Jason heaves a sigh of utter disgust. “Take off. Give us a minute. I'm not going to hurt Julia.”
Scott folds his arms across his muscular chest. “You don't have a great track record, Jason.”
He nods. “I know, but I have a handle on my shit. Just—God, do you have an ounce of compassion?”
Scott stands there for a moment then gathers Julia against him. He kisses the top of her head and says softly, “I won't be far.”
Julia nods and feels a sensation like physical tearing when he leaves. The demon's blood pulses back to sick life with each step he takes away from her. Julia folds her arm over her stomach and reluctantly turns to Jason.
He plows his fingers through his longish hair, and Julia notices it needs a trim. “I can smell him.”
“I didn't know.”
“I know. It's never your fault.” He gives a little crazy nod. “But this time, I can't do it. To save your life, I could pull through like I was going to before.”
With William, she thinks but doesn't say.
“But I can't stand by and watch some other guy have you. It's not right.”
“Are you standing by us being married?”
He shakes his head, and Julia can see his sadness even in the weak artificial light cast between the barn and the mansion.
“Nah. I know none of that matters a damn to these people.” He laughs, swinging out a palm. “That's right—we're not really human anymore. All the stuff of our past, the shit that mattered? Gone.” He throws his arms up into the sky, beseeching a break that'll never come.
Julia doesn't say anything, because he's right. Their past is just that—the past.
“So, I'm going to stick around until we know you're okay. Then I'm outta here.”
Julia steps forward. Jason retreats a step, hands up in mock surrender. “Don't touch me, Jules. I can only take so much.”
She stops. Her belly hurt, but her heart hurts more.
Julia doesn't allow more tears to fall, but she feels sick as she watches Jason walk down to the lake and away from her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Julia grows chilled as the night deepens. Long after his broad back disappears from view, her eyes remain on the empty spot where Jason disappeared by the lake.
Julia feels him before Scott moves behind her and wraps his strong arms around her. The top of Julia's head tucks easily beneath his chin, and Scott lays the side of his face against her hair.
“I can't say I'm sorry, and for that, I'm sorry.”
Julia nods at his contrary statement because speaking is too difficult. The demon's blood growing inside her recoils inside her body at his nearness, and she feels momentary relief from its insidious progress as it grows sluggish.
“That's not really an apology, ya know,” Julia manages to whisper.
“I know. I'm a real ass. But you're aware.”
“Yes,” she says, mad at him though she's a part of him now—again.
Scott turns her to face him. “Listen to me.” His eyes seem to search every pore of her face and finally settle back on her gaze. “It's like I told Caldwell—if I had a choice, I'd allow you to be happy. I can't stand the idea of your sadness.”
“Especially now,” Julia says.
He grips her upper arms, pulling her tightly against his chest and cupping the back of her head. “Especially now.”
Their foreheads touch, and his scent overwhelms her, engulfing her senses.
Julia swims through the headiness of his nearness enough to say, “I need to talk to someone. She can be a guard for Tharell. Get him back to faerie before something else happens and we're forced to kill him.”
Scott pulls away, staring at her. “Killing Tharell would be awesome, Julia.”
She gives a tight shake of her head, whipping her long hair back and forth. “Not for me.”
Scott studies her then bends over. He kisses her forehead then moves to her eyelids. Her breaths begin to come deep and even. She feels as though she's always been in his arms.
“You're soft in all the places that matter,” he whispers against her temple, “but I'm not.”
Julia opens her eyes and his are liquid night. “I'm trying to look for something good here, Scott. Something that doesn't involve me hurting, killing or otherwise causing harm to someone else.”
“We're good.”
“Why?” Scott asks, squatting down to look into her eyes. He traps her face with his palms. “Why are you so afraid of the soul-meld?”
“Because it's wrecked Jason. And that's the last thing I'd never want to do, especially to him.”
