Desire Me

by Skye Malone

  “Are you with those Guardians?”

  That pulls his attention to me. I can see the surprise in his dark eyes.

  “Those people who attacked us at the salvage yard. They said they—”

  The surprise dies into something cold. “We are not with them.”

  He goes back to studying the crowd.

  A breath leaves me. Okay… fine. That’s not really an answer, but truth is, I don’t have time for this anyway. I need to find Brett, figure out from him how to reach Amar.

  I’m not the only one in danger tonight.

  I glance to the road. There’s a gap between the barricades near the alley that leads to the rear entrance of the club. I don’t see any cops near it. Not many bystanders either.

  I dart across the street.

  “Cait!” Katsuro hisses.

  I don’t look back. I duck into the shadows and keep moving. The rear door is closed, and when I try the handle, it turns out to be locked as well.

  My debate about what to do lasts only a heartbeat. I knock as hard as I can. Even if there are cops inside, maybe I can explain. Say I’m looking for Brett or Rafael or something. My gaze flicks back to the street while I wait. Katsuro is striding after me, but no one else seems to be looking my way. Over the wail of more sirens approaching, my actions seem to have gone unnoticed by anyone on the street.

  The door opens. Rafael peers out, and then freezes when he sees me. Alarm rushes across his face. “Cait! Shit, are you—” He catches sight of Katsuro coming up behind me and he tenses. “Who’s this?”

  Katsuro twitches his head in a brief nod. “Hisakawa Katsuro.”

  “He helped me,” I add quickly.

  Rafael eyes him warily. “Alright.” He looks back to me like he’s still in shock.

  “May we enter?” Katsuro presses.

  “Uh, yeah.” Rafael regroups fast. “But the cops will be coming inside any moment now. I’ve got some obfuscation spells going, which should buy us some time to secure this place before the bomb squad arrives, but you—”

  He looks over and moves away sharply when someone strides up to his side.

  “What happened?” Sorcha demands. “Are you alright?”

  I stare. She’s injured. There’s a rip in her jacket only a few inches from her heart. Dried blood crusts the leather. I can see darker stains on her shirt. “Are you?” I blurt.

  Sorcha grimaces. “Get inside.”

  I hurry into the club.

  Katsuro moves to follow me, but Sorcha steps into his path. A low growl leaves her.

  “I mean no harm,” Katsuro says.

  “Did you send demons into this place?” Sorcha replies, her tone barbed.

  Katsuro seems to weigh his words carefully. “Two vampires and a troll, yes. I ordered them to watch her, for protection only.” He leans his head carefully toward me, not breaking eye contact with Sorcha. “They were not associated with the ones who assaulted this place.”

  She’s silent for a heartbeat. “You should go to them.”

  He pauses a second time. “They are no longer here, and I am not leaving Cait.”

  The hairs on my arms stand on end and I don’t even know why. It’s like suddenly the ground beneath us all has become the edge of a cliff, and I can just picture the bloody death that waits if we fall over the side. “He helped—”

  “I heard you.” Sorcha doesn’t take her eyes from him. A moment creeps by, and then she steps aside, her every motion guarded.

  Katsuro nods once and then walks past her, his movements as cautious as hers had been. “Thank you.”

  I can’t tell if he’s speaking to her or me.

  Watching them both warily, Rafael shuts the door.

  “This way,” Sorcha says to me.

  I don’t move. “Where’s Ulric?”

  She hesitates and my stomach drops. I try to brace myself for the answer. “Alive, last I saw, but his injuries are more severe than mine. Other members of our pack have arrived; they are with him.”

  I can’t stop my gaze from twitching to the tear in her coat again and the edge of the bloodstains I can see beneath. “What hap—”

  “The obfuscation spell is only temporary,” Sorcha interrupts. “It would be best to get you out of sight quickly.”

  “Agreed,” Katsuro states.

  She treats him to a cold stare that lasts a heartbeat longer than remotely comfortable and then motions for me to precede her. “We must find you a more secure location. Your room will suffice for the moment, but it would be best to leave this place—”

  “No.” I shake my head fast. “I have to call Amar first.”

