When she glanced back at Cowboy, he was focused up. She followed his gaze to the window where Nick’s dark head was now visible.
“What are you waiting for?” Cowboy hissed. “She’s down! Now you!”
Angel looked up, nervous when she saw Nick up there.
He had to have 30 pounds on Cowboy, all of it muscle. And he’d been shot. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, she held her side where the wind had been knocked out of her, staring up at Nick and sending up a little prayer.
By the time she finished, Nick’s legs were hanging from the window sill.
Then, Nick dropped.
Angel watched him fall, seemingly in slow motion.
At the end, everything seemed to speed up.
He slammed into Cowboy and the two of them crashed into the metal railing, hard enough that Angel was sure it would snap away from the wall, sending all three of them down to the street in a heap of twisted metal. Instead, the force of Nick’s fall nearly sent both of them over the railing altogether.
Nick and Cowboy both grabbed the vibrating metal on either side, muscles straining as they pulled themselves back onto the platform.
Just then, guns went off overhead.
“Come on!” Angel yelled.
Turning, she scooted down the ladder, half-falling to the next landing when she put her weight on her bad leg. Behind her, she heard Nick huffing, trying to get his breath, as Cowboy helped him reach the ladder’s handrails. Nick’s legs shook violently as he made his way down the stairs, probably running on adrenaline and pain more than conscious will.
Even so, he moved surprisingly fast. Fast enough that Angel got out of his way for the next floor, urging him to go in front of her. Cowboy caught hold of her around the waist before she could protest, and then he was half carrying her down the next set of rungs.
It seemed to take forever for them to get down.
Angel knew they were probably racing the elevator again.
It hit her that they likely weren’t being chased by actual vampires. If they were, at least one of them would have jumped to the landing below the window already.
She didn’t let herself dwell on that for long, either.
They were still a few floors from the bottom when Cowboy grabbed the phone out of her back pocket, giving her an apologetic look.
“Try it,” he said, thrusting it into her hand. “I left mine.”
Remembering his had been in the breast pocket of his jeans jacket, she nodded. Swiping the glass front of her phone while Cowboy half-carried her down the next set of stairs, she used the voice activation to tell it to call Black. That time, she got a ringing tone right away.
“Phone’s working!” she announced. A few seconds later, she cursed when his voicemail message came up. Like most things Black, it was to the point.
“You’re reached Quentin Black. Speak. Or don’t.”
“Black’s not answering...” she said, frustrated.
“Call Dex,” Nick called up from below. Angel couldn’t help noticing that his voice was taut, like he was struggling to breathe. “Or Niko. Don’t call any of the seers.”
Angel nodded. She considered leaving a message on Black’s voicemail, then hung up, telling her phone to call Dexter, instead.
It rang––once. Twice.
“Dexter.”
“Dex, it’s Angel––”
Before she could get out another word, an explosion tore through the sky, shaking the metal stairs violently, causing her to lose her balance, falling into Cowboy’s side. She caught hold of his shirt and arm with her free hand, holding him back from where she nearly sent him over the side again. Gasping, she looked up, glimpsed black smoke eating into blue sky.
Then another explosion rocked the building behind her, blotting out the sun.
Angel screamed as windows blew out overhead, dust filling her nose and mouth.
Then, everything went dark.
She was falling.
The arm holding her tightened, falling with her.
19
COITUS INTERRUPTUS
I GASPED, GRIPPING his wrist.
I had no idea where I was.
Truthfully, I didn’t much care where we were.
I’d definitely forgotten where we were supposed to be, assuming we were supposed to be anywhere at all. He drove into me with a heavy grunt, his fingers fisted in my hair, pinning me down to something hard, his gold-colored shirt open and stuck to his chest and arms with sweat. Violence came off him in a hotter wave; he gripped my ass in his hand, arching into me harder. He went so deep that time, I cried out, tightening my legs around him.
