by Susan Illene
“How much?” Bartol asked, unable to help himself. He had a couple of hundred thousand dollars saved up at this point, but it was pocket change for an immortal. There had been a time when he’d had millions in savings and investments.
“Fifty thousand if you make the trip to Russia and follow through with whatever information Zoe provides. Should you have to go on the hunt, they will include additional pay for your travel and expenses, but you are not to face the demon alone.”
Bartol had no plans to face it at all.
“And is Rebecca willing to make the trip?” That would be one more responsibility for him, having to take Zoe’s daughter there as well and keep her safe. He truly didn’t need this right now.
Lucas worked his jaw. “She is amenable as long as you get her away should it turn out her mother is lying. We would also request you return her if there is any sign of danger.”
Bartol mulled the offer over. He needed the money, but not badly enough that he was willing to make a trip to somewhere well outside his comfort zone with Zoe’s daughter in tow. Not to mention it would take him far from Cori and his ability to protect her. Maybe if they’d offered him ten times as much money, and he didn’t have to go on the hunt, but the angels weren’t that generous. And after what had happened when he faced his last demon…he couldn’t risk running into another one. Not again.
He shook his head. “No.”
“This is important,” Lucas said in a grave tone. “I would not ask you otherwise.”
“Why don’t they allow you to go?”
“I volunteered, but Zoe insists it has to be you. And for some reason he won’t explain, so does Remiel. I also lack the ability to be diplomatic the way you can as I’ll be tempted to beat the hell out of her, rather than speak to her,” the older nephilim explained. “Zoe likely knows that.”
Lucas had always had a violent temper and less ability to control himself when it came to anything personal. Zoe had threatened his mate more than once. The main difference between the two of them was Bartol had more discipline. If he agreed to go, he would have a better chance of not allowing the female nephilim to draw him into a fight. Perhaps if he had the ability to kill her he might consider it, but that wasn’t an option.
“Zoe is the reason my mate nearly died last month, and I have no desire to see her,” Bartol said, clenching the handle of his sword. “Send someone else.”
Lucas let out a loud sigh. “This could be good for you to get out for a while—and I’ve gained permission for Tormod to go as well.”
A hiss of excitement came from the nerou.
Bartol knew he was being unreasonable, but he could not agree to this. Taking care of himself, getting through each day, and keeping his mate safe were his only goals. Going out in public to the grocery store where people could see him was a trial. They were asking too much of him if they thought he could handle a trip of that nature, and Lucas didn’t even know about Bartol’s previous experience with demons.
“I said no and that’s final,” he replied.
Lucas gave him a resigned look. “Very well, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
With a nod to Tormod, the nephilim flashed away.
Chapter 5
Bartol
A strange thumping noise awoke him.
Bartol sat straight up in bed and shot his gaze toward the window. A few seconds later, a ball of snow splattered against the glass pane. The clock on his nightstand told him it was only half past eleven, but he never got visitors this late. Who would dare disturb him now?
As his grogginess lifted, a note of urgency hit him. Bartol hurried out of his bed, finally sensing who was out there—Cori. Had the woman lost her mind? It was too cold for her to be traipsing through his yard, and it had been snowing heavily before he’d fallen asleep. A glance out the window proved the weather still hadn’t cleared. He could barely make her out through the swirling blizzard obscuring his view, but he was certain it was her by the way the soft tendrils of their mate bond reached out to him.
Cursing under his breath, Bartol quickly donned a pair of pants, boots, and a sweater. He considered going for his coat in the living room, but there was no time. His mate would catch her death of cold if she lingered out there much longer.
He flashed outside and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his mouth close to her ear. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you!” she shouted through the wailing wind.
Bartol pulled her tighter against his chest, relieved she had enough layers of clothes on this time that he could hardly feel her body and either be tempted or terrified by her nearness. “Go back to Melena’s house.”
She shook her head hard. “No.”
Her truck was a mere ten feet away, but he wasn’t certain if she could make that journey on her own. How she’d made it this far on such a night, he didn’t know. Pure stubbornness and willful pride, most likely.
“I will take you there myself,” he said, resolved.
“Please don’t.” She turned in his arms and lifted her chin. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
Her teeth chattered. “Can’t we go inside where it’s warm?”
Of course, that was what she wanted all along. He’d known it from the moment he’d seen her out here. She was trying to get inside the cabin and would have made it to his door if not for the high snow drifts on his porch blocking her way. Cori still had a key he’d given her last month when she’d stayed with him for a short time.
“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” Or better yet, next week or month? If he let her inside his home, he wouldn’t let her go for the rest of the night. She would tempt him too much once she began removing garments, which she would undoubtedly do if yesterday morning’s events were anything to go by.
“I’m taking you back.”
She gave him an imploring look. “Bartol, this is important—I swear.”
