“It’s dangerous for me to have any connection to you. You know that. If anyone learns that I’ve been here—”
“No one from your side will know. I can’t take you the way I would use, but there’s a way for you to get back without calling your friends or family to help smuggle you in.” He thought of Lysander, who he’d already summoned. Merrick hoped it took all night for him to arrive.
The tip of Alissa’s tongue caressed her top lip, making his mouth go dry, his fangs descend, and his groin take notice. He clenched his fists tighter, fighting for control.
“Well? Are you going to tell me how? Or should I guess?” she asked with a smile. “I warn you, my lack of experience will probably get tedious after the first fifty unsuccessful guesses.”
“Hard to imagine anyone finding you tedious.”
“Mr. Merrick, I—” She paused, putting a hand to her throat.
Merrick wondered if she was unconsciously protecting herself with that move.
“It’s nice to find that I wasn’t wrong about you,” she said.
He arched an eyebrow in question.
“You’ve been charming to me, and sometimes I questioned whether it was a game to get me to trust you, so that I would be tempted to come here if you asked me to. And whether, once I was away from the protection of the Etherlin, you’d drain me dry and laugh at how gullible I’d been.”
It was such a reasonable suspicion, what could he possibly say?
“But I’m here, unprotected, and you’re still charming, still inviting me to trust you.” She lowered her fingers from her throat. “I do. Whatever else you are—despite what you are—I consider you my friend.”
She extended her hand. The hell of it was, he knew if he took it, there would be no power on Earth that would keep him from pulling her to him, and she’d learn how misplaced her trust in him could be. Then he’d be forced to see the disappointment in her eyes. God help him, despite what he was, he didn’t want that.
He swallowed against his dry throat and shook his head at her offered hand.
“Too much of a temptation?” she asked, drawing her hand back.
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a rueful smile. “Yes. Every inch of you.”
“I’m sorry…but flattered,” she said, as she took a step back. “Should I go into the bedroom? We could talk through the closed door.” Her voice had a slightly playful note to it.
He liked it when she flirted. Liked it too much. Unfortunately, she was everything he’d built her up to be in his mind. How the hell could he go back to just the letters?
He unclenched his cramped fingers and went to the bar, where he poured himself another drink.
“Honestly, should I go into the room and close the door?” she asked, all teasing gone.
He squeezed lime juice into the glass, watching it slither into the liquor. “It wouldn’t do any good. I’d come in after you.” And we’d be closer to a bed.
“Mr. Merrick, what’s your first name?”
“Just call me Merrick. Everyone does.”
“But isn’t that your last name? You can call me Alissa, and I thought I could call you by your first name. Just for this evening, since we’re the only ones here.”
He poured the scotch down his throat in two slow swallows, then looked over his shoulder to find her watching him. “Do you think it’s wise to invite that kind of intimacy?”
“Not normally, but I think this may be the only time we’ll ever be in a room together.”
Don’t count on it. He set the empty glass down and moved toward her casually, so he wouldn’t put her on her guard. He liked that she was relaxed around him.
“I’d like to talk to you as a friend would,” she said.
A friend? His intentions could hardly be considered friendly. He watched her mouth move. There was a very good chance that if he kissed her, he’d be able to let her go if she resisted. He took another step in her direction. She was only a few feet away. One swift lunge and the struggle with himself would be over.
She smiled, tantalizing him. Another step. She was within reach now. He glanced at the rug. Expensive, but not soft. The couch was nearer than the bedroom.
He’d seduce her. He could probably keep himself from biting her. At the moment, her blood was diluted from the transfusion. Plus, control was one of his strengths—normally. The danger was that he’d waited such a long time to taste her. Who’d have thought letters could be foreplay?
“I’m curious about your life and your past,” she said. “I’d love to ask—”
She didn’t see him reach for her because the thump on the balcony drew her attention. He clenched his jaw, his fangs scraping his lip. He swallowed the blood and let his hand fall before it touched her.
Lysander’s here. She’s safe from me.
And soon she’ll be gone, he thought with a frown. Temptation swamped him. The temptation to talk to Lysander on the balcony, to send him away, to barricade the doors, to keep the entire world out…
The balcony door opened, and the archangel ducked his dark blond head to come inside.
Too late, Merrick thought, exhaling. No turning back now.
He’d arranged this because it was what she wanted most. Unfortunately, at the moment, it was also what he wanted least.
Chapter 6
“My God,” Alissa whispered.
That Alissa herself was descended from a legendary being didn’t prepare her for the sight of the entering creature. She stared as the light fractured around him, bending toward him, then blurring away. Her eyes strained to absorb every spectacular detail. Seven feet tall, broad, shirtless, and scarred. His shoulder-length hair hung in haphazard dark gold waves around a heartbreaking face that was both young and hard. His face was marked with three scars; there were two thin ones along the left side of his forehead, like sinister echoes of his brow just below them, and then a longer scar that ran from in front of his left ear to his jaw. The third slash seemed to continue through the air, picking up at his right collarbone and crossing his chest before stopping at his right nipple. What kind of blade had made that mark? How deep had the wound originally been? And how had he survived such brutal attacks?
