“And yes, Rose,” Eddie said proudly. “She’s my girl.”
“Well,” she said, hooking her arms around them. “This calls for free drinks and dancing. You, sweets, are my special guests tonight.”
“Be gentle,” Lyssa said, and Rose roared with laughter.
The bar was packed, and so was the cleared space in front of the stage, where a small band played. A tall, lanky black man in a T-shirt, jeans, and a suit jacket held the microphone like a lover, and sounded so much like Otis Redding that Eddie had to take a moment to make sure he wasn’t seeing the impossible.
“He’s something,” said Rose with a sigh, and led them to a small empty table on the edge of the dance floor. She plucked away its RESERVED sign, and as Eddie pulled out Lyssa’s chair, she said, “Some big-time movie star said he wanted dinner tonight, but he can just stand at the bar and drink his supper standing up. This, babies, is for you.”
“Oh,” Lyssa said, staring. “Are you sure. .”
Rose smiled and patted her cheek. “You are sweet. But you should know now that I take care of Eddie and his friends. And his ladies. . well, you’re the first I’ve seen, so I know it’s special. You’re always welcome here, Lyssa. Don’t forget it.”
Before Lyssa could say a word, the old woman spun and disappeared into the crowd.
Eddie caught her hand, smiling. “See?”
“I. .” she began, and gave him a peculiar look that was full of wonderment. “I’ve never. .”
“I know,” he said. “But this is your home now. All of this. Everything I have is your home, Lyssa. I want you to know that.”
She blinked hard and swallowed. “If she knew what I am, what I could do. .”
“You do good,” he said. “You help people and save lives. You’re an artist, a writer. A great one. You’re the finest, bravest person I know.”
She exhaled, slowly, her eyes beginning to glow. The small candle burning on the table sputtered, and flared like a firecracker. A grin touched her mouth, and Eddie laughed.
“Miracles,” she murmured, looking at him with a heat that made him feel his soul was burning in light. “I love you.”
The man onstage launched into a stirring rendition of “Try a Little Tenderness.” Eddie stood and tugged on Lyssa’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
“No,” she said, laughing. “I’ve never.”
“Then you have to, with me.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
“Only if you say no,” he said, pulling her off the chair with a flex of one strong arm. Lyssa’s laugh became a gasp as she slammed against him, his one arm sliding instantly around her waist and holding her so tightly he could feel every curve of her lush body. She held him just as closely, her right hand clasped in his left. He turned them slowly, swaying to that soulful voice singing about love and tenderness.
And then he looked past her, into the crowd — and saw a man watching them.
Time slowed down. Details stood out in the shadows. Every part of the man was sharp, jutting, hard. Maybe because he was so skinny, as if every ounce of fat had melted off him, stretching his skin tight as a drum across his chest and face. His eyes bulged, and his mouth was thick, making a long slashing line across his face.
Matthew Swint. It was him.
The world came unhinged around him, tilting sideways. Nothing seemed real. He was suddenly a kid again, heart pounding, crushed with fear.
The Cruor Venator couldn’t touch him, but Matthew Swint. . seeing him again was a greasy, sweaty nightmare filled with cigarette burns, and his pants pulled down so Matthew could make fun of his penis and threaten to set it on fire. It was seeing him kiss Eddie’s mother, and follow her into her bedroom, and seeing him in that same bedroom with his sobbing sister. .
A strong, warm hand grabbed his, holding tight. Fire flowed through that touch, sinking into his skin.
Lyssa. He was not alone.
She stared at him with concern, but Eddie didn’t wait to explain. He let go of her, and ran toward Matthew — plowing through the crowd with hot, wild, determination. Matthew ran, too — fast, darting. Eddie glimpsed his back just before he disappeared up the stairs to the Kosmo Klub’s front door.
Lyssa caught up just as he hit the sidewalk. Matthew was already at the end of the block, and Eddie took off after him — heart pounding, fury fueling his muscles, lending so much speed that he caught up with the older man as he swerved down an alley.