She wraps her arms around her torso, and Scott’s palms slip from her face to thumb the back of her skull, stroking her neck. “He knows, babe. He knows you weren't trying to hurt him. He just can't let you off the hook.” His hand flips open. “Jason's got to blame someone—and you're it.”
“What do you mean you're hard and I'm soft?” Julia asks suddenly, ignoring his last comment.
Scott sighs, stepping away. He takes hold of her hand as his other drops from her nape. They begin walking toward the mansion.
Scott's lips quirk.
“Mind out of the gutter, Scott.”
“You did say I was hard.”
“You called me soft,” she counters.
Scott gives her a speculative look. “True.”
“I can't believe we're talking like this,” Julia admits with a touch of shame.
“It's hard to keep up the pretense when we're connected like this. It's a tie at the molecular level. No one could resist it.”
Julia stops.
“Wait.”
Scott's dark eyebrow lifts.
“The soul-meld didn't reconnect until after…”
“I was tortured.”
A lone tear slides out of her eye at the thought of anything hurting Scott.
Scott thumbs away the wetness. “Shh, babe, come here.” He pulls her into his body, and Julia sobs. “I'm okay. I'm here—don't worry.”
“What would I have done without you?” she whispers as she clutches at his shirt.
“What you've been doing.”
Julia pulls away, her gaze riveted on his, debating about how much she should admit. “I wanted you when you were missing.”
Scott's surprise is plain to see. “Without the meld?”
Julia nods. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, I did.”
Scott pulls her hands away. “I wanted you, too. I knew that you'd chosen Jason and we had figured the soul-meld was exactly what it was, a magical blood tether, meant by some kind of natural design for us to connect. But the distance away from you made me realize some stuff.”
Julia's face is wet with tears, but she makes no move to wipe it dry because Scott shocks her again.
“I realized when they were peeling my body apart—”
Julia covers her mouth and grabs his shirt, laying her face against his chest. His heart beats against her cheek, and an exhale shudders between them.
“I realized that I actually loved you, without the meld. Just me—Scott.”
Julia nods against his chest. “But I love Jason, too.”
Scott stills and takes her away from him.
“You love him?”
She nods.
Before he has a chance to react, Julia puts one hand on his shoulder, and the other on his face. “It's you who I'm in love with.”
He grins. “Figured.”
Julia snorts, a sad smile plucking the corners of her mouth and she pinches the cleft in his chin together. “Arrogant, more like.”
“Yeah,” he admits. His face sobers. “But my dad didn't die for nothing. I'm older, I'm Singer royalty. Our union makes sense in the cosmos.”
Julia's smile twists. “You didn't think so when we first met.”
He ducks his head. “A classic case of asshole-itis.”
“Uh-huh.”
Scott pecks her on the lips and with a little groan he whispers against the corner
of her mouth, “Just so you know, I'm holding back. Giving you time.”
To reconcile things with Jason. “I know.”
Julia puts her hands on the hard planes of his chest and gives him a little shove.
He grabs her around the waist. “You're not getting rid of me that fast.”
Julia wrinkles her nose and he kisses the tip.
“I need to see Delilah.”
Scott jerks his chin back. “No shit?”
“Yes.” She laughs. “She'll be Tharell's guard.”
“My half-sister?”
“She's like Madonna.” She disengages her arm and puts a hand on her hip. “Is there another Delilah?”
Scott releases her, acting as if he's thinking about it. Putting a finger to his chin, he rolls his eyes skyward.
“Knock it off.” Julia smacks him on the arm and he picks her up in his arms again.
“Scott!” she laughs. “Can't—breathe!”
“Quiet,” he says, pecking her on the lips again.
She looks up at him and his eyes are dark with something besides color.
Desire clouds them, vying for position in all that brown.
“Probably another Delilah somewhere in the world,” he says in a voice choked by restrained emotion.
“Did someone call me?”
“Speak of the devil,” Scott says in a dry voice. He carefully sets Julia on her feet.
