“Except one.”
“Which one?”
“If for some reason I’m still in the box when you get back, I’m not gonna fuck you and you’re definitely not fucking me. So don’t even let the question form on your lips.”
As soon as Noah turned to him, wide-eyed and panicky, Logan regretted saying anything. That was why he didn’t bring up his job—so he didn’t have to see that look on anyone’s face.
“Loge, I would—Now that I’m a super, maybe I can do something. Get you—”
“Dude, I’m almost out.” Out of the box, not out of the profession. Because to switch jobs, Logan made a deal with one of his clients. She wasn’t the Devil, but she was pretty close. And she had enough money and clout to buy his contract from the box he worked in—something Noah would never have. No one needed to know about that, though, or he’d have a lot more pity to turn away from.
“Feel sorry for yourself, not me.” He slugged his friend in the arm and then closed the storage unit’s door. “I’ll be…fine.”
Fifteen
Addison hummed to cover the silence and distract herself from Rhyse’s grip as it slowly lowered and tightened like the ceiling and walls were. If the oracle was much farther, nothing good would happen. Well, it would probably be really good, but it wouldn’t be smart.
He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Stop moving like that.”
“Like what?”
“Your fidgeting is manifesting itself in your hips. If you do not desist”—his lips brushed softly along her neck—“I may be unable to stop myself from giving into temptation.”
When she stiffened, he laughed, the sound echoing down the tunnel, making it sound as if a whole crowd was mocking her. “Do I speak of sliding my fangs into your neck? No, because we now know that is not a viable option, it cannot be that. Which means what? What could I be tempted to do?” His breath warmed her ear. “Would you like me to tell you?”
She couldn’t think of the right word. Her mind was screaming ‘yes,’ but she couldn’t say that. She had to find that other word, the one that was the complete opposite of yes. What was the word again?
“The temptation of your blood is nothing compared to my desire to rip off those horrible pants and sink my cock so deeply inside you, you forget everyone who has been there before me.”
Too late. She’d already forgotten.
“Unfortunately, we do not have enough time for what I have planned. Therefore, if you would contain your fidgets to another area of your body—your hands perhaps—I would greatly appreciate it. Do you understand?” Damn, she wished he was joking, but he sounded dead serious. He didn’t even have a sense of humor. Or a sense of shame.
She felt his lips on her earlobe. “Um…”
“Shall I take that as a sign of agreement?”
She cleared her throat, stepping to the side so there was a little air between them. “Keep it all above the belt. Got it.”
A short time later, he cupped her hipbones and pulled her to a stop.
“I’m trying not to fidget!” His threat weighed heavily on her and was messing with her already-screwed-up thinking.
“Do you see the dead end directly in front of you?”
“Oh.” She peered into the darkness and saw the wall. “Shit.” She’d picked the wrong way. “What now?”
~ ~ ~
“Hold onto me tightly, or we will be separated.” And they would end up in different locations with different oracles. Not only would it be unhelpful, Addison would be stranded in a foreign place without the ability to return to the regular world. “You must hold onto me.” Rhyse didn’t understand her hesitation, nor did he have patience for it, so he turned and swung her into his arms. “Do you ever listen?”
They were very close, uncomfortably so. He felt his body react, knew it would take the smallest of movements to have her lips.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
As she did so, her mouth neared his. Infinitesimally. Reaching for him, through her fear or maybe because of it. A human need to be comforted. He would have no objection to being with her, whatever her reasons, but not here. And not now. So with a deep sigh, he stepped forward and through the wall.
As soon as they’d broken through, he opened his eyes. Addison’s brow and temples were wrinkled from squeezing her eyes shut so tightly. He could see how she might look as she aged, when she had grandchildren. She was so very beautiful. How unfortunate that she would never have children or grandchildren…or even another week of life.
He held her tighter, knowing she’d have more than that. Knowing he would make sure she did.
No. That wasn’t correct. Damn it. A few drops of her blood and a vision from his human life would not distract him from his goal. He couldn’t allow it. His desire to keep her was due to her blood, nothing more. Yet it was powerful, and it would have to be dealt with soon. Because desire was, and always would be, secondary to survival—his own and that of all supernaturals.
“Are we there yet?” she asked, smiling.
He remained silent for a bit longer. He’d been wrong—it was dangerous here. For him, danger existed wherever she was. “You may open your eyes now.” He lowered her to the ground.
She turned in every direction in a matter of moments, looking everywhere at once. “Wow, Rhyse, you take me to the fanciest places.” Her sarcasm no longer surprised him.
“I cannot take you anywhere nice until you learn how to dress appropriately.”
She scowled at him. Such a lovely scowl. “Now what?”
“Now we wait to be attended.” He gestured towards a low bench, cushions spilling over it. “Sit.”
She crossed her legs and then re-crossed them more times than he could count. He put his hand on her thigh to still her. “All you have to do is listen.” Something simple for most, but impossible for her.
“But what—” The chime of a bell stopped her only briefly. “What was that for?”
“It is a signal for you to close your mouth.”
