by Marie Hall
“Well, speak of the devil.”
* * *
Cian stood just inside the store, eyes roving, looking for her. He’d been standing outside the shop all day, taking two steps forward and one step back. He shouldn’t be here.
All he’d thought about last night was that scent. Her perfume of patchouli and vanilla. The intoxicating combination of woodsy spice and sweetness as uniquely her as the eyes shot through with liquid gold.
He’d seen her through the window last night staring at him. He’d tasted her fear and moved deeper into shadow. He hadn’t meant to scare her. Only was watching to see that Frenzy had kept his word and that at the very least he could ensure her a good night’s rest.
It hadn’t worked. The rest of the night he’d sensed her pacing, her thoughts, and yet the feeling of intense confusion and doubt had settled on him, making him ache to go to her. He’d stayed away but the need to comfort her, reassure himself that she was all right, had finally made him enter this store.
Cian clenched his fists, glancing from one face to another, the gut-twisting fear eating a hole in his sanity.
He couldn’t believe he’d done this. He’d sworn last night it wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. Yet he’d broken his oath.
He’d come. Not to defend her, or even harvest her soul. If only it were so uncomplicated. No, he’d come to see her, pure and simple.
Standing halfway in the door, doubt and panic crowded his mind. Death cowed by a mere slip of a woman. Laughable, if it weren’t for the anxiety stealing the breath from his lungs.
He turned to leave. Maybe this was for the best.
“Cian. Right?”
He flinched and reluctantly turned, dropping his hand from the door. A redhead stood before him, a knowing gleam in her wide violet eyes.
“Did you come for anything specific?” She spread her arm, indicating the shelves of otherworldly goods.
His heart pounded in his ears, threatening to drown out the mystical harmony of chanting Gregorian monks playing softly through the shop.
Cian narrowed his eyes. The sister was playing naïve, which suited him fine, because right now he was drawing a blank trying to come up with even a petty excuse. It dawned on him then how half-cocked this idea had been. He’d come completely unprepared.
“I, ah…” He licked his upper teeth, a nervous habit he’d acquired in the past century.
“You know, vamp, we’ve got some of the red stuff in the coolers back there if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s kind of a hush-hush thing—FDA hasn’t approved it yet, but, hell…” She shrugged, her brow arched in a wicked curve. “…if you’re hungry, you’re hungry. And I’d rather you rip into the red baggies than my sensitive neck.”
Vamp? Had she just called him a vamp?
He opened his mouth to correct her, when he caught the unmistakable scent.
“Tamryn, stop hassling him.”
That voice, all sultry and sexy. He wondered what it would sound like in the morning.
“Hello, Cian. How are you?”
Tamryn laughed and sidled off, throwing a “Good luck, Eve” over her shoulder.
For the first time he learned her true name. Eve, he thought. Like the dawn.
Eve smiled—her cheeks flushed a pearly pink. “Don’t mind my sister. She can’t help herself.”
He grinned. The monstrous knot in his stomach began to unwind. “I, ah…” He scratched the back of his head. “…was just in the neighborhood and decided to stop in and check out the shop. I had no idea you worked here.”
“Oh really?” Her teasing gold eyes sparkled with disbelief.
The realization of how dumb that excuse was hit him like a boulder in the chest.
She gave a good-natured shrug, exposing the pale flesh of her shoulder as she did it. The soft pink-and-white top seemed to glow against her skin. The black mass of hair spilling down her back only added to the ethereal vision before him. She was heart-achingly beautiful.
“Oddly coincidental in a city this size”—she smiled—“but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Her fingers idly toyed with the ruby stone of her silver neckpiece. No doubt the conduit to her power. Beneath the ruby-and-silver necklace she wore another chain with a pendant: a small pentagram lay at the juncture between her breasts. He couldn’t help but stare a little longer than was necessary.
She cleared her throat. He glanced at her face. A knowing gleam twinkled in her eyes. Realizing he’d been caught, he only shrugged and gave a crooked grin. What was he to do? Deny it? Not likely. She had nice round breasts that he could easily imagine filling a man’s hands—his hands—to satisfaction.
