by Sarah Piper
“Did Sebastian say how long you had?” Emilio asked gently.
“We left it kind of open ended. I’m hoping I can figure out another loophole in the interim.”
“We will, Gray. That’s not even a question.” He put his arm around me and pulled me close again, big and protective and comforting, exactly what I needed. I let out a breath, some of my stress evaporating. Emilio had always had that effect on me.
Behind him, two men headed down the front steps from the house—shifters, I thought. Probably wolves. Jael came next—Emilio had told us he’d been staying with them, helping out. Then, bringing up the rear, a woman who could only be Emilio’s sister, Elena.
I pulled out of Emilio’s embrace and attempted to wipe away my tears and smooth out my hair, but I was probably making everything worse. I was still wearing Ronan’s sweatshirt and the clothes I'd woken up with at the hotel, and I felt like my entire body was covered in a layer of grease from Sebastian's mere presence.
Clearly not my personal best, but Emilio’s sister offered a warm, genuine smile anyway.
"Welcome to Raven's Cape," she said, introducing herself and leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I only wish you’d come here for a happier reason.”
Her accent reminded me of Emilio's, and I wondered what else they had in common, what their childhood had been like, how long it had been since they’d seen each other before this. Emilio had never said much about her, but now I sensed a distance between them, a tension lingering just beneath the surface of their smiles. I wondered if she was the reason for the sadness I sometimes saw in his eyes. The regret.
I thought about his words back at the safe house the night I’d grilled Fiona Brentwood.
People do all sorts of misguided things when they’re trying to protect the ones they love, querida. Let’s just say I know something about that.
Maybe he’d been talking about his sister.
“Those are my guys,” she said, bringing me back to the moment. She nodded to the shifters that were now speaking with Ronan and Jael at the car. “Detectives Aiden Hobb and Russel Lansky.”
“They’re helping with the case,” Emilio said.
“Right now, they’re helping with your vampire,” Elena said. “But there’s plenty of room in the house for everyone, so no worries. Even the… the dogs.”
“They’re not dogs, Elena.” Emilio rolled his eyes playfully. “They’re—”
“Shh!” She put her hands over her ears. “I have to tell myself they’re dogs, or we’re going to have a serious problem.”
Emilio laughed. “Whatever you say.”
“It is whatever I say. It’s my house. Also, my jurisdiction.” She turned back to me with a real smile. “You can set up in the spare room on the right, straight back from the front. There’s a bathroom in there too if you want to shower. Once you’re all settled in, I’ll make us all a snack. Yes?”
“Thank you,” I said. “That sounds great. Especially the shower and snack.”
“By snack,” Emilio said, “she means a seven course meal, complete with appetizers and desert.”
I beamed. “Even better.”
Elena went to help the others get Darius situated. Emilio told me they’d set up a room in the basement for him, trying to make sure he’d be as comfortable as possible.
“No stone benches,” he promised me. “But we do need to keep him sedated and bound for now. Just until we can assess the situation and figure out how to best help him. Okay?”
“There has to be something else we can do,” I said, my stomach knotting up again just thinking about Darius being… handled. That was the word for it. They were handling him, shuffling him from the car to the house, down into the basement, talking about him as if he were a stranger. A prisoner. “Emilio, it’s Darius.”
“Oh, querida,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “This isn’t right. I know it isn’t. But it’s the best we can do right now.” He cupped my cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the last of my tears.
I wrapped my hands around his wrists and sighed, grateful for the contact. For a touch that didn’t turn into smoke. When I looked up and met his gaze, Emilio was openly staring at me, his soulful eyes searching my face.
“What is it?” I whispered, suddenly shy. I didn’t even want to think about how horrible I looked right now, but Emilio seemed completely captivated. “You’re freaking me out, El Lobo.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s really good to see you, brujita bonita. When they told me what you’d done in that prison, what it meant…” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged. “I thought I’d never hold you again. How did you even survive that place? And then you got stuck in hell?”
“That’s… a really long story.” I felt like I’d been saying that a lot lately, and I’m sure the other guys had their own tales to tell, too. We’d all been away from each other for so long, it seemed like it’d been years since we’d last shared a meal together, let alone talked. Really, really talked.
“I guess we have a lot to catch up on,” he said.
“We will,” I promised him. “After dinner, though. You got me all excited for Elena’s seven-course meal.”
Emilio nodded, lowering his hands from my face. I missed the contact immediately, but forgave him when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, gift-wrapped in pale turquoise paper and tied with a red ribbon.
“Is that for me?” I asked.
Emilio smiled. “Just a little something I saw and thought you might like.”
A bubble of giddiness floated up inside, and I bounced on my toes, eagerly tearing open the paper. After so much darkness, so much insanity, it felt good to find the simple joy in something like a present.
The paper fell away, revealing a deck of Tarot cards.
And I gasped, tears blurring the colors and designs together.
I’d been mesmerized by this deck since I was a little girl.
