Fallen Angel: Mythic Series, Book 2

by Abbie Zanders

  That queasy feeling in his stomach surged with a vengeance. Was he the reason Ryssa got hurt? Is that why the big bouncer looked at him as if he carried the plague and told him in rough grunts and growls that he couldn’t use Ryssa’s name to get into the club when he’d tried again?

  No, he shook his head. Couldn’t be. He was overreacting, that’s all. Right?

  Yet she had been begging him to leave, which seemed totally uncharacteristic at the time, and she’d looked scared...

  Ryssa finally emerged from Elizabeth’s room, interrupting his thoughts. She barely spared him a sideways glance before making a beeline for the front door.

  “Am I the reason you got hurt?” he blurted out, following Ryssa out the door. She ignored him. He used the benefit of his much longer legs to catch up to her and grabbed for her arm, catching her sleeve.

  “Jesus,” he murmured, holding her delicate wrist in his much larger hand and pushing the material even farther. He found deep tissue bruises, and what looked like a series of puncture wounds around her wrists. Something dark and feral uncurled in his belly. “Ryssa...”

  He looked again at her face, now not quite as unmarred as it had been before. Her skin seemed to flicker, then it was back to being smooth and pale again. He blinked and shook his head, certain that it had been a trick of his imagination. But those marks on her arm, they were real enough.

  Ryssa reclaimed her arm and met his eyes only briefly. It was enough to see the raw, ugly truth.

  David swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me get my car. I’ll take you back to your place so you can pick up some things. You can stay in one of our guest rooms.”

  She looked at him as if he had sprouted wings. “What?”

  “You can’t go back there,” he said firmly. “I can take you down to the police station. You can file a complaint.”

  Ryssa laughed. “A complaint? Are you kidding me?”

  That gave him pause. “You can’t let him do this.”

  She fixed him with those haunting gray eyes. “Yes, I can. He owns me. He can do whatever he wants.”

  David couldn’t have been more stunned if a tribe of pygmies decided to squat on his land. “People don’t own other people.”

  She smiled at him, but it was a sad smile. “Not in your world, David. But in mine...”

  “We don’t live in the same world?”

  “Not even close,” she breathed. She readjusted her sleeve, tucking it down over the worst of her injuries. “Tell Elizabeth I’ll be back tonight after my shift. Assuming you don’t do anything else stupid,” she added for good measure.

  David was about to open his mouth, the protest already on his lips, when she held up her hand and stopped him. “Look. You don’t understand. I get it. But you have to trust me on this, Corrigan. Do us both a favor. Do what everyone else does, okay? Just walk away and pretend you didn’t see anything.”

  Several minutes after she disappeared into the tree line, David was still standing on the front portico. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more - the things she’d said or the fact that she’d called him by his actual last name instead of Gilligan or something cruder.

  The more he thought about it, the more he was sure the woman was batshit crazy, or at the very least, on drugs. A danger to herself and others. If he wasn’t sure his mother would hate him for it, he’d call the cops and have her taken into custody for psychiatric evaluation and a tox screen.

  God only knew what the girl had been through, what had made her snap into a bona fide froot loop, but there was no denying she’d gotten herself mixed up in something pretty bad. There were professionals who might be able to help her. The bruises were real enough, as were the puncture marks he’d seen on her wrists.

  Not yet, though. He needed – no, he corrected, Elizabeth needed – Ryssa nearby and available. Maybe he’d make a few phone calls after his mother...

  David slammed a solid wall down on that train of thought. He would not think about that. Not now. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right then, right there, his mother was still with him, and he was going to make the most of every moment.

  He forced the images of big gray eyes and alabaster skin mottled with purple – the only hint of color about her - out of his mind’s eye, ruthlessly shutting down the totally inappropriate protective instinct that had somehow risen, completely unwanted and unbidden.

  She was not his responsibility. She hated him, and he didn’t trust her. End of story.

  Turning on his heel, he went back into the house and closed the door behind him.

  “Ryssa wouldn’t accept a gift,” Elizabeth said, almost causing David to groan aloud. Was it not possible to go five minutes without thinking of her?

  He looked over at the gift-wrapped bag and frowned. His mother had put a lot of thought into the gift, and he hated to see her disappointed. Couldn’t the woman see how much it meant to his mother, or was she just that incredibly insensitive?

  “Did she say why?”

  “She said she couldn’t.” Elizabeth looked at her hands, bemused. “That it wasn’t allowed. I think she’s afraid of someone.” David knew by the way her eyes had clouded over that Ryssa’s recent injuries hadn’t completely escaped her notice, either. “What do you know about her, David?”

  An image of Ryssa in her Goth bondage gear shot through his mind, followed immediately by the deplorable slum she called home, while her words, He owns me, echoed hauntingly in his mind. No way in hell he was sharing that with his mother.

  David raised an eyebrow and carefully neutralized his expression. “What makes you think I know anything?”

  She gave him a patient smile. “I know you, David. You probably took one look at her and did a background check, convinced her only purpose was to fleece a sickly, gullible old woman.”

