by Anne Hope
“So it makes no difference who the soul resides in. As long as it lives, we both reap the benefits.”
“Precisely. You share a very powerful connection. A connection that will only grow stronger with time, especially if she agrees to take the blood vow.”
Jace tightened his grip on her hand. “That’s up to her.” Though the thought of Lia being bound to him forever, sharing one purpose, one home, held definite appeal. The vow of chastity was a problem, one he had every intention of finding his way around. Assuming she survived the transformation process.
“You’re sure it’s normal for her to be unconscious this long?”
Cal displayed a tired grin. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that patience is a virtue?”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never been the virtuous type.” He shot his new leader a sideways glance. “So, now that your son is dead, who are you going to obsess over for the next millennium or two?”
A myriad of conflicting emotions skittered across Cal’s pale face—grief, regret, relief. “Athanatos may be dead, but our job is far from over. There are many Kleptopsychs who will be more than happy to fill his shoes. Then there are the Rogues to contend with. They feared Athanatos and his army, and that kept them in check. Now it will look like open season to them.” Cal fell silent, lapsing into deep thought. Finally, his gaze rose to capture Jace’s. “You can’t tell anyone what you uncovered in the catacombs. The Watchers cannot know who I am, or more importantly, what I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t afford mutiny. Especially now. As long as they believe I’m one of them, they trust me implicitly. If that trust is shaken, their loyalty may falter.”
“And you believe lying to them is the best way to secure that trust?”
Cal didn’t answer, and Jace didn’t push him to. “So I’m guessing you’ve been in this from the get-go, one of the original Grigori.”
A faraway look glazed the angel’s eyes. “I was their leader,” he confessed. “The first to fall and the reason they all lost their way.” Absentmindedly, he twisted the ancient silver band on his ring finger.
“Who was she? The woman who did you in?”
Cal quickly released the ring. The vacant expression vanished, replaced by a shrewdness earned over innumerable lifetimes. “You know far too much already. How can I be sure you can keep a confidence?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep your little secret. But you need to promise me something in return.” Lia began to stir, and Jace’s next words died on his lips. “I think she’s coming to.” He leaned over her, his shoulders stiff, his back tight with nervous anticipation. With his free hand, he bracketed one side of her face. “Come on, Lia. Come back to me.”
Slowly her eyes fluttered open, and in their depths confusion shone. She scanned the room, studied Cal for a few seconds, then fixed her gaze on Jace. “Where am I?”
“The Watchers’ complex.” Jace stroked her cheek, offered her a comforting smile. “It’s over. Athanatos is dead.”
Lia squinted to shield her eyes from the bright, fluorescent lights overhead. “Who’s Athanatos?” she rasped. “And who the hell are you?”
She didn’t remember anything, not even her own name, but the guy sitting next to her insisted on calling her Lia. He hadn’t left her side since she’d awakened in this sterile place. The bed was hard, the stark, white walls chipped, and the air smelled funny—like paint peppered with a hint of mold. Nausea curdled in her stomach.
Instinctively, she felt her head for a sign of trauma, found nothing to suggest a concussion. “Was I in some kind of accident?”
A shadow passed behind the brown-haired man’s eyes. The blond guy had left a few minutes ago in a not-so-subtle attempt to give them some privacy. “You could say that.”
He looked sad, yet relieved at the same time. His feelings swamped her, filled her chest until she felt smothered by them. He secured a lock of her hair behind her ear, and his touch awakened a maelstrom of sensations within her. The emptiness beneath her ribs receded, replaced by an odd sense of recognition.
“Do I know you?”
Affection made his spring-colored gaze glitter. “You used to. And you will again. Something inside you recognizes me, recognizes the part of yourself you lost. In time, the memories will return. They’ll feel like snapshots of a different life, and there will be gaps, but you’ll grasp enough to understand who you were.”
For some reason, she felt compelled to touch him. She raised her hand, traced the curve of his jaw, the hard jut of his cheekbone, the soft skin at his temple. Her heart took off at a sprint. Images flashed through her mind—a gold locket, a fevered kiss in the grass, a grand piano. A shiver raced through her, even as heat crawled across her skin. She lowered her fingers to his mouth, ran the pad of her thumb over it. She knew exactly how his lips would taste, knew how they’d feel pressed against hers. How was that possible, when she didn’t even know his name?
“It’s Jace,” he told her. “My name is Jace.”
He hooked his hand behind her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her until thought melted away. The past was nothing more than a faded dream, the future only a distant promise. But this moment was real. It was the only reality she needed.
For now.
Epilogue
Lia’s past remained a blur for many months after her transformation. As Jace had said, discordant images sometimes popped into her head when she least expected them, especially when she touched him. If she pieced these images together, she got a sense of the life she’d led before this one. She knew she was a doctor and that she’d had a sister who’d fallen victim to the same war that had cost Lia her soul. The memories she had of Cassie were fuzzy and few, but her name always elicited a soft throb in her heart.
