But could she put her desires first, when there was a rescue at stake? Could she be that selfish?
He saw her hesitation. His jaws bunched, and the red light in his eyes flared, but he let her go. Damnation. She almost wished he wasn’t so honorable.
“The demon changes things, doesn’t it? It’s different when I don’t smell like dinner.” Mac gave her a long, narrow-eyed look, the burning glow lurking in his gaze. “I hope you didn’t bring me here thinking you could get your teeth into me.”
Constance drew herself up, trying to summon enough anger to wash away the lust burning up her body. It didn’t work. “What does it matter?”
“Sweetheart, if you have to ask that, you’ve been here too long.”
“Maybe.” She felt herself drooping, but pulled her head up again, refusing to look as defeated as she felt.
He gave her another look that said he was weighing and judging her soul.
Constance felt like she would burst into tears. “I’m sorry. Don’t walk away. Please don’t make Sylvius pay for my mistakes!”
She closed her eyes, wishing she could tell him about the kitchen table, the family she wanted, how he had blown into her existence and made that dream almost touchable because it was his face she saw there. Someone real.
All he could see was how she’d tried to trick him. Again.
“Please,” she said again, forcing herself to look at him.
He stared at her for a long time, thoughts chasing themselves across his face. The foremost was a sexual heat scorching in its frankness.
“Please,” she repeated, softer this time.
“There are some things I need to find out. Promise me you’ll stay here until I get back.”
“I can’t.”
“Promise me!” Mac grabbed her by her arms, his grip hard and hot through the fabric of her sleeves. He shook her a little, his strength lifting her to her toes.
She set her jaw. “Let go of me.” Her voice was quiet.
He flexed his arms, pulling her to him. She could feel his breath on her face, warm and urgent. “I need your word. I won’t help you if I’m going to come back to find you torn to pieces by the changelings or staked by the guards. I’m not that selfless.”
His demon’s energy was as palpable as rushing surf. His hands shook as he relaxed his fingers until he stopped crushing her. But he still held her, barely banked need alive in his touch.
Fear warred with the urge to cling to him, but she had her pride. “I’ve lived here for a long time, Conall Macmillan. I’m not easy prey.”
He swallowed, clearly forcing himself under control. “I don’t care.”
Constance thought about resisting, dragging out her surrender because something about it was delicious. This isn’t a game. This is serious.
She cursed inwardly, but did the reasonable thing. “Very well, but I won’t wait long.”
“Good enough.” Mac released her arms and folded his own, as if to keep them out of mischief.
The air in the room changed, taking on the same final feeling as the moment someone closes a book. The heat slipped away like water draining through a sieve. “Later, then.”
Cool. Businesslike. In charge.
He was holding back, being what Constance needed.
The mother in her approved, but the young woman that never got to live began to silently weep. “No, wait . . .”
He was already dust.
Bollocks!
Chapter 11
Alessandro was hoping for a perfect couple of hours, which meant old jeans, no sword, and no sister-in-law. Ashe hadn’t come back since last night. Even Holly wasn’t at home. She’d stayed late in the reading room in the university library. She’d left a note saying she would call when it was time to drive there and pick her up.
Seizing the moment, Alessandro retreated to the third floor of Holly’s house, where he’d turned a corner bedroom into a studio. There, he kept those things that were uniquely his.
The room was filled with instruments in stands, in cases, hanging on the wall—guitars, lutes, citterns, and other members of the long-necked, plucked family. Some had fat, pumpkin bellies; others were sleek. There was a solid-bodied Gibson and pieces of a French lute he meant to rebuild someday. Alessandro had owned hundreds of instruments over the centuries, but these were the voices he could not bear to part with.
When he had moved in with Holly, those had arrived first. The rest of his things—mostly books and an armory’s worth of weapons—had taken more time to put away. Piles of car magazines still tottered on the old desk, their pages stirred by the draft from the double-hung window. Truth be told, he liked things a little messy. He didn’t mind at all that Holly was a haphazard housekeeper, because he was the same way.
From where he sat, he could see outside, across the street and down the brush-covered cliff, the moon trailing a silver scarf across the calm water. It was a clear, cold night. Holly’s huge cat curled into a ball at one end of the lumpy Victorian sofa. Alessandro was sprawled with his favorite Martin acoustic at the other. He’d built a small fire, the pitchy scent of the wood blending with the must of damp wool carpet. The house felt content, the sort of drowsing quietude he associated with nesting chickens.
Alessandro switched on the radio, keeping the volume low enough that he could still hear himself running over and over the finger exercises he practiced every day, up and down the frets of the Martin’s glossy neck. Vampire speed was great, but that meant twice as much work to achieve perfect precision. Of course he would do better if he sat up straight, but he was too lazy to move.
The Kibble-ator—Kibs—uncurled and rolled onto his back in a full-body stretch, claws extended. Without breaking rhythm, Alessandro rubbed the cat’s stomach with one stockinged foot, listening to his passagework and the radio at the same time.
