Twenty-two
Addison stood at the base of the stairs, not knowing which way to go. One path was as good as the other, so she went left, peeking in each room she passed, expecting to see him standing there, ready to bitch about how long she took to get dressed.
Maybe he should try pulling on leather pants right after getting out of the bathtub.
“Holy!” She jerked backwards when she saw a woman in the kitchen adding a few logs to the fire in an enormous open oven.
The woman, who looked to be barely out of her teens, glanced up and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t think I was that scary.” Definitely a seer. She had a pixie haircut and the kind of face that was feminine enough to pull it off.
“It wasn’t you—there was a big bug over there,” Addison said, laughing and thrilled to see someone normal. “Were you the one who drew the bath?”
“Yep. I’m Felicity.” She wiped her hands on her pants and stuck one out to shake. “The Prime didn’t mention your name.”
“So he just called me ‘the idiot,’ then?”
Felicity laughed. “‘The woman,’ actually. Pretty impressive for a vampire to call a female seer anything she would call herself.”
“I guess you can call me ‘woman’ or ‘Addison.’ Thanks for the bath. It was amazing.”
“I’ll draw another tomorrow unless you want one before that. Just—”
“No! Powers no.” It must have taken her hours to draw the last one. “I’m not planning on sticking around long enough to get dirty.” She leaned in so she could whisper. “You’re stuck here, aren’t you?”
She shook her head, her brow tight. “I go into town whenever I need to.”
“But he has something on you to keep you here, right?” Rhyse would never trust a seer to keep a secret. “Did he threaten your family or something?”
“He’s been nothing but good to me since I got here. Not that he actually pays any attention to me, of course.” Felicity was as trapped as all of them were, whether she knew it or not. Rhyse didn’t have to threaten her, because the threat was inherent in the Heights.
She told Addison they were still in California—in the Sierra Mountains, around the five-thousand-foot level. An impossible distance to walk, a couple-hour drive, or only a one-second phase from home.
“The whole property is warded so humans don’t accidentally find it,” Felicity said. How convenient.
“Do you have a cell phone I could use?”
She touched the back pocket of her jeans. “I don’t think he’d want you to call anyone.”
“Yeah, well… He gets everything else he wants, he’s gotta let a few things go, right?”
“He’s the Prime, Addison. He doesn’t have to let anything go.”
Or anyone, it seemed. But she didn’t push it because it wasn’t fair to Felicity. So after saying a quick goodbye, Addison went back to wandering around the house.
If she’d gone right instead of left from the bottom of the stairs, she’d have found him two doors down. He stood in the middle of an enormous library, looking impatient.
“What do you think?” She held her arms out to show him the clothes.
He nodded. “Much, much better. I just might use your entire closet as kindling.”
“You haven’t heard the best part.” She moved, bent, and wiggled, all while pointing to her ear. “Hear that? That’s the sound of me getting murdered while I do your little errand.”
“You exaggerate. But it does not matter, because you will not be wearing leather when you do my ‘little errand.’”
Well, at least it couldn’t get any worse. She sat on top of the wooden desk, ignoring his look of dismay. He was upset about her butt being on his furniture, but totally fine with sending her butt off to get killed.
He sighed. “The three-hundred-year anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of All Races is next week.”
“Treaty of All Races except the human race and the seers. Because they don’t matter.”
“The entire Council and all of my enemies will be in attendance,” he said as if she hadn’t said a word, not that he would’ve argued the point. “It is fortuitous.”
“For who?” Maybe he planned on giving whoever tried to kill him another shot to get it right.
“For us both. Once I know who tried to assassinate me, I will leave you to your miserable life.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You are welcome. I have purchased a gown for you. Obviously, I could not trust you to choose one yourself.”
“Gee, thanks again. But I need to go back and see if I still have a job.” Or she’d get more than fired—she’d be put on the list of rogue seers who were killed on sight.
“No. Anyone could see through your weak shield. In addition, you will be busy every day and every night.”
“Doing what?”
“This evening you will be fitted for a gown. I will phase you in near the shop, but I cannot go inside or word will get out that I am not dead. You must go in alone and must not mention my name. If the proprietor asks who you will accompany, you will say Lamere.”
“Because Lamere can’t get his own date?”
“Lamere will be otherwise occupied at the celebration.”
She looked at him seriously. “Isn’t your date going to be pissed when you don’t pick her up with a corsage?”
“The Prime does not date.”
“Thanks for the invite, but I didn’t even go to my high school prom.”
“This is not a negotiation, Addison. This is a deal. Your…help,” he said with distaste, “for mine.”
“How can you help me?”
“If I were to bring you back to the city now, you would not last a day. Your mind and body both scream ‘danger.’ Even beings who cannot read minds will feel it. I can teach you how to shield.”
That would be awesome. “From every kind of super?”