A woman appeared, at least Rhyse assumed it was a woman, as most oracles were. But within the race, gender was indistinctive, age a misnomer—their kind was created, not birthed. Adults, never children. And they were all blind, their eyes wide and colorless. The first time he visited one, he’d almost asked if her irises and retinas were turned inward in their sockets, allowing the oracle to see beyond what any other being could. His guide had stopped him moments before the question left his mouth. To ask an unsolicited question meant immediate dismissal and permanent banishment from the catacombs.
He should warn Addison one last time. He looked at her, saying nothing, warning her with his eyes and by bringing both of his lips between his teeth. She nodded her understanding and promptly began to squirm again. His grip of her leg tightened until she stopped, but he didn’t remove his hand.
“Why did you bring her here, Vampire?” the oracle asked.
A bolt of unease careened through him. Only the being involved was spoken to. Rhyse wasn’t involved. Not that he was aware of. “We wish to learn what we can about her kind.”
The oracle faced Addison directly, her head sweeping up and down as if she could actually see her. “Come here.” She reached a gnarled hand out. Addison glanced at him for guidance he was incapable of giving—he’d never even heard of an oracle allowing a physical connection to another being, let alone inviting it. He nodded because there was no one else they could go to.
Addison stood slowly, stepping towards the old woman, her arms tight to her sides.
“Take my hand.” The moment their skin touched, the oracle wailed. Without thought, Rhyse stepped between them, yanking Addison’s arm back before he could weigh the ramifications of his actions. As the oracle cackled, Rhyse clenched his jaw until he could quell his hostility.
“A vampire king and the first dat vitae to be found in centuries?” The woman laughed. “You couldn’t have chosen a worse pairing if you’d tried. What were you thinking
, Vampire?”
“She aided me when I was wounded, but we are not involved in any other way.”
“Obviously not in the one you want.” Her cackle continued. “I will not hurt your heart, Vampire. I wish to read her, and the only way that’s going to happen is if you allow me to touch her.”
My heart?
Sixteen
His heart. Well, wasn’t that worthy of a strong rebuttal and a number of clarifying questions? A rebuttal the oracle would laugh at and questions she would never answer, even if she allowed Rhyse to ask. As she put out her hand again, he bowed and stepped to the side. Addison looked even more frightened now.
“She will not hurt you,” he told her. He would not let her.
She put her hand into the old woman’s, barely breathing. He heard the wild pumping of her heart and put his hand on the small of her back to convey confidence, a promise of protection. Again, his own thoughts confused him. He would protect those he led, not the being who could undo them.
The oracle’s head drifted upwards, swaying side to side. “You are dat vitae, Bringer of Life.”
“Oh, crap,” Addison mumbled. “That can’t be right.”
The oracle ignored her. “What do you know of your kind?”
“Um…not a lot. Some stuff about my toxicity and that they have a propensity towards death and… Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
“Our races are much alike,” the old woman said. “All other beings from this world began as something else—a spirit like the angels and demons or a child like the vampires and shifters. But you and I do not.”
He could sense Addison was about to say something, so he leaned closer and shushed her, making her shudder but remain quiet.
“There will be none of that here, Vampire.” She smirked. “Bringer of Life, you and I come from nothing. We were never children, never spirits. We are magic like the fae, but of this world. At one time, your kind outnumbered mine. The dat vitae had power we do not, one that brought them incredible danger. We oracles cannot change other beings. Our magic allows us insight—of what came before, what is now, and some of what is to come. Your kind binds all races into one, your magic altering the powers of all to create something new. The dat vitae referred to themselves as the antidote for all supernatural beings.”
Rhyse stiffened. As if higher beings were diseased and should be cured. No wonder the vitae were wiped out.
The oracle let go of Addison’s hand. “You give humanity to those who have either lost it or who have never experienced it.” She nodded. “Ask the question you wish, Life Bringer.”
“Um…right now?”
“Is that your question?”
“No,” she said hurriedly. “I just wanted to know how many I get, so I can figure out where to start.”
“You may ask one question until I invite another. I suggest beginning with what is most important to you.”
“Well…” Addison looked at Rhyse uncertainly. Before he could speak a word, she did. “Staying alive is pretty high on my list, so how can I make that happen?”
“I cannot answer your question directly, as it has to do with many factors, many of which have yet to be determined. Your every decision creates a new future. What I see is like the wind. My sight follows it, sees the mountains and valleys it will come upon. Yet the direction and force of the wind can change at any time, for reasons we can understand and some we cannot. Even by coming here you have altered things slightly.”
The oracle smiled. “In a good way. Yet you have many trials ahead.” She turned towards Rhyse. “Both of you. Some you must face together, others apart.”
Ridiculous. To stay together any longer was fantasy. To stand together for what was to come was utter lunacy.
The oracle twitched and the pitch of her voice lowered. “Do not deny your union, chaste though it may currently be. For there is benefit to you both—a strength in your joining that neither of you possess on your own.” Then she sighed. “What do you wish to say, Vampire?”
