by Trina M. Lee
Or at least try.
Wren held up both hands in invitation. The vicious smirk he wore pulled his face into a mask of bizarre glee. “Let’s see what you’ve got, girl. Show me why Cinder’s so protective of you.”
What I wanted was to back toward the building and flee inside. Wren wasn’t about to let that happen. Not without a fight.
“Why are you doing this to Cinder?” Sword in one hand, a fireball blazed in the palm of the other. “He cares about you. Still. And between you and me, you’re not fucking worth it.”
“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” Wren affected a mocking pout. He made a big show of cracking his knuckles, then his neck. “Cinder’s still feeling that brotherly love. How incredibly pathetic. It will be his downfall.”
“No. Not his downfall.” I whipped my fireball at his feet, knowing better than to go for a direct face shot.
It ignited his pants, quickly crawling up his body. Using fire was always risky since many demons possessed the element as well. Luck seemed to be on my side.
With a wicked laugh he thrust both hands at the flames, and they went out. Steam rose from his palms. Water. Fuck. He peered down at his scorched pants. “Shit, girl, I liked those pants.”
So we had a joker on our hands. Wren didn’t seem to be taking any of this seriously, and yet the bodies he’d already left in his wake proved otherwise.
Possessing water affinity made the use of fire more difficult but not impossible. That still unnerved me, as fire was my go-to ability, the one I’d mastered the most and relied on heavily. I did have a few tricks in my arsenal though. One of which was the black feather tied into the under layer of my hair. Rowen took the next shot, flinging lightning that wrapped around Wren’s body like an electrical snake. I used the moment of distraction to touch the feather, sampling the power within it.
Using ice against a water element was hit or miss. Still, it was worth a shot. If Wren didn’t know I was a replicant, a thief as I’d been called, he’d soon find out. But I’d like to keep that secret as long as possible.
Rowen’s electrical attack was a success. Wrapped around a water user, it amplified the jolt.
And that friggin’ demon laughed through the pain. “Seriously?” Wren cackled. “The two of you are absolutely adorable. Like scrappy little puppies. I could just eat you up.” With a groan that was more pleasure than pain, he embraced the electrical impulse.
When Rowen let it fall away, Wren took a step toward us, forcing us to retreat. With the building behind us, I continued to entertain the idea of rushing inside.
Not yet.
Wren paused and swung one arm wide, sweeping the air. Crap. The air obeyed him, slashing out toward us in a gust sharp enough to cut skin. I braced for the hit, not expecting Rowen to counter the attack. He threw both hands up and pushed back against the savage gust with a blast of his own. Evidently Rowen had developed a new ability since I’d last seen him fight. They shoved against one another, but Wren soon overpowered Rowen.
Unable to get too close, I released the ice I’d swiped from the feather in my hair. Guiding the power as Cinder had taught me, I formed it into a blade as the power left my fingertips. It whistled through the air and found its mark, plunging into Wren’s neck.
His air attack faltered, as he reached for the ice shard protruding from his flesh. “Nice one.” He nodded in approval. “I like to be surprised.”
Trying to take advantage of his moment of inattention, I swung the sword and slammed it down on the ground, releasing a bolt of fire that shot down the blade. The flames raced across the snow and ice to climb Wren’s athletic frame. Then I turned and ran, with Rowen hot on my heels. By the time we reached the door and flung it open, Wren had extinguished the flames. I risked a glance back, certain he’d be right behind us.
He stood on the front walk, clothes smoking, crooked smile even more bizarre when paired with the malice in his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Ember. I look forward to next time.”
That was it? He was letting us go?
Of course he was. What fun would the hunt be if it ended so soon? That’s what this was. A hunt. A game. He hadn’t come to kill me but to test me. Wren intended to drag this out. And judging by the grim satisfaction on his face, he planned to enjoy it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“We’re just fucking mice to him.” Rowen slammed the apartment door shut behind us and locked it. “He wants to play with us. With you, Spike. Did you see his eyes? He’s crazy. I mean, totally insane.”