Delilah looks between the two of them skeptically. “What's going on?”
“Soul-meld's back,” Scott says without preamble.
Delilah's eyes widen ever so slightly. “Ouch—settle down, brother.”
He scrubs his head. “It's been a long night.”
Delilah's chin kicks up, and she saunters closer, looking them over so closely that Julia can feel the blood rush to her face.
“Waste of blood, that,” Delilah comments, and Julia's hands automatically move to cover her cheeks.
Delilah giggles, and Scott moves between them.
“Don't worry, big brother. I don't like girls, though her blood does sing.”
Julia's face snaps to Delilah's. She hasn't heard that expression since William said it. A stab of pain pierces her with the reminder. Her ultimate protector, William had nothing to gain from saving her life, but the love he held for her. It was a pure sacrifice, and she'll never forget it.
Delilah gives her a quizzical look. “Yes. Though I am meant to take a male's blood, yours does hold a… certain appeal.”
“Keep the appeal to yourself,” Scott says in warning that borders on a growl.
Silence sits heavy in the pause.
“Noted.” Delilah answers then turns to Julia, clearly dismissing Scott. An inquisitive expression rides her face.
Now that Delilah stands before her, Julia’s request seems like too much to ask.
Delilah studies her face. “Ask.”
Julia sees the resemblance between her and Jacqueline, though she doesn't think mentioning it will ingratiate her to Delilah.
“I—can you escort Tharell to faerie?”
Delilah gives an abrupt laugh. “The murdering Sidhe?”
Julia instantly feels dumb for asking. Said like that, there is no way to deny that he’s more than a murderer.
“Yes.”
Delilah laces her fingers together in a gesture hauntingly like Jacqueline’s. Scott's hand kneads her shoulder gently.
Julia gulps then pushes forward, “I don't want to kill him,” she admits in a low voice. Though God knows, Tharell deserves it.
Delilah rolls her eyes, and Julia quickly continues, “And it has come to my attention that he went bonkers because he was outside the sithen and his demonic blood became dominant once he was far enough away from faerie to negate the effect of faerie's proximity.”
“Ah,” Delilah replies noncommittally. Her dark eyes, so similar to Scott's, sparkle like black diamonds. It's disconcerting how little Julia can read her expression.
“And I'm his natural enemy, so I will be able to keep him in line?” Coal-black eyebrows arch to her hairline.
Julia nods tentatively. “That's the idea.”
Delilah's ebony gaze finds Julia again. “What does everyone else think?”
Julia bites her lip.
“Oh, this is funny. You've told no one?”
Julia shakes her head. I knew it wouldn’t be a popular idea.
“She doesn't need to, Delilah. She's the Rare One.”
“That's not it though, is it?” she asks softly, giving Julia an appraising look.
Julia shakes her head. “No. I don't have the energy to defend my theory to everyone who wants him dead. Not now. Not with everything that's changed recently.”
“Ah. And Jacqueline—my mother—does she influence you in this?”
Delilah is no dummy. “Yes, in a way. I've seen the huge change since she spent time in faerie, and I have to assume—to believe—it could be true of Tharell.”
Delilah's brow furrows as Julia holds her breath.
“Fine, I'll do it.”
“She wasn't really asking,” Scott says.
Julia lets tense breath out. “Shh, Scott.” She puts a finger to his lips, and her eyes move to Delilah. “I would never issue an order. Tharell could harm you.”
Delilah yawns.
“Not likely.”
Huh. Julia doesn't know what to say to that. “Okay, what do you think?”
“I'll take the naughty Sidhe.”
Thank God. Julia stretches out her hand, and Delilah takes hold of it, slowly shaking it to seal the deal. Julia pretends to ignore the hint of fang showing in her smug smile.
Her nostrils flare, and her fangs grow a touch longer. “My control is not limitless. Your blood is quite—” She stills, her hand clutching Julia's in a grip she could never break from. “Tasty.” Delilah gives a nervous little lick of her lips.
