by Dima Zales
“This is amazing,” Diego said as I handed him a glass of water.
“I really love it, too.” Then I realized maybe saying “love” hadn’t been the wisest thing in this particular situation, so I drank some of my own water to cover up my awkwardness.
If he noticed, Diego didn’t give any indication. He drank as well, seeming to study me. Although I didn’t have any hope of this encounter turning out any differently from the others, I’d made a little more of an effort today, wearing some new jeans and a dark green cardigan with a lace-trimmed camisole under it, along with my ballet flats instead of boots.
Since he didn’t seem inclined to say anything, I asked, “So how did my aunt manage to rope you into this?”
Another of those eye-catching grins. Like his brother, he had a very good smile. “Oh, she didn’t. I volunteered, and my abuela called your aunt.”
“You…volunteered?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well…I guess I am. I mean, after Alex didn’t work out….”
“We’re not the same person. Just because he wasn’t your consort doesn’t mean I can’t be. And he had very good things to say about you, so I thought I should give it a try.”
Well, how was I supposed to reply to that? I gave an embarrassed little nod, not meeting his eyes, and he went to the coffee table and set down his glass…properly using a coaster, I noted.
“Does it bother you that I’m a little older?”
“No,” I said, finding my voice. “Not really.” You’re still younger than Damon Wilcox, I thought then, although I knew better than to say such a thing out loud.
“Good.” He came over to me and laced his fingers through mine. His hands were strong, as his brother’s had been. “Let’s try this, then, okay?”
I couldn’t do anything except nod.
His mouth came closer to me, then touched, and….
I didn’t know what I wanted to happen. Part of me felt as if I were betraying Adam, and the other part argued that I needed to be doing this, that I needed to try. Too much pushing and pulling inside my mind.
It turned out that none of it mattered, because again I felt nothing. Oh, his technique was very good — I could tell he’d had a lot of practice — but there were no more sparks or fireworks than when I kissed Adam.
Diego pulled away. His expression seemed neutral enough, although by the way his jaw tensed slightly I could tell he wasn’t thrilled by my lack of reaction. Probably he wasn’t used to having girls just stand there like department store mannequins when he kissed them.
“Oh, well, it was worth a try,” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I knew the chances weren’t good.”
I nodded, feeling an odd sense of relief. At least now I knew what would happen. There wouldn’t be any more attempts. Maybe I wasn’t meant to have a consort in the true sense of the word.
He went and retrieved his glass of water, then drank about half of what remained. “I’ll be on my way.”
No protests came from my lips. What would be the point? He wasn’t the one, either.
I saw him to the door, then went up to my room and retrieved my phone from where it sat charging on the nightstand. After I went to the Contacts screen, I sat there for a long moment, staring down at Adam’s number. Although I knew my Aunt Rachel had said there would be no more candidates after Diego, some part of my mind didn’t quite believe it. There were still three days left. But no, she’d said there was no one else. No one unattached and in the right age group, of the right family. I’d run through them all.
After taking a deep breath, I pushed the phone icon next to Adam’s entry. It rang twice, and he picked up. Without waiting for him to speak, I said, “We’re on for Friday.” Then I hung up before he could reply. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I just wanted to get the whole thing over with.
We’d tried to act normal, but of course there wasn’t anything normal about the situation. Everyone in the clan knew what was going on, too, which didn’t make things any easier. After some ruminating on the upcoming evening, I’d decided we should go out — dinner at Grapes, and wine, then off to the Spirit Room to hear that night’s band play, and more wine. I figured if I were seriously tipsy, if not outright drunk, then the whole thing might be easier to handle.
Adam hadn’t bothered to argue with me about all that. I guessed he was probably just relieved that no more obstacles had presented themselves. If I wanted to delay things as long as possible on the night itself, he could handle that. Technically, I wouldn’t be twenty-two until almost midnight the following day — my time of birth was eleven-thirty. So partying late tonight wouldn’t create any problems.
Once again Sydney had suggested that she and Anthony should come to meet us and hang out for the evening, but I thought that would just be too weird. “I appreciate it, but…no,” I told her.
“Suit yourself,” she replied. “And I won’t even ask for the gory details tomorrow.” She’d let out a mock-sigh and added, “My little girl is finally going to be a woman!”
“You are so weird,” I replied, even though I couldn’t help smiling a little. Then I’d hung up.
Dinner was all right. We talked about commonplace things, about how he was helping with the conversion of a triplex into a single-family home, and how I couldn’t decide whether to go with black appliances or stainless steel ones for the upcoming kitchen remodel. Just your ordinary date-night conversation, I supposed.
Lara’s band was playing at the Spirit Room, which meant the place was packed. We ended up having to hover at one end of the bar, but I didn’t mind too much. The raucous atmosphere helped to deflect my thoughts from what was coming at the end of the night.
Jesus, you’re acting as if you’re going to your execution, I thought. It’s just Adam. He knows what he’s doing.
