mark Brandt, whose daddy wanted to go public about Guardians, demons, and vampires—and/or wipe us off the face of the Earth. And that was before he died and a nephil possessed his body. So Brandt might have heard if anyone is following in his daddy’s footsteps.”
“Brandt?” Taylor frowned, her memory ticking. “Senator Brandt? Died of a heart attack on the steps of the Capitol Building—that was one of the nephilim?”
“No. That was him.” With a slight grin, Lilith nodded toward Cordoba. “The nephil had been slain three weeks before, in Seattle.”
That was too much. Taylor turned to Cordoba. “You impersonated a senator?”
“Yes.”
The way Cordoba said it, so calmly and without humor, deflated most of her outrage. However Lilith saw it, the impersonation hadn’t been a game to him. And what would the alternative have been? Announcing that they’d slain a demon-possessed senator?
“So, Cordoba is talking to Brandt, checking in with Bradshaw at the FBI, then hitting Rael’s office to speak with his staff. Taylor—you have Wren, the follow-up from that, then Rael. Your appointment with him is at his house, at one this afternoon.”
She’d be interviewing the demon? Jesus.
Lilith pushed two folders across the desk. “Wren was CIA. She went into the private sector about three years ago. Most of her records are sealed; Savi will work on cracking them tonight, but see what you can get now.”
What could they get that a regular team wouldn’t? But Taylor didn’t argue. “All right.”
“Taylor,” Lilith said as she stood. “I’ve got Guardians who can kick any demon’s ass, but who don’t have investigative experience. You do, and that’s why I’ve pulled you in. Now, Jorgenson made sure I knew that Preston and you have been playing real-life good cop, bad cop—with a side of Kolchak: The Night Stalker thrown in—and that you are one step away from playing real-life mall security guard.”
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