by Becca Andre
Era glanced between them, a frown creasing her brow.
“But I see it’s pointless to argue.” Doug abruptly offered Elysia his hand. “Dance with me, Mrs. Huntsman.”
It took Elysia a moment to realize the name was hers. God, that sounded strange.
“It was nice knowing you, Doug,” Era spoke up.
“James and I have an understanding.” Doug smirked. “He knows how I feel.” He waved his fingers. “Come on, Ely.”
“Very well.” She took his hand, wondering what he was up to. There was some truth to what Era said. James and Doug did get along now, but she still wondered if James truly liked Doug or if he just tolerated him.
Doug led her over to the open section of floor where Rowan and Addie were already dancing, and took her in his arms. It was a familiar place to be. Elysia had first met Doug at a club on campus and had danced with him until dawn. She had ended up dating him for four years. She had danced with him many, many times over those years.
“So, what are you up to?” she asked after a few turns.
“Must I be up to something?” he answered. “Maybe I just wanted to dance with you—for old times’ sake.”
“Hmm. If you say so.”
“And I wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you.”
“No more wisecracks about how I get off on animating the dead?” She remembered how he brought that up while they were trapped in Alexander’s catacombs—with James.
He sighed. “Cut me some slack. I said that to get to him. You know that.” He leaned down a little and lowered his voice. “And you also know that you really do get off on animating the dead.”
“You have no idea.”
He threw back his head and laughed. When he finally got his mirth contained, he continued, “Then you found the perfect match. But more than that, he’s a good person, and I think he would do absolutely anything for you.” He grew more serious as he spoke. “I truly am happy for you.”
She realized that he was telling the truth. “Thank you, Doug. I wish the same for you.”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “With Father gone, I would say the pressure’s off, but once I’m officially named Deacon, it might get worse.”
“You’re immortal now. Continuing the family line is no longer necessary.”
“I can hardly tell the heads of house that I’m immortal. The next thing you know, everyone would be a practicing alchemist.” He frowned as he spoke, the last word clearly said with contempt.
“Doug.” She opened her mouth to point out that Addie had saved his life via alchemy.
“Never mind. But I still think it’s in my best interest to stay quiet about my immortality. I’m already getting enough questions about why Alexander looked so good.”
“Tell them he made a deal with the devil.”
“Great, then I’ll be Deacon to a bunch of Satanists.”
She snorted. “True. Let’s face it. There are a lot of screwed up necromancers out there.”
“What do you expect? We play with dead people.”
She laughed. “You had to go there.”
His grin dimpled his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but turned his head to gaze into the heavy vegetation along the path into the main section of the conservatory. An instant later, Ian stepped into the room.
Elysia glanced up at Doug. She was supposed to be more powerful, but he had clearly felt Ian come through before she had. Ian must have used the veil, because she was sure she would have felt a portal open.
“Excuse me.” She gave Doug’s chest a pat and stepped away from him, then walked over to join Ian.
“I apologize for the tardiness of my arrival,” he said before she could speak. “But my jeweler had trouble procuring the items to make the repairs I requested.” He offered her a small velvet-covered box.
“You didn’t need to do this,” Elysia said, accepting the box.
“It’s your wedding day. A gift is expected.”
“Your presence is enough.”
He pressed his lips together in a sad smile. “You know that I would never leave without saying goodbye.”
She blinked and realized that was what had been worrying her. She stepped forward and gave him a hug. “Promise?”
“I promise.” He hugged her back.
“Good. Livie would be devastated.”
“I know.” He released her. “Do you not want to see what I have brought you?”
She blinked a few times and nodded. Since when had she come to care so much about him? To distract herself from the disturbing notion, she opened the box. On a bed of black velvet lay a fine gold chain holding a simple gold locket engraved with the letter M.
“It was Mattie’s,” Ian said, his voice soft. “The clasp was badly damaged, which is what gave the jeweler trouble. Of course, I should have probably gotten it fixed sooner. I had been intending to give it to you.”
Of course, she had been dying, so he’d been in no hurry to fix it.
“We gave it to her on the day of her christening. It contains a braided lock of Isabelle’s and my hair.” He smiled at that. “Though Mattie didn’t start wearing it until she was older.”
She couldn’t believe he was giving this to her. Did he have another lock of Isabelle’s hair or was this the only one?
“Would you put it on me,” she whispered, holding out the box to him.
“If you like.” He removed the necklace, then snapped the box closed and tucked it away in his pocket.
Elysia gave him her back. With her hair pulled up, she didn’t need to move it out of the way. He lifted the necklace over her head, and the cool gold came to rest just below the hollow of her throat. She bowed her head and waited while his cold fingers brushed the back of her neck as he clasped the chain.
“Done.”
She turned to face him. His eyes fell to the locket and he took a deep breath. She had heard on more than one occasion that she looked a great deal like her ancestress.