Other scars crisscrossed his chest, punctuating the spectacle of his muscled torso. And then there were the wings that folded behind him. Ivory-, amber-, and sienna-colored feathers overlapped each other in a stunning array of harmony from chaos.
With a sucking sound, his wings disappeared. Fascinated, she tilted her head, wishing she’d been standing behind him to watch them fold into his back. His hand moved to the right calf of his worn leather pants. A moment later, he skinned a knife from its sheath and sported a dagger with a foot-long blade.
In the blink of an eye, he’d halved the distance between them, then came to a dead stop.
He murmured something in a language almost as old as time. Muses had the gift of tongues, but it took a moment to translate in her head.
“A girl,” he’d said.
She needn’t have worked so hard to remember Etruscan. A moment later, he repeated it in Latin.
He backed away, turning his upper body so that he could look at Merrick.
“If you need my help killing her, you’re sorely out of practice,” the angel said.
Alissa leaned forward, studying the creature.
“You’re not here to kill her,” Merrick said.
“You woke me.” The angel pointed the tip of the dagger at Merrick. “You summoned me. If not to kill a demon, then why?”
“I want you to do something.”
The angel sheathed the knife and went to the kitchen. He didn’t bother to look at her or Merrick. Instead, his entire attention seemed focused on a polished silver serving bowl full of small oranges. He took one from the top and tore the skin from the fruit, then downed it in two large sections, his powerful jaws only chewing a few times before swallowing. He ate a second orange in the same way.
Then he walked through the living
room toward the balcony doors. She watched with fascination as the two ridges on his scarred back opened and slick wings poked out.
“You want my help when the time comes. This is my price,” Merrick said.
The angel stopped and turned. He studied Merrick with smoky green eyes. “Your price?”
The angel moved with such force that a gust of air disturbed the papers on the desk. He slammed Merrick into the wall, closing a huge hand on Merrick’s throat. “Are you bewitched?”
Merrick didn’t struggle, nor did he attempt to answer.
Alissa took a step toward them, grabbing a marble obelisk to hit the angel with.
“She comes,” the angel said softly.
“No, Alissa,” Merrick said in a rasp of a voice. “Stay back.”
She hesitated. “I don’t— Are you—?”
“Look at me,” the angel commanded, studying Merrick’s face. “Are you bewitched?”
“Do you want me to answer? Or would you prefer just to choke me?” Merrick rasped dryly.
The angel let go. “Not bewitched,” he said thoughtfully.
“As I’ve told you before, magic doesn’t penetrate me.”
“You’re half human,” the angel said dismissively. “You can’t know that all magic won’t. Hers smells especially good.” He turned toward Alissa and focused his arresting gaze on the marble object still clasped in her hand. “You should put it down. Wielding a weapon against me is dangerous.”
Merrick walked to her and took the obelisk. “Her intent was to help me, not to attack you,” he said, setting the obelisk back on the small table behind them.
“She wanted to rescue you,” the angel said and smiled. His face was radiant with it. She had been told endlessly how beautiful she was, but she knew she was nothing compared to him. Killer or not, the angel was simply the most compelling creature on earth.
“Are you fearsome then?” he asked her. “Skilled enough to interrupt a fight between an arcanon and the ventala he trained to kill demons?”
“No, not at all,” she said. “Trying to help Mr. Merrick was instinctive because he’s my friend.”
The angel’s grin faded as he dipped his head in a nod. “Loyalty is good if it’s sincere.” Then he glanced sideways at Merrick. “You’re reckless. If she kills you in your sleep, don’t expect me to avenge you.”
Merrick laughed softly. “If she kills me in my sleep, I’ll die happy. No avenging will be necessary.”
“Tell me the favor.”
“I want you to fly her home.”
The angel’s brows drew together, making the thin forehead scars stretch. “Like a winged horse?”
Merrick rolled his eyes.
The angel shook his head at Merrick in exasperation. “You summoned me to help you with a girl. Apocalypse?”
Merrick chuckled.
“Seriously, you were wrong to summon me for this.”
Merrick shrugged.
“Some day we may have a disagreement that one of us doesn’t walk away from.”
Merrick shook his head. “You can’t kill me. There’s that prophecy you want me to help you with.”
“Yes, try and live long enough for that. I invested a lot of time training you,” the angel said.
“Sure,” Merrick said with a smirk, “but you’ve got nothing but time.”
Alissa studied them with frank curiosity. Were they friends? Not precisely, but they were something to each other. She wanted to ask questions. She wanted to sit down with them and untangle their mysteries. Exactly what did the angel know of the afterlife? Of the secrets of ancient times? There were some original legends buried among the memories contained in the Wreath, but they were reportedly fragmented and hazy. When she’d tried on the Wreath, she hadn’t seen them, though she would have liked to.
The angel turned to her and touched his chest. “Lysander,” he said.
“Alissa,” she returned.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“Not usually.”
“Then you’re welcome,” Lysander said. He walked out onto the balcony, and she heard the rush of air as his wings burst out of his back.