“Yeah,” I gasped, chest heaving. “I saw it.”
I grabbed onto the kitchen counter to steady myself. Rowen was not alone in his terror. The demons I’d encountered just wanted to fuck shit up. They were serious, get-down-to-business types. Wren’s constant smile and playful attacks were somehow far more terrifying. Safe within the confines of Cinder’s wards, I felt able to breathe again. But the sound of my heart boomed loud in my ears. After I’d calmed enough to stand on my own, I took off the Midnight Star and shrugged out of my hoodie. The rush of adrenaline and panic had me sweating.
“He’s been locked up a long time. I guess that would drive anyone crazy.” I went to the freezer and grabbed the bottle of vodka stashed in the back. My hands shook, as I fetched two glasses from the cupboard. I fumbled one but somehow managed to catch it.
“You can’t go out after dark. Not as long as he’s out there. He’s playing with you now, but he’s working up to what he really wants.” Rowen’s hand trembled too when he accepted the vodka I handed him.
I nodded. “He wants to kill me to hurt Cinder. I know.”
The cold vodka cooled my insides. I turned on every light in the apartment, and we huddled in the living room, Rowen on the couch, me on the easy chair. With each passing minute I calmed. Of course that might have been the booze entering my bloodstream.
Finding it eerily quiet I turned on the TV just to have the background noise. Knowing we were now safe did nothing to actually make me feel that way.
“I hope you don’t mind if I stay until sunrise,” Rowen said, nervous as if he thought I might really throw him out. “I don’t want to face that psycho again tonight.”
“Are you kidding me? I’d never send you back out there.” Pulling my phone from my pocket I tried calling Jett. When she didn’t pick up, I texted her a brief summary of what had happened and a reminder to watch her back, although I doubted Wren would target her.
At least, I hoped not.
“Nice to know I’m not high enough on the ex-boyfriend shit list that you’d send me out to get my ass worked over by a demon.” The smile Rowen mustered didn’t reach his eyes.
I hated that word: ex-boyfriend. It brought forth a swell of sorrow in the wake of the fading panic. “Rowen, don’t do that.” Needing to numb out, I slammed back the rest of the vodka in my glass and went for a refill. Nothing to do but wait for Cinder, and I was far too wired to sleep yet. “Don’t make it weirder than it has to be.”
From the living room he called, “I was prepared to die with you out there.”
I groaned and closed my eyes, hand on the freezer door. This wasn’t the right time but would there ever be one? Instead of refilling my glass, I brought the whole bottle back to the living room. I poured another glass and left the bottle on the coffee table between us. Plopping back into the easy chair, I sighed. “I know.”
Rowen grabbed the bottle and poured another. My gaze was drawn to his ink-covered arms. The muscles were well defined from years of playing bass. From his arms to his hands, I studied him, unable to keep from thinking about how it felt to be touched by him. Nothing like a run in with a psychopathic demon to make one consider sex with the ex. Or maybe that was the vodka. Either way, not good.
“I’m always going to love you, Spike. And I’ll always have your back. Even if you choose Arrow.”
My pulse jumped and my heart sank. The sincerity in his fiery eyes wounded me. “Rowen, I’m not choosing. I mean, I don’t want to. Nothing about th
at feels right. And there’s nothing going on with Arrow.”
He flopped back against the couch and sipped his drink. “Not yet, but I’m not stupid. I see the way you look at each other, and always when the other isn’t aware. I get it. You two bonded. And I can’t blame anyone but myself.”
Embarrassed that he’d caught me gawking at his brother, I shifted uncomfortably on the fluffy easy chair. “I don’t want you to blame yourself. Whatever I feel for Arrow, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. That’s what makes this all so hard. I’m starting to think it’s a mistake to be with either of you. All things considered.”
Rowen dragged a hand over his face, rubbing his jaw in frustration. “I can see why you’d feel that way. You have enough pressure without either of us adding to it.”