The band had started a new song, this one slow and melodic. “Would you like to dance with me?” she asked him.
His brow wrinkled.
“We had to skip the whole father-daughter dance,” she hurried to add. “Maybe you could take up the role.”
His eyes rose to hers. She suspected he wanted to refuse, just as he refused to attend parties and other gatherings of merriment. Who had he really been in life? She didn’t think he had always been the callous smartass he was now.
She held out her hand. “Dance with me, Grandfather.”
“Do you waltz?” he asked.
“Probably not properly. Perhaps you could show me.”
“Hmm.” He took her hand. “I never waltzed properly, either. But that’s not a discussion one has with one’s granddaughter.”
Elysia laughed. “No, it isn’t.”
He smiled and led her onto the dance floor, which was now empty. It seemed everyone had chosen to sit this one out.
Ian stopped and turned to face her. Keeping her hand in his, she reached up to place her other hand on his shoulder.
“Like this?” she asked.
“Yes.” His other hand gripped her waist. “Now, follow me.”
He stepped back and she followed, and just like that, they were dancing.
“You’ve had some instruction,” he said after a few turns.
“Doug. His father made him take dancing lessons as a kid. I used to tease him. Now I wonder if it was really his father behind it.”
“What makes you think it wasn’t?”
“Why would anyone need to know how to waltz nowadays?”
“Hmm.”
She realized what she said and looked up. He was looking past her, though not focused on anything. Perhaps lost in thought.
“Did I offend you?”
&n
bsp; “No, of course not.” He looked down, smiling to reassure her.
She wondered what he had been thinking, but didn’t want to ask.
“But I believe your waltz is about to end,” he said, looking past her.
James stopped beside them. “May I cut in?”
“Please.” Ian stepped back, giving him a small bow. When he straightened, he gave them a cheek-dimpling grin. “Congratulations, both of you.”
“Thank you,” James answered.
“Thank you for coming,” Elysia said.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” He turned and walked away.
She watched him walk off until James cleared his throat.
“One more dance?” he asked.
“One more dance.”
Elysia stepped out of the portal and walked a few feet into James’s Athens bedroom. She heard the soft thump of his paws hitting the floor behind her. A moment later, the bedside lamp came on as James flipped the switch by the door. The soft glow illuminated the room and made their reflections visible in the dark window. She watched him walk up behind her, though he didn’t make a sound.
His arms came around her, and he leaned down to kiss the side of her neck.
“If you want your ring back, you’ll have to fetch it yourself,” she teased. She had tucked his wedding band into her bra to keep it safe while he shifted form to bring them here.
He chuckled, his breath warm against her throat. “If you insist.” His hands slid up from her waist.
“Just a moment.” She overlaid his hands with hers, stopping him. “Let me pull down the blind. I’d rather not put on a show for the neighbors.”
“Their loss.”
She gave him a smile over her shoulder, then walked to the window to pull down the blind. She turned to face him.
He stood where she had left him, watching her with that unnerving focus.
A little thrill of excitement shivered up her spine. “Yes, their loss,” she said. He was completely naked, of course.
A grin twisted his lips, and he glided toward her, all lithe grace and power.
Suddenly, he seemed to stumble. She started to smile, thinking he’d been so intent on her, he’d tripped over the rug, but he continued to fall, landing facedown. Then she saw the quarrel buried in his back.
A shadowed shaped moved across the threshold and a man seemed to materialize out of the dark hallway. He was dressed in black, his face painted to match the shadows, but as he stepped into the room, his hazel-green eyes picked up the light. George.
Chapter 17
Elysia lifted her chin as George’s eyes raked over her. Unlike James’s predatory stare, this guy made her feel violated. Abruptly, he grinned as if sensing her reaction. Maybe he did. The man was a Hunter, his skills not far removed from those of the animal kingdom.
“Love the dress,” he told her, still grinning. “James did well.”
Her gaze shifted to James. Why wasn’t he moving? As a matter of fact, he didn’t even appear to be breathing, yet she still felt the bond between them. Had the quarrel been treated in some manner?
“What did you do to him?” she demanded.
“Shot him through the heart,” he answered, his tone casual and indifferent. He walked past James without even glancing at him. His eyes never left her as he crossed the room on silent feet.
Unable to resist the desire to flee any longer, she took a hasty step back, but came up against the wall behind her.
James? she called out to him, but he didn’t even twitch.
George stopped in front of her and she tensed, expecting him to grab her or molest her in some way. Instead, he just stood there, watching her—which was almost worse than him touching her.
He wasn’t as tall as James, but he was thicker. The close-fitting mock turtleneck made it clear that none of it was fat. This guy spent a lot of time in the gym. She wouldn’t be defeating him in strength, and with him being a Hunter, speed and agility were also out. All that left was magic, and the only dead within reach wasn’t responding to her. She couldn’t even reap George’s soul. His death would end James’s existence.
