Evernight

by Kristen Callihan

  She nearly turned at that jab. Adam wanted to grin but couldn’t. Not when he wanted to shout to the heavens in rage. Why? Why had they given him her? He’d done his penance, hadn’t he? He’d followed every edict laid before him when he was cursed. And this was what he received? A woman who wouldn’t even look him in the eyes.

  “Aye, a spoilt child, you are. You think I’m so bloody awful?” he ground out. “I’ve fathered countless GIM, given all those souls a new life, new hope. Have you the slightest inkling of how many lives that has affected? You wouldn’t even be here were it not for me. No, you’d be rotting in an unmarked grave, forgotten and unavenged. Because the GIM did that for you as well, didn’t they? Striking down those who hurt you. And what thanks do I receive? Silence.”

  More followed. She’d calmed now. Dug in and found whatever it was that gave her the strength to ignore him. Adam growled and yanked the chain that linked them. Hard. On a cry, she fell back, her elbow hitting the top riser, her body twisting to face him. For one instant, their eyes met. He felt the weight of her wide, brown stare down to his marrow. And something inside of him ached. “You agreed to this,” he ground out. “You agreed to be mine. Mine!”

  His voice echoed over the emptiness. “And now you act as though you’ve been tricked.”

  Her gaze narrowed. She glared at him, and though it was progress, for she mostly looked through him, he couldn’t stand it. “I gave you life anew. I look after your every comfort, for all that you ignore it. What do you want of me? What?”

  He hated the desperation that sharpened his tone. And perhaps so did she.

  “Freedom.”

  Adam flinched, so unaccustomed to hearing her voice that he wondered if he’d dreamed it. But she looked back at him, waiting. Freedom. Oh, how very well did he know what it meant to yearn for it. He’d done so for seven hundred years. And now, at the cusp of his, she wanted the one thing that would snatch it away? She, who’d done nothing for him. She who’d agreed to his terms and then instantly sought to go back on them. Like a coward.

  His nostrils flared. Cold night air burned down his throat. He leaned closer, until they were nearly nose to nose.

  “No.”

  Her expression wiped clean. As quickly and thoroughly as if his answer was a door shutting upon her. Then she was looking through him once more, as if he weren’t there. And he wanted to roar, pound the rotting floorboards to dust, grab hold of her and make her acknowledge him once more.

  He didn’t do any of those things. He was a near god among lesser supernaturals. He did not beg or rail. Nor, he reflected bitterly, did he hurt women.

  Instead he cut her off for once, turning his attention to the night sky, ignoring her completely. He had business to attend to. A moment later, Darby appeared before them in a swirl of shadows.

  “Yes?”

  Adam took a deep breath. He had to calm. “How goes it with Evernight and Thorne?”

  He had to give Darby some credit; the man did not cower as he faced Adam and answered truthfully. “They are no longer the concern of the Alamut.”

  Adam clenched his shaking fists. Another deep breath. “You let them go.”

  “Yes.”

  “When I specifically ordered you to keep them captive.”

  Darby’s expression might as well have been carved from marble. “While I may have entered a devil’s bargain with you, the Alamut are not bound to do your duty. They are now loyal to Mab. I could not persuade them to do your bidding over hers.”

  Darby had to know that refusal to comply would seal his fate.

  “You,” Adam ground out, “ought to have asked your brothers-in-arms to kill you.”

  “Then I would not have had the pleasure of seeing your face when I told you that Thorne and Evernight were free.”

  The man had a set of brass balls. Adam nearly laughed at the thought. Only Thorne was out in the world, and Mab was likely moving in for the kill. Perhaps she already had. And damn it all, Adam did not know what her next move would be.

  “Well then,” Adam said with forced levity, “now you’ve seen it.” With that, he lashed out with his power, stopping Darby’s heart in an instant. Darby fell to the ground, gasping for air.

  “Sad, really,” Adam said. “I would have let you go after this.” Then he called forth another.