“You don’t add to it,” I said, tongue heavy from the alcohol. “You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
The memory of moving from the chair to the couch went hazy. I wasn’t sure who kissed who first, but it was probably me. A face off with the scariest demon I’d ever met, two glasses of straight vodka, and my first true love, a recipe for personal disaster.
I kissed Rowen as drunk people do, a little messy and without care. The familiar scent of his rich cologne coupled with alcohol made it easier to lose myself in the kiss. His mouth was warm and inviting, as he kissed me back with a relentless yearning I could feel in the soles of my feet. He slipped a hand into my tousled black locks, stroking a finger along the back of my neck. I welcomed the touch of his tongue on mine. Touching the side of his face my fingers grazed over the fine stubble lining his jaw. So badly I wanted to touch more of him.
The feeling seemed to be mutual. Without breaking the liplock Rowen grasped the hem of my shirt and bared my lower back. I gasped when he traced a finger over the edge of a black wing, because without looking he knew the exact lines of my tattoo.
That didn’t make any of this easier.
Inwardly I battled with what felt right and what I knew to be blurring the line. Going down this road would only lead us to a place of melancholy nostalgia. Still his hands on my skin made it hard to care.
One more minute, I told myself. One more minute to enjoy his mouth on mine.
But it didn’t end there. Rowen’s touch continued, up under my shirt, tracing up my back to the clasp of my bra. My hands followed their own path of promise. Down his chest over his abs to his belt.
Where was my resolve when I needed it most?
A loud chime broke through the vodka fog. The text alert on my phone startled us both. We jerked apart. I scrambled off the couch to grab my phone from the easy chair. Rowen repositioned himself with a strained clearing of his throat.
The text from Jett read: Safe and sound at Sam’s. Arrow ditched his sure thing. Went home alone. Call me tomorrow.
Arrow didn’t take the blonde home after all. Huh. Well fancy that. Try as I might to squash the feeling, that news brought me a sense of satisfaction.
“Everything ok?” Rowen asked.
“Oh, yeah. It’s just Jett. Everyone is safe at home.” I dropped the phone on the coffee table and sat back on the chair. Things had gone from steamy to strange in mere seconds. That sucked.
“Oh.” He nodded, having a hard time meeting my eyes. “Good. That’s good.”
“Yeah.” I stared at the TV, unable to focus on the screen. Flushed with heat from our brief but hot makeout session, I gathered my hair away from my neck in an attempt to cool down.
Rowen fidgeted with the throw pillows on the couch. He seemed to have an especially difficult time arranging them just so behind him. Finally he said, “So was that a mistake? Because it didn’t feel like one.”
No, it sure did not.
“Of course not. Nothing about us is a mistake, Rowen. It’s just…complicated. Really fucking complicated.” I smiled, sad but wistful.
Some of the tension eased out of him. He relaxed against the couch cushion, looking deflated. “That’s one way of putting it. I’m up for making it a little more complicated if you are.”
The flirtatious grin he bestowed upon me was damn convincing. Hormones and vodka talked a good game, trying to persuade me to throw caution to the wind and take him to my bedroom.
I had no idea how common sense prevailed. “I want to,” I admitted. “But we both know that won’t fix anything, and I don’t want to make things worse for us. I’ll grab you a pillow and blanket. We should probably get some sleep.”
I got busy digging an extra blanket out of the linen closet. Grabbing a pillow from my bed, I brought both to Rowen. He accepted them gratefully and made a bed up on the couch.
“Feel free to help yourself to anything from the kitchen,” I said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Ditto.” Rowen winked and settled himself in. “I’m right here.”
Going to bed with that parting remark didn’t make this any easier. Closing my bedroom door I leaned against it and groaned. I didn’t expect to get much sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rowen was gone by the time I rolled out of bed just before noon. He’d left the blanket folded neatly on one end of the couch with the pillow on top.
Even as I scolded myself for doing it, I couldn’t resist smelling the blanket. His scent awakened so many feelings that I worked daily to suppress. I was such a sucker for punishment.
When I turned around to find Cinder standing in the kitchen, I went from bittersweet nostalgia to downright horrified embarrassment. He turned to the fridge, pretending not to have noticed. Such a good friend.