Matthew spun, nearly tripping, and his hand flashed inside his jacket. He pulled out a gun, pointing it at Eddie — just as Lyssa staggered into the alley with them.
Dammit.
“Edward,” said Matthew, breathlessly. “I wish you hadn’t seen me just now.”
“Following me? Visiting my mother’s home?” Eddie edged in front of Lyssa. “What did you think would happen?”
Matthew was still breathing hard, one hand holding his chest. He really did look sick, even frail, but there was a wiry strength about him, too — and something quietly frenzied about the way he looked at Eddie that was totally unnerving.
But not as frightening as knowing Lyssa was just behind him, in range of a bullet.
Eddie edged closer. “You should have died in jail. Isn’t that what happens to child molesters?”
Matthew’s mouth stretched into a ghastly smile. “When they’re lucky. Let’s just say. . I wasn’t. But it gave me plenty of time to think about you.” The gun wavered. “You’re the reason I went to jail. You killed my brother. Everyone thought I set him on fire, but I knew it was you. I saw the look in your eyes when he went up. Sort of like the look you’re giving me now.”
His finger began to squeeze the trigger — and the world slowed down with agonizing force. Eddie stopped thinking. His heart and body took over, and he raised his hand at the man.
Fire erupted, consuming him in a spire of flames. But even as Matthew burned, he fired the gun.
Pain lanced across Eddie’s arm, spinning him. Just a flesh wound.
But then he heard Lyssa scream.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Everything happened too fast, up until the moment Eddie got shot. But when he spun, hit — the world dropped away.
Lyssa screamed in rage and lunged toward Matthew Swint. She heard shouts behind her, but those were lost beneath the roar in her ears. It didn’t matter that he was already dying, that she could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin as the fire licked up his legs. A terrible fury clawed up her throat when she thought about him hurting Eddie — and a sister that she would never know.
Children, abused. And now he was back, trying to kill. . to murder. .
Your mate, whispered the dragon, in a voice crackling with rage.
Flames burned through the glove of her right hand, turning it to ash as she plowed into Matthew’s burning body. Her claws gleamed with fire.
She barely felt the first blow or the second, but when the blood sprayed from his throat and hit her face, the heat and scent of it flooded her with terrible pleasure. For the first time in her life, violence did not frighten her. It felt righteous.
Matthew Swint screamed, but his voice choked as Lyssa pressed her mouth to his throat wound and drank — deep and long, lips tight as her dragon teeth sharpened and bit into his flesh.
His blood was not sweet. It was terrible. She realized in that moment why a Cruor Venator chose victims so carefully: only good people with good lives, because when drinking a soul — drinking memories — it was only sweetness that a Cruor Venator would want inside her mind.
Matthew tasted like shit. And the images in his head. .
Lyssa finally broke off, gagging — but it was already too late. She felt the cigarette between her fingers as she burned a young boy’s hand—a beautiful child who disgusts me because he is weak, a fag, a piece of shit—and then the memories shifted, and she saw a lovely teen girl with long dark hair and huge eyes, and—
— Lyssa lashed out, unthinking, desperate to kill wha
t was flowing through her mind—
— realizing too late that it was Matthew receiving her final, killing, blow. She saw him drop, half his throat missing, eyes rolled back in his head as the fire turned his skin black.
Strong arms wrapped around her body, pulling her backward. Eddie’s voice broke through the roar in her head, and she clung to him — staring in horror at Matthew’s body.
She had killed him. Consumed his dying blood.
Power ripped through her, tearing through her veins. Lyssa gasped, clutching her head, throat cracking with a soundless scream as a thousand, a million prickling needles dug into her soul.
And then, just as a abruptly, the pain faded. . leaving nothing behind but a floating sensation that was cold and sharp as a knife’s edge.
Birthright, whispered the dragon, with pride and pleasure. Finally.
“No,” she said, horrified.
“Lyssa,” said Eddie sharply, and she staggered from him, holding up her hands — which were covered in blood.