  In the next breath, Lucien appeared, scowling and irritated. “Putain, but I hate when you summon me in this manner.” With crisp jerks, he pulled at the lace cuffs peeking out from his blue satin frock coat. “Why not send a note like a civilized creature—” He sucked in a sharp breath as he caught sight of Darby writhing upon the ground. Lucien went pale. Which was odd considering Stone had been a cold killer in his youth.

  “Concentrate, Stone. He is not your concern.”

  Lucien jerked at the sound of Adam’s voice and glanced at him. “You…” He cleared his throat. “What is it?”

  “Find William Thorne and Holly Evernight and bring them to me.”

  Lucien glanced at the shifter upon the ground, and a spasm lit along his narrow cheek. “And this one? Shall I…” He cleared his throat again. “Shall I dispose of him?”

  “If you wish.” Adam waved an idle hand. “Hurry along. Time is of the essence.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  In the dark warmth of her bed, William held Holly close. The air was humid, and their bodies slick with sweat. He watched her with a lazy sort of possessiveness that filled her with heat. Gently, Holly ran her fingers through his hair, and in return, he caressed the puncture wounds upon her neck.

  “Holly?” His whisper was at once rough yet tentative.

  “Mmm?” She leaned in and softly kissed his mouth.

  A look of pleasure stole over his face before he grew serious. Against her chest, she felt the pump of his heart. “I want to ask you something,” he said so solemnly that she stilled. And so did he.

  “What, William?”

  His fingertips drifted over the tender spot on her neck. “Would you…?” He cleared his throat, a deep flush washing over his cheek. “Some sanguis take mates. For life.” His gaze met hers. “Will you be mine?”

  Emotion clogged her throat and stilled her heart. “William.” She cupped his cheek. “Yes.”

  He captured her mouth, kissing her fiercely—once, twice—then he pulled back to study her face. “There is a ceremony of sorts.”

  “I should hope so.”

  His lips twitched but he remained serious, almost anxious. “It involves blood. The exchange of yours and mine.”

  “Show me,” she said without hesitation.

  The covers rustled as William sat up and pulled her into his lap, so that she straddled him. Firelight gilded his skin pale gold and made his eyes glow. His voice was low and tremulous when he spoke. “If we do this, you will be mine in all ways. And I will be yours.”

  Holly stroked his hair, wanting to comfort him, for she knew he was nervous. “I am already yours. Make it so, as Sanguis do.”

  Tension flowed out of him on a nod. “I am going to open the wound in your neck and then make a similar cut on mine.”

  “All right.” Nervousness fluttered through her now too.

  With utmost care, he leaned close. His lips brushed her skin. The sweet-sharp pain of his fangs came next. Holly’s fingers gripped his shoulders as hot blood rolled down her neck.

  He kissed her cheek. “No more pain, lovely petal.”

  Holding her gaze, he used a claw to slice a small cut at the base of his neck. Crimson blood welled up and began to trickle over his collarbone.

  In his deep, Northern voice he spoke. The foreign words dipped and flowed, sounding like a mixture of Gaelic and Norse. Though she knew not what he said, the sincerity in his tone, the way he looked at her, as if she’d lit the night sky for him, had her heart swelling within her breast.

  “Now,” he rasped, “take my blood as I take yours.”

  Her lids fluttered closed. The taste of his blood on her tongue s
ent a throb of feeling into the puncture wounds on her neck. The throb intensified as William’s mouth latched onto the spot and softly sucked. Her cheek grazed his as she drew back. His eyes, brightly fierce with possession and love, flickered from iced blue to demon black. And then he smiled.

  That smile, so full of joy, took her breath. She couldn’t speak, could only return his grin as he eased her back into the softness of the down-filled bed.

  “Look.” He pointed to his neck. The cut had already closed, leaving behind a small, wine-colored mark in the shape of a star.

  “What is it?” Wonder made her voice crack.

  His smile grew tender. “The mark of possession. Yours.” He touched her neck. “You have one too. In the shape of a thorn.”

  She wanted to grab a mirror and see, and yet she looked upon the mark on his neck, her mark, and she didn’t want to move at all. She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Mine,” she said. “You are mine.”

  A shudder went through him, and his eyes narrowed, intent and heated. “Oh yes, I bloody am.”