I felt him react to that, too, even as he closed his eyes.
He wanted to watch me come.
When I sank my teeth into his arm, he let out a heavy groan, slamming me down harder on whatever surface we were lying on. Holding me down by the neck, he angled his body into me so deep I lost my breath, gasping as I watched his eyes close again.
Then that cat-like gaze was focused back on my face.
We’d left the car. I remembered that much.
I remembered leaving it the first time, remembered the two of us being in a small shop on the Lower West Side, Black pressing into me from behind, looking over my shoulder as I stared down at a velvet-covered display case on the glass table in front of us.
“So what you think?” he’d murmured, pressing deeper into the back of my legs.
Closing my eyes when he wrapped his arm around me, I opened them to stare down at the rings set in the blue velvet.
“Black... gods. They’re so beautiful.”
I felt a pleased plume of light leave him. He kissed the back of my neck. “I was going to show you while we were in L.A.,” he murmured. “I had them commissioned not long after I got out of the hospital. The artist lives here.”
I nodded.
“You really like them?” he coaxed.
I nodded, fingering the larger of the two black-banded rings. I wondered briefly what kind of metal they were. Knowing Black, they were some kind of tinted platinum, or––
“Black gold,” he murmured, softer. “I looked at platinum, but then I found out I could do this.”
“Do you mean it’s rhodium-plated?” I said, fingering it.
He shook his head. “No. This was done by lasers.” He gripped me tighter around the waist. “The laser creates microstructures that capture nearly all light that falls on the metal... that’s how it turns so completely black.”
“That sounds expensive,” I joked, smiling up at him.
He smiled back, quirking an eyebrow. “It is. Very. But we’re only doing this once, right?”
When I glanced up, a little incredulously as I tried to imagine what “very expensive” meant to Black, he shrugged. “The artist told me rhodium wouldn’t be a good option for... well, people like us.”
I laughed, gripping his hand where he held me. “People like us?”
“Active people,” he said, smiling. “The rhodium scratches easy. What did you think I meant?”
I shook my head, staring back down at the rings.
Whatever they cost, they were stunningly gorgeous.
I still couldn’t really find words for them.
The larger one depicted an etched orca with three stars, like the Native American design I wore around my neck, but more fluid somehow, almost Art Nouveau. My grandfather made the pendant I wore, and it symbolized human and seer––my parents’ marriage, but also me and my sister, Zoe. On the ring, diamonds stood in the place of the stars, subtle, but beautiful.
The smaller ring depicted a dragon. The dragon’s wings and limbs wrapped around a brilliant, gold-colored stone in the center. The stone was big enough to be intimidating, but it was stunningly beautiful. The style of the setting made it look almost antique.
“It’s a diamond,” he said, soft. “It was a bitch finding the right color, he said––took him months to hunt down a seller in Argentina. You might no
t be able to tell, but the diamond stars in the other one are tinted green and yellow. It was as close as I could get to hazel.”
I nodded, unable to find words again.
He’d made us each rings with symbols of the other.
Somehow, I found myself fighting tears.
He wrapped both arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “If you want a different stone, or to change any of it––”
I shook my head, wiping my eyes. “No.”
He kissed my throat again, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders. Back on Old Earth, he sent softly. We had to wear symbols of ownership sometimes. Rings. He kissed my neck again. Pendants. They made it clear who our owner was.
I let out a laugh, shaking my head as I wiped under my other eye.
“You are impossible,” I told him, smiling. “Always negotiating.”
“I thought we’d already negotiated that end of things.”
I turned around without disentangling myself from him, or moving away from where he held me. Wrapping my arms around his waist and back, I hugged him, pressing my face against his chest. Curling my arm tighter around his waist, I opened my heart, hugging him tighter and gripping his belt. I felt the gesture surprise him, then touch him.
He hugged me back, stroking my hair.
I love you, ilya. I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good husband.
