“When we got home, Mother went inside. I lingered for a bit. When I got up my nerve, I stuck my head in the door and peered around the corner. Mother was on the floor surrounded by heavy volumes of books. I should have gone straight upstairs and locked myself in my room, but I was transfixed at the sight of Mother flipping through one book after another, tossing each aside before reaching for the next. She scoured every book, almost growling when she couldn’t find what she wanted.
“When she grabbed the Devil’s Bible, I freaked a little. That was my book. I’d found it at an estate sale and I bought it with my allowance. The book didn’t want Mother to touch it and even though she held her hand above the latches and chanted an opening spell the book refused to open.”
“She made you open it?”
She blinked and her eyes focused on him. “I told her I had to pee.”
He smiled. A brilliant strategy for an eight-year-old.
“I always had to pee when Mother got upset.”
His humor died. Jesus. He closed his eyes. If the woman hadn’t already been dead, he’d kill her.
“When I came back downstairs, we argued. I tried to talk her out of it. The Devil’s Bible has dark spells in it. The book contains all the secrets of the daemon realm. She put the book on the table and told me to open it.”
When he’d asked, he’d expected her to tell him some trivial mistake. His butterfly was honest to a fault, though, and far too honorable to give him less than he’d asked for. He tightened his arms around Kat.
“I said the spell, but I put the opposite intention behind my words. To Mother, it looked like I obeyed, but the book refused to open for me, too.”
Confused, he pulled away. “So you didn’t open it. This is your deep, dark secret?”
Kat’s lips lifted in a small smile. “She made me repeat the words three times. Then she let me leave. I should’ve waited until I got upstairs, but as I turned away, I was so relieved, I smiled. Mother saw me in the mirror.”
They stared at each other and there was something in her colors, a murkiness that made him hate himself for starting this. “You don’t have to tell me anything else.”
“She made me do the spell again and when it wouldn’t open, she hit me.”
Kat said the words with no emotions, as if reading a definition from a dictionary. He pushed her curls over her shoulder, resting his hand along her neck and stroked her cheek. “I shouldn’t have asked, butterfly.”
“No.” The colors surrounding her flared bright with the small show of anger. “Mother hit me so hard, I swear I thought my eye was going to pop right out of my skull. I cried and she made fun of me. And when I refused to do it again she used Magic to bind me. Invisible ropes of Magic that lashed around me to keep me from running. She kept tightening the binding spell until I couldn’t breathe. She was going to kill me. There wasn’t an ounce of any emotion outside of fury in her eyes.”
“So you opened the book.”
“The book opened itself.” She shrugged. “The Devil’s Bible always was protective of me. Always tried to help. Mother’s attention went straight to the book and she released me. She was thrilled. The book had even opened to the perfect spell.”
“What was it?”
“A cursing. She cursed the orphan who was in trouble with a Dybbuk.”
“Nasty creatures.” Witches feared the small daemons. Once they attached to a witch, it was almost impossible to get rid of them. They fed off their Magic and used the witch as a shield to hide from their mortal enemy, vampires. Why could he remember all that and not where he lived? Where he’d been?
“I’m a healer. I’m supposed to make people feel better.” Her mouth twisted and the colors of her aura seethed, turning darker. “I let my friend suffer with the Dybbuk for almost two decades. I knew Mother must’ve killed my friends’ mothers and I didn’t say anything. That’s my sin.” Moisture pooled on the lower lids of her eyes. “I let fear rule me and as a result I hurt those I should’ve healed.” A single tear dropped, streaking down her cheek.
“Shit.” He wrapped her in his tight embrace and let her cry. He was an ass. Now he’d hurt the one person who seemed to want to help him.
“These friends of yours. I don’t suppose they’re witches, too?”
She nodded against his chest. “No one knows.”
“What?”
“No one knows.” She sniffed. “My friend, she’s free from the Dybbuk now, but I still haven’t told anyone about how it came to be. That I let her suffer with the creature all that time. Let her live without Magic. No one knows I guessed about their mothers’ deaths and didn’t tell them. They don’t know. . . .”
“Why tell me?” She was talking about a coven, right? Women who possessed Magic and called each other sister. Women who would kill a coven member who betrayed them.
She leaned back and stared. “So you’ll feel safe with me. This is information that could ruin me in the best-case scenario. In the worst
case . . . .”
Worst case, they’d destroy her. He shook his head. “You don’t know me. I could hurt you with this.”
“You won’t.”
He waited to see if she’d say more and when she didn’t, he pulled her back against him and held her. He had no idea what to say. That it didn’t matter? It did. That it wasn’t wrong? It was. Yet, she hadn’t been in a position to do anything about her mother.
“I promised myself if I ever saw someone hurting, I would do whatever I could to stop it.”
“Is that what you’re doing with me?”
“You’re innocent.”
He snorted. “Honey, I’m pretty damn sure I’m not innocent of much.”
“In this particular case, you are. I know you doubt me, yourself. My biggest concern is that you’ll remember the what, where, and who long before you remember the why.”
“What do you mean?”
“Terrible things were done. But the why, the reason behind those terrible acts is what’s important. Will you remember that? When you recall why you did those things, that’s when you’ll realize you were framed.”