“You speak of the future, yet—”
“You are correct. It is not what we commonly do, but neither is it forbidden. Very little is forbidden us. Our words can be dangerous and we are responsible for every one we speak; therefore, we err on the side of caution. The vitae asked how she could stay alive. I told her how, and I told her it will continue. But that can change. There is nothing more uncertain than the future, because free will rarely follows logic and order. If it did, it wouldn’t be free. I can tell you of the past and warn you of a possible future. I can advise you of your strengths, your bond, and your weaknesses. But that is all. The rest is up to you.”
Addison blew out a frustrated breath.
“I advise you to stay together for as long as you can. You will need each other, though for differing reasons, in different ways.” Then she grumbled. “Ask.”
He and Addison looked at each other, unsure of whom the oracle addressed. Both of them needed answers, though his life was not the reason they’d come. He mouthed, “Ask.”
“You said we are created, not born, but while my birth and the first couple years are a blur, I remember being a child. And my teenage years are pretty well burned into my brain, which is really unfortunate, actually. But since I know I grew up, maybe I’m not one of the dat”—the pitch of her voice rose when he whispered a reminder that she had to ask a question—“vitae?”
“You are dat vitae and you were created. When you arrived in the catacombs, what did you see? The past or something to come?”
She looked at the ceiling and bit her lip.
“You must tell her, Addison.”
“Definitely not the past,” she said after a moment. “That would’ve been hard to miss.” A sound much like a groan came from her and she eyed him sideways. “Crap. Can I whisper it?”
“He will still hear you—he is a vampire.”
“Could you go away for a sec?” she asked him.
He bristled at the comment. What would make her so hesitant to speak in front of him? “Do you stake me?”
“Not even close.” A blush rose to her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Although, there is some penetration involved.”
He was determined to keep his expression uncaring. He failed. By how much he would never know. Aching to speak, he turned towards the oracle.
“Lying with her won’t access her power, Vampire.”
Addison closed her eyes, probably so they wouldn’t roll back in her head. “I think I got a faulty vision. Seriously, that isn’t going to happen.”
“It is the path you are on right now, but as I said, you can change it. Anyone can change it.”
“Yeah, well… I saw something else.” She glanced at him with fear in her eyes. Of him? “Something…even worse than the first one.”
“Tell me what it was,” he said. Did she see what he should do? Remove her from the world before leaving the catacombs?
“It was fuzzy.” She whipped her head towards the oracle. “Does it being fuzzy mean anything? Like there’s just a little chance of it happening?”
“What did you see?” he asked.
“If I tell him then it’s like telling him the future, right?” She spoke quickly, nervously, not looking at him. “And that’s not allowed. Right?”
“Leave,” the old woman said to him. “Go back to the entrance of the catacombs. She will find you when we have finished.”
He was respectful of the oracle because that was his role, but he would not be ordered from the room because a lesser being desired it, regardless of how he felt about her. Not if she knew something of her death, or something vital to their world.
“Addison, tell me. Please.” The word he hadn’t said in centuries came without warning. Because of her. Because of her power over him. Because he was desperate to know if she saw herself die by his hand. If she had, he could stop it from happening.
For her. He cared about the life of a being who could destroy them all. No. No, that couldn�
��t be. Her blood may have changed him, but his will was still free, still his. He would never choose her over the Highworld. Never. The mere idea was laughable. And fatal.
“Leave, Vampire!” The oracle’s voice shook the lamp at her side. Still holding Addison’s eyes with his own, he did as the old woman ordered.
With long, uneasy strides he paced the small space where they’d arrived. His mind warred with itself. The oracle had warned them of danger—if they were together and if they separated. So which was the path he should follow?
Perhaps it was a question of timing. While it was difficult to imagine, together they were strong and that strength would aid them both. Then once Addison was dead, he would return to normal, regain control over his thoughts and emotions. Prior to her death, they would be stronger as a unit. Help each other.
Help the enemy of our world and my mind. He considered each of their struggles—his to find the failed assassin and hers to stay alive. Only one of them would achieve their goal.
Since whoever wanted him dead still believed he was, Rhyse was unable to investigate without his enemies knowing he lived. Therefore, Addison would do it for him. In return, he would teach her how to protect herself until she became a more immediate threat. Teaching her how to shield her mind would help her without making her more dangerous to him. In addition, a strong shield was necessary for what he had planned.
And when the time was right, the moment she became a true danger to the Highworld, her vision would come true. He stopped and looked at his hands. When the time came, they would be capable. They’d ended countless lives. However, his uncertainty lay in knowing if, when the time came, he would be capable.
Seventeen
A few days later, or what felt like it, Addison had yet to get a straight answer out of the old lady. She couldn’t think anymore, so knowing what to ask was impossible.
“What—?” She swallowed, realizing why it had been so hard to find the right question—because she was terrified of the answer she’d get. “This is bullshit. I’m not one of those things. I have a mom. I’m a person.” Her voice cracked, but its volume increased with every word. “I’m not—”
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 9