After he cooked breakfast we sat and ate. He let me finish before grilling me about Wren. I told him in great detail about my encounter with him, hating the way his face fell with every word. He made me swear up and down that I’d be careful and stay in safe places after dark. He even went so far as to place wards on Crimson Sin’s jam space and my car. Unfortunately, he couldn’t place them on public places, like The Spirit Room.
When he revealed how hard Wren was making it for angelkind to track him, I made the mistake of offering to be the bait.
“Out of the question,” Cinder snapped. “Don’t even think about putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Absolutely not.”
There’d been no arguing with him. Tempted to ask how it was unnecessary when people were dying, I chose instead to nibble my toast and keep my mouth shut about it. Cinder ran on a stress level I’d never seen before.
Once he left I showered and got ready. Jett would be picking me up for a radio interview we’d booked several weeks ago. We were playing a show at the rock bar Starlight for Valentine’s Day. Somewhat of an anti-Valentine’s Day event called My Bloody Valentine. Plugging it on the radio would help draw the singles and outright haters of the commercialized day. I was one of them.
With my current playlist of female-led rock bands blasting out of my phone, I danced around in the bathroom while pausing to apply cat eyeliner, gold eyeshadow, and a light neutral shade for my lips. I left my hair down and straight, falling halfway down my back. An array of accessories made it tough to choose. I settled on a spiked bracelet and a chunky moonstone necklace.
Even though it was radio, I eyed my closet with uncertainty. I tried to dress with the possibility of a fight in mind these days. If I couldn’t run or fight in it, I probably shouldn’t wear it. Not how I’d prefer to choose my attire, but such was the life of a nephilim.
Jett texted that she was waiting downstairs. Knowing how impatient she could be, I grabbed tight black jeans with a studded belt and a black tank top and hurried into them. I ran about the apartment grabbing my favorite Halestorm hoodie, purse, and the Midnight Star.
Halfway through the lobby I remembered to check the mail. Since I hated bills I tried not to do it more than once a week. Digging my keys out of my hoodie pocket, I opened the mailbox and almost hurled. A sickeningly sour aroma wafted from the mailbox. I stared into the metal box, aghast. The demon had left me a gift.
Sitting on top of a white envelope from the cable company was a chunk of bloody black hair. From Wren’s last victim. It stained my cable bill with red smears.
One of my neighbors descended the stairs, and I slammed the box shut. Mustering a smile, I nodded and exchanged greetings with the guy from two floors up. The one we all knew called for an escort and Chinese food every Saturday night. Whatever flips your lid I guess.
After he exited I fished a newspaper from the garbage and slowly opened the mailbox. Doing my best not to touch the blood-covered hair, I pulled it out using the paper and wrapped it up. The stained cable bill also found its way into the newspaper. I’d call them to find out what I owed.
Once outside I ducked around the corner of the building where nobody would see me. Holding my breath, I created a small fireball and burned the newspaper and its contents. Only when it was nothing more than ash did I wipe the remnants from my palms and head for Jett’s car.
The Mustang idled in front of my building. Jett lounged in the driver’s seat, an impatient pout tugging at her burgundy lips. “What took you so long? We have to be there in twenty minutes.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem with the way you drive.” I rubbed my hands on my jeans to rid them of any remaining ash. “I had to dispose of a little gift that Wren left me.”
“Oh? Do tell.” She put the car in gear and whipped a U-turn so sharp it threw me against the door.
I wasted no time putting on my seatbelt. A shudder racked me as I recounted the events of my first run in with Wren followed by his tampering with my mailbox. Jett listened attentively, whistling softly when I’d finished.
“Shit,” she said, glancing at me. “He’s not playing around, is he? Or rather he is, but that seems to make this all much more nerve racking.”
“Yeah, just a little. Cinder is out of his mind with worry. I’ve never seen him like this. It’s freaking me out.” Out of habit I checked my phone, wondering why Rowen had slipped out without a word and annoyed that he hadn’t so much as texted.