None of that made any sense. “If I committed the crimes, how can I have been framed?”
“I trust you, Jules. I brought you into my home. Locked you away here with me so you could have time. Now I need you to trust me, too.”
Shit. He’d look like a total ass if he didn’t cooperate. “Fine. You can check my eyes.”
She reached for him.
He stopped her. “I’m not talking about anything.”
“Okay.” She reached for him again.
He dodged her. “You need to be quick. One eye at a time.” He had no desire to accidentally put thoughts in her head. He wanted to. He wanted to stare deep into her eyes and tell her she belonged to him and him alone.
But he wouldn’t. Not because it wasn’t right. Because it wouldn’t be real.
“Fine.” She sounded as though she was rolling her eyes. She stood between his sheet-clad thighs and tilted his face back to the angle she wanted. She lifted the left side of the bandage and when he opened his eyes he stared at the ceiling. Still, from the peripheral he caught a glimpse of fiery curls. Soft green eyes. Pale skin. She probably had freckles.
“Look at me.”
Jesus, he wanted to. Wanted a better look at her but he couldn’t risk it. “No.”
“Why?”
“I’m a mesmerist, Kat. I won’t take chances with you.”
“Ah, Jules,” it was all she said, but her disappointment was a palpable thing as she continued her examination.
“As far as I can tell, your left eye looks good.” Her thumb stroked his cheek. “How’s your vision?”
“Blurry, but improving.”
“Good.” She pulled the bandage back into place. “I’m amazed you’re healing so well.”
She lifted the right side of the bandage. Again, he stared at the ceiling when he opened his eyes, but this time she jumped back a full two
feet.
“What’s wrong?” He’d known something wasn’t right, but he hadn’t been sure that it would be visible to others.
“C-c-can you s-see?”
“Um, yeah.” He didn’t think it wise to tell her it was like looking through a prism, nor that he saw through it whether his eye was covered or not. “What’s wrong?”
The goddess put Adam to sleep and created a new mate for him from his rib. Adam and Eve were happy together and soon she was pregnant. All was well in Eden again. But when the goddess went to see what Lilith was up to, she found her with Abaddon at the edge of the Abyss, learning Magic and sympathizing with his plight. Lilith didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. She thought the goddess should have punished Adam and given Eden to her. She didn’t think Abaddon had done anything wrong, either.
The goddess scoffed. Lilith had made her choice, as had Abaddon.
Chapter 10
Kat hesitated. She couldn’t have seen what she thought she’d seen. Her stomach roiled and she pressed her hand to her belly. “It may have been a trick of the light. I should look again.” Except she didn’t want to. She shook her hands out to the sides, trying to distract herself from what she thought she’d seen.
Oh, Gaia, give me strength.
She forced herself closer. Forced herself to put her hands on his face and angle him toward the light. When she looked into his socket, they were there. All along the back curve of his eye socket, tiny eyes—hundreds of them—some sprouted partially on top of others. They all rolled, shifted, or darted from side-to-side while they blinked, as if searching for something.
They all froze.
They shifted to stare at her.
“Oh, Gaia.” She pulled the bandage into place.
“What? You’re freaking me out.”
Oh, he had no idea. Should she tell him? He couldn’t see his reflection. If she didn’t tell him, he’d never know. She wet her lips. “That eye—” She clapped her hands together hard, the sting shifting her focus from the memory of what she’d seen. “It needs more time to heal, that’s all.” She shouldn’t worry him. He had plenty of things to deal with, there was no need to add to his burden.
“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
“That right eye, uh, it’s not . . .”—normal—“healing as fast.” She closed her own eyes tight, as if she could squeeze the image from her mind. “Your right eye was damaged more than the left.”
“I’m not healing well?”
She held up three fingers above his face and he squinted as if she were shining a bright light in his eyes. “How many fingers?” Gaia help her, she hadn’t even lifted the bandage.
Before she could do so, he answered. “Three.” A scowl bracketed his mouth. “Damn it, how bad is it?”
She removed her hand from his line of sight and his features relaxed. He could see through the bandage. Those eyes, they could see even when they were covered. Why? Was this some manifestation of the curses the Watcher left behind, or something else? “You may want to wear a patch.” Focus on the person, not the injury. She caressed his cheeks while she spoke. Focused on all the features she found attractive. “There’s damage to the surrounding area, as well. Your forehead, eyelid, and cheek.”
He frowned. “I look pretty bad.”
“Some may stare.” Who was she kidding? People would run in horror from that eye. As long as he kept it covered, though, people would only see his handsome face.
She should step away now that the examination was done but his face still tipped up toward hers, her hands still framed his face, and the frown he wore bothered her. “You’re handsome, Jules.”
That snapped him out of his reverie. His face moved slightly, as if trying to look into her eyes. “Kat, don’t—”
Her thumb stroked across his mouth, silencing him. “I can see fine and I’m not being patronizing, I’m being honest.”
Her gaze locked onto his mouth. His lips parted and his breath caressed her fingers. It made her think of when he kissed her, the feel of those lips pressed to hers, the way they’d shared each breath, and without much thought at all, she kissed him again.