Eddie chased her, grabbing her wrists. “Come on. We have to go.”
Lyssa stared at Matthew’s charred, blackened remains. Cars drove past the alley entrance, but she thought she heard shouts, coming close.
“No,” she said again, and Eddie pulled ruthlessly away, making her run.
When they reached the end of the alley, he slowed them to a walk and slung his arm over her shoulders. Lyssa staggered against him, clutching his shirt. Power still flowed through her, and it was sweeter than she wanted to admit.
“I killed him,” she murmured.
Eddie said nothing, wincing as he reached into his coat for his cell phone. Lyssa sucked in her breath. “He shot you.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
Lyssa closed her eyes, nauseated. “Be honest.”
“I am.” His hand tightened around hers. “I’ve had much worse, I promise you.”
Sirens filled the night air. Eddie made them walk faster, and Lyssa finally straightened, trying to pull herself together.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” she said, as he dialed his phone. “Actually, I take that back. I really wanted him dead for hurting you.”
“Good,” he replied, flashing her a quick hard look — and then regret hit his eyes. “I didn’t mean. . I know how you feel about. .”
“Don’t.” Lyssa took a deep breath, steadying herself. “He’s not worth second thoughts. Trust me. . when I drank his blood, I saw. .”
Eddie blinked, and his breath caught. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, haunted. He swallowed hard and gave her a sharp nod. Then, with visible effort, he turned his focus back on making his call.
“Roland’s not answering,” he muttered, moments later. “We’re close, though. We should go there. Lay low. I don’t know how much anyone saw back there.”
“You think. .?”
“I don’t know,” he said grimly. “But Dirk & Steele has too many connections to let any of us go to jail for taking the life of a child molester.”
“You make it sound like the mob.”
“Feels like that, sometimes.”
It was a ten-minute walk. Both of them silent, focused. San Francisco, which Lyssa had been falling in love with, suddenly felt like some glittering, alien cage that might collapse its bars around her at any moment.
Except I’m the monster now, she thought. I am a Cruor Venator, and if I chose, if I wanted to. .
You could control the world, whispered the dragon. There has never been one like you. Demon blood, mixed with dragon? There is a reason Georgene wants you, either to control or to consume.
They reached the building, but Lyssa grabbed Eddie’s hand as he began to unlock the narrow glass door. A scent curled around and through her — impossible, wicked, and muscular.
It couldn’t be. . not so quickly. It had only been a day.
But then Lyssa remembered that Estefan had known how to contact Dirk & Steele, where they were located, that it was filled with people who could help her. . people like Eddie.
And what Estefan knew. .
“Georgene is here,” she told him, and deep inside, the dragon began to purr.
They took the stairs. Eddie moved on light feet, fire sparking off his hair and shimmering over his hands. Lyssa followed, using the climb to mentally prepare — as if such a thing was possible. Being a Cruor Venator would not be enough to kill Georgene. For witches who were unaffected by magic, it would come down to hand-to-hand combat.
But this time, there was no small child to use as bait. No mother forced to choose her life over the life of her daughter. No father, away on business, coming home to find his wife being slowly murdered, her body too far gone to save.
When they reached the ninth floor, it was all very quiet. But Lyssa smelled Georgene’s scent. . as well as blood. She grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, holding him back.
“She’s here,” she breathed.
His jaw flexed, and he pulled her close. “My arm. It’s bleeding.”
Lyssa stared, confused. . until he swiped some of his own blood and placed his hot, wet fingers on her lips. She recoiled instinctively. . but the scent filled her, and so did the trace of blood that he left on her mouth. Her tongue licked it off, and his love coursed through, as well as golden light. It chased away the stink and sourness of Matthew Swint. . and the next time he held up his hand, she did not resist.
She licked his blood off his fingers, then did the same to the wound on his arm — soaking in his strength and goodness, feeling her heart grow, and her spirit.
Eddie’s breath quickened. Between them, that mental link bloomed. It did not last, but there was enough time to feel his mind touch hers in a blossoming shower of concern and affection that was not in the least bit dimmed by her lapping his blood away with her tongue.