“This is Errata and you’re listening to CSUP at FM 101.5 in Fairview. That was the Happy Dead People with their latest release, Afterlife, After You. It’s ten o’clock and time for Unnatural Enquiry, the current issues portion of our show. I have with me a very special guest, George de Winter of the Clan Albion vampires. Welcome, George.”
“Good evening, Errata.”
Clan Albion? Who gave those villains airtime? Suddenly annoyed, Alessandro rolled off the couch, walking a few steps to put the guitar safely in its stand by the wall. Kibs flopped over, a boneless heap of stripes, and yawned.
On his way back to the couch, Alessandro turned up the volume of the old plug-in radio. The werecougar announcer was in fine form, her sultry voice making the patter sound like a come-on. “We’re here tonight to talk about nothing less than the state of the paranormal nation. Are we monsters or are we citizens of the world at large? Should we obey the same laws as our human neighbors? Scrap that, kiddies, and let’s ask why we should obey any laws at all besides the call of the wild?”
This can’t be good. Alessandro sat, absently petting Kibs as the cat waded onto his lap.
Errata went on. “Let’s begin with the basics. There’s no argument that humans and the human economy have the upper hand. Those in favor of integration say we should live, work, and pay taxes just like everybody else. They say we have to fit in and earn the trust of human law makers, and that means following a strict code of peaceful behavior.”
“That illustrates the whole problem with this new integration philosophy.” The vampire’s retort was so sharp, Kibs’s ears went back. “The laws of my people are not democratic. The strongest predators rule. We are not ‘everybody else.’ We are the nosferatu.”
“All right!” said Errata, nearly purring at the prospect of an on-air dust-up. “I think we know where our guest stands. Now how about our listeners? The phone lines are open. The question of the night: should we be monsters or model citizens?”
Alessandro sighed. Should I call in and state the obvious? Humans might be a food group, but they were by no means helpless. The invention of the computer and its many databases had ma
de the whole swirl-the-cape-and-scuttleoff-to-the-next-village method of hiding a joke. Even if you could afford to change your identity every time the Van Helsing brigade got busy, reinventing yourself wasn’t as easy as the movies made it appear.
“I’d like to add something, Errata,” said George de Winter, sounding almost reasonable now. “Many people believe the nonhuman separatists are just dinosaurs unwilling to relinquish their glory days.”
Yeah, that’s about right. Alessandro leaned on the arm of the couch, propping up his head. And while you win your point, you’ll frighten the human majority into staking us all in our beds. Maybe it was time to remind Clan Albion to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. They seemed to need it about once a year.
De Winter continued. “I don’t think it’s a secret the humans don’t want us here. We don’t have equal rights. We pay taxes, but we can’t vote. We aren’t tried by a jury of our peers, but are subject to summary execution. I could go on, but simply put we’re second-class citizens. We want that to end.”
“By civil disobedience?” Errata asked.
“Rebels are simply oppressed individuals demanding their rights.”
De Winters had a valid point, but the chill in the vampire’s voice was worse than a snarl. Kibs jumped to the floor with a heavy thud and waddled under the couch to hide. His own instincts roused, Alessandro inched to the edge of his seat.
A knock came at the study door. Alessandro jumped, so absorbed in the radio he hadn’t heard anyone come in. He looked up to see Holly open the door a few feet and peer in. “You busy?” she asked.
At the exhausted look on her face, he reached over and turned off the radio. “Not at all. I thought you were going to call for a ride. Are you done studying for tonight?”
“Yeah.”
She crossed the room, her fuzzy slippers silent on the carpet. Sinking onto the old sofa, she curled her feet up beside her and leaned against his shoulder. The warm weight of her body, the scent of her skin, was intoxicating. The scent of the night air clung in her hair, as if she’d just come in from outside. He circled her shoulder with his arm, the soft fuzz of her hoodie tickling his fingers. She closed her eyes.
“Why don’t you just go to bed?” he asked, amused. “You were up early.”
“I will in a minute. I just wanted to be here with you a while. I’m tired, but my brain won’t slow down. It’s all spazzed out like a werepuppy digging holes.” She tilted her face up to his. Her green eyes looked a little glazed.
“When’s your first exam again?”
She rested her head on his arm. “A week from tomorrow. Today. What time is it?”
“It’s only just after ten.”
She yawned. “Tomorrow, then. Crumb. I shouldn’t have taken a full course load. I should have eased into it.”
He hugged her closer. He was no scholar and there was nothing else he could do to help. “Just remember you’ve got eternity to finish the degree.”
He felt her silent chuckle. “You mean I can’t even die to get out of my exams?”
“Sorry, you’re stuck.”
Few witches were immortal; it took good genes and an ability to handle huge amounts of power. Holly had both. She had also been able to turn myth into reality by Choosing Alessandro. For the first time since he was Turned, he could love without addicting his partner to the venom of his bite. She had given him a gift beyond any price.
Holly curled under his arm like a rescued waif. It was only at times like these that she allowed him to be utterly in charge, as protective and possessive as he wanted to be. They both surrendered sometimes, and that made the balance between them not only possible, but perfect.
The fire had nearly died out, leaving only a smear of glowing embers and the light of a single floor lamp. Holly’s eyes had drifted closed again, her lips parting as she collapsed against his side. Alessandro felt a moment of pure peace.