At least, I assumed he did. I’d never heard of him seeing anyone in Jerome, but he went into Cottonwood a good deal, just like the rest of us did, and I know a few of those girls back in high school who’d thought he was cute would’ve been more than happy to have him pop their cherries, so to speak. He’d wanted to be with me, but I kind of doubted that meant he’d been depriving himself all these years just in case I changed my mind.
He bought me a glass of wine, and then another. By that point the room was more than a little swimmy, faces and sound and the dim lights over the bar seeming to swirl around and around one another. Most of the people I didn’t recognize; a lot of bikers came to the Spirit Room, although it was always a more or less friendly crowd, locals and tourists and people from several motorcycle clubs mingling without much of a problem.
Adam and I danced. I wanted the contact with him. I wanted the music to draw us closer, to have our bodies moving together so that when the moment came, I’d already feel in sync with him, would think it a natural progression. That was what I hoped in my semi-drunken state, anyway.
Even there we weren’t without our escort, although they’d taken up a table in a corner, staying out of our way. I had to thank the Goddess that Tobias wasn’t among them. It would’ve been too awkward to have him watch me act like a tipsy fool as I psyched myself up into sleeping with Adam so I wouldn’t have to worry about Damon Wilcox ever getting his hands on me.
Eventually midnight came and went, and Adam squeezed my hand, bending his head close to my ear. “I think it’s time to go home now.”
I wanted to protest, but I knew that was silly. It was already late; waiting another hour wasn’t going to make any difference. So I nodded and let him lead me out of the bar, and up the street to the house. The trio followed a few paces behind, trying to be discreet but failing miserably. There just weren’t enough people out at that hour for them not to stick out like a sore thumb.
When we got to the house, Adam stopped on the doorstep and looked down at Henry and Boyd and Allegra where they waited awkwardly on the walkway. “Do you think we could have a little privacy,
just this night?”
They exchanged glances.
“What do you think is going to happen?” Adam demanded. “Pretty soon she’s going to be safe forever. Just let us have this time together, okay?”
Another long pause. “All right,” Boyd said at length. “We’ll go to my place, since it’s only two doors down. We can be here fast enough.”
“Good,” Adam said shortly. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
He pulled out the key I had given him earlier — he didn’t have my same talent with locks — and opened the door. The house felt oppressively quiet as we entered. Although I’d hated having the bodyguards underfoot all the time, it still felt strange for no one to be there except Adam and me. I realized that I’d never been this alone in the house.
But there were his fingers around mine, warm, reassuring. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I let him lead me up to the bedroom. Everything was dark here as well, but he waved his hand at the fireplace, and immediately the logs stacked within began to blaze, warming the space, sending dancing light against the clay-hued walls.
My head still spun, and my mouth was suddenly dry. No more delays. He was here and I was here, and we both knew what was going to happen next.
Which one of us moved first, I couldn’t tell. I only knew we were suddenly standing very close, and his mouth came down to mine, and I opened my lips, tasting the wine on his tongue as well, feeling the warmth of his body against mine.
Only then it wasn’t warm, but cold, as an icy blast seemed to move through the room, and the fire in the hearth snuffed itself. Shadows formed all around us, shadows that resolved them into the shapes of people in hooded cloaks. I pulled away from Adam, opened my mouth — not to kiss, but to call out a spell of protection, to reach with my mind to the three who were supposed to be watching over us.
But my breath seemed to choke in my throat, even as my body froze, and the words wouldn’t come. A blast of light, gray-tinged, and Adam flew backward, fell lifeless to the floor. Because I was choking, I couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything but stand there, impotent, as I saw Damon Wilcox’s glinting black eyes come closer and closer.
“I told you I wanted you,” he said.
Darkness swirled around him, seemed to become one with him, and I fell into it, was sucked down into a lightless tunnel with no end.
All went black.
16
Light returned. Well, not light exactly, but a darkness that wasn’t absolutely black. My eyelids fluttered open, and I thought I saw the movement of dim shapes around me. Black candles burned behind them, but I could make out no details beyond that.
I tried to sit up, and realized I could not. The surface beneath me was hard, and felt like some kind of a long table, draped in heavy black cloth. When I turned my head to one side, I couldn’t see any ropes or any other bonds holding my wrists and ankles in place, but I might as well have been bound for all the good my struggling did.
“Hello, Angela,” came Damon Wilcox’s voice from off to my left. I turned my head and saw him standing in front of a group of his clan members. They all wore dark robes, some with the hood pulled up, concealing their faces. There seemed to be at least twenty of them in the room, but it was so dark I couldn’t tell for sure.
And then I recalled Adam’s limp body falling to the rug in my room, remembered how only a few seconds earlier he had been kissing me, and now he was dead. Well, it felt like seconds earlier. I had no idea how much time had passed, how long I had floated in the dark until I awoke in this room.
Tears came to my eyes, but I blinked them away. I would not cry in front of Damon Wilcox. I would not.
“Fuck you,” I said succinctly.
He just laughed and shook his head. “Soon, I promise.”