  The color rose in his cheeks, but he didn’t deny it. His mother’s innate bullshit detector was apparently back to firing on all cylinders. “And what if I did?”

  “I’m not judging you, David. I just want to know what you found out.”

  He sighed. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Well, not all of it. She would demand that they hop in the car and drag Ryssa right back here with them. And, even though in a moment of temporary insanity he’d had the same thought, he couldn’t let that happen. The last thing he needed was Ryssa spouting all that ownership crap in front of his mother. For whatever reason, Elizabeth liked the woman and he didn’t want his mother finding out that she was a crackpot.

  And he didn’t need her under his roof, smelling like moonlight and challenging him at every turn with her sassy, foul mouth.

  But he had to tell his mother something. A watered down version of the truth, perhaps. At least that’s what he’d meant to do. Instead, the words tumbled out of his mouth on their own.

  “Not much. She works nights in a Goth club down in Southtown. Real rough place, not even the cops go there. Lives in a shit hole a couple of blocks away that I wouldn’t keep a dog in.”

  He clamped his lips together to stop the flow.

  “What about her family?” Elizabeth asked, frowning. She didn’t seem nearly as surprised as he would have thought. Then again, his mother always had a sixth sense about people, an uncanny way of seeing through carefully constructed facades. It was one of the reasons their business had been so successful. She placed more value on her “feelings” about people than in their resumes.

  David shrugged. He didn’t want to tell his mother that not even the professional private investigator had been able to come up with a last name, nor find out anything more than a home and work address – and those the PI had only gotten by following her. Brief looks at both the apartment building and the business left him with more questions than answers, but the PI told him point-blank when he’d handed over his one-page report that he was done, and refused to look into Ryssa anymore, no matter how much cash David waved under his nose.

  Everything seemed to support his initial theory that the wo
man was nothing more than a glorified scam artist. The decided lack of information pointed toward a transient lifestyle and a false identity. Perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation, but given her dubious employment, thrift-store wardrobe and piss-poor attitude, the most obvious explanation was probably the right one: Ryssa needed money, and his mother had it.

  That’s what the cynical part of his brain said, anyway. There were other parts that were no longer so sure.

  “We have to do something, David,” Elizabeth said as if picking up on his thoughts.

  “I don’t think she wants any help, Mother,” he said as gently as he could.

  “Maybe not,” she mused thoughtfully. “She seems to be rather headstrong.”

  David snorted. His mother didn’t know the half of it. Ryssa had the temperament of a feral kitten and the mouth of a career sailor. She was fierce and proud and... Wait. Where was he going with this?

  “Fortunately,” his mother smiled, pinning him with the same obdurate gaze he’d inherited, “I have a bit of experience with stubborn, headstrong people.”

  He chuckled a little at that. She had always told him that he’d inherited his mulishness from her.

  Elizabeth patted the bed beside her. “David, come sit with me for a moment.”

  He moved closer and eased his weight down, taking his mother’s hand in his. He was shocked by how cold it felt. He sandwiched it between his own, willing the heat into her.

  Her expression was serious. “I want you to make me a promise, David.”

  “Anything, Mother.”

  “I want you to look after Ryssa after I’m gone. She needs someone, David.”

  No, she didn’t, he countered silently. She already had someone. He hated the bitter taste that thought left in his mouth. It was on the tip of his tongue to say so, but for whatever reason, he didn’t.

  David shook his head. “You don’t know what you are asking for, Mother.”

  “Please, David. It will be my last request of you.”

  “Christ,” he muttered, fighting to keep the moisture contained in his eyes, where it belonged. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

  “It’s the truth, David,” she said softly. “It is almost time. You can feel it, too.”

  He lifted his chin defiantly. “I feel nothing of the sort.”

  Elizabeth smiled, seeing her son’s stubborn streak blatantly showing itself. “Maybe she would be good for you, too,” she said quietly.

  He snorted again, inwardly reeling at the implications. “Her? Really? That’s what you envision as a daughter-in-law?”

  Her smile faded, and her expression turned sad. “What happened to you, David? What made you so jaded that you cannot look past the surface and see what lies beneath?”

  David felt her words like a slap. “Mother, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “Never mind me, David. It’s just the ramblings of an old woman who doesn’t want her only son to wind up bitter and alone. I’m tired now. We can talk more in the morning.”

  After a few more deep breaths, Elizabeth was asleep. Still reeling somewhat, David tucked the covers around her and kissed her forehead.

  “I love you,” he whispered against her cool skin. But how could he ever keep such a promise?

  Chapter 5 – The Times, They Are A-Changing

  “Hey baby.”

  Jax’s familiar and affectionate greeting was most welcome when Ryssa collapsed on the couch. What was it about David Corrigan that sapped the last of her strength? Whenever she was around him, her heart pounded and blood fired in her veins. The man was insufferable! And then afterward, she felt cold, empty, drained.

  The last thing she needed was for him to go all white-knight on her because of some misplaced sense of chivalry. She didn’t want to endure another night of Karthik’s focused attention because David Corrigan decided she needed saving. She was quite possibly the only immortal who could match the demon lord in power, which meant he didn’t have to hold back in exacting “payment” for fear of breaking her. Her pain, given willingly, was the purest, most potent form of demon “food” there was, and Karthik would exploit any and all opportunities for more.

