God, she could drown in his eyes. Blue. So blue. She couldn’t look away.
His arm where she was still technically swiping at the blood moved. The fingers of his right hand came to rest on her hip at the top of her jeans. The tee shirt she was wearing was too small from too many washings and tended to ride up and show off a band of flesh. His fingers caressed the flesh now, so softly she might have imagined it. But she didn’t imagine the effect. She trembled, unable to tear her gaze away from Nick’s, her breath shortening down to uneven exhalations and choppy inhalations. Even his thumb left a searing little arc of burning flesh across her hipbone.
Her breasts grew heavy and she wished mightily she wore a bra. He must surely see her nipples extend and harden. The tee shirt was tight across her breasts. He would see everything, except that he was staring into her eyes.
But Nick was a vampire and could sense everything about her. He could pick up the slightest change in her pheromones.
And so could Damian. Her heart skittered. He must surely know by now what was happening in the kitchen.
“God help me, I can feel you,” Nick murmured. “See you on that table.” His fingers clenched around her hip.
“Nick,” she begged. “Look away. Let me go.”
“You want me.” His voice was rough. Hoarse with his own needs, and not all of them were sexual.
“Oh, Nick…” The unanswerable question. Why did he have to ask it now? So soon? So late? Too late?
When Damian’s fingers curled around the back of her neck, Riley almost moaned in agony. How much had he heard? How much had he witnessed?
“Answer him,” Damian said softly. “Answer truthfully.” His fingers caressed gently. Soothingly. While Nick’s hand sent another message altogether.
Nick still hadn’t looked away from her eyes. She was lost in his gaze. “I want you,” she said honestly. “I want you as badly as I want Damian.”
A shudder went through Nick. His fangs slowly emerged, as he lifted his gaze to Damian’s face. “You’re playing with real chess pieces again.”
“The game is worth it.”
“That is what you said last time.”
“I was right then, too.”
“People died, then.”
Riley looked up at Damian, startled. “What is he talking about?”
Damian smiled. “London, 1593. A long story, full of intrigue and for another time.” He looked at Nicholas. “I’ve placed the wards on every door and window. We’re covered for now. Riley should be brought up to date.”
“Up to date on what?” Riley asked.
Nicholas looked down at the gashes on his arm. “We’re no longer the hunters. We’re now the hunted. Azazel did this.”
“The demon that raises the gargoyles?”
“What guise is he using now?” Damian asked, his hands on Riley’s shoulders. His chest was against her back, strong and reassuring.
Nick’s hand settled back on her hip with a casual movement and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, although Riley’s pulse sky-rocketed. Damian’s hands tightened just a bit, letting her know he’d felt her reaction.
“A small woman, barely bigger than Riley. Blonde. Green eyes. The green eyes were what caught me.” Nick grimaced. “I don’t know if Azazel has seen Riley or if it was just a coincidence, but he played me. It was enough for him to get close enough. His claws did the rest.”
Damian reached over and squeezed Nick’s shoulder. Comfort. Reassurance. Silent agreement that Nick had been duped and yeah, there was nothing that could be said that would make it any better. “He could have moved to another guise by now, too. Azazel has powers beyond anything we’ve ever seen in a demon. He has an agenda we just don’t understand. He operates independently. He’s something you’ve never come across before.”
Nick nodded. “He wants Riley.”
Riley jumped. “Why me?”
“You’re your mother’s daughter,” Nick explained. “She interred Azazel in his last regeneration and it’s taken him thirty years, almost, to pull himself together and come after you. He’s angry, now. He wants vengeance. He dug up the gargoyles just to get even. It’s payback time.”
“You know this for sure?”
“I know Azazel of old, so I’m guessing, but I’d lay money on my guess, Riley. Everything fits. He’s powerful but vain, selfish and arrogant. Childish and petulant. A typical demon, just one with superpowers.”