She stared after the angel for a moment, then she turned to Merrick. “So an archangel. Why did he call himself an arcanon?”
“Because he’s fallen.”
“Didn’t all the fallen angels become demons?”
“Apparently not.”
She glanced at the balcony doors. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep him waiting.” She started to go, but then turned back. It might be the last time she saw Merrick. The thought saddened her. She crossed to him and kissed him on the cheek, then backed away quickly, feeling the way he tensed.
“Obviously I don’t know the full extent of what it cost you to summon him, but I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight.” She held up a hand as if to wave good-bye, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. “Even if I don’t see you again, I won’t ever forget.” She touched her fingertips to her lips and extended them in a brief makeshift kiss.
His gaze caressed her with an unveiled hunger that made things deep within her tighten. Laconically he said, “Stay.”
“I wish I could,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she had time to stop them.
“Alissa—” Her name had come from both directions.
Ignoring the impatient archangel, Merrick extended a hand. She struggled against the urge to take it, backing away slowly.
“I really have to go home. My—people are counting on me,” she said.
He didn’t drop his arm. He waited, as though he’d pull her back by sheer force of will. He almost did.
She fisted her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
Ruthlessly steady, his hand continued to reach for hers, stubbornly wanting to bridge a chasm not meant to be bridged.
Her body rigid as she battled her desire to stay, she finally forced herself to turn and step out into the night. She closed the balcony door and leaned against it, exhaling. Lysander hovered above her, his wings slowly beating the air.
“Now I understand,” he said.
“Understand what?”
“Why he wants you so badly.”
Alissa stared up at him blankly.
“You’re as reckless as he is.”
Merrick clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying for calm. Within him, dark emotions warred.
Frustration. Discord. Jealousy.
She’d wanted to stay, but she’d gone. He hated the Etherlin for its hold on her. Hated her commitment to duty, to history, to destiny. Really hated the way she’d looked at Lysander.
Merrick ground his teeth together. Fallen or not, Lysander had been crafted from heaven’s ether, had been touched by the hand of God. Only Lysander’s own sin had tainted him, and as irresistible as the blood of muses was to vampires and ventala, that’s how irresistible Lysander was to humans. Alissa might be part muse, but she was many generations down the family tree; she was many parts human. If Lysander had been standing in the living room with his hand out, Alissa North would never have stepped onto that balcony.
Merrick leaned his head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. But did he want her to stay under those circumstances? Compelled by magic rather than desire?
Yeah, under those circumstances or any, he thought savagely.
Merrick grimaced and rubbed his eyes. She was a muse, and he was ventala. There was no future for them. He knew that to the marrow of his bones.
The problem was that he didn’t care. He wanted her.
Tightening his muscles until they ached, he wondered just how far inside him this obsession with Alissa North had burrowed.
“You’ll get yourself killed. Her, too, probably,” he murmured, as if saying the words out loud would help convince him—would somehow hold him back from what he wanted to do next.
The vampire in him weighed the risk of death and destruction an
d gave its cool and expected response. Give me what I want. I don’t care what it costs.
Most of the time, the human side of him won out over the vampire because Merrick took pleasure in crushing vampire urges, the same way he took pleasure in crushing vampires. Unfortunately, in this case, Merrick’s human side wanted Alissa North, too.
He rose. Time to suffocate in magic.
Lysander stood on the railing, towering like a flesh-and-blood Florentine bronze, his massive wings spread behind him.
“You’ll face the ground, so you can feel what it really is to fly.” He leaned forward, caught her upper arms in his hands and lifted her. For a moment, her bare feet rested on the glossy black rail, and her breath caught in her throat. Then, with the snap of his wings, they rose. Above the windows and the rooftop, above the black-and-white buildings, into the murky sky, and higher into soft, clean air.
Neither of them spoke. She pointed the way home, and they glided and swooped, rose and dove, amidst treetops and rooftops until she knew she would dream about flying for the rest of her life.
He landed where she indicated, within a collection of trees near the lake. It was a place that she didn’t think the security cameras would easily penetrate. When her feet were on the ground, she faced him.
“Thank you, Lysander.”
He nodded.
“How did you and Merrick become friends?” she asked, wanting to sate her curiosity and to delay his departure.
The archangel’s gaze shifted to the right. “I smell something. Not a demon, but something that’s touched what lies beneath. If you walk around the lake, avoid that direction,” he said.
Alissa looked the way he’d pointed. It was the path she’d taken between the Xenakis house and her own. If there were lingering traces of black magic, maybe she could follow it back to the person who’d betrayed her. “What do you mean? What exactly—?”
His wings flapped, lifting him a few feet off the ground. “There’s a subterfuge to you. I don’t know whether you conceal things to protect yourself or for some more sinister reason.”
“I—”
“Don’t defend yourself. Time will reveal your character better than words. Just understand something. I need Merrick to do something, and he’s promised he will. Also, he’s my friend—the only friend I’ve chosen to have in hundreds of years. So when I said that if you killed him, I wouldn’t avenge him, it wasn’t true.”
All That Bleeds Page 6