His words sent another wave of ice through me. Of course I knew exactly why he’d stolen me away from my home, but that didn’t make his words any easier to hear. “You’re crazy,” I told him. “You think my clan isn’t going to come after me?”
“They can try, I suppose, but what good will it do? By then the deed will be done.” He looked past me to one of his clan members, a woman who had pale streaks of gray in her long black hair. I couldn’t tell for sure in the semi-darkness of the room, but something about her features looked vaguely Native American. “Is it time?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was soft and low. “The solstice is upon us. Now is the time for the binding.”
He turned back to me and then approached until he stood next to the table where I lay. Although I knew it would do no good, I gritted my teeth and strained against the invisible force that held me in place. I’d never heard of a spell like this, especially one that could subdue the magic of a prima, but then, I’d never studied dark magic. It wasn’t the McAllister way.
In the gloom I could see his grin flash as he stared down at me. “I’ve been waiting for this a long time.”
Then he bent down to me, and I braced myself. Of course I knew how a kiss between a prima and a consort was supposed to feel, but I had no idea what this would feel like, this forced contact between the dark power of a primus and his victim.
His lips touched mine. I had thought they would be cold, since he seemed to bring the cold with him wherever he went. Maybe he drew his power from it, from the ice and the snow and the long dark winter nights. But he was warm enough, surprisingly.
I’d been expecting a shock, a chill…something. Not this, only the press of mouth against mouth and nothing else, just the way I’d felt it so many times before with all of my failed candidates.
The black eyes flashed, and then narrowed. He lifted his mouth from mine and stared at me for a long moment, then bent again and pressed his lips to me again, this time forcing my mouth open with his tongue. I shuddered, although he tasted faintly of mint and nothing else. It was just the violation, the feel of this man I had come to despise forcing himself on me in such an intimate way. Nothing compared to what he had planned, I knew, but still….
He pressed his hands against the edge of the table and thrust himself upward, then whirled on the woman who had spoken a few moments earlier. “It’s not working!” he snarled. “You said on the night of the solstice she would be mine!”
Face calm, she stared up at him, meeting his angry gaze as if it were nothing. With a shrug she replied, “I said the signs told me that she would be the consort of a Wilcox. They did not tell me which Wilcox. You just assumed it would be you.”
“Fuck!” Damon Wilcox ran an angry hand through his hair, and glared into the watching crowd. “Connor, come here.”
The watching clan members shifted, and a tall man moved forward, but slowly, as if he was reluctant to do as Damon had asked. Unlike the others, he wasn’t wearing the dark robes, but what looked like jeans and a sweater.
Even in the dim lighting it seemed as if there was something familiar about him, although I couldn’t quite figure it out. Probably my eyes playing tricks on me. After all, how could there be anything familiar about any of the Wilcoxes? I’d never seen any of them before, except that one time in Phoenix when Damon tried to grab me at the Nordstrom Rack.
But then he bent over me, and I stared up into his eyes.
Green eyes. Cloudy jade, just as I’d dreamed a hundred times.
I sucked in a breath, and then looked beyond those eyes to the face of the man who gazed down at me, and that was familiar as well.
“Chris?” I asked, my voice cracking on that one syllable. It couldn’t be. Maybe I’d gotten knocked in the head during the kidnapping, and I was hallucinating things that weren’t there. No way could Chris Wilson be here, of all places.
Those green eyes didn’t seem to want to meet mine. Finally he said, “It’s Connor, actually. Connor Wilcox.”
No. The room seemed to tilt around me, and I wished I could sit up, wished I could push myself off this table and run, run far away. I shut my eyes, but when I opened them again, he was still standing ther
e.
We might have been the only two people in the room. “You lied to me,” I whispered finally.
He pressed his lips together, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite manage it. Not with his brother and so many of his clan members looking on.
“Do it,” Damon said, his voice harsh with anger and frustration. “You have to bind her to us. Now.”
Again Connor hesitated. His hands were shoved in his jeans pockets, and I could practically feel the tension radiating from him as he stood there. At last he took his hands from his pockets, leaned over me, and murmured, “I’m sorry.”
His face was very close to mine. I’d dreamed of him kissing me, had wondered what it would be like, but never had I ever thought that we would come to it like this.
Then his mouth pressed against mine.
Heat flooded through me, seeming to set off every nerve ending in my body, as if all my veins no longer ran with blood but molten lava, bright and terrible and alive. That same warmth traveled to my core, making me ache with need. In that moment I wanted him so badly that I think I would have let him take me right there on that table, in front of everyone. Even in front of Damon Wilcox.
He felt it, too, I could tell. His eyes widened, and those same hands that had been clutching the table reached up as if of their own volition to cup my face, to hold me tenderly while he kissed me again and again, lips matching perfectly, tongues reaching out to touch one another, the feel and the taste of him better than anything I’d ever experienced. I fought against those invisible bonds, and then it seemed as they melted away, because I was able to reach up and wrap my arms around him.
My consort. The one I’d been waiting for all these years.
A Wilcox.