“Are they… do you like them?” He asked. “I know you like to use Sophie’s cards for your readings, but everything was so chaotic when we left the safe house, I didn’t think to grab any of your things. When I saw this deck, I… I just got this image of you holding the cards. These cards. I felt like you belonged together. Does that sound nuts?”
“Emilio,” I finally breathed. “It’s not nuts. They’re perfect.”
“Are you sure? Because if you don’t like them, I bet we can exchange them. There were at least a hundred different decks at the shop, and—”
“It’s not that. It’s….” I took a deep breath, the shock of it still washing over me. “This is the deck Calla used to use.”
It was her favorite deck. The only card I had left from it was the High Priestess—I’d found it inexplicably tucked into my book of shadows the night we’d dug the book up out of my backyard. At the time, it’d felt like a message from Calla. An infusion of strength and wisdom and encouragement. Now, it felt like she was looking down on me again, wrapping me up in a gentle hug, reminding me that she was still with me.
“There was a time I’d be surprised to hear that,” Emilio said, “but if I’ve learned anything from you, it’s that there are no coincidences.”
“No, there really aren’t.”
“You were meant to have those cards, Gray. I felt it from the moment I saw them in the case.”
I nodded, unable to express how touched I really was.
When I finally looked up from the cards, Emilio offered me a shy smile. The sight of it filled me with so much warmth, it felt like the sun had finally found me again, thawing out my bones from a deep freeze.
There was so much going wrong. So much falling apart.
But here in Emilio’s embrace, I’d found a moment of pure peace.
“You’re trembling, mi querida.” He rubbed my back, as if I needed warming up. As if I could ever be any warmer than I was right here in his arms. “Are you okay?”
“More than ok
ay.” I pulled back and looked up into those soulful brown eyes again, my heart fuller and lighter than it’d been in weeks. “You make me believe we’re strong enough to—”
He cut off my words with a kiss. A quick one, soft and pure, just this side of friendly, but a kiss nevertheless. There was a promise of more to come in a kiss like that—so much more—and for now I tucked it away for later, knowing that in the midst of all this chaos, there was at least one good, pure, beautiful thing waiting for me on the near horizon.
“Whatever you were going to say,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes, “it’s true. We are strong enough. For whatever’s coming our way. For whatever we need to do to fix this. For whatever we need to do to protect our pack.”
Elena’s dinner was amazing, and despite the challenges we were all facing, we still managed to laugh. To enjoy Elena’s cooking, trading a few stories from their mutually trouble-making childhoods in Argentina. I learned that Emilio liked to chase away the chickens that his mother had meant to cook, and Elena had a knack for growing what she called a “very special medicinal herb of the smokable variety.” Everyone got a good laugh at that.
Through all the laughs and the good food and the endless wine, there was only one thing missing. One thing that Ronan and Emilio both had deemed too dangerous to bring to the table.
My vampire.
Twenty-One
Gray
“Good evening, love.”
Darius called to me before I’d even reached the bottom of the basement stairs, and I closed my eyes and stopped, hoping he couldn’t sense the skip in my heartbeat at the sound of his voice.
Love. The sweetness of that word on his lips made my chest hurt. How many times had he called me that? Had he whispered it into my ear, his lips brushing my skin?
“I was hoping you might visit me,” he said again. “It’s dreadfully dull in this establishment. And the menu leaves much to be desired.”
Thanks to Deirdre’s potion, Darius had remained in a heavily seated state for the entire trip home from Las Vegas. He’d been down here ever since, fed a steady IV drip of some kind of hawthorn-infused herbal tonic Elena had fixed up—just enough to keep him calm and slightly lethargic, but not totally immobilized.
In his current state, Ronan and Emilio said, he could still attack us. Even me. They said we had to be careful.
That didn’t mean we had to be cruel.
The basement was finished, with warm yellow walls, and plush beige carpeting. Darius was seated on the couch, his legs free, but his upper body wrapped impossibly tight in what looked like a souped-up straightjacket. The IV was taped to his neck, the tonic in a clear IV bag hanging from a pole at the end of the couch.
I gasped, horrified. I didn’t know what was worse—the chains at Inferno, or this?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He took in my appearance, his eyes drinking me in slowly, lazily. Elena kept her house warm, and after my shower I’d pulled my hair into a messy bun and changed into the clothes she’d left out for me—a pair of soft cotton shorts and a black Dead Weather T-shirt, Ronan’s sweatshirt tied around my waist. It wasn’t especially glamorous, but Darius seemed to appreciate the outfit.
My cheeks heated under his gaze.
“Don’t be,” he said, a teasing smile tugging his lips. “I’m sure I’ve been in worse scrapes. Haven’t I?”
I nodded, thinking of the time we were attacked at the morgue. The time we fought of those vamps at Norah’s place. The time we battled memory eater demons in the Shadowrealm…
Darius had been through so much. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
I knelt on the carpet before him, resting my cheek on his knee and closing my eyes. The familiar scent of his skin emanated through the fabric of his borrowed sweats—whiskey and leather and something inexplicably his.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” he mused. “I’m quite dangerous, if popular opinion is to be believed.”
I lifted my face, forcing myself to open my eyes and stare into his. He held my gaze, unblinking, studying me as I studied him.