“Back off, sis,” Scott says. His words are light, but the meaning behind them is dead serious. Julia doesn't have to look at his face to know it. His feelings tear through the meld and hit her own.
“So yummy,” Delilah says then appears to snap out of it, dropping Julia's hand and moving back a few steps out of the vague light between the two buildings. The shadows consume her form. “Where's Tharell?”
“I'll take you to his cell.”
Scott, Julia and Delilah make the short trek to Tharell's cell.
Julia screams as Tharell comes into view, blood pouring out of his body.
Someone has executed vigilante justice.
Delilah blurs to his side, dropping beside him. A crimson pool leeches into the long skirt she wears, dying the gauzy fabric red. The small bells sewn into the fabric no longer ring as they clog with the Sidhe's blood.
Tharell turns his head. “Do not bother to heal me. It is a fatal blow.”
Delilah gives an exasperated snort. “Nonsense, Sidhe. You've claimed immortality. Do not make yourself a liar.”
“No,” Scott says in a low voice.
“Yes,” Julia returns like a volley.
Scott glowers at her, but Delilah turns her head away from them to look at Tharell as her delicate fangs slide out. “Trust me,” she says awkwardly.
Julia should stop this, but she doesn't. She lets Delilah do what she does next.
Delilah tears open her own wrist.
“Drink from me, fey.”
Tharell regards her.
Julia looks away from them as the noise of his suckling reaches her ears. Bright shame and memories well inside her. Images of William and her time in the coven are mixed with her relief to no longer be there. She comes back to the present with a start as Scott holds her while Tharell feeds from Scott's sister. It is one of the weirdest sights she's ever witnessed.
The blood flow slows from the gap in Tharell's body then stops.
Tharell sits up, unbound, and Delilah's wrist falls limply, her eyes at half-mast.
She's vulnerable. Tharell could kill her.
&nb
sp; “Scott?” Julia's voice is full of fear.
But Tharell doesn't hurt Delilah. He gathers her against him. Her pale skin and dark hair look so beautiful against all his violet flesh.
When Tharell strikes her in the neck, Scott doesn't react at first.
But Delilah does.
Her head rolls away, and Tharell grunts, jerking her more tightly against his muscular body. His violet fingertips bit into ivory flesh.
What the fuck is happening? “Stop!” Julia shouts, adrenaline kicking her in the butt.
Then something wonderful happens. Tharell threads his fingers into the long strands of Delilah's hair, and his blue eyes regard Julia over Delilah's shoulder.
Sanity has returned and he is Tharell again—not the murderer, but the Sidhe warrior he was when she first met him.
He is also more than he seems, not just fey or demonic: a vampire, awoken by another right before their eyes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Praile
Praile feels right at home, taking in the elegant headquarters of his nemeses. Instinctively, he senses the lack of high Angelic blood quantum in the Singers present.
He and Lazarus will not be outed. The revelation relaxes him.
He frowns again. The single thing that could get their collective geese cooked would be the appearance of Region Two Singers who do not recognize them.
Ultimately, Praile and Lazarus are in a race against time to locate the High One and the one who carries the blood babe within her before Region Two Singers trip across them.
Lazarus gives him a full look of warning, and Praile scowls at him.
Praile does not need prompting from anyone, especially another high demon who is second to him. Praile functions with perfect autonomy.
The two Singer guards leave them inside an impressive foyer, with a mention that someone will be with them shortly.
Praile sighs with boredom, surveying the age of the structure. It is too modern for his taste, but he always liked the medieval times. Late nineteenth century is just not for him. Too much artifice. He’s a sucker for the medieval torture racks—and the despair that permeated the air like a fragrance. Now that was living.
Praile hears footsteps approach then his blood rushes to the surface of his skin. Just when he believed he would get away with everything, an Angelic enters the foyer.
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