What limited memories Lia did have suddenly made sense in light of what she’d discovered about herself—her persistent loneliness and isolation, her mother’s inability to sustain a relationship, Cassie’s resentment and self-destructive tendencies. Despite the brightness of the soul Lia had once possessed, the darkness crouching within her had slowly corrupted those closest to her, ultimately costing her the family she’d loved beyond measure.
The past was a shadow now, a washed-out image, but it still had the power to fill her with sadness and regret, even as she struggled to forge new relationships and find her place within this new family that had adopted her.
Over the past three months, the Watchers had schooled her in the ways of Kleptopsychs, Hybrids and Rogues. She’d learned she was a Hybrid, had even come to accept it. Last night, she’d finally agreed to take the blood vow. Now a thin white scar graced the inside of her wrist, and the trickle of memories had morphed to a flood.
The Watchers’ complex had been refurbished. Cots had been replaced by real beds, and given how small their ranks were now, each Watcher had been granted his or her own room, which made it much easier for Jace to visit her late at night while the others slept.
Everyone was aware that he’d long ago broken his vow of celibacy and that she had every intention of breaking hers. Putting them under the same roof and expecting them not to touch was like asking fire not to ignite when in the presence of gasoline. Impossible. As long as she and Jace took care not to conceive a child, the Watchers could pretend their secret affair didn’t exist.
Even Cal turned a blind eye, and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. She suspected Jace had struck some kind of agreement with him, but she wasn’t sure what that was. For the most part, she could read his thoughts, but certain areas were off limits to her. He’d figured out a way to shut her out at will, and it bugged the hell out of her.
“I can hear you sulking all the way across the hall.” Jace’s voice distracted her from her quiet grumblings. She turned toward the door, where he stood, propped against the frame, one ankle crossed over the other. As always, the sight of him sent a hot wave of affection lapping through her. Her body instantly responded, grew warm and molten.<
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“You’re late,” she told him, her lips curling into a warm smile. She’d expected him over an hour ago.
“I was conferring with Cal and Marcus. Rogue activity appears to be on the rise. Even worse, Cal suspects that Kyros survived the cave-in. Word is he’s trying to reassemble his father’s army.”
“How many of Athanatos’s followers survived?” she asked.
“There’s no way to know. But Cal’s concerned. He thinks a war is coming.” He swept into her room, gathered her in his arms.
Bracing herself against his chest, she stopped his fevered attempt to assail her mouth. “Aren’t you worried?”
“Not really. This is Cal we’re talking about. Every time the weather shifts, the guy cries Armageddon.”
“What if he’s right this time?”
He cupped her head, pulled her close. His mouth grazed hers, his breath caressing her lips in silent promise. “Then we have to make every second count.”
When he kissed her, the outside world vanished. Sensation swept in to evaporate thought, and there was no more room for the doubt and worry that normally plagued her. All that mattered was feeling his hands upon her, bringing her to life, body and soul. The only time she forgot she was no longer human was when she found herself in Jace’s arms.
His mouth drank from hers, warm and moist and eager. Her heart spun and crashed as heat erupted to consume her. Every inch of her resonated with an energy born of darkness and light. They were one being split in two, two halves of a whole that only found completion when reunited.
“I can never get enough of your mouth.” He grunted. “Sometimes I wish I could breathe you in.”
She feathered kisses over his neck, his cheek, the tender spot beneath his ear. “You already did,” she whispered.
Then he whisked her off her feet and carried her to the bed, where he stripped her of her clothing and stood over her, watching her for the longest time. Watching her until she grew uncomfortable beneath the burning scrutiny of his gaze.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“Perfection.” He lowered himself onto the mattress beside her, ran his hands over her body in a way that made her skin flush and her heart gallop. “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And you belong to me, your soul bound to mine, forever.”
About the Author
Anne Hope is the author of emotionally intense romances with a twist—a twist of humor, a twist of suspense, a twist of magic. All her stories, however, have a common thread. Whether they make you laugh or cry or push you to the edge of your seat, they all feature the redeeming power of love and the heart’s incredible ability to heal.
Anne’s passion for writing began at the age of eight. After penning countless stories about enchanted houses, alien girls with supernatural powers and children constantly getting lost in the woods, she decided to try her hand at romance. She lives in Montreal, Canada, with her husband, her two inexhaustible kids, a lazy cat and a rambunctious Australian Kelpie.
To learn more about Anne Hope, please visit www.annehope.com, send an email to Anne Hope at [email protected] or sign up for her newsletter.
Look for these titles by Anne Hope
Now Available:
Where Dreams Are Made
Broken Angels
Coming Soon:
Soul Deep
Tragedy gave them a second chance. Now they’ve got everything to lose.
Broken Angels
© 2010 Anne Hope
Zach Ryler always prided himself on his ability to handle anything life flung at him. Nothing could have prepared him for his sister’s brutal murder, let alone being named legal guardian of her three children. Now, the only person who can help him is the one woman he vowed never to touch again. The one woman his love couldn’t fix.