I laughed again, shaking my head without taking it off his chest. “Is this a bribe?” I teased, wiping my eyes as I looked up at him. “Are you hoping this buys you another few weeks on your Get Out of Jail Free card?”
He tilted his head, pursing his lips. “I was thinking months––”
I smacked him and he laughed, yanking me back up against him.
I don’t know how much longer we were in that jewelry store, or how long it took to get to the restaurant after that. All I know is, I was wearing the ring with the dragon on it when we arrived at a steak restaurant on Lexington Avenue.
I was wearing that, and not a lot else, unfortunately.
Neither was Black; we spent about ten minutes with the engine running behind blacked out windows up while we remedied that and checked each other’s appearance. I caught hold of his bandaged wrist when he started to put on his shirt.
“Show me,” I said, tugging his hand into my lap. “Show me the cut.”
Heat bloomed off him. I felt something else there, too, something that swirled around and into my light, then dissipated before I could make sense of it. Leaning closer, he kissed me, putting more of that heat into his tongue and lips.
No, he sent, soft.
Show me. Show me the cut, Black.
He shook his head, retracting his arm. Shoving it into a sleeve of the gold shirt, he pulled the shirt around his back and slid the other arm into the opposite sleeve. He was buttoning up the front of it when he caught me staring at him. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he yanked me back into his lap.
What? he sent. We’re late, ilya. And I’m all right. Promise.
I forced myself to nod.
Bending his head, he kissed my bare breast. “Are you going in like that?” he murmured. “Not that I’d mind, but it might send the wrong message.” His smile faded as he looked me over, his eyes growing brighter, more predatory. “Jurekil’a guete. These assholes are going to be eye-fucking you all through lunch. I already heard Trevor wondering if you and I were ‘serious.’” Giving me a somber look, he said, “Don’t let me hit one of them, okay?”
I grunted an involuntary laugh, adjusting the collar of his shirt under the jacket. “You say that like I could possibly stop you.”
“Threaten to withhold sex,” he suggested. “That’ll stop me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Says the guy who’s been withholding sex for weeks.”
His smile faded. His eyes lost their humor, too. “Can I tell them we’re married, ilya? Or do you want me to stay quiet about that still?”
There was a silence.
Looking down at the ring I wore, I toyed with the one on his finger. “Of course,” I said, nodding. “You can tell them. You can tell whoever you want, Black.”
Relief left his light, like an exhaled breath. It was intense enough that I found myself fighting tears, struggling to control another surge of emotion, although I couldn’t pin down my own feelings, much less his. Straightening and smoothing his tie with my fingers, I studied his eyes, watching his face as he adjusted the jacket around the gold dress shirt.
That’s really important to you, I sent to him finally. The marriage being public, I mean. Being able to tell people about it.
He glanced up, meeting my gaze. His surprise flickered around me. Have I been unclear in any way about that? That it’s important to me?
Swallowing, I could only shake my head.
Minutes later, after I got the dress back on and Black helped me adjust it and I brushed out my hair with the small brush I had in my purse, we finally opened the door and more or less spilled out onto the sidewalk. We got a few stares when Black wrapped his arm around me again, steering me towards the restaurant as Dex held an umbrella over our heads. I saw a number of people stop and stare at Black, clearly recognizing him, before they gawked at me, trying to figure out if I was someone famous, too.
Black had been right––we were late.
The two investment bankers were waiting for us in the bar. So was Lawrence Farraday, Black’s lawyer, who tapped his watch face, frowning disapprovingly. Absurdly, he transformed briefly into the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland in my head and I burst out in a wholly inappropriate laugh.
Apart from my impolitic laughter, though, I’d thought Black and I were acting more or less normal. From the way the two bankers blinked and stared at us while Black introduced me, and the mixture of alarm, embarrassment and sexual arousal I got off them in those first few seconds, I could tell we weren’t as presentable as we both thought, however. I caught Larry watching the two of us with a faintly alarmed look in his eyes, too.