  Her jaw tightens.

  I glance to Rafael. “Do you have his number?”

  He hesitates. “Yeah, but—”

  “Why do you need to call Amar?” Bianca strides out of the hallway toward us.

  I hesitate, thrown by her presence. And some part of me just wants to ignore her, though I know it’s childish and won’t get me anywhere besides. “Because he’s in danger.”

  “Why?”

  My muscles bunch at her accusatory tone. “What are you doing here?” I ask instead.

  “A bunch of assholes just attacked my brother’s club, all for the sake of getting to you. I came to make sure Brett wasn’t dead. Now why do you need to call Amar?”

  I grit my teeth. “Because the asshole in charge threatened to kill Amar if I didn’t help him get what he wanted. And now I’m here, which means he might make good on the threat.” I look back at Rafael. “Number?”

  He glances to Bianca rather than answer. The girl is already reaching for her cell. She swipes through the screens like their delay annoys her almost as much as I do, and then she lifts the phone to her ear.

  “Amar, it’s Bianca. Some jackasses did a fucking blitz attack on Temptation and Cait heard they’re after you next. Watch your back and call me when you get this.”

  She hangs up and then turns to Rafael like nothing happened. “Brett wanted to know about those extra defenses you were going to put in place.”

  “They’re up.”

  “Good.”

  I look between them. “Is that it? Don’t you know where he is or—”

  “Amar’s a big boy,” Bianca interrupts. “He can take care of himself.”

  I stare at her.

  “So, uh—” Rafael starts to me. “Your room is safe. I’ve got those same defenses around it. So if you want to get cleaned up before you all move somewhere else…”

  My brow furrows. Cleaned up? Why the hell would he think I—

  “The blood, Cait,” he elaborates uncomfortably, as if he can see my confusion. “You’re covered in blood.”

  I look down for the first time and choke. My arms are speckled with red. Above the ridiculous dress, my chest is too. The guy, I realize. When they shot him.

  My knees want to buckle. I freeze, fighting not to fall apart in front of nearly everyone I know in the demon world.

  “Restroom’s this way,” Bianca snaps.

  She jerks her head toward the hall.

  Somehow, I make my legs move. Make them hold me upright. I start toward the hallway and then pause when Bianca marches ahead of me and shoves open the restroom door.

  “Come on,” she orders.

  “I-I don’t—”

  “Go.”

  I watch her for a heartbeat, weighing whether smacking her would possibly go well. The anger helps, though. I stride past her on legs that are far steadier than a moment ago.

  She follows me inside and snags a handful of paper towels from the dispenser. With a quick motion, she twists the handles on one of the sinks. Water gushes from the faucet.

  I balk. “I can—”

  “Yeah, or you could pass out. Don’t think I didn’t see that reaction out there. Just get over here.”

  I hear the door behind me and glance back to find Sorcha slipping into the room as well. For some reason, the sight is reassuring. Like, maybe Sorcha will keep me
from punching this bitch.

  Or maybe she’ll help.

  I let out a breath, feeling a bit hysterical with anger and adrenaline. Working to stay calm, I grab my own handful of paper towels and then walk to the sink.

  Bianca scoffs.

  I ignore the sound and dunk the paper towels beneath the faucet. Warm water soaks into the brown material. With meticulous focus, I begin swiping my forearms.

  The blood smears. My stomach turns. His blood. The guy from the dance floor. I’d never even asked his name.

  I close my eyes briefly, trying to concentrate. The speckles are larger on my shoulders. A few have formed drips, now dried. Swallowing hard, I rub at them. The residue turns my skin red.

  I wonder when someone will find his body.

  My hand shakes. I suck down a steadying breath, but I can’t make my hand move to keep washing the blood away. The paper towel is starting to become too saturated, though. I probably need another one. Setting it down, I reach toward the dispenser.