Blood rushed through his veins and down to his shaft, stirring the length of him and making him all too aware of how feminine Eve was and how neglected he’d been for the past century.
“So”—she cocked her head—“want the grand tour?” She took a step closer. Her nearness agitated him, made him want to reach out and grab her, trail his finger down her neck like he’d done last night and watch the shiver course through her body.
Her rich smell surrounded him and he inhaled deeply, nodding as he did so.
Twenty minutes later the tour was winding down. Eve took him to the final row of paranormal paraphernalia.
She pointed at a nondescript white cooler sitting in the corner. “That is, of course, what Tamryn was teasing you about.”
Eve lifted up the lid and pulled out a plastic bag filled with a thick red fluid. No doubt it had to be blood. She handed one to him with a smile. “On the house.”
Cian blinked. What was he supposed to do with blood? His mouth twitched, his brain debating truth or lie and the consequences of deception, but she spoke up first.
“It’s type O. Universal donor. It’s the cheap stuff, I know. But Celeste would kill me if I gave you anything more exotic. Little more pricey, if you get my drift.” She winked.
He nodded, deciding that he wouldn’t see her again after tonight, so the lie was harmless. He pocketed the packet, careful not to show his disgust at the thought of what he was supposed to do with it.
“Well…” She shrugged and looked around. An uncomfortable silence filled the gap between them. His mind had shut down the moment he’d spotted her. It seemed that Eve wasn’t overly anxious to move on herself. She seemed desperate to find something to say; her roving gaze attested to that.
Then she lighted on a shelf a few feet away. “Oh yeah, I forgot.” She marched over to the shelf, which was filled with cases full of highly polished stakes. Her steps were quick and excited, and he could feel the relief running off her in waves. “And these are our vamp stakes.”
She laughed and he decided he liked it. A lot. It was a rich, gravelly burr. Highly sensual—he shifted on the balls of his feet, anything to get the blood circulating properly instead of just centering on his growing erection—and highly erotic. A low throb built and twisted his insides in knots. By the goddess, he’d never wanted anything more.
One night. One night to pretend he was just a man wanting to be held. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Celeste thought it would be a great laugh to place the blood and the stakes so close together. I’m sure the vamps wouldn’t agree, but…” Her lips twisted, her raven’s-wing brow raised into a high peak.
“Little ironic,” he drawled.
“I think that was the point. But we’re in neutral territory. In order to build a shop in this part of town you have to be willing to place biases aside and cater to all. We do, Celeste just enjoys the spectacle.”
He grinned. She had a nice smile.
Hearing her say the word “bias,” he immediately wondered if it was a business practice on her part, or if she was one of the rare few able to forgive and forget. The words blurted from his mouth before he’d thought them through.
“What about the fae?” Just a tiny flicker, a quick flash in her golden eyes, but it was enough. “I didn’t see any item
s here for them,” he continued, disheartened.
“What could we possibly have that they’d want? They’ve got everything. They’re the magickal, mystical, beautiful ones.”
Her contempt rolled over his body like sharp barbs. Only through sheer will was he able to keep his face composed.
“No.” She shook her head, her black hair swinging behind her like the sharp blade of a pendulum. “We have nothing for them here.”
He gave a small nod, falling quiet. He wasn’t the stereotypical fae, but somehow he sensed that really wouldn’t make much difference to her. The history of the reaper was a convoluted thing, not a path he wanted to travel down at the moment, but still her confession pierced his heart.
He should say good-bye, walk away, and never return. Cian felt himself falling quickly into something for which he had no name. A strange emotion that made him restless, crazy, and consumed by thoughts of her.
Save your heart, death.
If he didn’t turn away now, he’d lose himself completely. She made him feel again, and something other than quiet detachment, loathing, or self-hatred. He found himself doing things for her he’d never wanted to do before. All to please her.