“My mother had years of training. I’ve had four hours of it,” Riley said. Fear bloomed in her chest, beat at her temples. She felt sick with it. She pushed her fingertips into her temples. “I’m starting to feel like you do, Nick. This is impossible. It’s never going to work. I should just go hand myself over to Azazel now and put everyone out of their misery.” Tears pricked at her eyes.
Her head was jerked up by a hand under her chin. Nick’s eyes glared into hers, snapping fire. Before she could even catch her breath his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding.
Her thoughts scattered completely and utterly by the sheer unexpectedness of the kiss. Damian was still standing behind her. She could feel the warmth of him against her—the only coherent and panicky thought she could hold onto as Nick’s tongue thrust into her mouth.
It was a kiss to die for.
She didn’t want to respond. She fought not to. It felt like betrayal of the worst sort for even her heart rate to elevate or her breath to catch and at first she held it, trying not to show any sign of reaction to the surprising softness of Nick’s lips against hers.
But she couldn’t hold out for long. As the kiss extended she was drawn into it and lost inside it. She gave up and let herself thrust her fingers into Nick’s hair and wrap herself around him as she had longed to do—as she had imagined doing since the idea of seducing Nick had first occurred to her. Her body seemed to catch on fire as she let go of all restraint and just let herself feel the kiss.
When he finally broke the kiss and pulled back, she was panting.
Nick glanced at Damian. “There are two classic ways to deal with a hysteric. You would rather I have slapped her instead?” But he was breathing just as heavily as she was and his eyes were heavily dilated, the blue almost completely subsumed by the irises.
Damian didn’t respond. She felt his hands on her shoulders once more.
Nick turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the lounge area. “Training, Riley!” he called over his shoulder. “Fifteen minutes! Let’s add to that four hours right now.”
“It’s one in the morning,” Riley pointed out. “He’s aware that I need sleep at least somewhere in a twenty-four-hour cycle, right?” She kept her gaze averted from Damian, aware that her cheeks were burning with mortification.
Damian turned her to face him and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. His expression was calm. “You need to trust me,” he said. “In everything.”
It was the last thing she had expected him to say. She blinked. “You’re not angry?”
“Not even close.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “You have to learn to let go, Riley. Let go of control and of staying on top. You need to let yourself sink into things.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid that if I do that, if I lose control, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? What’s the worst thing that could happen, if I’m here with you?” he asked reasonably. “No one could possibly harm you if I’m here, or Nick.” He touched her lips with his. A cousin, or a brother kiss. “You’re not alone in the world anymore, Riley.”
The truth of that statement slammed into her like an express train hitting a concrete wall. She wasn’t an orphan any more. She had family. She’d never, ever be alone again. Ever.
* * * * *
Nicholas worked her harder than she’d ever thought it was possible for the human body to be driven. For three hours he trained her, using the bamboo poles, until her circadian rhythms overrode even Nick’s harsh insistence.
She held herse
lf up by the pole as Nick explained the principle of close in-fighting and tried to focus her eyes. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked.
“You need to focus on what I’m saying,” he reminded her. “We don’t have time for you to zone out.”
“I did,” she assured him. “I just didn’t hear it.”
“That’s because she fell asleep for a few seconds,” Damian said from his sprawl on the couch. “I was watching her. Her eyes shut.”
Nick tilted his head to one side, studying her. He seemed somehow pleased. The corners of his mouth looked like they were almost lifting into a smile. He threw his pole to Damian, who caught it with cat-like reflexes. Nick strode back to where his broadsword lay on the sideboard.
“Pick up your sword!” he called out over his shoulder.
“She’s asleep on her feet!” Damian protested, sitting up.
Nicholas grabbed the hilt of his sword and strode back to where Riley stood grasping the pole. His face was grim. “If you don’t want me to cut that pole to matchsticks and then start in on your hands, pick up your fucking sword now.”
She was tired and her reactions were slowed as a result. Nicholas was also using vampire speed, she was sure of it. He reached her before she could react. The blade of the sword was a blur.
