by Tally Adams
Paoli didn't push her. He just waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. "You're all in a lot of danger, aren't you?" she asked, her face still turned away.
"I told you we're at war," he pointed out reasonably.
"Are you afraid?" she asked in a small voice, turning to face him again.
He held her gaze. A small smile softened his eyes. "What you need to remember is William and I have always lived in constant danger. He's been the Coven's executioner since he was old enough to hold a blade. My job was to protect him and help him carry out his orders. This is nothing new for us."
"Blades," she grumbled disgustedly under her breath. "Why don't you guys come into the twenty-first century and use guns? That way you wouldn't have to get so close."
"Only silver can do much harm against our kind. Silver bullets don't fly well because the metal is too soft. Emily tried it and found at best, silver bullets slow immortals down. They sting like hell, but the actual damage is negligible. Besides, beheading is the only way to be sure of a successful death. It's hard to behead someone with a gun."
Lyric had to smile. Leave it to the only woman in the group to think about trying something other than a hard, stiff blade. She made a mental note to ask Emily about the gun. Since she was now in the middle of an ongoing power struggle, it would be a good idea for her to have some sort of protection. Even if it wouldn't kill them, slowing them down might give her an opportunity to escape, if the situation arose.
"I know it can be hard to adjust at first. And right now, things are much more unsettled than usual. But we will keep you safe" he said, his voice silky-soft and spilling over her like warm honey. "That much you can be sure of." He reached up and slid a wayward curl behind her ear, unable to fight the impulse to touch her. His fingers trailed along her skin, leaving little paths of sensitive heat in their wake.
Lyric smacked his hand away in reflex at the unexpectedness of it and turned back toward the window, ignoring the triumph in his eyes. The car suddenly seemed overly warm and far too small. For the rest of the drive, she didn't so much as glance at him. But she could feel his smug smile, as if he'd just proved something. It made her want to slap it off of his face.
Paoli was, indeed, feeling very pleased with himself. Her reaction to the brief contact proved, without a doubt, just how much she was fighting her attraction to him. And losing. Which meant, as far as he was concerned, it was time to press his advantage.
When they parked in front of the motel, Lyric vaulted from the car and headed straight for her room without speaking to anyone. A cool shower and some time alone were just what she needed. It would allow her to regain perspective.
She rammed the key into the hole with more power than necessary, then couldn't get it to turn. Frustration was mounting as her speedy exit was hampered by a sticky lock.
"Let me help," Paoli said from directly beside her.
She jumped at the sound and her eyes flew to his face. Sure enough, an alarmingly sensual smile greeted her.
Chapter Sixteen
"I can manage, thank you," she told him dismissively, now jerking the key with almost desperate movements. She needed to get away from him; to give herself time to recover from her reaction to his touch, to make sense of it.
"Yes, but I'd like to get inside sometime tonight," he said, and she froze in mid-jerk, her head snapping up to look at him.
"You are not coming into my room," she declared.
"No?" he asked.
"Absolutely not," she said, sounding aghast.
"Can I ask why not?" he wanted to know, that sensual smile still there and laughter dancing in his eyes.
This was no time to be diplomatic. "No."
"That hardly seems fair," he complained, his voice laced with male amusement. "If I'm to be denied my lady's company, I should at least get to know why."
"Because I can guess what's on your mind, and it isn't Monopoly," she said, jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest.
He gave her a grin that was downright wicked. "Is it my thoughts that worry you, or your own?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Lyric spluttered for a moment, unable to control her mouth. She stopped, took a breath, and continued. "My thoughts are of nothing more than a shower and some sleep. It's late, you know?"
"You're lying again," he said, still grinning. "Come now, Lyric, what is it you're afraid I'm up to?"
She made the mistake of looking into those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes of his. They were already darkened with desire, showing very well what he was up to. "After all, considering your disinterest, what's on my mind shouldn't bother you in the least. Surely you know I wouldn't force myself on you. So tell me, what's on your mind that has you afraid to spend a few minutes alone with me?" he asked. "Because I simply want to talk to you."
"Yeah, right," Lyric snorted. The stupid key still wouldn't turn, and her increasingly desperate attempts were getting her nowhere. She needed to calm down enough to figure out how to work the damned lock.
Paoli reached forward and took the key, allowing his fingers to brush over her hand in a gentle caress. She relinquished the key so quickly it nearly fell. He caught it easily and clicked the door open. "Shall we?" he asked.
Lyric glanced at the interior of her room and back at him. "What did you need to talk to me about?" she asked, not budging from her spot.
The grin was back, lighting his face irresistibly. "I think it should be discussed privately," he said, his voice soft and suggestive.
"I don't trust you," she said stubbornly.
He actually laughed. "Smart girl."
"Whatever you need to discuss can be done tomorrow," she informed him. "Right now, I'm too tired to have a serious conversation. So, good night, Paoli," she said tartly, and started to turn toward the doorway.
"Before you disappear in there," he said, moving forward to block her path.
She took a step back, eyeing him nervously.