He was weak. He was so weak that he hated himself for it, but when he flashed, he took her to his living room. Cori spun around in his arms. For a moment, they simply stood there staring at each other. The relief in her features was almost more than he could take. She’d expected him to reject her and send her away. As mates, he could sense her emotions when they were near enough to each other, and it was clear something was bothering her deeply. She could have come to anyone, but she’d chosen him. It was an olive branch, this offering. He only had to take it and give her a chance to willingly rely on him for once.
Bartol slowly removed her hat, scarf, and gloves as she stood there shivering. He directed her closer to his wood stove and helped her sit in a chair in front of the fire while he added more kindling to the flames. Her lips were blue and chapped, and her hands were an angry red.
“You should not have been out there,” he said, kneeling in front of her and attempting to rub warmth into her fingers.
His need to care for his mate was surpassing his fear of touch, and he would take advantage of it for as long as it lasted. There was something intoxicating about her truly needing him and allowing him to help. In the past, she’d had difficulty accepting much of anything from him. Cori liked to think of herself as strong and independent. What had brought her so low that she’d come to him now, giving no protest to his ministrations?
She took a deep breath. “I needed to see you.”
He’d gathered as much. Bartol finished with her hands and sat back on his heels. “Tell me there is a full set of clothing under that jacket.”
“Even I have my limits when it’s cold,” she said, unzipping the long, heavy coat. “And I wasn’t coming here to seduce you like I know you’re thinking—just to talk.”
Despite her protest, his gaze dropped to see what she wore underneath as she shrugged the dark blue jacket from her shoulders. He found she had a black sweater underneath—a close fitting one that enhanced the curves of her breasts—and a pair of tight blue jeans. While it wasn’t linger
ie, he still found her alluring. Since yesterday, he hadn’t been able to get the image out of his mind of her bent over his work table and wished he’d been able to take more time to enjoy her body instead of transporting her back to Melena’s place.
Cori set the jacket on the back of her chair and hugged herself. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“I sleep to pass the time.” He turned his attention toward the fire, stoking it again. “But I don’t actually need that much.”
“I’ve missed you,” she said quietly.
He bowed his head. “That’s not enough, you know.”
“Why do you need me to agree to immortality right away?” Her voice came out exasperated. “We have plenty of time to worry about that later and wouldn’t it be better to get to know each other more before making a commitment that will last centuries or even millennia?”
Bartol kept his gaze averted. “We are bound together either way, but this mating is tenuous. There is a chance that if we stay away from each other now and do not deepen the bond any further, it might break and we can move on with our lives. I recently discovered one example from long ago where such a thing happened. But if we allow ourselves to get any closer, that chance will be gone forever. I do not want to risk becoming more attached to you than I am if it will not last.” He clenched his fists, hating to admit his weakness, but knowing she had to hear the truth. “It’s all I can do to hold onto each day without breaking altogether—losing you if this goes any farther would destroy me.”
Cori didn’t reply, and the silence lasted so long that he finally turned to look at her. A tear ran down her cheek—one for him. He’d opened up just enough that she’d felt the inner turmoil and pain he usually kept bottled tightly where no one could detect it, no matter their mystical powers.
“We make quite the pair, don’t we?” she asked with a wobbly smile.
Bartol cocked his head. “How do you mean?”
“I’m screwed up because of Griff and afraid to commit. You’re screwed up because of Kerbasi and need commitment to trust me.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to fix this or make it so we can both get what we want, but I know I want to try.”
If he was honest, so did he.
Bartol ran a hand through his hair, finding it damp from the blizzard outside. “What can you give me?”
“Whatever you want. A chance to prove we can work together and be in a committed relationship.” She swallowed. “And if it works out, I’ll let you make me immortal.”
It was a concession. He’d give her that, but it wasn’t all he wanted and not without risks. “Taking that chance will likely bond us forever, whether we accept it or not.”
“Does it truly mean we’ll never want anyone else no matter what?” Cori asked, cocking her head.
He’d heard a lot over the years in his travels, and he’d contacted a few old friends in recent weeks to gather more information. As far as he could tell, with only one exception, no couple ever sought a relationship elsewhere.
In fact, not many survived more than a couple of years if one mate died. It was likely the reason Melena had been willing to risk the wrath of the angels to infiltrate Purgatory and rescue Lucas. Living without him for more than a year had been beyond what she could handle. Caius was proving that theory as well by his willingness to confront a demon who could very well kill him—assuming it was real. But that would give him an out where otherwise he might not have a way to die without an archangel’s assistance. Bartol and Cori were not as tightly bonded as the others at the time of their separation, but Bartol had already felt the strain of them being apart.
“If we take this much further, it will be permanent—even if one of us dies,” he replied.
Cori flinched. “You gotta wonder who makes up these rules.”
He had thought about that as well.