  Will slid over Holly, then slid into her. She was so swollen and sensitive now that she groaned, her body languidly stretching out beneath him. And his pleased chuckle rumbled over her. Slowly he rocked into her, taking his time, and plundering her mouth with soft, deep kisses. “Mine. My lovely Evernight.”

  “Tell me what the words meant, William.”

  His long fingers cupped her cheeks as he continued to move within her. But he answered her, his tone warm and seductive. “From flesh to bone to blood of heart, shall we be entwined, never to part.”

  Holly woke first. Which was rather a shock, considering how little sleep she’d achieved the night before. Her darling demon had demonstrated quite thoroughly how knowledgeable a sanguis could be in the matters of seduction. There had been a point, when he’d made himself at home between her legs and proceeded to lick her sex, that she’d forgotten her name. But never his.

  Now she was content to watch the dim room, the light of the sun kept firmly at bay by the heavy, drawn drapes. Warmth surrounded her in the form of Will Thorne. They lay, limbs intertwined, his head currently upon her breast. Absently, she stroked his hair, loving the way those silken strands felt running over her fingers. Every so often, he’d nuzzle against her in his sleep. Holly smiled at that. The smile grew when he uttered a soft snore and burrowed in closer.

  And though she wanted nothing more than to laze the day away without moving a muscle, a cramping in her lower belly urged her to gently ease away from Thorne. He made a grunt of discontentment, but promptly flopped the other way, hugging a pillow with one arm. Holly tore her gaze away from the naked splendor of his back and went to the water closet.

  As soon as she was out, there was a scratch at the door. Thorne slept on. Holly put on a dressing gown, buttoning it as she walked to the door.

  “You’ve a visitor,” Nan said, looking put out. “And he won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Well then, he’ll have to see me as such.” Holly was in no mood for politeness.

  Holly did not know who she expected to be waiting for her, but certainly not the man who stood in her visiting parlor. He turned upon her entrance. Dressed in old-fashioned clothes, straight out of the previous century, with a peacock blue frock coat and pale yellow britches, he seemed a painting come to life.

  Surely no one had the right to be so beautiful. With caramel-colored hair that ran to his shoulders, jade green eyes, and a full mouth, he was almost feminine in his beauty. Save there was a hardness in his gaze, and an alert tension about his frame.

  “Mademoiselle Evernight.” He bowed with flourish.

  Recognition hit her. “Lucien Stone.” He was the leader of the London GIM and Mary’s old friend. Though some said he was a libertine and a fiend, if Mary trusted him with her life, then Holly wouldn’t reject anything he said out of hand.

  He appeared pleased that she knew him. “The very one.”

  “To what do I owe the honor, Mr. Stone?”

  Weariness seemed to take hold of him. She empathized. It took effort to stand just then. She needed to return to bed. Another painful cramp rolled through her belly, and a sweat broke out on her back.

  “I come on behalf of another,” he said. “My maker Adam.”

  Cold swarmed through her limbs. “Oh?”

  Did Adam know she meant to help steal his prize? Calm. She’d remain calm. Why hadn’t she awakened Thorne? Brought him along with her.

  If Lucien noticed her disquiet, he hid the fact well. “He wishes to speak with you and Mr. Thorne. At your earliest convenience.” It was clear that was all Lucien was willing to convey.

  “And just how are we to contact him?”

  Lucien’s full lips quirked, and he took a step towards her, going slowly, as though fearful of invading her personal space. “Take this.” He offered her a gold sovereign. “When you are ready, toss it in the air and think of him. He’ll do the rest.”

  Bemused, Holly held the weighty coin in her palm. The metal, magically altered, tingled against her flesh. “Ancients. They do so love their tricks.”

  “As you say,” Lucien agreed with a wry smile. “Good day, mademoiselle.” He inclined his head. Again, a shadow of pain and misery flitted over his features but then he was gone, exiting as quietly as a ghost.

  In the distance, Holly heard Nan let him out, and then the house settled. Her fingers wrapped around the coin. She’d have to talk to Thorne, but perhaps they could settle this feud, or whatever it was, peaceably.