Which, frankly, she wouldn’t have blamed him for finding disgusting. That he didn’t. . was just another miracle. Her miracle. Her man.
I understand, Lyssa wished she could tell her mother. I understand now.
“Ready?” Eddie whispered.
Lyssa nodded, jaw set. . and moved in front of him to stride down the dark corridor to the living room. The lights were off, but the city gleamed through the windows, shedding a glow. Close, the scent of blood intensified. . and so did the sound of harsh, pained, breathing.
It was Roland, she discovered. Bound hand and foot, and shivering as he lay sprawled on the floor near an overturned table. An obsidian dagger jutted from his shoulder, but he had suffered cuts all over. Blood soaked his clothes.
When he saw Lyssa and Eddie, his eyes widened and a low, pained rumble escaped his throat. He had been gagged, too.
She smelled his fear. The room stank with it, and the stench of his blood.
“Interesting man,” said Georgene, moving in the shadows on the other end of the room. “Stronger than I expected. Still not able to resist me, but he fought the fear. He still fights. And his mind. .”
She made a hissing sound, filled with pleasure. “Such unexpected power. Everyone he loves is filled with power. I could harvest them all and rule this world.”
Lyssa didn’t look away from Georgene, not even when Eddie slipped past her to crouch beside Roland.
“I’m ripe,” she said. “Are you ready for me?”
The witch strode toward her. “I offered you a chance.”
“No.”
“I meant it, you know. Both of us, together. Yes, you would have tried to kill me eventually, but two Cruor Venators working in tandem? That has not been seen in a thousand years.”
“I can think of better dreams.”
“I can’t,” said Georgene, with an oddly regretful smile. “There is nothing sweeter than drinking a life and riding that power. I took Nikola with me, and now she rests in here.” Her hand pressed against her heart. “Forever.”
“You won’t take me,” Lyssa whispered. “Or Eddie, or anyone else.”
“Ah,” she whispered,
dark eyes glittering. “You are untrained. You are young, and have not fed on a full life. I can feel that. You have no chance, Lyssa. And yet. . when I take your life, it will be the life of a full blood Cruor Venator. . which is far more powerful than if I had just killed you before your first murder.”
Eddie rose from helping Roland, and stepped forward. “You won’t touch her.”
She smiled. “You’ll be next. And when I’m done, you won’t remember Lyssa. You won’t remember yourself.”
That threat. That promise.
For a moment, Lyssa remembered her mother, chained and bleeding. Her father, descending in a cloud of fire.
Fire burned in her hands. Inside, the dragon simmered with such terrible rage she forgot everything but the need, and hunger, to protect the man behind her.
My mate.
Lyssa took one powerful, bounding stride — and grabbed Georgene’s head between her hands. Claws pierced her scalp, drawing blood. Blood that Lyssa scraped across her tongue.
The reaction was immediate, and overwhelming. Power roared through her veins with such force she thought her skin would split — like a cocoon, split — or the skin of a snake — revealing her, transformed. Unrecognizable. Alien.
She didn’t care. Nothing mattered but that taste of power, which felt like the purest form of infinity — like heaven after a hard death. Impossible and eternal.
I will never give this up, came the unbidden thought. I will kill to keep it.
And, just like that, the moment ended. One terrible thought was all it took to snap Lyssa free and send her slamming back to earth in a tumble of fear and hunger, and determination.
The Cruor Venator snarled and shifted shape into a leopard. The transformation took a heartbeat, and suddenly Lyssa was on her back, fighting to fend off an enraged 150-pound cat with hate and hunger in its black eyes. Claws gouged her stomach.
Eddie appeared behind the leopard — and in a burst of raw strength, slid his arms around its neck and hauled backward. Lyssa scrambled forward instead of away, slashing her own claws across the leopard’s belly, screaming in fury and disgust as she tried to gut the Cruor Venator.
Within the Flames d&s-11 Page 31