Rebecca James never stopped loving Zach, even after her infertility slowly crushed her spirit and destroyed their marriage. Suddenly Fate has dropped her dream in her lap: a family. But opening her heart to them—and to Zach—is a risk she wonders if she’s ready to take.
As Zach and Rebecca struggle to help the children deal with their grief, they slowly begin to rediscover the passion they thought they’d lost. Just as they believe that this time they can get it right, shadows from the past close in, tearing at the fragile bonds they’ve forged. And a lethal predator is waiting and watching, one who will stop at nothing to protect his secrets…even murder.
Warning: This title contains sex, violence, gut-wrenching emotion, three children and a puppy who risk stealing your heart, and an evil villain guaranteed to keep you up at night.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Broken Angels:
The harbor shivered, and from its depths a figure sprang. She walked toward him, bathed in starlight, her body glistening, her hair streaming wet and wild down her back.
Zach’s next breath snagged in his throat.
A siren, he thought. A mythical creature rising from the sea to seduce him.
His lungs felt crushed, deprived of air. The walls of his throat narrowed as an electrical charge pulsed across his nerve endings.
Then he realized the siren was Becca. She’d gone for an evening swim. She loved swimming at night because the water was always warmer then. Shadows played along her curves, making her hips rounder, her stomach flatter, her breasts fuller. Her hair was a deep bronze, her skin a translucent ivory in the pale light of the moon.
His body instantly responded to the sight of her, hardening, aching, until he couldn’t remember why he’d vowed to keep his hands off her. None of it seemed to matter anymore.
She grabbed a towel from the porch railing and swathed it around her figure, and it took all of his self-control to bite back the protest that scratched at his throat.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” he muttered instead. His voice sounded gruff.
“After I tucked Noah and Kristen in, I decided to go for a swim. You were busy with Will, and I can always use the exercise.” She lowered her body next to his, smelling of the sun and the sea. Water dripped from her hair. Rivulets trickled over her shoulders and slid down her arms.
Unable to stop himself, he captured one of the drops with the back of his index finger. It was cool against her warm skin, silky. Their gazes locked, and awareness sizzled between them.
“Did Will go to sleep okay?” Her question pierced the cloud of lust enveloping him.
“Yeah.” He let his hand fall away before he was tempted to explore more of her. “He was exhausted after all that crying.”
“Not to mention all that fun in the sun.” A hazy smile ghosted across her lips. “We had a pretty full day. The kids were really excited, weren’t they?” The tenderness on her face shook him. It was the same look Lindsay always used to get whenever she spoke of the kids.
He eyed her steadily. An image of her playing in the waves with the pack earlier today flashed through his mind. “You’re really something with them.” He couldn’t suppress the note of wonder in his voice. “I never expected it.”
She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Half the time—correction, most of the time—I feel like I’m in way over my head.” Bolt ambled onto the porch to sit beside her, and she stroked him absently. Zach’s gaze was drawn to the gentle rhythm of her fingers as she threaded them through the dog’s lustrous coat. He remembered how those hands had felt on his body when she’d massaged him last night, the way they’d twined in his hair and chased the tension from his limbs.
“But I understand them. Understand how they feel,” she added, oblivious to the dangerous path his thoughts were taking. “I get Noah’s anger, Kristen’s totally delusional hope, Will’s tantrums.”
Zach made a sound that was half laugh, half snort. “At least one of us does.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself as usual. You’re great with them. I can see how much they look up to you.”
“That’s because I’m tall.”
Her heartfelt la
ughter filled the night. God, he’d missed hearing her laugh. The sound of it made a strange energy pulsate in his pores and burrow deep within the marrow of his bones. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her again. Instead, he clasped his hands together and let them hang between his knees.
“Can you answer a question for me?” He stared at his joined fingers, unable to look her in the eyes for fear of what he would see there.
“Sure.”
“When I suggested adoption, why did you refuse? I thought maybe you believed you couldn’t love a child that wasn’t biologically ours. But now that I see you with these kids I can’t help but wonder—”
“You thought I couldn’t love a child I didn’t give birth to?” She sounded offended.
He ventured a glance in her direction. Even in the dark he couldn’t miss the indignation that flamed in her cheeks.
“I didn’t know what to think,” he answered honestly. “You were so set against it.”
“Because I was angry. Because if I couldn’t have what I wanted, then I wanted nothing at all. It was the injustice of it, the unfairness. Why should I be deprived the joy of feeling my child grow inside me when it came so naturally to everyone else? Adoption felt like acceptance, like throwing in the towel.”
“Would that have been so bad?”
“At the time, yes.”
“And now?”
She hesitated. The light breeze lifted her wet curls from her shoulders, sent them rioting around her face. “It doesn’t really matter anymore,” she whispered. “The choice is no longer mine to make.” He barely heard her past the whoosh of the waves.
“That sounds oddly like acceptance.”
“Maybe it is. Even I have to give up sometime.” Her inflection held a hint of amusement, but he wasn’t buying the flippancy.
“Is that what this feels like to you, giving up?”
She was quiet for a long time. The waxing moon haloed her head and made her eyes sparkle like liquid gold.