He moved forward, closing the space between them until he was so close, she had to tip her head to look up at him. She was snared by the hunger in his eyes. His hand gently slid into her hair, pulling her into his arms. Before she had a chance to register what was happening, his mouth closed over hers with such finesse, she had no hope of stopping him.
The kiss was gentle. His lips moved softly over hers; carefully measured, coaxing her response rather than demanding it. Try as she might, there was no resisting the persuasive temptation of his mouth. His lips were sensual and inviting, and so expert in the art of kissing, she was lost within seconds. At the first sign of her surrender, Paoli deepened the kiss.
The taste of her was everything he'd imagined and more. Her lips were soft and supple, and she followed where he led without hesitation. The feel of finally having her in his arms was like nothing he'd experienced before. Whether it was because of the wait, or just because it was her, he had no idea, but it fed his passion exponentially until he was fighting himself not to overwhelm her with the strength of his need.
Lyric found herself leaning into him, pressing against the hardness of his frame, clinging to him to remain upright. Her hands slid around his neck and her senses left her head completely, lost in a haze of wondrous sensation. His hands moved from her hair to rove down her back and finally to cup her buttocks, pulling her forward against his groin.
Her lips parted for his seeking tongue of their own accord, and he showed her what centuries of experience really meant. Heat pooled low and spread through her in a heavy ache, nearly driving her mindless with desire.
Paoli tore his mouth away from hers and moved his lips to her ear to whisper huskily, "That was worth waiting for. Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you inside?"
It took a full thirty seconds before her mind cleared enough to process his words. When it did, embarrassment at how she'd not only allowed him to kiss her, but had wholeheartedly participated, sank in. It was another thirty seconds before she found her voice. She put a hand to his chest a
nd broke from him on legs that were slightly wobbly. "It's not going to happen," she said, but the dry rasp of her own voice belied her words.
"It's going to happen," he said smoothly. "Maybe not tonight or tomorrow night, but very soon. You're fighting the inevitable."
She gawked at him in disbelief, reason returning quickly in the face of his arrogance, which cooled her faster than a bucket of cold water. Suddenly furious with both him and herself, she scoffed. "You're overly sure of yourself," she said scathingly, her voice, thankfully, back to normal. "Now please move so I can go to bed. Alone," she added when he opened his mouth to speak.
He chuckled at that. "If you change your mind, I'll be waiting for you until sunrise," he said, moving away from the door to allow her to pass.
She stiffly walked by him without a glance. She closed the door firmly in his face and locked it for good measure. Still not satisfied, she hooked the chain lock just to be sure there was plenty of barrier between them and ignored the sound of his fading laughter, moving away, thank God. A sagging feeling crashed over her, and she leaned against the door, trying to collect herself.
What was wrong with her, she berated herself, gently banging her head against the door in frustration. Paoli wasn't even her type. Hell, he wasn't even alive, technically speaking. But she couldn't deny her reaction to his touch, and that kiss had been…she groaned aloud. Of course she'd kissed men before, but no kiss in her life had ever come close to that. And instead of decking him for trying, she'd melted into him like butter, which was only going to encourage him to try again and her resistance was sadly lacking.
As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, she was clearly more attracted to him than was good for her, considering her intention to find a way to undo the connection he'd forged between them. She didn't know if sex would make the connection harder to break: Hell, she didn't even know if the connection could be broken, but it seemed reasonable that the more of a relationship she allowed to form, the harder it would be to break away later. She couldn't afford to take the chance, and she'd do well to remember it next time his eyes went all dark and passionate at her.
She slept badly that night, twisting and turning in her aggravation. Her body felt heavy and cumbersome and her mind kept recalling the feel of Paoli's mouth on hers; the sensation of being drawn into his powerful embrace and lost in those striking blue eyes of his. She woke up feeling even more tired than she had when she laid down, and with the suspicion Paoli himself had caused her lousy sleep, which she fully intended to confront him about the moment he rose. Damn him for causing her even more grief!
Chapter Seventeen
In the meantime, however, she stopped by Emily's motel room. Last night's discussions had raised her understanding of the danger she was in and she had no intention of walking around like a lamb among wolves. If Emily had something that might help her defend herself—even a little—she wasn't above asking for it.
Still aggravated over Paoli and her restless night, she banged harder than she intended on Emily's door and gasped in surprise when it opened quickly and unexpectedly.
"What's wrong?" William asked immediately, standing in the doorframe; a hulking, terrifying mass of very large man and bulging muscles. The Coven's own executioner. She had no trouble imagining him hunting down people to kill them.
Lyric quavered for a moment, trying to remind herself he was on her side. He was a good guy. Sort of. Which still didn't mean she'd ever be comfortable around him. William was just plain intimidating. The blankness of his face made her feel like he could break her in half without a second thought. "I'm sorry," she said quickly.
He gave her an impatient look; his eyes scanning over her head to the area behind her.
"There's nothing wrong. I just need to talk to Emily," she told him, silently pleading for Emily to appear and save her.
"Get out of the door and let the poor girl in," Emily said when she stepped beside William and poked him in the ribs.