“The mating bond is an extremely rare thing. From what I can tell, there have only been a few dozen cases over the last few thousand years.” He stood and reached for a blanket on his couch, settling it over Cori’s shoulders. “While there is always a chance a rule can be broken, or at least bent, I don’t want to rely on such a remote possibility.”
She huddled into the blanket, silent.
“What brought you here today?” he asked, thinking it best to change the subject.
Cori cleared her throat. “There has been a side effect of ingesting Melena’s blood that none of us could have foreseen. It’s caused me so many problems that I’m losing a lot of my business at the shop and might have to shut down if this keeps up.”
“What sort of problems?”
Bartol had been so wrapped up in himself lately that he’d completely missed she was in trouble. If she’d been in danger, he might have sensed it despite their weakened bond, but this sounded like something different. Still, he should have known and watched over her more closely. It was the job of a mate. And she might not realize it, but it worked both ways. If not for the issues between them, they’d each be looking out for the other.
“Sometimes when I give tattoos…they become more than just tattoos.”
He furrowed his brows, unable to imagine what she meant. “Such as…”
“In one case, I gave a human a tattoo that made her immune to compulsion—or at least from her vampire boyfriend since I don’t think she’s tested it with anyone else. In another, I gave a tattoo to a werewolf who can now shift during the day. The weirdest one of all came yesterday when a vampire claimed he’d lost his craving for blood and ate a steak for the first time in over a century.” She gave him an anguished look. “I can’t explain how I’m doing it.”
Bartol could not believe what she was telling him. He’d never heard of such a thing, but then again, Melena was the only sensor who’d been turned immortal, and Cori was the first full human to receive a dose of her blood. They’d known there might be unforeseen consequences. “No pattern at all?”
“Well, I have a theory,” Cori said reluctantly.
He lifted a brow.
“With the human, I was worried about how her vampire boyfriend was treating her and controlling her. I’m wondering now if some of that concern somehow fed into the tattoo. With the werewolf, he was worried about his family and protecting them during the day against hunters because he is from Washington State where things are worse for them there—he was just visiting a friend here for the week. And with the vampire, he might have mentioned he missed some human foods while I was working on him. It made me think how much it would suck to never get to eat anything, especially with how I love to cook.”
“Is it weakening him not to drink human blood?” Bartol asked.
She nodded. “He thinks it is, but it’s only been a few days since I gave him the tattoo, so I think it’s still too early to tell. He looked fine.”
“And these incidents—they’re hurting your business?”
Cori rubbed her face. “The supernaturals are avoiding my shop now, and I think they’re even telling humans not to visit. Business is down so much that I’m closing the place for all of this week since Thanksgiving is usually slow for me anyway.” She drew the blanket tighter. “I got the money to start that shop from the inheritance my father left me because he always believed I could make it work, and I feel like…”
“…you’re failing him,” Bartol finished.
“Yes,” she agreed. “And if it keeps up, I may lose the place altogether.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
The pain he was feeling coming from her was overwhelming. He couldn’t sit a handful of feet away any longer without getting closer and comforting her. In a flash, he grabbed Cori and pulled her into his arms, settling them onto the couch where she fit into the cradle of his arms.
She looked up at him, locking her gaze with his. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.” He pulled her head into the crook of his neck, content to have her near him for as long as he could handle it. “And we will find a way to fix
this.”
“I don’t see how,” she mumbled.
“I’ll figure it out.”
She might not have committed to him yet, but it had been a huge step for her to come to him with this problem. It showed she trusted him on some level. He could work with that, and perhaps if he gave her some of the stability she needed—financial and emotional—she might begin to consider making their relationship permanent. He wanted that more than anything. The woman in his arms was worth more to him than gold or jewels. She was rare and accepted him with all his flaws. He didn’t want to lose her if he could do something to make her take that final step toward total commitment. And he had the power to make her life better, but it would mean making some very difficult decisions.
Bartol waited until her breaths became even and she fully relaxed into his arms. Then he carried her toward his bed. She woke as he laid her onto the mattress, and she reached up to clutch his shirt. He’d never seen her more vulnerable or sexy.
“Stay with me.”
He shouldn’t. The wisest course of action would be to flee to the couch and let her have the bed, but once she rose up and touched her lips to his, he was lost. He sank into the kiss and pulled her arms over her head so that he could feel secure as he settled on top of her. For long minutes, they kissed like two lovers who needed each other more than air.
Bartol pulled away, standing over her where she lay on the bed. “Take your clothes off.”
She didn’t waste any time obeying his command, and he followed suit. This time he needed to be skin-to-skin with her. This time he wasn’t going to try any of his old tricks or impress her with his skills. This time he wanted to make love to his mate and hope for the best that she could see he was the only one for her.
As he climbed onto the mattress, she willingly kept her hands resting against the headboard and out of the way without him having to ask. Then she spread her bare legs apart, inviting him. Dear God. How had he managed to stay apart from her all these weeks? He sunk into her warmth, ready to take all she had to give.