Without warning, he leaned toward her. She cringed, expecting a touch, but he stopped, his face close to her throat, and inhaled deeply.
“Oh damn.” He slumped forward. For a moment, she feared he would fall against her, but he braced a hand on the wall beside her shoulder, catching himself at the last moment. “He’s already primed you.”
“What?”
He leaned back a little, watching her with that intense stare. Abruptly, he smiled. He wasn’t an unattractive man, but damn, he creeped her out.
“What are you grinning at?” she demanded.
“James never told you his true purpose in this family?”
“His family was a source of shame, so he spoke of you little.”
George frowned. “You’re better looking than the alchemist, but you’ve still got a mouth on you. I don’t like mouthy women.”
“Thanks for sharing.”
He reached out as if to grab her throat, but stopped himself. Oddly, he took a step back, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. Did he have trouble controlling his temper? Perhaps it would be wise not to antagonize him.
He looked up, and his eyes locked with hers once more. “Hellhound blood is lethal to humans.”
“I know,” she answered, not sure where he was going with this.
“Hunters possess hellhound blood, though nowhere near the concentration of the grim.”
“Yes. That’s where your power comes from.”
His smiled. “You’re not uneducated.”
“I know a little about Old Magic.”
He continued to smile. “And have you ever wondered how Hunters, who are always male, father their Hunter sons with mortal women?”
She frowned, a finger of unease trailing up her spine. “I hadn’t stopped to think about that.”
“That is the purpose of the grim.”
She glanced at James’s still form, and though he appeared oblivious to his surroundings, she continued in a whisper. “James is dead. He can’t reproduce.”
George grunted. “He told you he was dead?”
Elysia considered telling him that she had figured that out on her own, but stopped herself. It would be best not to tell him she was a necromancer. Then she could use it to her advantage if the opportunity arose.
“Interesting,” George continued. “That’s always been a point of shame for him.”
And no doubt, something his brothers reminded him of often. “So where are you going with this?” she demanded, tired of his cryptic lesson in Huntsman family history.
“The purpose of the grim is to prepare the woman to birth the son of a Hunter.”
“How?” she whispered.
“You know how. He has sex with them.” He stepped closer once more and took a deep breath. His predator’s eyes locked with hers. “You’ve fucked my little brother.”
Elysia pressed against the wall behind her, longing to pull away from him.
“He’s changed you, and I can smell that change. It’s taking every bit of my will power not to put you on your back right now.”
Her heart pounded against her breastbone as she remembered the way her body had warmed and tingled after being with James. She also remembered the worried look he had given her when she commented on it. He might not have ever intended to share her with his brother, but he had known what was happening. It really bothered her that he hadn’t said anything.
George once again took a hasty step back and shook his head. “But not now,” he muttered, almost to himself. “We can’t stay here.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she told him.
He ignored her and walked over to James. Dropping to a knee beside him, he pulled a chain f
rom his pants pocket. It was a large choke chain for a dog. From the other pocket, he pulled out a small padlock.
“What are you doing?” She moved toward him.
George laid a hand over the handgun holstered at his hip.
She skidded to a stop.
“I can incapacitate you without killing you. Don’t test me.” He regarded her a moment, then turned back to James, dismissing her.
“James?” she spoke his name aloud this time. “James, get up.” Nothing. Not even a muscle twitch.
George smiled but didn’t look up from locking the collar in place around James’s throat. “Iron through the heart of a grim incapacitates him. But don’t worry. He’s no more dead than he ever was.” He wrapped his fist around the quarrel shaft and jerked it free.
James gasped, lifting his upper body from the floor.
“Lie still.” George put a hand to his shoulder and pushed him down. “You’re bleeding.” He lifted the quarrel to his mouth and sucked on the bloody tip.
“James, are you okay?” she asked.
He stilled, and she wondered if he had momentarily forgotten that she was in the room.
“That’s a nice piece of ass you found me.” George looked up and grinned.
Elysia pulled in a breath when she noticed how his eyes were glowing.
James tried to shove himself up, but barely got his chest off the floor before George slammed him down once more.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Touch her, and I will kill you,” James growled the words.
“If you care so much, then you wouldn’t want to get any blood on her.” George leaned over and ran his tongue across the bleeding hole in James’s back. “Fucking her won’t protect her from that.”
James closed his eyes, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Yes, he had known what sleeping with her would do. But she could discuss that with him later. First, they had to subdue his brother.
Elysia glanced around the room, looking for some kind of weapon. Maybe she could hit George over the head with the lamp, if it were closer. She surveyed James’s closet. Nothing except clothes in there. Perhaps she could use one of his heavy boots—