Riley had always known Nicholas was good. Intellectually, she understood he had been trained in the way of the sword from the age of ten, when one’s sword and knife was the only form of defense a man knew and defending one’s life was a common thing—as common as getting your email account jacked today.
But she didn’t really know it. Not in her gut. Not the way she accepted in her bones Nick and Damian’s vampire state.
She didn’t have time to analyze that curious omission now, for he sliced off the top of her pole in two easy passes of his sword before she could get her sluggish body to move backward. Fright tore through her. The light in Nick’s eyes and the unrelenting, hard look in his face…this was the implacable expression that his enemies had faced through the centuries, as he calculated how to defeat them and they realized the enormous skill and power of the foe they faced.
Riley dropped the pole, lunged for the katana sitting in the umbrella stand at the end of the sofa, curled her hands around the long handle, withdrew it and brought it around and up to block Nick’s descending blade in two quick movements. There was a ringing sound as metal collided with metal.
Her breathing was fast and hard as she stared at Nick. His blade had been descending even though she had dropped the pole. Would he have buried the sword in her back or shoulder if she had not got the katana up to block him in time?
He smiled. “You’re not sleepy anymore, are you?”
She licked her lips. “No.”
“Don’t ever let yourself believe your limits are what your mind determines them to be. The real limits of your body are far beyond what your mind thinks they are.” He lowered the sword, stepped forward and pushed her blade out of the way. “You should get some sleep, Riley. You’re very tired.” He brushed her hair from her temple.
Abruptly, the adrenaline screaming through her body morphed into hot, aching arousal, between one heart beat and the next. She looked up into Nick’s eyes, marveling at the summer-sky blue of them and realized she was staring at him again. She stayed very still.
“Use my bed,” he murmured. “We’ll keep your nightmares at bay for you.”
Damian’s hands slid around her waist. He was behind her. “I’ll hold you,” he whispered in her ear.
She was starting to shake. Adrenaline overload, she realized. That and tiredness. Damian’s hands shifted and he picked her up. “Come, my lover,” he murmured. The katana was plucked from her hand. “Relax,” Damian murmured. “You’re safe.”
Things got confused after that as sleep and adrenaline aftermath claimed her. Hands were peeling her sweaty workout clothing from her. A damp cloth over her skin.
“She needs protein.” Nick’s voice.
Thick chocolate-flavored liquid in her mouth. “Swallow.” Damian’s voice. She swallowed.
Cool slippery sheets. Being turned onto her side. Warmth over her. A body behind her. Arms around her. A pillow under her head.
She was so exhausted sleep rushed at her without protest for one of the few times in her life, even though there was someone else in the bed with her. It’s not the same, though. This is Damian with me, was the thought that followed her down into sleep.
She woke with instant orientation, aware that she had slept so deeply she had not moved from the position Damian had laid her in. She was still on her side. But Damian was no longer behind her.
Something had woken her. She didn’t know what it was yet, but her senses had been alerted even in sleep. If she hadn’t moved then not much time could have passed yet. She didn’t feel any alarm, but she didn’t sit up or show any outward sign that she was awake. Instead, she listened.
Low voices from the sofa. Damian and Nicholas were talking.
Riley didn’t feel that Damian had deserted her in any way. Within the warded apartment, she was perfectly safe with the two vampires barely fifteen feet away. And they had some serious catching-up to do. This would be their first chance to do it, if they hadn’t spoken on the way to New York. Somehow, Riley knew they hadn’t—not with her asleep on Damian’s chest and all that lay between them so freshly opened and hurting still.
Now, with Damian and her together, the old patterns had shifted and reformed and the two men could talk. Riley shamelessly eavesdropped.
“You’ve seriously underestimated her, you realize?” Damian said, as if he were finishing a conversation.