“Whatever are you looking for, love?”
The tenderness in his voice was like a scalpel, so clear and sharp I could almost tell myself I didn’t really feel it slicing through my heart.
But that would be a lie. Every moment Darius spent tied up here, his memories lost or locked away or entirely eradicated, hurt me in ways I couldn’t pretend not to feel. I felt every bit of it. For him. For me. For all of us.
Tears escaped, despite my efforts to keep them prisoner.
“There, there.” Darius ducked his head, offering a warm smile. “It can’t be as bad as all that, can it?”
“It’s worse than all that,” I said.
“Tell me what’s troubling you. Maybe I can help.” He tried to shrug, but his movements were limited by the straightjacket. “Well, not help, exactly. But I can certainly listen. I’m an excellent listener.”
That got a smile out of me. Darius had always been a good listener.
I untied the sweatshirt from my waist, setting it on the floor as I rose up on my knees, my hands sliding up his thighs. He opened his legs to allow me to get closer, and I did—as close as I dared. We were at eye level now, and I had no idea what would come next. There was no plan, no projection. Only instinct. And right now, my instincts were telling me that this was okay. That it was right.
“Darius, do you remember me at all?” I asked.
His face changed then, the teasing smile gone, his eyes smoldering as he stared deeply into mine, searching. I held my breath, waiting for the flicker of recognition to come. A smile. A word. A joke. A look that only Darius could give me.
But after another moment of searching, his face fell, his eyes filling not with recognition, but sorrow. Disappointment.
“For what it’s worth,” he said gently, “I truly wish I could. I’m so sorry, love.”
He looked utterly pained by the admission.
I nodded, but I had to believe he was still in there. That his memories hadn’t been erased, only misplaced, locked away behind a wall. We just had to figure out how to knock that wall down.
I took a deep breath and got to my feet, still standing between his knees.
Sliding my hands over his shoulders, I reached behind him for the straps of the jacket.
“Lean forward,” I said.
“Gray, is this really the best course of action?” he asked.
“Don’t you want to get out of this contraption?”
“More than you know. But the others… they think I’m a threat to you. Perhaps there’s some truth to that.”
“You would never hurt me,” I said, needing him to believe it as much as I did. “You… you might not remember it now, but you care for me a great deal.”
We’re blood bound, I wanted to say, but held back. In his eyes, my words wouldn’t make it so. Darius would need to remember that bond on his own, or it wouldn’t matter to him.
“That very well may be, but I’m also not…” His eyes darted toward the IV bag. “I’m not in the best physical condition right now. I’m not sure that I could restrain myself. If I hurt you, even inadvertently…”
His eyes were pained. The thought of hurting me had upset him.
Hope surged inside me. Since I’d last spoken with him in the basement of Inferno, he’d clearly regained some of his awareness. His humanity. The fact that he was even thinking about my safety rather than trying to talk me into freeing him was a good sign.
“Lean forward,” I said again, and he finally obeyed.
With new urgency, I worked at the locks and buckles and hinges at the back of the straightjacket until I’d gotten them all undone.
I pulled the jacked off, revealing his bare arms and chest, freeing him from the confines of this monstrous form of torture. It was as heavy as a bulletproof vest. I had no idea what it was made out of.
I tossed it to the ground. As l
ong as I had a say in this, he’d never be forced into that thing again.
Darius kept his arms at his sides on the couch, slowly flexing his muscles. His pale skin began to regain some of its color. “That’s… better,” he sighed.
“We’re not done yet.” I reached up to unhook the IV, pressing my fingers against the skin of his neck. At my touch, he shivered, his thighs tightening around my legs.
Without the straightjacket, the IV was the last thing keeping him even remotely restrained. Once I disconnected it, the hawthorn would wear off quickly, and he’d regain his full strength.
If he decided to hurt me…
My hands trembled, but there was no going back now. He needed to know I believed in him. Trusted him. I did trust him.
Gently, slowly, I slid out the needle. A trickle of blood ran down to his collarbone.
And he was totally free.
“Brave move,” he whispered through a smile. “Or maybe reckless. Either way… Thank you, little brawler.”
“Darius!” I leaned forward and cupped his face, my heart ready to burst. “You remembered something!”
“I… did?”
“Little brawler! That’s what you call me.” I lowered my mouth to his, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hesitated only a moment before parting his lips, allowing me to deepen our kiss. Darius sighed into my mouth, a low moan rising from his chest.
I pulled back, searching his face. When our eyes met, something sparked in his. He was coming back to me. I could feel it.
“That’s right,” I urged, willing that spark to ignite into a flame. A fire. “You know me, Darius Beaumont. In every way that counts. Every way that means something, you know me.”
“I…” Slowly, he lifted a hand to my face, tracing my brow bone with his fingertips. His touch was soft and gentle, a caress, a whisper.
His touch was all Darius.
I climbed into his lap, straddling him, sliding my hands into his silky dark hair. It’d gotten longer since we’d first met, almost to his shoulders now, and I tangled my fingers into it, drawing him closer.