At last, Holly blinked, licking her lips before she spoke. “I heard the radio when I walked in. What were you listening to?”
“CSUP. The debate over living in peace or terrorizing the humans.”
“Oh, brother.” Her voice held the same dismay that was lodged in his chest.
He kissed the top of her head, wishing he knew the right thing to say. Any politics could prove explosive; nonhuman debates could get uglier than most.
Holly was silent for a long moment, her fingers tight on his arm. “I wasn’t exactly studying tonight.”
He looked down on her in surprise. “No?”
She gave her head a tiny shake. “There’s too much going on. I can’t concentrate. I keep worrying about the door to the Castle.”
He shifted his head to look down at her. “I’ve already called the wolves to help with guard duty. They won’t wander off like the hellhounds.”
“Good, because I went and looked at the doorway tonight. Not a hound in sight. I don’t know what Lore’s doing, but he’s not keeping his guard under control.”
He felt his jaw drift open. “You went yourself? Into that neighborhood?”
“Hey, I can blast a hole to an interdimensional prison. I can handle a mugger.” She sounded annoyed.
With an act of will, he let the point go and moved on. “What made you go look?”
“I saw Mac today.”
“What?” He stiffened, and the sudden tension made her sit up.
She pushed her long, dark hair out of her eyes. “I ran into him at the university. Rather, he was looking for me. He said he walked right out the Castle door. No one stopped him.”
Alessandro swore. How dare he set foot in my town yet again! “What did he want?”
Holly was watching him, her gaze on his face. “Help. Something in the Castle gave him back at least part of his demon powers. He’s not happy about the implications.”
Neither am I. Alessandro gripped the arm of the sofa hard enough the wood squeaked. “I thought the Castle was supposed to tamp down magic powers.”
“Well, it’s not working for him. I spent the evening researching. I can’t find anything that sheds light on what’s happening.”
Alessandro tried for a reasonable tone. “I suppose it would do no good to tell you to stay away from Mac. After all, I was trying to execute him just last night.”
She looked away. “Yeah, well, I . . . uh. I know we talked about what would happen if you found him, but he seemed okay. I mean . . . I have to help him, right? He didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You don’t have to do a damned thing.” He looked at her squarely. “He could Turn at any moment. He’s dangerous.”
“That’s not fair.” Her eyes were hot with anger. “So are you.”
He flinched. “I’m in control.”
Her mouth went flat. “So is he. If I can help him, he’ll stay that way.”
“You didn’t have a problem with his execution yesterday.”
“I hadn’t talked to him then.” Her face softened. “It stopped being theoretical.”
Alessandro felt his stomach chill. Doing his job was always harder when it meant killing someone he knew. That was probably why Mac was still alive. “So you saw Mac and went to the Castle door without me. Anything else I should know?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Holly had on her don’t-push-me face.
“Why didn’t you go to the reunion?”
She took a short, sharp breath, almost a hiccup of distress. “You talked to Ashe last night, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
Holly bit a fingernail. “I didn’t tell you about the reunion because I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t going because of you. I didn’t want to have a stupid conversation going in circles because it’s not an issue. Ignore Ashe. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
But now he was feeling stubborn. “Why didn’t you want to go?”
“The timing was just wrong. I’m overloaded as it is. I don’t even have time for exams. I can’t stay in sch
ool. Not with Mac, the Castle, the hellhounds, and a bunch of fanged and furry anarchists to cope with. What do midterms matter ?” She laughed bitterly. “And then comes Ashe, blowing into town like the Terminator.”
Alessandro was listening to her words, but he also heard the tone in her voice. It was pure panic. Exam nerves. The problems were real but, with the exception of Mac and Ashe, none of them were new. Her emotions were skating on too much algebra and a slick of black coffee.
But there was something she wasn’t saying. Perhaps most would miss it, but he was a hunter. Changes in scent, in mood were signals, and he sensed something was wrong. Something extreme enough to make her dreams of going back to school waver. Something solemn enough she didn’t want to share.
Women have secrets. He was old enough to know that a hundred times over.
Therefore men have worries.
“Let’s not anticipate the worst quite yet. We’re dealing with a lot of what-ifs. You worry about the tests.” He gave a confident smile. “I’ll deal with the rest.”
“What about Mac?”
To hell with Mac. But he knew when to take a strategic step back.
He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Do your research for Mac. I’ll go with you if you need to talk to him in person. But don’t let yourself get distracted from your exams. You’ve worked too hard to get sidetracked now.”
She ducked her head. “Thank you.”
“I’ll look after everything.” I am vampire. I am invincible.
She gave him a long, searching look, her green eyes clear and warm. “I know you will.”
After she’d turned his existence from nightmare to joy, what wouldn’t he do? He took her face in his hands, tipping it up to give her a kiss. As their lips met, he felt the familiar electric sizzle that was part sex, part magic, and pure emotion. It filled him with sudden heat, the same delirious rush that used to come from feeding on a victim’s blood, but now it came from love.
She gave that special little sound low in her throat. He kissed her again, this time parting her soft lips, teasing her with a prelude to something more.
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