  “Hey, Jax,” she murmured in response, closing her eyes before her head even hit the back of the sofa.

  “Tough night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want some sugar?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  He placed a box of chocolate glazed donuts in her lap. She opened one eye and looked at him suspiciously. “Chocolate glazed? Okay, what’s going on?”

  Jax looked away, avoiding her stare. He fixed her a glass of cherry Kool Aid, adding three heaping spoons of sugar and stirring. “What makes you think anything is going on?”

  Both of her eyes were open now, her weariness temporarily forgotten. “Because chocolate glazed donuts and cherry Kool-Aid for me are the equivalent of wine and roses for other women. The only time you willingly shovel sugar into my mouth is when you’re trying to soften the blow of something awful.”

  “You wound me,” he said, placing his hands over his still heart, but he couldn’t hide the truth in his eyes.

  Her voice softened. “Just tell me, Jax. You know it’s better that way.”

  All traces of his smile faded away as he sank down onto the sofa beside her. “Vlane Masterson wants to buy my contract from Karthik,” he said bluntly. “Now that Vlane’s married, he’s looking to bring in some new blood, and Kristoff recommended me.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Ryssa exclaimed, genuinely happy for her friend. Vlane Masterson was the vamp coven leader in the nearby town of Mythic. He was known for being strict but fair, and extremely generous to those he called his own. A vampire couldn’t ask for anything better until he was old and skilled enough to become a Master himself.

  “I said no,” Jax said quietly. “But I’m not sure I have much of a choice.”

  “Why would you say no?” Ryssa asked, bemused. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.” When Jax wouldn’t look at her, realization dawned. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

  “I want to take you with me, Ryss,” Jax said. “I talked to Masterson about it, told him about you. Not the specifics, of course. He said he’d buy out your contract, too, but Karthik’s being a possessive asshole. He said he wouldn’t hear of it. You’re too valuable, baby.”

  Something painful welled in her chest and made moisture pool behind her eyes. It meant the world to her that Jax cared enough to want to take her with him, even if it wasn’t possible. Karthik would never willingly release her, but that didn’t mean Jax should suffer.

  “You have to do this, Jax,” she said quietly.

  “I won’t leave you, Ryss.”

  “It’s not like you have a choice.” If Karthik sold his contract, there was nothing Jax could do about it. He had been transferred to Karthik along with her, won in some ridiculous game the lords and masters liked to play. Not all indie vamps were under contract, but rogues usually didn’t last long on their own until they were much older and much stronger. Jax had been turned less than a century earlier. He was a lot stronger than his human counterparts, but was no match for those who had had hundreds, even thousands of years to develop their strengths and skills. For many years, he had stuck by Ryssa’s side, but this was a chance for something better.

  She smiled, forcing a courage into her voice she didn’t feel. “And you can still come see me, right? Mythic is what, like five minutes from Seven Circles at vamp speed.”

  Jax pulled her into his arms. “Yeah, I guess. But who’ll take care of you, Ryss? Who’ll watch over you, keep the wolves away?” It was a private joke since so many shifters seemed to find her particularly yummy.

  She tried to offer him a reassuring smile and hoped her voice sounded more confident than she felt. As youthful as she looked, she’d been around a long time and knew there was no hope, not for her. Jax was too young to fully understand and
accept that, which was one of the things she loved about him. Despite everything that had happened to him, Jax kept his kind, compassionate heart. She wanted him to hold on to that for as long as he could.

  “Karthik won’t let anything happen to me. Like you said, I’m too valuable.”

  Jax ran a long, cool finger over her lingering bruises. “He hurt you.”

  “Only because I allowed him to.”

  Jax’s beautiful face clouded even more and he scowled. “Because of that rich douche who looks at you as if you’re shit on his shoe. You should have let Karthik have him.”

  Ryssa sighed. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “I didn’t do it just for him, Jax. His mother is dying. She’s a really nice lady, and she shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of ugly stuff in her last remaining days.”

  “That’s the only reason?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  “What other reason could there possibly be?” she asked, exasperated, hoping he wouldn’t look too deeply to reveal things she wouldn’t even admit to herself. “Like you said, the guy thinks I’m shit. Every time I’m over there he watches me like a hawk, trying to catch me slipping the silverware into my pocket or something. I bet he has the hired help count the spoons the minute I’m out the door.”

  Ryssa didn’t really believe that, but it wouldn’t have shocked her to find out he did, either. For some inexplicable reason, that hurt. David Corrigan was an arrogant, self-serving mortal. She had encountered scores of them over her time in this plane. Why should she care one way or the other what he thought of her? Just because she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him didn’t mean he had the same problem.

  Jax frowned, but she could sense his relief. There was no way she was going to tell Jax about David’s offer of a temporary room at the Corrigan mansion. Ryssa was quite sure he hadn’t really meant to say that anyway; the look of horror she’d seen on his face the moment after he suggested it was more telling than his spoken words.

  “And when the mother crosses over, you’re done with him, right?”