  I catch sight of myself in the mirror and stop. Blood is splattered across my face, making me look as if I belong in a horror movie. Bits of my hair are stuck together, like there’s blood dried in the dark strands too. Oh my god.

  Bianca grabs my shoulder. “For pity’s sake, just—”

  I yank away and stumble a few steps back. “Don’t touch me.”

  She stares at me.

  I can’t speak. I feel like a scream is trapped inside my chest, strong enough that any moment now, it’s going to explode out and tear my whole body apart. And all I can do is shake with the force of it. The silent, terrible force of my horror at watching that guy die.

  Because of me.

  “Cait.” Bianca starts toward me again.

  “Don’t!” I scream.

  A pulse of energy leaves me. Bianca stumbles back while every mirror in the room shatters.

  I freeze. Bianca looks over at me, fury clear on her face, and then her gaze goes beyond me to Sorcha.

  Panicked, I turn. She’s okay. Her amber eyes are strangely brighter than before, nearly glowing, and there’s something wild in her gaze. But she’s not dead. I didn’t kill her too.

  My gorge rises.

  “Get out,” Bianca orders.

  I glance back.

  She’s looking to Sorcha. “Now.”

  The brightness in Sorcha’s eyes dims back toward something more human. She glances between us warily.

  I shake my head fast. “No, you don’t—”

  “I said now,” Bianca repeats, an edge to her voice.

  Sorcha looks to me. “I can hear everything from outside the door,” she says as if she’s trying to reassure me.

  She slips out of the room. Bianca releases a breath like she’s been holding it.

  “You are going to kill somebody, goddammit,” she hisses. “Get a grip.”

  My body shudders so hard, I think I might fly apart. I squeeze my eyes closed as if that can keep me together. I already killed somebody. Some poor guy whose name I didn’t even know, now lying on a parking garage floor with his blood and body growing cold on the concrete, all because he wanted to dance with me—

  “Shit,” Bianca mutters.

  Trembling, I open my eyes.

  “Sorry,” she says.

  I stare at her.

  “Whatever happened out there,” she continues, “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

  She says the words like she isn’t actually certain she believes them. But like, at the same time, she might.

  I eye her distrustfully. “Why are you helping me?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you helping me? This. Ruby. You hired some of the mercenaries too; Brett and Amar told me. But—”

  She looks at me like I’ve asked her something offensive.

  I struggle onward. “You pretty much seem like you hate me most of the time, so why—”

  She makes an irritated noise. “God, you’re so human.”

  I slam the sodden towels down onto the edge of the sink. Bianca tenses like she’s bracing herself for another onslaught of magic.

  And I don’t know what to say. I’m sick of this. Of demons. Of being insulted, just because I’m not soulless like so many of them. I know what Amar has said about her, how well he thinks of her. But maybe Amar is wrong.

  Maybe in her own way, she’s no better than Kyle.

  I head for the door.

  “You’re going to hurt him.”

  I stop and look back. She hasn’t moved any closer. Her brow twitches up, icy certainty in her eyes.

  My head shakes. “I wouldn’t—”

  “You’ll get him hurt. You think I haven’t seen how you’re fucking with his head? Amar was safe before now. Safe from the Houses, from Lucretia, and damn well safe from—” She cuts off sharply and grimaces like she’s revising what she’d been about to say. “I know you think we’re the screwed-up ones, not letting ourselves be manipulated by every hormonal bit of nonsense humans adore. That maybe he’s broken or some bullshit like that. But we’re not. He’s not. We’re stronger than you. But what you’re doing is putting his life at risk in more ways than you can possibly understand. The lives of everyone else I know too, for that matter.”

  “So why are you helping me?”

  She hesitates. “Because I promised Amar I would.”

  Incredulity spreads through me. She promised him. Just… promised him. She treated me to a whole demon tirade… and that’s it?

  She looks away. “I’m keeping him safe.”

  I’m not even certain what to say. “Why do you care if Amar is safe?”

  Her jaw works around. “Because I made him a promise.”

  My brow furrows. Her tone is strange. There’s more to those words than before. Like, history. Loads of it. “When?”