He nodded. “If it is within your capabilities. Because you are immune to compulsion, I am confident that with practice you can learn how to block most other beings. The angels and demons are more powerful in that regard; therefore, you could not stop them if they are determined. But if you are strong enough, you will feel a sharp pain when it happens and only the first layer of thought will be visible—what you are thinking at that particular moment. To protect your secrets, you must concentrate on something else.” He cocked his head. “Or someone else.”
Minus his last innuendo, she loved the idea. Mostly because it would keep her alive. But deliberately going into a roomful of supers didn’t sound conducive to that. “How do you know I won’t just run for it before we get to the door?”
“I do not. But I do know that if you were to run away, I would hunt you down and kill you. Is that an adequate deterrent?”
She swallowed. “So I help you find out who tried to kill you and you teach me how to shield?” Why he needed her as a date was a wonder. As backup? Moral support? Neither of those were things she could offer him. But man, did she want to know how to shield. He was offering a huge prize for a contest she couldn’t get out of, so she’d be stupid not to take it. “Then, after the party, I’m free to do whatever I want and you won’t just bring me back here, right?”
“I have enjoyed our time together as much as you have, so no, I do not intend to bring you back here anytime soon.”
She reached out to shake on it. “I hate you.” Then suppressed a shiver when he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it delicately.
“And I you, Addison.”
After an eternity of total humiliation, she stormed out of the dress shop with the box under her arm. She should just drop it now, right in the street. But she held onto it, so she could throw it in his face.
“Are you kidding me?” she shouted as soon as she saw him in the alley.
“Does it not meet your standards?” Rhyse asked, his eyes running up and down her body, admiring and condescending at the same time. Not flattering in the least. “Perhaps if
it was made from denim or old t-shirts you would like it more.”
“If I wear this, I won’t be able to run away.”
“All the more reason to wear it. A chase excites most races.”
“I’m not doing this. It’s stupid and suicidal.”
“Once you can properly shield, none will know you are dat vitae or a disposal technician.” He pulled her into him and phased them back to his mountain place. “As a claimed human, you are required to wear your hair up but do not overly make up your face. Too much attention is undesirable.”
Claimed human, my ass. She’d wear the stupid dress and pretend like she didn’t hate him at the party. For an hour, tops. But he could take his claiming and shove it…right into his chest.
Twenty-three
~ ~ ~
Micah, an angel
“You called for me, Sebastian?”
“Yes, Micah.” The angel’s brow tightened with a severity of emotion uncommon in their kind.
“Is everything all right?”
“Everything is as it must be, but that discussion must wait for a moment.” He skipped all preamble and got right to the point. “A potential new seer needs guidance.” Potential? “It’s a special case, so I’m giving it to you.”
“I’m honored.” When Sebastian hesitated another moment, Micah felt the tension of his elder fill his own being.
“The child passed while in a coma and it is unknown if she will come out of the state or not. If she does, she will need to be informed of our world and her place in it.”
Micah was unsure of why Sebastian felt the need to explain something all angels knew, or why he referred to this one as a ‘special case.’ Thus far, it sounded like many others. But he would be patient because the alternative was useless. He would find out when he was supposed to find out.
“You will visit immediately and report back.”
Another out-of-the-ordinary comment—if the child was still in a coma and had been long enough to pass and then return as a seer, was speed really an issue? Additionally, an angel was never told to work quickly because it was unnecessary. They worked hard and quickly because humans and seers depended on them.
“Of course. And the other thing?”
Sebastian sat down and took a breath. “You have been chosen.”
“Chosen for—?”
“To stand as champion for our kind at the anniversary of the Treaty of All Races.”
With that, Micah understood Sebastian’s agitation, because he felt something akin to it himself.
“It’s a great honor, Micah.”
He nodded because he agreed—being chosen as the strongest of his race was an honor. One he would gladly do without, because acting as champion would change him for eternity.
“Micah?” When Sebastian repeated his name but with a bit more concern, Micah realized he’d lost himself for a moment.
He swallowed and focused on his elder. “I’m happy the others will avoid it for another hundred years.” Unable to find anything else kind or grateful or hopeful to say, Micah left in silence.
Although there were moments of pure joy in an angel’s existence, much of what they did was unpleasant. But these tasks were equally if not more important—things vital to both worlds that only angels were capable of, giving them responsibility as well as purpose. Tasks Micah thought he would forever do. He’d been wrong.
The contest would not end until only one champion remained. If he lost, he would never again see heaven. As an angel, he was a true immortal, so nothing could end his being. But if he won, he would wish there was—because to win meant to perform the one act that would guarantee his fall. Even though as champion he could return to grace, would he deserve to do so?
Twenty-four
Rhyse had guided multiple newly turned vampires into their world. He controlled numerous races and every supernatural in the North American zone, but the woman in front of him was beyond his understanding. Every comment was snide, and her stubbornness knew no limits. When she stopped bickering long enough to try, the skill came quickly. However, had he known how much pain it would bring, he would never have struck the deal.