The baggie in his pocket was a heavy reminder of that.
If she ever found out who he worked for, the atrocities he’d committed during the Great War—not to mention what he’d done to her husband—Eve would never forgive him. The thought alone made his stomach churn with anxiety. He couldn’t handle that.
Walk away.
Eve touched his sleeve, her brows bunched, a concerned gleam in her eyes. “You okay?”
Heat shot down his spine. The time to leave had passed a long time ago. It was already too late.
Chapter 10
Eve, go home.” Celeste came up behind her and smiled, her gaze flickering toward Cian. “You shift’s over. What are you doing here?” The last question was directed to Cian.
“Jeez, Cel, queen of blunt.” Eve bristled, not sure why she’d gotten aggravated at her sister. She turned to Cian with an apologetic smile. “What my sister meant to say was hi. Right?” She turned, narrowing her eyes at Celeste.
Her sister gave a quick nod, throwing her thick blond braid over her shoulder. “Just moody, sorry. Last customer was killing me. Some faux vamp looking for the perfect claw ring. Totally sent me on a wild-goose chase. I mean wild, like I’m digging through twenty cases, even had to grab some from the back room, and then when we found it, well…” Celeste rolled her moss green eyes, a perfect look of disgust on her face. “Wouldn’t you know the little wench was just looking. Ugh! I need an effing ciggy.”
Eve lifted her brows, sure that Cian couldn’t care less. Poor man, having to be subjected to her sister’s tirade. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Cel.”
“Yeah, me too, especially since I decided to quit cold turkey last week. Dammit.” Celeste turned, muttering to herself as she walked off.
Eve bit her lip, not even wanting to turn around and see the glitter of shock in his eyes. Celeste was so different outside of the shop, carefree, spirited, but get the chick in the shop and she became one raging ball of estrogen.
“I’m sorry that you had to hear that—” she said as she turned.
“Don’t apologize. Your sister did nothing wrong. Sometimes it’s nice to have an ear willing to listen.”
Her brows twitched, a soft smile playing at the corner of her lips. “That was nice. Thanks.”
He shrugged, glancing at the shelves behind her head. “Thanks for the”—he patted his pocket—“blood.”
She wrinkled her nose with a smile. “That was really hard for you to say, huh?”
He cocked his head, a tight grin on his face.
Why did that strike her as utterly adorable? He was so awkward. Shy even. This huge hunk of man, who just last night rescued her from a demon hell-bent on destruction. The disparity was so odd, she wanted to laugh, but she sensed that it cost him everything he had to even say that little bit. It made her warm up to him all the more.
“You’re welcome, Cian.” And because she couldn’t help it, she brushed her fingers over his shirt again. His gaze flicked to her face.
She didn’t want this to end. It was so easy being around him, but more than that, he made her feel something she hadn’t felt since Michael. Cian made her feel alive and hot and, if she was honest with herself, excited. Excited at the potential, the possibility of something slightly reckless. Being around him was like standing close to a live wire; she resonated with shocks and tremors of full-on, in-your-face lust. And while that was exciting, there was also the very real feeling that maybe there was more than just that. Maybe he’d be someone she could share things with, go to the movies with, and just hang out with. Someone other than her sisters.
There were no dreams of a romantic involvement, and the hot sex fantasy playing in her head was only lust. Not the spiritual connection she craved with a life partner. But being around him made her want to at least try to stop being the self-imposed nun she’d been for the past two years.
“Listen, are you doing anything tonight?”
He blinked. She couldn’t refrain from smiling.
“I have nothing planned.”
“Good. Well, I know it’s dark out, but I’m not really ready to go home yet. I’d love the company, so long as you promise not to bite.”
He grinned, showing off his white teeth, the canines on prominent display. A delicious shiver ran through her. Those were some nice-looking fangs. Not too long, not too short.
Jeez, since when did I become a fang lover? Goddess help me.
Everything about this man was perfect. It would have made her sick except that he was looking at her with an answering heat in his eyes.