Then Black made that worse.
The younger of the two bankers, the one introduced to me as Trevor, had been trying to make small talk with me.
“So, errr... Ms. Fox. How are you liking New York?”
“It’s doctor,” Black cut in. “D-R-period. She’s a doctor. She’s also my wife. So yeah... I think that qualifies as the two of us being ‘serious.’ Don’t you, Trevor?”
Trevor blinked, glancing at the one named Frederick before looking back at me. The stunned look on his face matched what I felt on his light.
“Ah,” he said. “I see... well, fantastic! Congratulations, Black! Why didn’t you tell anyone you got married?”
“My wife’s a private woman. She made me keep it a secret until I got her used to the nightmare of being married to me.”
Larry chuckled at that, then tried to hide it when Black glanced at him.
“Dr. Miriam-Fox-Black,” Black repeated, enunciating forcefully. “Or maybe Black-Fox... we haven’t finished arguing about that yet.” He grinned at me, quirking an eyebrow before he smacked me sharply on the ass with his palm. “Come to think of it, I like ‘Black Fox.’ Maybe we should use that as a code word from now on, when I need you to do something to one of my swords. As in, ‘Black Fox!’ ‘Black Fox!’ save me...”
I burst out in a laugh. I couldn’t help it. Maybe I was getting to used to Black’s bizarre sense of humor.
Larry Farraday gaped at me, then at Black.
Then he burst out in a seemingly involuntary spate of chuckles, as well.
The two investment bankers just smiled and looked bemused, adjusting their ties and trying their best to talk over what Black had said.
We were supposed to go to our tables.
I honestly couldn’t remember if we ever got there.
I only remembered Black pulling me with him into what looked like a storage room, some time later. It was cool inside, colder than wherever we’d been before. He’d pushed me down over some kind of wooden
rack, gripping my hair as he forced my legs apart, sliding his fingers in me from behind once he’d hiked up the dress. When I groaned, pushing up against him, he’d replaced his fingers with his cock, slamming into me so hard I’d lost my ability to breathe. He held me down while he fucked me, slow, talking to me in that other language while he kept me from coming with his light.
I was pretty sure we were still there now.
Wine cellar.
We were in a wine cellar.
I could smell it all around us.
He had me on the floor now. He let out a heavier sound as he drove into me again, his arm wrapped around my waist as he forced my back into an arch.
I belong to you, Miri… only you. Do you understand? I don’t give a fuck about anything else. Aggression came off him in a harder wave, enough pain that my eyes closed. Tell me you belong to me, Miri… that you won’t leave me.
I belong to you. I watched his face, saw him flinch at my words. I belong to you... He slammed his body into mine again and I let out a pained gasp, still watching his eyes. “I’ll never leave you, Black... never.”
Pain contorted his expression. I saw him clench his jaw, felt him concentrating, holding himself back, holding me back––
When a booming sound shook the ceiling overhead.
Both of us froze. The sound rolled under me for what felt like seconds, trembling the ground under my back, vibrating my bones and flesh.
Black hung over me, panting, looking up.
Cement dust rained down on us but he didn’t move. Wine bottles shook on their racks. I heard a commotion outside the door, people shouting.
I watched Black stare up in the near-dark, his face and neck slick with sweat, his gold eyes glowing faintly as he focused on the walls and ceiling.
The first concussion slowly died down.
Then another, louder rumble shivered the ground under me.
Black pulled out of me, releasing my hair. That time, bottles fell from the racks, cement dust rained down from the ceilings and walls as the shaking continued. Black raised an arm, then crouched over me, shielding my body with his. He stayed there as bottles rained down around us. He grunted as a few hit him on the back. Others shattered as they fell to the cement floor, raising a stink of wine along with the smell of wet earth.
Black Of Mood (Quentin Black: Shadow Wars #2): Quentin Black World Page 28