  Holly moved to go when another cramp slammed through her, this one so hard that she cried out. It did not end, but grew stronger. She curled into herself, her knees slamming upon the floor. A dry heave wracked her frame as she shook and tried to stand. She was cold. Freezing. From the inside out. And it hurt.

  Bracing her hands on the floor, she caught sight of them, and a sob left her. They were platinum. Another wave of pain hit her. She fell forward just as Thorne rushed into the room, shouting out her name.

  Hearing a commotion, Sin ran into the parlor. Holly lay in a sprawl of shining platinum limbs. Sick fear punched through him, along with crippling guilt that almost had him doubling over. He ought to have known this was what Mab had planned. He ought to have warned Holly.

  Holding Holly in his arms, Thorne glanced up at him, his eyes wild with panic. “What do I do?”

  A lump grew within Sin’s throat, expanding until it ached. “She’s dying.”

  When Thorne snarled, gathering Holly closer to him, Sin sighed. “I don’t like it any better than you, but it’s the truth. You know it.”

  The man seemed to curl into himself, a choked cry leaving him like a sob. “Because of me.”

  Sin wasn’t brave enough to agree. “She tipped the balance, taking so much in. Elementals need that balance, else their power consumes them from the inside out. It’s why they hid the truth of her nature from my sister Miranda, for in doing so, she’d strive to contain her fire. It’s why my sister Poppy trained for a decade to control her abilities. But Holly here? No one ever thought she’d abuse her powers this way. She was too set in her ways, logical and calm.”

  “Fucking fae,” Thorne ground out. “Manipulating and playing with the lives of others. Why not simply warn them? Why not watch out for the women they claim to be family?” Disdain dripped from his voice.

  Sin squatted down next to him, wanting to rest a hand upon Holly, but rather fearing that Thorne would tear it off should he try to touch her. “After all you’ve seen, do you honestly believe the world to be so black and white? Fae aren’t good; they do what they please. It does not mean they don’t have some sense of love and loyalty. Only that it is skewed and damaged.” At that he almost smiled, but his heart hurt too much. “And they are the only ones who can save her now.”

  Thorne’s head snapped up. His glare was cutting. “How?”

  “We go to them, give them what they want. And they will heal her.”

/>   “They planned this all along, didn’t they? This is why they wanted us together.”

  Sin sighed. “I fear you might be correct.”

  Thorne’s lip curled, exposing his fangs. “And to save her, we become Adam’s greatest enemy in the process.”

  “What is more important to you? Being a marked man? Or saving Holly?”

  “Don’t you dare presume to question how far I’d go for this woman,” Thorne snapped. “She is my life—” His breath hitched, and he winced, pressing his lips against the dark crown of Holly’s head before speaking. “Anything. Do you understand? I will do anything.”

  Thorne loved Holly. Just as Mab had expected him to. She had played them all.

  Chapter Thirty

  Holly awoke to find herself in Thorne’s arms. The moment he felt her stir, he gave a strangled sort of yelp and gathered her closer.

  “Satan’s balls and hell on earth,” he muttered, stroking her cheek with a hand that shook, “you scared me. I didn’t know if you’d wake.”

  He appeared as worn out as she felt. “How long? Where are we going?” For it occurred to her that they were in a coach. And then she saw Sin. His expression was sorrowful and grim.

  “We’re on our way to Mab,” he said.

  “The fae queen?” Holly struggled to sit up, partly hampered by the fact that Thorne wouldn’t let her go. She gave up the fight and relaxed against his chest. Her very bones hurt. “She is here?”

  “Aye,” Sin said slowly. He and Thorne exchanged a look.

  “What is it?” Holly’s insides dipped.

  Delivered in sharp agitated sentences, Thorne and Sin told her why they were going to Mab. Denial warred with panic, and Holly found herself snappish. “You’ve no proof of this. I might simply be ill.”

  “Holly, you were entirely metal not twenty minutes prior.” Sin gave her a pointed look. “You’re not entirely flesh now.”

  She kept her attention on the coach window, refusing to look down at her arms, which shone with a platinum luster. But she could not ignore the invasive pain along her left side and down her back. How bad did she look? How long did she have before it washed over her again?