For a second or two he resisted, his lips remained firm against hers. He was going to reject her again.
She was about to pull away when he growled deep in his chest and took over. His hands locked behind each of her thighs, pulling her between his legs. The heat of those two hands, placed right below her bum with no barrier but the thin material of her skirt made her belly clench. The proximity of his fingers to her pussy made moisture gather between her thighs.
He took complete possession, his mouth fierce against hers. If she’d been worried before about his rejection, now she was more concerned about surviving his passion. She slipped her fingers into the silk of his hair and met his kiss head on, as ruthless in her effort to rouse him as he was to dominate her.
He stood, his hands caressing over her backside, tracing the seam between her cheeks, then pressing into her back.
Gaia, she couldn’t stop touching him. His muscles bunched under her fingers as she stroked his neck, shoulders, and chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and cupped his bum through the sheet.
Julius tensed.
Oh, Gaia, what was she doing? He wasn’t ready for this yet. She stepped back.
The sheet fell.
With a will of its own, her gaze traveled the full length of all six-feet-four inches of gorgeous, fully-aroused male.
He snatched up the sheet. His cheeks blazed. “Fuck’s sake, Kat—”
“No need to be shy on my account, Jules, but if you’d be more comfortable, your new clothes have been delivered.” Before he could say anything to discourage her, she turned and sashayed back to her room.
She unwrapped the package, taking her time pulling off the tags on each piece of clothing.
Julius entered the bedroom. His jaw flexed. “Did you say something about clothes?”
Though she let herself grin freely, she stifled the laugh wanting to bubble out. Good gods, was the Harbinger blushing? “Mm-hm. Got them right here.”
He came over and picked the box up off the dresser. “What is it?”
“I got a few choices here. Khakis, a button-down, and loafers.”
He wrinkled his nose.
Interesting. That’s all she’d ever seen him in. Perhaps that was what the Watcher had preferred.
“I also got a couple pairs of jeans. Boots. Sleeveless undershirts, and—”
“Jeans and an undershirt.” Pink stained his cheeks and his grin was a bit lopsided. “That way you still get your eye-candy.”
No way could she hold in her mirth. Hm. He was warming up.
She handed over the goods along with some socks, boxers, and a pair of boots. He disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later he reappeared. He’d donned the jeans and boxers—the Calvin Klein band rode right above the top of the jeans—but nothing else. He looked . . . lickable. Now that she had him dressed, all she could think about was getting him naked again.
He had the black tank fisted in his hand and his other arm was bent around behind him. He walked over, a frown marring his brow and gave her his back. “What is this?”
With a glance to where his hand pointed—the raised ridges of the name scarred into his lower back—she turned away. Busied herself tidying the room. Put the sheet back on the bed. That scar creeped her out.
“I know you heard me. What is this?”
“It’s nothing.”
He tried to edge into her space. “Why don’t you stop moving and try looking at what I’m showing you?”
She paused. “It’s a scar, Jules. Don’t worry about it.”
“It feels different. Like it’s symbols or . . . .” His expression changed. Darkened. “What does it say?”
“Quit worrying. It’s nothing. No one will see it.”
“You’ve seen it. It’s on my goddamned skin. What is it?” When she remained silent, he strode forward. Got
up into her face. “What. The. Fuck. Is. It.”
Oh, fine. If he wanted to be a dick about it. “Vince.”
He straightened. “What?”
Gaia. The look on his face. Her and her damned temper! She tried again. Softer this time, with more compassion. “It says ‘Vince.’”
His head cocked to the side. He stood still. Quiet.
Then something horrible passed across his face. Something that broke her heart.
“Now, ain’t you a pretty lad.”
Julius stood in a communal cell. The prison was dark. Dank. The combined stench of sweat, feces, and rot rode in on every breath. A smidgen of choked light came through tiny, barred windows high on the stone walls.
The gap-toothed rotter who’d spoken was Cockney. They must be in England. Was this Milborn? Newgate? How the hell had they gotten here?
They? He glanced around but he stood alone facing the prisoners.
Three more men approached, glancing at each other with grotesque grins, their filth-ridden bodies clothed in nothing more than ill-fitting drawstring pants.
One of them slapped Gap-tooth on the arm. “Day’s looking up, ain’t it, Vince?”
Jesus, he didn’t like the way they were eyeing him up. He glanced down at himself, he wasn’t wearing prison garb. He still had on his own evening dress—a navy frock coat and breeches. Nor did shackles encase his wrists. Not like theirs. The thing was those chains of theirs weren’t secured to anything.
He smiled. Met each of their gazes and activated his talent. “You don’t want anything to do with me.”
Gap-toothed Vince grinned. Popped up his brows. “Oh, but we do.”
Grin faltering, Julius tried his talent again. Held each gaze for a second or two longer. “I terrify you.”
They all laughed.
Why the hell wasn’t his talent working? They should all be running the other way, damn it. He swallowed.
Vince scratched at his crotch. “Naw, lad. Thing is I like me a clean fuck, and you’re the freshest piece I seen in years.”
The Knight: The Original's Trilogy - Book 3 Page 9