Lyric's legs nearly went numb with relief. She caught just a hint of softening in William's eyes when his attention shifted to Emily and it gave her pause. He then made a grand show of stepping out of the way and ushering her into their motel room.
"Oh, very funny," Emily said sarcastically to his formal gesture, then smacked him playfully.
He grabbed the spot as though grievously injured, gave a salute to the women and disappeared through the doorway.
"He's going to talk to Empusa," Emily said to Lyric's unspoken question. "He and Sekhmet went out last night and he didn't get the opportunity before they left. What's up?"
Lyric was disconcerted by the news. Did that meant they'd gotten hungry and hunted someone down? Had Paoli joined them? She swallowed the thought. "When you say 'out'," she said hesitantly, "does that mean they-"
Emily had no trouble reading the look on Lyric's face and was quick to reassure her. "I mean they went out clubbing," she said. "Some desires aren't changed from mortal to immortal." Here she rolled her eyes theatrically and gave a soft, indulgent laugh.
Lyric couldn't hide her relief, though it brought a new question. "Did Paoli join them?" she asked, trying to sound merely curious, but she found the idea gave her a terrible twisting sensation in her stomach.
Emily's smile was far too discerning. "No," she said patiently. "Paoli declined the invitation and spent the evening here, with William and I."
Lyric hated the relief that news brought. After all, she shouldn't care what Paoli did or with whom, as long as it wasn't her he was bothering. But it brought her back to her original reason for coming to see Emily. "Paoli mentioned you used to have a gun with silver bullets. If you're not using it anymore, I was wondering if I could borrow it," she said.
Emily looked surprised for a second, then her face slid into a wide smile. "That's a great idea!" she said enthusiastically. "Come on." She grabbed the keys from the small table in the corner of the room and moved toward the door. "It's in the trunk of the car. Let's grab it and get you set up. Have you used a gun before?"
"No, but I'm a fast learner," Lyric said, falling into step beside her as they left the room and headed toward the car.
Emily popped the trunk and pointed to a small wooden box in the corner, lying among the piles of other important stuff packed into the tight space. Mainly different types of weaponry. "That's it. Go ahead and grab it."
Lyric picked up the box and was surprised by how heavy it was. Of course, it was made of solid wood, but geez; it was like carrying mercury around. She followed Emily back into the motel room and sat the small box gently on the table, as if it contained a grenade that might go off of its own volition.
"Go ahead and open it," Emily said, taking one of the chairs next to the table.
Lyric flipped the small metal catch and opened the box to reveal what was a surprisingly beautiful handgun. It had a pearl handle—fake pearl of course, but still very pretty—and a light, silver-colored barrel. It sat, reposed against a red velvet backing. "Wow," Lyric breathed, running her finger over the cold metal.
"Right?" Emily said, smiling wide. "When I saw it in the store, I was surprised a gun could look so pretty."
Lyric nodded agreement. "Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing it?" she asked, now not so sure this was a good idea. What if she scuffed it or something?
Emily just laughed. "You can have it. I don't have any use for it now. It could really come in handy for you."
"Are you sure?" Then, when Emily nodded enthusiastically, "Thank you."
"Here, let me show you," Emily said, and the two of them spent some time going over the details of how to load and unload the gun. At one point, Emily reached for a small bullet and snatched her hand back with a yelp.
"Damn it!" she swore, sticking her finger in her mouth.
Lyric looked at her quizzically. "Silver," Emily said by way of explanation, examining her finger. "I forgot. Man, that really stings!"
Lyric leaned forward to get a closer look and saw the end of
Emily's finger bubbled up in a blister. "Jeez," she breathed. "Does that always happen when you touch silver?"
"I don't know. This is my first experience with it," Emily admitted, shaking her hand so fast it blurred.
Her answer gave Lyric pause. "How long have you been-um-immortal?" she asked hesitantly.
"Not long," Emily said, now scowling at the injury. "I'm still trying to get used to things." She gave a deep sigh and turned her attention to the box. "Anyway, let's get you up to speed on this."
With that, she proceeded to instruct Lyric on how to use the sight for accuracy and the basics of firing a gun. Lyric tried to remember everything, but the information was coming at her so quickly, she suspected she forgot as much, if not more, than she remembered.
Eventually, they moved away from the motel to find a wooded spot along the highway for target practice. Fortunately, Emily had a decent supply of regular ammo to practice with, and Lyric took full advantage of it.
By the time sunset came around, Lyric had managed to become somewhat of a predictable markswoman, in spite of the waning light. Nothing terrific, but at least she wasn't likely to shoot herself by accident and she could make a reasonable guess to the approximate area she'd hit with each shot. For a first-timer, she was quite satisfied with herself.
"Not bad," Emily said appreciatively, helping Lyric to collect the loose shell casings.
Lyric returned her smile with a touch of satisfaction, glancing over at the highway streetlight that blinked on with the arrival of full-dark. "I may not be a crack-shot yet, but I'll get there," she said proudly as they headed back to the motel, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
Chapter Eighteen