Nick gave a low laugh. “And the dire prognostications roll on. God, how I’ve missed you.” There was a note of longing in his voice that made Riley’s heart clench.
“Nick…” Damian’s voice also carried a tone of regret, of…wanting. Because she had heard that arousal in his voice when he was with her, she had no trouble recognizing it now in the single word he spoke.
Silence.
Riley could hear her own heart in her temples and her chest and her mind. She longed to move, to twist the tiny few degrees it would take to lift her chin and look at them, to see what they were doing. Were they kissing? Running their hands over each other’s bodies? Thrusting a hand between each other’s thighs? All of the above? Something else? Somehow cementing their old relationship and excluding her?
Riley struggled to remain utterly still, keep her breath even and maintain every outward appearance of sleep, while she fought a raging and swiftly building sense of fear.
After a few seconds of silence that felt like a year or so, Nicholas spoke again. His voice was thick with arousal. “You should be careful with this game you’re playing. She’s human. She doesn’t have the stamina to deal with it the way I can. I like your games. Riley may not. Have you thought of that?”
“This one is different.” Damian’s voice was flat.
“The game or the girl?”
“You’ll see,” Damian responded.
Nicholas sighed, as if he was one of the most put-upon men in the universe. “Very well, then. Just be careful with her. I like this one.”
Damian laughed. “That stiff-upper-lipped English thing of yours stopped fooling me about three centuries ago. You like her? It’s far more than ‘like’ and we both know it. Have you forgotten how to speak plainly with me?”
Riley found she was holding her breath, waiting for Nick’s answer. She made herself breathe in the slow, deep rhythm of a sleeper again, as Nick’s silence stretched on. Finally, he spoke again. “You haven’t marked her yet.”
Riley heard Damian’s sigh. Disappointment? Frustration? She felt her own strong desire to grab Nick by the scruff and shake him.
“No, I haven’t marked her,” Damian replied evenly.
“Why not?” Nick pressed and Riley sensed he’d spotted Damian’s own vulnerability and was jumping on it, because it took the focus
of the conversation—and the pressure—away from him.
Damian didn’t respond.
“Why haven’t you?” Nick pushed again. “She’s clearly chosen you.” Riley heard a touch of bitterness in his voice. “If you mark her, it protects us all. It…settles the matter.”
“You have to trust me,” Damian said slowly. “You used to, once.”
“Of course I do,” Nick said, sounding surprised. “With my life.”
“Then I ask you to continue to do so, just for a while.”
The silence this time was much shorter. “Very well then,” Nick said simply. He made a sound like someone stretching or standing. “It’s good to have you back,” he added.
Riley held in her amazement. Just like that, Nick had dropped the subject and asked no more question, just as Damian had requested. He was going to trust that Damian would protect Nick’s interests and emotions and wouldn’t let him get hurt. Riley didn’t know if she could do that. It took the sort of faith that Nick had built up over centuries.
But Nick was still speaking. “All these petty intrigues and plots are good for my brain. It’s been a while since I had someone to outwit.”
“Don’t forget you have Azazel out there, still.”
Nick swore. “Azazel isn’t clever. It’s just a demon with demigod-like powers that should have been killed the first go-round.”
“You should thank it. It brought Riley back into your life.”
“There’s food for thought.” Nick swore again. “Those damned green eyes of hers…I lied, Damian. The demon looked almost exactly like her.”
“I know,” Damian said softly.
Silence again.
“You’d better get back to her,” Nick said, his voice rough.
“Going.”
Riley tried to consciously relax all her muscles before Damian slipped into the bed next to her and she betrayed herself by her tension. The effect of loosening everything was therapeutic. She was still exhausted and slipped back into genuine sleep just as Damian’s long body settled fully up against hers.
She woke to full daylight with cloudless blue sky peering in through the old factory windows and the sound of the television tuned to a morning breakfast show. Hot food smells came from the kitchen and the sound of cooking. She sniffed. Eggs and vegetables. Toast?
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