Friend, Eve. Friend. That’s all you want right now. Keep telling yourself that; you’ll believe it eventually.
She broke the electric silence first. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go grab my sweater and clock out. Give me about two minutes. In the meantime, why don’t you go ahead and eat, I know you must be starving after just rising and all.”
* * *
Cian waited until Eve was out of view, then he turned and headed outside, finding the nearest Dumpster and tossed the baggie into it. He didn’t want to hurt feelings, but there were limits to what he was willing to do, and that was one of them.
He leaned against the brick exterior of the shop and crossed his arms, waiting for Eve. He should have told her no. But he was sick to death of all the should-haves. For once he’d decided to go with his heart. He only hoped he didn’t regret it come week’s end.
A flash of red. He narrowed his eyes and twirled, his senses heightened, the prickle of another reaper traveling down his spine.
“Frenzy,” he hissed. The red could belong to no other. There was silence and yet the shadows breathed. He ground his jaw, his pulse kicking into hyperdrive. Footsteps pounding the pavement, he stalked to another Dumpster, tucked deeper in the alleyway. His eyes roved the darkness. The awareness of the presence grew steadily stronger.
The bell above the shop jingled as Eve walked out.
He turned, torn between finding Frenzy and going to her. It was his hand that decided for him. He glanced down and the fingers were flesh. Whatever the hell Frenzy had in mind, it wasn’t death, not so long as his hand remained normal. With one last glare into the darkness, he turned back.
The confusion written on her brows gave way to excitement as she finally noticed him walk up. She smiled. “There you are.”
“Aye.” He held his arm out to her, and after a moment’s hesitation she shrugged and slipped her arm in his.
Inside he trembled with rage. Breathe. Breathe or she’ll know something’s wrong. He couldn’t help but cast a quick glance behind his shoulder. Nothing. She never noticed.
“‘Aye,’ hmm? That’s very archaic.”
He ground his jaw; he hadn’t meant to slip into the old speech. He’d broken himself of the habit centuries ago,
a telltale that had become too dangerous to use. Still, his mind was consumed. The betraying pulse of death was gone, but the memory lingered on. He rubbed his jaw, stretching out with his senses, listening for something. Except for the rustle of rodents and heavy shuffle of normals, he heard nothing to indicate danger.
She raised a brow. The smile on her face slipping, waiting for his response, a nuance, some validation that he’d heard her. He took a slow, deep breath and tried to pretend that everything was okay. That she wasn’t marked by death.
The truth was that everything wasn’t okay. Was it? Just like the fae he despised, he looked her in the eyes and, without missing a beat, forced a smile. Cruel deceit.
She sighed, and calm replaced the tension. “I like it.” She flashed him her famous crooked grin. “Sounds very chivalrous. So were you Irish before the big change?”
Whichever reaper he’d sensed was now long gone, and yet the cold reminder of her plight settled heavy on his mind. Fact was he wasn’t just a man. He was here to protect. Period.
“Yes,” he said, almost as an afterthought.
She shrugged her shoulders, winding her knitted wrap tighter around herself. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Can you imagine the old magick permeating those hills?” She glanced at him under the cover of her lashes and chuckled. “Well, I suppose you could, couldn’t you?”
“I probably could, Eve.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not my brightest moment. I swear you’d think I was blonde sometimes.”
A passing pedestrian jogged past, accidentally bumping into Eve and forcing her tight to his side. He noticed that she didn’t bother to move, even after the jogger had disappeared from sight. He didn’t know why, but that pleased him. The feel of her thigh grazing his and her scent mingling with the salty air of the bay had heat traveling straight to his loins. Lights dotted the sidewalk as late evening soon gave way to the dusky painting of night.
He looked at all the faces. Studying them. Committing them to memory. The walk, though pleasant, was a façade. A pretense of normalcy on his part. And he was used to pretense. It was like breathing, eating, or sleeping to him. To survive at the courts you had to be good at faking it. Until recently, he’d always been. Until her.