“Why can you not do it without argument?” He slammed his fist down on the mantel. It cracked and buckled, raining pieces of stone onto the ground.
“Why can you not control your temper?” she mimicked.
He didn’t think—he reacted. Her chair was on its back a few feet away and she was underneath him, his hand around her throat, her chest jumping with each gasp for air.
“You weigh a ton,” she squeezed out. “Is this part of the training?”
He sensed her desire, but he also knew that her mind was far stronger than her body’s wants or needs. Yet another thing that made her different from any other being he’d met.
“You are the most impossible being I have ever known. Nothing comes without contradiction, including yourself.” He loosened his grip only slightly.
“What does that mean?” Her struggle to push him away was perfunctory, even for her. She smelled clean, female, her heat increasing its depth until it was all he knew—her scent, her touch, her voice, her need.
“You want me, Addison.”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Which am I to believe?” He nudged her legs apart just enough to fit his thigh between them, pressing until she whimpered and pushed back. “Your words or your body? Each denies what the other demands.”
“My words are telling you no. My body is just reacting to stimulus.” Unconsciously, she looked to his lips, wetting her own.
“Yet your mind controls both. Your instinct drives towards that which you are too stubborn to admit needing. It is in the way you look at me, how your scent changes when I am near, despite what you claim to want. You will not allow yourself to receive what I would freely give.”
“Nothing is ever free,” she whispered. Did she know she was rocking her hips up, bringing them closer together?
“An even exchange, then. I will give you pleasure, nothing more. You will give the same to me, nothing more.” He wanted to take her mouth. He should take her mouth. He was the Prime—it was his right, but something unknown stopped him. “Another thing I do not understand about you.” Another thing he didn’t understand about himself. “What holds you back?”
“Being with you would be very bad for my health.”
“I have already told you I will not hurt you.”
“I meant my mental health.”
She was a puzzle he would solve. Even if it took eons, he would understand her wholly. Even if he had to find a way to turn her, he would not allow her to die while he didn’t know and before he’d been inside her.
His hand caressed the length of her neck, his fingers tracing her jaw, then her lips. “Would you think me arrogant if I tell you I know you will give yourself to me eventually?”
“Yep. And way overconfident.”
Things like this didn’t happen to him. Beings like this didn’t exist for him. No one would talk to him the way she did, frustrate him the way she did, forbid him anything.
“My life would be far easier if I simply killed you.” He swept his lips across her neck, lingering where he would take her first if he could.
She swallowed. “You can’t kill me. You’d go all human.”
“Do you think I kill all my enemies by biting them? Most taste vile, especially werewolves. Their flavor is similar to cow—not that I could have made that comparison before I met you, of course. No, Addison, there are many, many ways to kill without spilling a drop.” He ran his tongue along her carotid, the taste of her skin almost as incredible as her blood had been.
She shuddered underneath him, her exhalation nearly a moan. “But if you killed me, you wouldn’t be able to fuck me. Oh shit, you’re already dead, so I bet you’re into the postmortem thing, aren’t you?”
He sprang off her, disgusted with himself, turning away from her but not walking away from her. Because he was incapable
of doing so. “I have no desire to hear more of your insults.” He heard her get up, set the chair right.
“Why did you break the fireplace?”
Because you have caged me. “Sometimes violence is necessary and is something we must respect.”
She scoffed. “I don’t respect violence.”
“Then respect me.” He glared, furious at her for causing these desires, for making him like this. “And grow up.”
“What does that mean?”
“All worlds are violent. All beings are violent. Accept it and be glad I took my frustration out on the mantel instead of you.”
“I am.” She paused for a moment, a human moment. “Will you teach me how to fight supers?”
“Of course.” he said dryly. “You do not mind staying here for the next five years, do you? Because that is how long it will take until you could best even the weakest of werewolves.”
“How long will it take to best you? Whatever it is, I’m in.”
He could’ve shown her what he was capable of, how he had killed countless enemies, proven she was absolutely powerless to stop him from taking whatever he wanted. But she needed to be strong, against others and against him. And he needed to regain control of himself if he was to get anything but frustration from this situation.
“You will never be able to fight one of us hand to hand,” he said after a deep breath. “You must use the strengths you already have.”
“Like what?” She waited for his response. “I said, ‘Like what.’”
“I heard you. I am still trying to think of one.” He turned away to hide his amusement. When it passed, he continued. “Each opponent must be treated differently. Every race has a different weakness. You can outsmart the majority of lower shifters and most species of demons. Angels will not attack unless provoked, so do not bleed anywhere near their mouths.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she grumbled.
“Fortunately, the mages’ magic commonly erodes their brains; therefore they are not overly intelligent. Unfortunately and for the same reason, they are highly unpredictable and illogical. I suggest you run. The fae spend little time with other supernaturals, preferring to amuse themselves with humans, but do not make one angry. And may the powers help you if you find yourself alone with a vampire.”
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 12