  She looks to me sharply, and for a heartbeat, she doesn’t do anything but stare. “You think you know something about me?”

  I blink.

  She strides toward me. “You think you’re reading something? I heard about you. Who they think you are. Rumor travels fast around here and I will not have you—”

  “I’m not!” I backpedal quickly and bump into a stall.

  The door to the restroom opens. Sorcha looks in.

  Bianca doesn’t spare her a glance, stopping only inches from me. “When we were thirteen years old, Amar saved my life when no other demon would. So I returned the favor and saved his. Happy?”

  I glance to Sorcha. Cautiously, the woman retreats. The door closes. “What happened?” I ask softly.

  Bianca eyes me up and down. “House bullshit. A dozen assholes from Linden had me cornered. My father was elsewhere and Brett was too, and the sonofabitch bodyguards Dad hired took a bribe to let them do whatever they wanted to me. No one should’ve stepped in—it wasn’t their problem—but Amar did. He stopped them.”

  “Alone?”

  She’s silent for a heartbeat. “Yeah.”

  I gape at her, a question on the tip of my tongue. There’s more to it. Obviously, there has to be. And I can hear that fact in her voice.

  She doesn’t elaborate, though. “I had my head down. He didn’t explain. But a while after that, his father died and Amar needed help too. I promised to give that to him.” She meets my gaze, a chilling intensity to her blue eyes. “I keep my promises.”

  I nod carefully, not sure what other response to offer.

  Bianca steps away from me. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  “Finish getting cleaned up,” she orders, striding back to the sink. She grabs a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and then extends them to me.

  Warily, I cross the small space and take the towels from her. Turning on the faucet, I dunk them beneath the water and then start wiping my face, still watching her from the corner of my eye.

  “You have enough energy left in you to keep going?” she asks when I’m done.

  I give a small shrug, keeping my ga
ze from twitching to the shattered mirrors beside me. “Maybe.”

  “Fine. Then whenever we get to someplace where you won’t destroy things connected to my family, we’ll work on getting that magic of yours under control.”

  I hesitate. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Bianca doesn’t respond, but simply walks toward the door.

  I watch her go, residual shivers crawling through my skin because suddenly it clicks, that look I’d seen in her eyes only moments before. She would have killed me. She’s not like Brett—laidback and generally unconcerned with anyone around him. She’s not like Kyle, who’s cruel for fun.

  She’s like Sorcha. Like Ulric. A wolf, but without even a shred of their humanity.

  Bianca wouldn’t have hesitated to see me dead, back at the first sign that I was becoming a threat to her or anyone who matters to her. But she hadn’t, and the weird thing is that now, I’m fairly certain she never will. I’m in the camp of people she’ll help, and for one reason and one reason alone.

  She promised Amar.

  “You coming?” she snaps.

  “Yeah.”

  I drop the paper towels into the garbage, studiously avoiding my own reflection in the shattered mirrors, and I follow her out the door.

  Even in the shadows and the moonlight, the house isn’t much to look at from the outside. A crumbling wreck with a roof so overgrown by moss that it looks like an intentional design feature. The porch is likewise falling apart; he wouldn’t put money on anyone being able to walk across it safely. Nothing but trees surrounds it. Whatever road may once have existed has been swallowed by grass and underbrush.

  His gaze slides to the forest. It’d taken them a small eternity to reach this abandoned hovel miles from civilization, and now he isn’t certain how far he’d have to go to find the nearest house or sign of life. He hasn’t seen so much as an electrical pole for the past hour, and even his cell phone has long since lost its connection to the outside world. If Linden wanted a place to hide this unusual Touched, this would be it.

  Instinct borne of nearly a decade among demons stirs in him. His gaze slides to the side and, a moment later, the undergrowth quivers and one of Lucretia’s agents appears. The man’s skin looks colorless next to his camo gear, a fact which doesn’t distinguish him from any of the other vampires Lucretia sent along. He’d never bothered to ask the names of the people with him. It isn’t important. Nothing is, beyond getting this over with.